What was once comforting, hiding in his parents closet, no longer felt like it. Not even when he clung onto his mother's coat, faint traces of her floral perfume soothing him only in the slightest. But nothing can get rid of the trembling, the anxiety of not knowing. Of the footsteps shuffling throughout his house, after week of hearing nothing.
He's never afraid of the dark but now he is. Because it's scarier than an any frightening bedtime story his mother has ever told him. It's scarier than monsters hiding underneath his bed. The footsteps are scarier because it sounds so close, so near.
"Mommy," he whispers in the back of his throat. He squeezes his eyes shut an h tries to remember something less scary. But he could only remember the stories of angels, the ones his mother would whisper to him during church, when he couldn't sit still.
He remembers angels protect this who are afraid. Tears slowly fall from his eyes as the footsteps get louder and louder. He hiccups into his mother's coat, pressing further into the corner of the closet. Into the darkness he's so afraid of.
"Angels are really pretty people, Ryeowook. They have halos around their heads and some of them have great big wings."
Ryeowook gasps as shadows flicker through the cracks of the closet door. And suddenly, it's so hard to breath, air wedged in his throat while thick tears slide down his cheek.
And the door opens so abruptly, pouring in light he hasn't seen in days. He squints into the light, and what comes into focus first are beautifully deep black eyes that hold him transcendent. Until he sees the halo of light surrounding the man and the boy blinks in shaky awe. Because his angel is here to protect him.
And he sneakily crawls of the darkness but he can't see straight. And suddenly the floor rises to greet him.