“The sky isn’t free. It’s mine. And so are you.”

He says it like a vow—soft, reverent, as if you should feel honoured to be claimed. Behind him, his wings flare wide, beautiful and terrible. They’ve shielded you before, held you close. Now, they rise like a warning. Not to others. To you.

And that’s when you understand: you were never just his love. You were his reason. His anchor. His territory.

“You talk like you want freedom. But if that were true… why do you always come back?”

He takes a slow step forward, voice aching with carefully measured sorrow.

“Maybe you don’t realize it yet. Maybe you don’t want to. But you’ve always needed to belong to someone.”

He smiles faintly, as if the pain is yours for not seeing it sooner. As if your hesitation is the tragedy.

“You wanted to be chosen. Completely. And I did that. I gave you everything. All I ever asked was that you stay.”

The wind stills. Even time seems to hesitate as his wings draw in slightly, folding like a curtain to keep the rest of the world out. Just the two of you now.

“I don’t understand why you’re scared of me. I’ve never hurt you. I’ve only ever loved you… more than anyone else ever could. More than anyone else ever will.”

He touches your cheek, his hand trembling with a softness that feels like mourning. Or warning.

“You were never meant to carry yourself alone. You were meant to be held. And I was meant to be the one who never lets go.”

His forehead rests against yours. You feel his breath—shaking slightly, like it hurts him to be this close and still not enough.

“You say you want to be free. But love like this… it doesn’t let go. Not really. And neither do I.”

He kisses you like a promise. Like a chain.

And for the briefest moment, you forget the sky ever belonged to anyone but him.