Chapter Text
Yoongi crouched low on his heels. Hands braced on the top of his thighs and peered at the rack in front of him. His forehead was damp and his hair started to curl around his temple. He swiped it up and out of his eyes, but it just fell back down in wet clumps.
He stared intensely at the display rack. It was tall and rectangular in shape made of cool metal painted over in a glossy black. The rack was advertising everyday essentials for only a euro ninety-nine. An absolute steal if you asked Yoongi. He scanned the items carefully. Moving from one line to the next and let out a pleased hum when his eyes fell on what he came in for. He stretched his hand out and grabbed the packet from the hook. He groaned as he stood back up, having remained crouching for a second too long and shook out his legs. The back of his knees has acquired a thin layer of sweat while he was crouching.
He stepped away from the display and made his way towards the cashiers. He passed racks full of sweets, snacks, and refreshing drinks. They were all packed in bright neon colours that grabbed his attention immediately. His mouth watered at the prospect of a cold fizzy drink to help him cool down from the heat outside. Just thinking of the cap opening with a crack, the slow fizz it would release and how good it would feel, cooling him from the inside.
He stopped and stared at the cold refrigerator for two seconds before his will buckled and he grabbed two plastic bottles by their neck. They were cool where his fingers touched the plastic and Yoongi reveled in the feeling for only a moment. He had a job to do here after all.
He finally pulled away from the cooling air of the fridge and walked up to the cash register. There was a young-looking boy behind the till. Thick black hair, dark eyes, and his uniform polo had the top two buttons undone. He looked bored out of his mind. This gas station was in the middle of nowhere, with hardly any traffic. No wonder the young adult was hunched over and sighing. Yoongi placed his items down on the table and watched as the cashier rung them up.
“Any fuel with that?”
Yoongi shook his head, “No.”
Yoongi looked over to the side. Rows of sugary sweets and decadent chocolate were displayed right under his nose. They were two for two-fifty. A bargain if Yoongi’s ever seen one and he couldn't help himself from snatching up two chocolate bars. They were a bit soft upon the first touch, the sun had melted them enough to make them unappealing. So Yoongi put them back and rooted around to get new ones from the bottom of the stack. The next two were solid and firm in his grasp. Much better.
The boy let out a laugh at his actions. Light and airy.
“Sorry about that.”
“Its no problem.” He gave a little smile.
The boy tapped something on the tills interface with a pen. “Would you like a bag for that?”
“Nah I’m fine.”
“That’ll be seven-fifty, cash or card?”
Yoongi reached into his back pocket, ignoring little scraps of paper and got his wallet out. A pretty black leather wallet that was thin enough to fit snuggly into his shorts’ pocket without leaving a bulge.
“Cash.” He opened up his wallet and checked if he had any loose change. He emptied out all the contents into his hand and counted out the amount. He passed them over to the cashier, brushing fingers as he let the coins fall into the other's hands.
The boy shivered.
“Keep the change.” He gathered up his items and turned. He fiddled with his wallet for a bit, finding it hard to stuff it into his pocket with only one hand. He huffed and left it half out. He pushed the heavy door open and stepped back out into the parking area. Just before the door shut fully behind him he heard a heavy thud from inside.
Yoongi adjusted his black cap over his face and looked around the parking lot for where the car was parked. It hardly took him longer than a second before he spotted his ride. There weren't many to choose from and Hoseok’s bright orange car stood out like a sore spot. He walked slowly up to the passenger door and tapped on the window. Hoseok jumped in the car and peered at him through the window.
“Well?” he cocked his head slightly.
Hoseok unlocked the door with a click and Yoongi was able to open the door to sit down. He slid into the seat and spread out basking in the cool temperature. He let his purchases fall onto his lap except for the pack of cards. He slapped the little rectangular box onto the dashboard so he could free up his hands finally and click his seatbelt into place.
“Ugh, its too hot out, I don't want to spend another second out there.”
Hoseok shivered. He was a normal human, Yoongi’s longtime best friend. But he was also highly sensitive to the supernatural layer. Any bit more and he could have been a medium. Yoongi didn't particularly need him, himself being far more attuned to the supernatural, but he was good company, so why not? Also, Hoseok worried far too much to let him out by himself.
“You know I hate doing this all the time. It makes me feel so weird, especially when it comes up in the news.”
“All this for a pack of cards. You better not be a sore loser after all this effort.”
“Ignoring a literal murder won't help lighten the mood Yoongi.”
They had this conversation all the time. After every single task Yoongi completed, he was barraged with his own personal guilt trip in the shape of Hoseok.
Yoongi shrugged and opened his bottle with a crack of plastic and a low fizz. “He wouldn't have died if it wasn’t his time. You know this.”
“Do you think it was the right guy this time?” Hoseok’s voice fell soft. He probably already knew the answer before Yoongi could open his mouth. Probably already felt it as soon as Yoongi’s hand brushed against the cashier’s.
“Hmm, I don't know, I didn't feel any pull so it might not be him. All our sources led us here though so who knows.” They both knew this was a lie. Yoongi could only hope that his naive wishes would one day comply with him.
“God, how long can he run for? This is getting ridiculous, he should have slipped up by now.”
Yoongi shrugged, deciding not to answer. He knew Hoseok was right. This goose chase was becoming tedious and annoying. Yoongi’s never worked on a single case for so long before, and yet, he has no idea of what this person has even done to deserve so much effort. Usually, if you miss the mark once or twice, they just leave it be for a few years. This asshole had some strong divine intervention going for him it appears. That or just pure dumb luck.
Hoseok started the car and the air conditioning began blowing again.
Yoongi shut the door with a slam, albeit by accident, and it startled the stray cat on the street.
“Sorry.” He murmured, not directed at anyone in particular.
Hoseok got out next, having turned the car off and collected all the empty bags of snacks from the back seat. They crinkled loudly in his grasp as he squashed them up into a ball. Yoongi shuffled his feet, anxious to finally get home and stretch out on the couch.
Sitting for six hours really took a number on his body, he could feel his neck and hips were cramping up. He had fallen asleep not long into the drive back home, clearly in an awkward position. Yoongi couldn't imagine how Hoseok felt after driving for so long, feet definitely aching and neck stiff. Hopefully, this would be their last mark so far away for a while. Yoongi hated this specialised project. He missed getting his simple manila folder every week for his district that he could walk around in foot. Maybe sometimes drag Hoseok out with him so he didn't have to walk in the rain.
They both needed a bath and a good sleep.
The sun was slowly setting now and the crickets had started warming up their serenades for the night. Yoongi climbed up the concrete steps to the front door of the apartment complex and entered the code to unlock the heavy metal door. His finger pushed lightly against the shiny metal buttons. He didn't even have to focus on the pattern, just letting muscle memory take over.
He shouldered it open, arms too heavy to lift, and waited a couple of seconds for Hoseok to catch up. The door closed with a heavy thump behind them and they were plunged into almost complete darkness in the stairwell. The lights seemed to be faulty and had not yet registered that it was dark enough to turn on, and the limited light coming in from the small windows wasn't enough to guide them, all they did was cast dark shadows on the stairs.
He trailed his hand along the banister as they climbed the stairs up to their landing. Hoseok stopped on the second floor to check their post box, the metal clanking together when he moved the latch to open it.
Yoongi kept going, exhaustion deep in his bones. He was tired of this, of his job, of traveling so far, of how it made him feel. Not to mention the actual act drained him of so much energy. In that split second of contact, he could see their whole lives right in front of him. In that one short moment, he could see the type of person they were and what they achieved.
And he hated it.
He hated seeing their friends, their families and pets and good days because it made him feel horrible. Sure, he’s been doing this for hundreds of years now but the more he ages, the more sympathetic Yoongi finds himself.
Not to mention his current task being a painfully slippery snake. Yoongi knew the poor retail assistant wasn't who he needed. He avoided Hoseok’s earlier question as he didn't want to upset him, but Yoongi knew that this was just another fake.
Yoongi had gotten this mark roughly two months ago. And he wasn't the first to try his hand at this boy. He heard about him before, maybe a year ago at some conference. Just a regular car crash, he should have died, but didn't and some lower-level demon was tasked with cleaning it up properly.
But that didn't work, and the case was passed up to someone more experienced, more intelligent and capable and when that didn't work, Yoongi got a personal debriefing from the head of their department. Yet it’s been two months, with three people dead that aren’t the supposed target and Yoongi is getting really frustrated. This has never happened before, it has been kept silent too and at the back f his mind Yoongi wonders, just what about this boy is so special.
Usually, if someone escapes death once, they're found and the work is done. If they escape twice, eh no biggie, they leave it and come back for the person after a few years or so. But no, whoever this is, they messed up bad and need to be dealt with. Preferably quickly too. Yoongi didn't know how long he could keep chasing the man. Hoseok also wasn't looking too good. He never was too keen on getting mixed in with Yoongi’s dealings but he was a reliable back up and a loyal friend. No matter how squeamish he felt, Yoongi could trust that he’d always be there for him. Yet it was another failed attempt today. Much like the last two on Yoongi’s watch. If he keeps piling up the body count without showing any results, then Hoseok won't have to worry about keeping Yoongi company anymore to put it lightly.
Jimin slurped his noodles up quickly. Broth spitting up and hitting his face.
He sat hunched over the small counter in the convenience store. The steam from his cup clouded his vision, causing his glasses to become foggy. But the hot and salty noodles were just too good to not immediately inhale, even if it burned his tastebuds off. It was the perfect late-night snack. Filling, easy and most of all cheap. Exactly what he needed. God knows he doesn't have the spare money to be fussy right now. Any meal is better than no meal.
It was late at night, the sun long set and it had cooled down considerably in the evening. He was dressed in just a grey shirt, some worn cargo shorts, and sandals. Not his best look but that's all he needed in this weather, not that beggars could be choosers either. He had been wandering the streets of this small town for a few hours now. Trying to find a cheap enough hostel to house him for the night. He wouldn't be staying long, just had a few errands to run.
He finally found one with a last-minute room available. It was small and smelled musty but all he needed was a bed and a functioning safe. As soon as he unlocked the door with the keycard he deposited all his valuable documents and work into the safe. Tugging on the lock after inputting the lock. Just to be sure. If anything were to happen to him, he was sure someone else would find them and finish out the work. At that point, he let out a long sigh. The constant vigilance was catching up to him. Arms and legs heavy, his whole body lethargic. And he decided it was time for a late dinner. That's how he found himself in the empty convenience store. He was surprised it was still open but had never been more grateful to ee the harsh fluorescent lights lighting up the street.
His sandals dangled from his heels as he swung his feet, not quite brushing the clean linoleum floor. He looked up at the tiny tv positioned on the wall in front of him. The news channel was on, muted but the subtitles were running down the bottom of the screen. It was currently just the anchor talking, something about high heat warnings as if Jimin didn't already know as soon as he stepped out of any building. The bright pictures blurred together as the anchor rapidly ran down the list of precautions the populace should take before stepping out of their homes.
Jimin focused on his noodles again, unfortunately having reached the bottom already. Nothing good ever lasts long. He was left scraping out the thin pieces left at the bottom of the cup. The sauce was nice and dark. Smooth with no clumps to be found. He knew how to mix it up well. Giving the cup a good shake before pouring in with hot water so that all the sediment at the bottom could mix disperse.
He tilted the cup up and into his face and that's when he saw the picture. It was of a boy, around his own age. He looked eerily similar to him, the same hair, same eyes, and face. And he was dead. The lettering at the bottom deduced it to be a sudden heatstroke. But Jimin knew better. He knew he was running out of time. He finished off his noodles and piled his rubbish together.
“Time to get going.”