Archive of Our Own ^beta

~I knew a man, who was long and tall
He moved his body like a cannonball
Fare thee well, oh honey, fare thee well~

They should know better than to trust Seungkwan. Minghao should know better. It's never a good idea to strike deals with witches. They always double-cross you and Seungkwan is no exception despite their long history. But, Seungcheol, Mingyu, and Minghao are desperate. 

The dozens of protection sigils they had so carefully painted along the abandoned hospital walls all easily break with a flick of Seungkwan's wrist. Before Seungcheol or Mingyu can even think about firing a bullet between Seungkwan's eyes, the witch is already gone.

Footsteps alert them to another person in the room. "I'm sorry," Soonyoung whines. "Your summoning spell implied that we would be striking a bargain. But all these anti-demon wards on the wall...well... I'm not feeling the warm and fuzzy here." He looks straight at Minghao with his consuming black eyes. He blinks once, and his eyes take on the dark brown color of the human he's possessing. 

Soonyoung looks different from the last time they saw him in Busan. He possesses a different human. He has blonde hair and looks nearly as skinny as Minghao's vessel. But Minghao can sense there's strength in that body. Soonyoung must have sensed it too because he took delight in dressing himself in a clean black suit with dangling chains at his waist. 

Minghao puffs out his chest and squares his shoulders. Even though he knows no one can see his wings, he spreads them threateningly and reaches over to curl one wing protectively around Mingyu. 

"I'm guessing you gave those kids lessons in wards?" Soonyoung's demeanor switches to something more playful as he smiles. It never fails to startle Minghao, and he doesn't know why. He's fought in the great battles among angels, smote monsters, and damned them to Purgatory, and he battled the Devil himself just two months ago. But still, Soonyoung makes Minghao's angelic grace quake. Perhaps, it's because no one ever knows what to expect from Soonyoung, the Knight of Hell. 

"'Bout time, someone took them to Sunday school," Soonyoung announces to Minghao's human charges. 

Minghao glares and unsheathes his angel blade from where it's hidden in the sleeve of his black coat.

Soonyoung scoffs and starts slowly walking. He stops at Seungkwan's table in the corner of the room. It's filled with dried herbs and bones. Soonyoung has his back to them as he examines each piece of the spell Seungkwan used to summon him. 

"Care to explain why I'm here, kids? I don't have all day." 

Seungcheol's grip on his gun tightens as he holds it steady in Soonyoung's direction. "You have our half of the Demon Tablet," Seungcheol grunts out. 

"Your half?” Soonyoung turns to face them and crosses his arms in anger. 

"You stole it from us!" Mingyu shouts impatiently. 

"Don't be childish, Mingyu. Of course, I took it," Soonyoung admits. "Why would I let you possess the manual to end demon life here on Earth? I would be out of business." 

"I don't know, that sounds like a pretty sweet deal to us," Seungcheol says. "So, where did you stash it, dickwad?"

Soonyoung breaths slowly out of his nostrils and glares at Seungcheol. "I would advise you to watch your tone."

Mingyu snorts. "Yeah, and why's that?"

Soonyoung smirks and looks pointedly at Mingyu, "Haven't you heard? Since you single-handedly killed the Devil, I've been promoted. Meet your new King of Hell." Soonyoung shifts something deep within his tainted demonic soul. 

Minghao's wings tremble at the sudden undercurrent of power emanating from Soonyoung. He steps forward with all intent to pierce Soonyoung with his angel blade. Soonyoung doesn't even move. He blinks, and Minghao is thrown across the room. 

He hears Mingyu shout his name before Minghao sees Soonyoung flick them to the other side of the room as well. 

"Did you really think that would work? Since I've become King, the weight of all Hell's souls is powering me up. I've got ancient magic running through me now, angel. No little toothpick is going to end me that easily. So, if you three don't have anything for me then," Soonyoung snaps his fingers.

The angel and the two humans flinch at the sudden intensity of a roar coming from within the hospital. The shock waves are surprising, and the residual sound is felt, rather than heard. Minghao sees a stray piece of broken wood skip across the ground and crash against the wall.

Another roar echoes in the hospital, and heavy footsteps follow right after. Minghao sucks in a breath and tries to run toward Mingyu and Seungcheol to fly them out of here. But he can't beat his wings; they're chained at his sides. What the?

He stares at Soonyoung in panic. His palm is cut wide open, dripping blood, and Soonyoung wiggles his fingers in a mocking wave. Minghao sees the blood rune that Soonyoung had drawn on the table, limiting his powers. 

"Have fun with my pet tiger," Soonyoung gives him a wide grin and two giant thumbs up before disappearing altogether. 

Within seconds, the walls of the building shake, and black smoke tries to curl its way inside. Minghao dashes toward the door needing to be the first line of defense for his human charges.

The beast smashes through the door, and Minghao holds steady, brandishing his angel blade. The beastly demon is an actual tiger because, of course, Soonyoung would own a demon tiger. It is a sickly orange color with protruding ribs and red eyes. Mingyu and Seungcheol behind him can't see the terrifying beast, but they can hear it huff and breathe. His humans wisely take a step back.

The tiger scuffs its paw on the ground, leaving scratches on the floor. Minghao only has a second to react. The tiger lurches in Seungcheol's direction, and Minghao manages to grab the tiger by its mane and wrestle it away. He flings the tiger at the wall, but that barely does any damage. It roars again and charges at him once more. 

"Hao! Get us out of here now!" Seungcheol shouts. His attention is at the windows, which are rattling as black smoke engulfs the building. The demons are trying to push their way through the protective salt they had placed to keep the demons out. 

"I can't!" Minghao yells back. He manages to shove the hell tiger a foot back, but the tiger towers over him, trying to bite at his face. "Soonyoung set a sigil. It's preventing me from flying out of here!"

"Which one?" Mingyu shouts. He pulls out his hunting knife from the waistband of his jeans, scanning the room.

"It's at Seungkwan's table!" Minghao grunts. The tiger manages to push him onto his back—the tiger bites into his arm. Minghao cries out in pain, and he gets his bearings enough to kick the demon away.

He sees Mingyu run toward the table, ready to carve out the sigil, but the salt breaks away first. The windows shatter, and Mingyu can't even make it a step. Black smoke wraps around Mingyu and drags him back.

"Mingyu!" Seungcheol and Minghao shout. Seungcheol shoots pointlessly at the smoke. 

Bullets don't work on demons, even less on demons who haven't yet taken a body to possess. Minghao spares a glance behind him. He fights the curse at his lips; there are over eighty clouds of demon smoke crashing against the wall, trying to suffocate Mingyu and Seungcheol.

Minghao yells again as the tiger slashes open his stomach. He kicks at the tiger and manages to put a better distance between them. Minghao clutches his stomach. He can already feel his grace trying to stitch his vessel's body back together. 

"Hao!" Mingyu yells in distress.

Seven demons have managed to teleport inside the building, fully possessing humans. Three of them have Seungcheol cornered. He's firing salt rounds from his gun, but it's barely slowing down the demons fast approaching. 

Mingyu isn't doing much better. The demons have him on his back. One of them has him by the arms, while two more are holding down his legs. The fourth demon approaches with a knife, ready to slit Mingyu's throat.

Minghao's heart clenches in fear. He has grown used to that particular human emotion. He feels that one constantly, as he watches Mingyu put himself in danger time and time again. When he saved Mingyu from Hell, over a year ago, he thought Mingyu would come to his senses and give up the hunting life. It only spurred him on. And every day he has spent with this man, with this human, Minghao can feel more human emotions leaking into him and his grace dimming. By creation, angels are not supposed to feel. They are soldiers. Minghao knows the exact reason why these emotions keep happening—he's falling into humanity.

He's falling for Mingyu.

So he can't let Mingyu die. He can't let Seungcheol die either. He takes two steps forward, ready to smite the demons holding Mingyu down, but a giant paw swipes at his back.

Minghao hisses and spins around. He tugs at his grace, calling for help from the Heavenly Host, hoping that his brothers and sisters are listening. He digs his fingers into the tiger's fur and lifts the tiger over his head. Minghao releases a battle cry as he snaps the tiger's back. A high pitched whine shrieks in his ears as he throws the tiger in Mingyu's direction.

It hits two demons, giving Mingyu enough time to stand to his feet. His reprieve does not last long. The black smoke still floating around them shoves Mingyu against the wall and holds him by the neck. The demons on the ground have recovered.

One of them punches Mingyu across the face.

Minghao cries out and tries to get to Mingyu again, but two demons hold him back.

The demons are more powerful than most, and Minghao realizes that Soonyoung had sent his best soldiers. This has been a trap all along. 

He hears Mingyu howl in pain and some garbled version of his name. Minghao fear transforms into gut-wrenching horror. To his right, Seungcheol is duking it out in fists and teeth with two demons.

He catches Mingyu's eyes. Mingyu is holding back tears.

Minghao knows that this is how the three of them will die.

No.

He can't have that. He won't let that happen. He can't let his only real friends die. He needs to save the Great Vessel, the Righteous Man, his best friend, his—Minghao never had a chance to take it further, and he never will. 

Minghao braces himself. He knows what he must do.

He can feel his grace flickering across the outer edges of his wings. The room crackles with power, and the demons inside the room stop for a moment to observe the spectacle. Minghao calls upon the Heavenly Host and spreads his wings, breaking the chains. The two demons holding him down fly to opposite sides of the room and fall unconscious. 

Lightning strikes outside, and a shadow of his wings flashes across the wall. 

"Cover your eyes!" Minghao shouts to Seungcheol and Mingyu. His humans shut their eyes tight from his true form. 

He pulls at his grace until he can feel it bubbling in his vessel's throat and lets it explode.

A bright, magnificent white light fills the room and ricochets across every corner. Minghao hears the demons shriek as he smites them from existence.

The light fades, and Minghao feels his grace slipping. He drops to his knees. He briefly hears Seungcheol and Mingyu rushing to him. 

Minghao collapses onto Mingyu's chest before his face meets the floor.

"Hey, I got you," Mingyu whispers.

Seungcheol heads to Seungkwan's table and breaks the sigil. Minghao can feel his wings sag across the ground. 

"You did good," Mingyu says, holding him close.

Minghao smiles sadly, his grace is quickly dissolving.

Mingyu gently tugs him, so his back is flush against Mingyu's chest. "We can rest while you recharge. I can't believe you held an actual tiger over your head," Mingyu says the last part with warm laughter.

It makes Minghao's heart clench.  

"Can't call me scrawny anymore," Minghao bites back. His voice sounds hoarse.

Mingyu looks down at him with worry, seeming to realize the inevitability of Minghao's decision. 

"Hao?" Mingyu whispers with a shake to his voice. 

Minghao smiles up at him.

"No, you can't," Mingyu begins to stutter. He steals a glance at Seungcheol, asking the more experienced hunter for help. Seungcheol already has his phone out, and he's dialing Wonwoo's number. 

Minghao reaches a hand up to cup Mingyu's chin. Tears begin to collect near Minghao's eyes. It's the first time he's cried, and the weight of regret makes them slide down his cheeks. Minghao feels desperate to tell Mingyu how honored he was to know him—how much Mingyu meant to him. He wasted so much time—they could have done way more than what they did.

But here he is unable to tell Mingyu how he feels, scared that it might drive him down faster toward humanity—faster toward his death.

Minghao doesn't want to die. He doesn't know what happens to angels when they die. Will he go to Heaven? Will he be able to one day rejoin with Mingyu?

"Minghao, please. Just hold on a bit longer."

Minghao is struggling to get his vessel to speak. He continues to stare sadly up toward his friend. He blinks as Mingyu's tears fall on his cheeks and nose.

"Why did you do that?!" Mingyu shouts. It sounds angry, but Minghao knows better. He knows this man inside and out. His pride still lies in rebuilding Mingyu's body and touching his soul when he pulled him out of Hell.

Mingyu's arms have come around Minghao's body, holding him close to his chest. Minghao strokes a thumb across Mingyu's jaw bone. He doesn't want to leave Mingyu like this. 

He finds strength in his vessel enough to say, "Mingyu, I'm scared. I don't—"

He doesn't get to say anything more. His grace burns out like a light.

Mingyu finds himself sobbing violently. It feels like a dam in his chest is flooding, breaking and pouring out of him, a vicious maelstrom of self-hatred and grief and loss and emptiness and fear and love. Because he loved Minghao. 

He’s drowning in his tears.

Mingyu can’t stop clutching Minghao. He’s squeezing him tightly on the floor of the abandoned hospital, praying for Minghao to return to him. “Please, Hao,” Mingyu chokes out. “C’mon buddy, fly down from heaven and back into your vessel. Please. I—” A part of him knows his prayers are not reaching his friend. No one is listening.

“Mingyu?”

Seungcheol has kneeled beside him and is placing a hand on his shoulder. Mingyu shakes his head in defiance and buries his face in Minghao’s neck. He’s starting to rock back and forth.  

“We need to move. Soonyoung will find out soon that we killed his demons and send more after us.”

Mingyu knows this logically. They need to get back to their car and put as much distance as they can between this place. But Mingyu doesn't know if he can move. 

He hears a sob next to him, and Mingyu looks up enough over Minghao’s shoulder to see that Seungcheol is crying too. 

“Please, Mingyu. We need to go. We can take him with us.”

Mingyu nods at this. He’s not going to leave him behind. He stands on his feet and bends down to curl his arm under Minghao’s knees and his back. 

Seungcheol volunteers to help, but Mingyu doesn’t want to let go. On shaky legs, he gets to Seungcheol’s black 1983 Toyota Celica Supra. Seungcheol opens the back door, and Mingyu groans as he falls into the seat. He settles around and gently places Minghao comfortably over his lap. 

They begin driving to Vernon’s when the sun is starting to tear at the horizon, Seungcheol says, “You know we are going to have to salt and burn the body. We can’t leave an empty vessel, who knows what the demons will do to something like that.”

Mingyu looks down at Minghao’s face. He cradles his cheek and touches his forehead with Minghao’s. “I know.” 

“I don’t understand. What are we celebrating?” Minghao asks. He’s standing a foot behind Mingyu, peeking over his shoulder as Mingyu whisks some batter. Mingyu has stopped chastising Minghao about personal space. It always goes over the angel’s head anyway. Behind him, Wonwoo is placing different liquor bottles on the table. Seungcheol is setting the plates and food. From the living room, Vernon is flipping through different channels to choose a movie on the television that they can see from the kitchen table. 

“My half-birthday!” Vernon shouts. He settles on a romantic comedy.

“I didn’t know celebrating halves was customary with humans,” Minghao says. He takes only one step back to give Mingyu just enough room to grab the glass pan. 

“It’s not,” Wonwoo tells him. He grabs Minghao by the shoulder and makes him sit at the table. “In this life, we never know if we are going to survive a full year. I could die tomorrow from a ghoul, vampire, or any other monster that goes bump in the night. It’s important to celebrate and spend time with each other as much as we can.”

Mingyu finally has the cake in the oven. He smiles proudly and throws his lavender apron onto the counter. Minghao watches him until Mingyu sits across from him. “I understand,” Minghao says.

“When is your birthday?” Seungcheol asks.

The four hunters get quiet, eagerly awaiting Minghao’s response. 

Minghao stares as each one of the hunters takes a seat. The hunters all start grabbing different dishes and pouring them onto their plates. Minghao looks down at the plate Seungcheol had set for him. “I don’t have one. I just came into being with my brothers and sisters; each of us was born a different millisecond as the universe was being created.”

“That didn’t come with a date?” Mingyu questions with an uncomfortable amount of food stuffed into his mouth. 

Minghao tilts his head in worry, hoping that his human charge can breathe. 

“November 7 would be the closest approximation,” Minghao finally answers after some thought.

Mingyu swallows and then reaches forward to place some food on Minghao’s plate.

“I’ll remember that so we can throw you a party too.” 

Minghao looks down at the ribs that are placed on his plate. “I don’t eat.”

“Yeah, yeah. You’ve told me that before. ‘Angels don’t eat,’ but it’s Vernon’s half-birthday and I’ve spent all day cooking. Enjoy the fruits of my labor, c’mon.”

Minghao tentatively reaches forward and takes a small bite. He doesn’t mean to retch at Mingyu’s hard work, but he can’t hold back the reaction.

Mingyu’s face falls.

“It tastes like molecules,” Minghao explains. 

The four hunters start to laugh, but Minghao’s gaze is locked onto Mingyu’s. He’s never seen him with his guard down as much as this moment. Warmth settles in Minghao’s grace. He doesn’t want to offend Mingyu even further, so he takes a sip of the wine that Mingyu had poured.

He tastes the earth.  “The wine isn’t bad.”

Mingyu grins. 

“Mingyu?” Seungcheol’s voice breaks through the silence in Vernon’s living room. Mingyu rolls over on the couch and falls deeper into the hazy nap he had been taking. That’s all he’s been doing. Sleeping.

“It’s been two weeks,” Seungcheol continues anyway. His boots step dully onto the hardwood floor before the sound gets muted from the rug. 

A hand touches to the center of his back. Mingyu presses his chest closer to the back of the couch. The hand falls away. “Have you eaten?”

Seungcheol already knows the answer, because the canned soup that Vernon had heated for him is still on the floor. 

“Mingyu, I—” Seungcheol stops whatever he is going to say. “I’m going to drive up to Seoul. Jeonghan says there’s a simple ghost case. I’m going to help.”

Mingyu keeps his eyes shut and lets his chest fall up and down. He briefly wonders what it would feel like if he stops breathing.

“Can you promise me you’ll eat?”

“I’m not hungry,” Mingyu finally grumbles.

“When was the last time you ate?”

Mingyu shrugs as much as he can in his cramped position. “Three days ago?”

He hears a curse behind him, and then Seungcheol is walking away into the kitchen. He returns with a bag of crackers. Mingyu grumbles as Seungcheol yanks at his arm and forces him to sit up.

“I’m not leaving until you eat something.”

“Why should I?” Mingyu blurts out.

Seungcheol stares at him. He groans in frustration and heads back into the kitchen. Mingyu looks distantly at the crackers on his lap. His stomach knots painfully, and Mingyu sighs. He rips open the bag and starts to nibble on a cracker when Seungcheol returns with a steaming cup of tea.

Mingyu reaches to take it but stops when he sees the green mug with the cutely drawn frog caricature on it. It’s Minghao’s mug. He had bought it for him, remembering that the first time he had met Minghao, the angel had a t-shirt with Kermit on it. 

Seungcheol realizes his mistake. He leaves one more time and transfers the tea into a brittle white mug. Seungcheol stands over him stubbornly until Mingyu takes a drink. The pressure in his stomach releases. 

“I’ll call Jeonghan and guide him through the case,” Seungcheol says, sitting beside him.

“Jeonghan hates hunting.”

“I’ll take the whining, it’s fine. I’m not leaving you here like this.”

“Vernon is here.”

“Vernon left this morning with Wonwoo to Mokpo for a Gwisin case.” 

“Oh.”

Mingyu holds the mug in between his hands. He hands Seungcheol his tea and stands up. “I’m going to shower. Go help Jeonghan.”

Seungcheol doesn’t ask him if he’s sure. He studies Mingyu carefully and nods. “Alright. I’ll call,” Seungcheol says.

Mingyu half-heartedly smiles, “Yeah. Get going. Jeonghan hates waiting.”

“Jeonghan hates everything.”

Mingyu spares a chuckle before heading into Vernon’s bathroom. His eyes blink in confusion as he stares at his reflection. For a moment, he doesn’t know who he’s staring at. His eyes are sunken in despite how much sleep he’s gotten these two weeks. His cheeks are hollow, and a mustache is starting to appear on his upper lip. Mingyu stares for one moment longer before he turns on the shower. 

As he waits for it to heat up, he starts to shed his clothes. He steals one last glance at the mirror just to see how much his bones can be seen poking through his skin, but he stops altogether. 

His hands come up to his chest, but he freezes an inch from it. He gulps. Slowly, he forces his hand to come to his skin. Mingyu nearly collapses at what’s there. His hand traces the giant red imprint spread over his chest and part of his arms. 

They’re Minghao’s wings.

It looks like a giant healed scar of feathered wings. Minghao must have left the imprint of his grace on him when he died. Mingyu cries out and wraps his arms around himself. 

It’s proof that Mingyu needs to know that Minghao is truly gone. 

Before Mingyu can stop him, Minghao is already crashing out the window of a five-story building and taking the werewolf down with him. Mingyu and Wonwoo rush to the window and look down into the street. 

The werewolf is strewn dead over a white KIA. The hood of the car is unfortunately bent, and the front windshield is completely shattered. Minghao takes a tiny hop off the roof of the car and disappears.

Mingyu and Wonwoo both jerk in surprise as Minghao speaks behind them, “That was unnecessarily loud. I apologize, we should start heading out now.”

Mingyu is momentarily impressed that there isn’t a single scratch on the angel. He’s not even out of breath. “You can’t just do that!” Mingyu shouts instead.

“Why not? Should I have waited for it to attack you?”

“Because—” Mingyu can’t think of a good reason.

Thankfully, Wonwoo does. “Doesn’t that harm the vessel you are possessing?”

Mingyu watches Minghao roll his eyes for the first time. He’s taken back by the complete human nature of it. “Angels don’t possess. We borrow; this human—he was a devout man. When I explained to him what he would give up if he allowed me to share his body, he asked if he could go to Heaven instead. He’s there now.” Minghao frowns sadly at this. 

“So an empty meat suit?” Mingyu asks, just to make sure.

“Yes. In essence, it’s much better.” He stares directly at Mingyu. “I can do whatever it takes to protect you.”

Mingyu is clutching a small box filled with hex bags and other valuables. He buries the box in the middle of a crossroads in an abandoned empty field. 

It doesn’t take long. 

“When the demon I stationed here told me that Kim Mingyu, the Righteous Man, wanted to strike a deal I had to come myself. Now, what else can Kim Mingyu possibly want?”

Mingyu turns around and sees Chan, the Leader of the Crossroads. Mingyu has never been more grateful to see a demon. He cuts straight to the chase, “I want you to bring Minghao back.”

“Who? Ah, that’s right. Your angel.”

“So do we have a deal? My soul to bring him back.”

Chan stops circling him and stands in front of him. He smiles as he says, “Mingyu, the last time you gave up your soul, your angel ripped apart Hell to bust you out. I’m not going to have a repeat of that when I’m so close to stealing the throne.”

“No one will pull me out of Hell. I just need him back. Please, I’ll even bargain for a year. Ten months. Anything.”

“I can’t do that, Mingyu.”

“Then a month. My soul is yours.”

For a moment, Chan looks sad, “It’s not about the time. What you are asking me is out of my power. The last time you made a demon deal, you asked for Wonwoo to heal when he was close to his death. That’s easy to do. This—I wouldn’t even know where to begin to look for an angel’s grace when they die. I don’t even think it’s possible.” 

Mingyu grits his teeth and tightens his jaw to stop from crying. “So what? No deal?”

Chan shakes his head. “No deal.”

A blade scratches along Mingyu’s chest. Something barbed and acidic surges through his system, makes his muscles tense, and his lungs collapse. His heart pumps blood through his veins, so hard that he can feel it throbbing underneath his jaw and setting his teeth on edge.

He begs, “No more. Please, no more.”

Instead, he chokes on black smoke, and the stench of sulfur crawls underneath his pores. 

He feels a hand on his shoulder, unfamiliar but gentle. 

Distantly, he hears someone call his name. 

Mingyu gasps, dizzy with how fast he bolts upright. His stomach is in knots, and sweat clings to his skin. Mingyu is breathless and shaking. For a moment, he can still taste smoke and ash on his tongue, feel blood on his hands, hear the sounds of men and women crying in Hell. 

His name is called again.

Slowly, the comfort of Vernon’s living room comes back to him. The hazy morning light seeps through the flimsy curtains, illuminating the camouflage-patterned recliner chair, the oak cylinder desk, and the familiar gaudy purple striped rug.

Mingyu swallows and brings his knees to his chest, folding in on himself.

“Mingyu?” The voice tries again.

He startles and sits ramrod straight as Minghao stands beside him on the couch. The couch’s springs whine as Minghao sits beside him. 

“Sorry if I disturbed your sleep. You were having a nightmare,” Minghao says.

Mingyu exhales a breath and nods. His heart is still beating erratically. He reaches up and rubs his sternum. He can feel Minghao studying him. Embarrassed, Mingyu drops his arm by his side. 

He flinches when Minghao gently touches the back of his hand. He traces something there with the pad of his middle finger, feather-light and soothing. When Mingyu can feel his breath come easier, he realizes that Minghao has drawn some sort of protective sigil on him.

“That should ward off any nightmares for a week,” Minghao informs him, but he doesn’t pull away from his hand. It sits there warm and heavy.

Mingyu watches him and feels the last veil of mistrust slip away and melt into familiar amity. “Thank you. You didn’t have to do that.”

Minghao tips his hand palm-up so he can press the pads of his fingers against Mingyu’s. “You are my charge; it is my responsibility.”

“You’re not my guardian angel, Hao,” Mingyu lets the first use of a nickname set into the air between them. 

“Then, what am I?”

Mingyu looks down at their hands, and Minghao does the same. 

“My friend.”

Minghao shyly smiles. He draws his fingers to trace the lines and scars on Mingyu’s palm. “I’ve never had a friend.”

When Mingyu returns to Vernon’s, Wonwoo is there waiting for him. “Seriously? After all the shit you gave me when I tried to make a deal to bring Jun back!” Wonwoo shouts.

Mingyu is too ashamed to meet his friend’s eyes. 

“Mingyu!” Wonwoo shouts again. “Did you seriously not learn your lesson the last time you struck a deal with a crossroads demon? You went to Hell for me!”

“I wasn’t able to make the deal,” Mingyu bites out. He sits on the couch and looks straight ahead. “Chan said it couldn’t be done.”

A relieved sigh leaves Wonwoo’s lips. He leans against the armrest and stares out the window. 

“How did you ever get over, Jun?” Mingyu manages to ask when the silence stretches out too long.

“I haven’t. It’s been seven years, and it’s been tough. Some nights it’s downright unbearable, and I want to run to the nearest crossroads to strike a deal. But I think back to that night when you and Seungcheol stopped me from selling my soul. Both of you told me that Jun wouldn’t have wanted that. Even though the demon was offering me ten years with Jun, before they came to collect my soul, Jun wouldn’t have been able to bear with the guilt that he was the reason I got damned to Hell for all of eternity.”

Mingyu remembers Jun clearly. They were only eighteen and nineteen years old when they got wrapped into all this mess when they had learned about the supernatural world. He can still remember Jun’s burning body stuck to the ceiling. “Yeah, that would have destroyed him,” Mingyu mutters. 

“It would destroy Minghao too,” Wonwoo says, turning to stand in front of him. “After all that work he did to pull you out of Hell. Mingyu, weren’t you the one that said that Hell was the worst thing you ever experienced? And you were only there for three months!”

“Thirty years,” Mingyu whispers, he’s never admitted this to anyone except Minghao.

“What?”

Mingyu licks his lip. “I was in Hell for thirty years.”

“But—“

“Time works differently down there. Minghao, he made me forget all of that.”

Mingyu and Minghao are sitting in the backseat of Seungcheol’s Toyota while they wait for Seungcheol and Wonwoo to interview the victim’s girlfriend. Mingyu had volunteered to go with them, but it would be too suspicious if three people pretending to be detectives showed up to investigate only one murder. 

So Mingyu is stuck in the car. He grunts and tries to stretch his legs in the backseat. Mingyu isn’t allowed to sit in the front seat anymore per Seungcheol’s orders after he rammed the car into a barn, trying to run over a vampire. 

He hears a flutter of wings beside him, and for a moment, Minghao disappears. Before worry can seep into his bones, Minghao reappears in the front passenger seat. 

“The rules don’t say I can’t sit in the front,” Minghao says, smugly peeking over his shoulder.

Mingyu rolls his eyes and kicks out to hit the back of Minghao’s seat. Minghao giggles. 

“If I remember correctly, you were the one who suggested that we run over the vampire and reverse it just to double-check.”

Minghao laughs again, and Mingyu stretches his legs in the back. 

“Yes, but Seungcheol would never believe an angel would lead you into that temptation,” Minghao bites back effortlessly.

Mingyu laughs loudly. “One day they are going to find out that you’re the bad influence on me.”

“Hardly,” Minghao says. He looks over at Seungcheol’s outdated console. Minghao is still new with technology, so Mingyu supervises from the backseat as Minghao fiddles with the buttons. He manages to find the radio station on his own. 

He settles on some cheesy pop station. Mingyu is about to complain, but he stops when he sees the look of contentment settle on Minghao’s face. He leans on the back of the seat and watches Minghao. Minghao is looking distantly at something as if he is lost in reminiscence.

The lyrics fill the cramped car, and Mingyu listens.

“I like this song,” Minghao states. “Her voice carries the weight of water.”

Sometimes Minghao says these things that Mingyu doesn’t understand. It’s as if he is in tune with the world in a way humans will never be able to. It’s probably true, though. Minghao is an angel, after all. His perception of the universe must be on a completely different wavelength. 

Mingyu concentrates on the song even further, he gets the lyrics of the young woman singing, but he doesn’t understand Minghao’s words. “What do you mean?” He finally asks as the song dies down. 

“Her words don’t obey the inanimate. They don’t rhyme or conform or scream or quiet. Just like water. Her voice flows like water.”

“Huh,” Mingyu says, trying to catch up with Minghao’s thinking. He can’t help but ask, “What does my voice carry?”

Minghao fiddles with the tune dialer again to look for another station. He is quiet for so long that Mingyu believes he isn’t going to say anything. His eyes catch on Minghao’s long fingers twisting through static. Minghao’s voice breaks through it, “The cosmos.”

Mingyu chuckles, “The universe?”

“No, cosmos flowers.”

Mingyu is confused until he remembers that when Minghao plucked him out of Hell, it was in a field of cosmos. He wonders if that’s purposeful. 

“So, what does that mean?”

Minghao glances at him over his shoulder again. He says without blunder, without embarrassment, with only honesty bleeding through his voice, “Some say the flower symbolizes ‘walk with me hand in hand’ and ‘see, life is indeed beautiful.’ You’ve shown me a lot of beauty on Earth, Kim Mingyu. Humanity is beautiful.”

Mingyu gulps. Minghao is staring intently at him, waiting for him to say something. 

Minghao’s easy admission feels like a lock opening some cage inside Mingyu’s soul. It's tugging, pulling, and reaching for Minghao’s grace. It strikes relentlessly inside him until Mingyu is fighting the urge to reach over and pull his best friend into a kiss. 

He doesn’t know where this feeling is coming from. 

Mingyu jumps as the car door opens. Seungcheol and Wonwoo climb into the car.

“Good news, it's not dokkaebi like we thought,” Seungcheol states, starting up the engine. “The bad news is it's a dragon.”

“I thought the dragons located in Korea were peaceful?” Minghao questions. 

“Yeah, this one isn’t,” Wonwoo says beside him. “The dragon is upset that someone contaminated its river.”

Mingyu grumbles from the back seat. “Great, a pissed-off dragon.”

“It just means we are on clean-up duty,” Seungcheol assures. 

Minghao looks back at him one more time and says, “Let’s return the river to its beauty then, right, Mingyu?”

Mingyu returns to the abandoned hospital where Minghao died a month ago. He thinks there may be some clues to bring him back, something he missed. However, as he opens the door, Mingyu is already clicking off the safety of his gun and holding it at eye level.

There’s a man inside, sitting cross-legged on the ground. He looks young despite the formal business suit. The man is touching something on the ground, and when Mingyu approaches slowly, he sees the edges of Minghao’s wings imprinted on the ground. It’s only a few feathers from Minghao’s primaries as the majority of the markings are on Mingyu’s chest.

“Who are—” Mingyu can’t finish his sentence.

The man stands too gracefully and looks back at him, “Hello, Kim Mingyu. I’m the archangel, Joshua.”

Mingyu doesn’t lower his gun. Minghao had spoken to him about Joshua a few times, but he had never met the archangel before.

“What are you doing here?” Mingyu asks. 

Joshua looks emotionlessly at the ground then back at him. Mingyu remembers Minghao telling him that angels don’t feel emotions. He never got that vibe from his best friend, but here with Joshua—he sees it. 

“I’m searching for my brother’s grace,” Joshua informs him. “It should have…” Joshua trails off. He stands straighter.

“Should have what?”

“Nothing that concerns you.” Joshua stares at him for a long moment, and Mingyu gets the impression that it must be an angel thing. “A part of me wants to end you where you stand. You’re the reason my brother died. But...my brother, Minghao, always did what our father asked: loved humanity. He did his job and guarded you well, but I don’t understand the depth of why he stayed.”

Mingyu lowers his gun, despite Joshua’s threat. “What?”

Joshua almost smiles, “His mission was to keep you safe and help you defeat the Devil, but he was to report back to Heaven immediately after. He chose not to.”

“He stayed for humanity?” Mingyu asks.

“In the end, it wasn’t about humanity for him. It was always about one human.”

Mingyu feels his heart sink into his stomach. He squares his shoulders, and his body tenses. He doesn’t need to hear this right now. If he hears more of this, he’s going to cry in front of a stupid archangel. 

Joshua takes a step back and looks around the room. Joshua changes the conversation, “I can sense he left the imprint of his wings on you. But other than that, nothing is out of the ordinary.”

Despite Joshua’s passive demeanor, he realizes why the archangel is here, “You’re trying to bring him back.” It’s not a question. 

“I cannot restore his grace.”

“Why not? I thought archangels were the most powerful ones in Heaven. Can’t you bend the universe at your will?”

“I am currently the strongest in Heaven since all the ophanim are gone. In theory, I could bring back a low ranking guardian angel,” Joshua pauses. “But, no. I can’t. It seems our father has willed it.”

“God wanted Minghao to die?”

“Perhaps. I don’t know. But I have faith in my father and trust his plan.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not down with God’s plan. This is the same God who abandoned humanity and let it run wild to the point of destruction. My friends and I had to step in to save it, and we didn’t ask for that. This God abandoned his angels. Abandoned Hao. Did you know your brother prayed to him every night? Asking him to bless our journey and keep us safe? Look at where that got him. He died when God could have easily stepped in.”

Joshua squares his shoulder, and Mingyu gets the impression that Joshua is displaying his wings.  

“Like I said. I have faith in my father.” 

Mingyu grunts as Minghao throws him against Vernon’s living room wall. His head bangs against the wood, and he gasps out in shock. The pain starts as a dull throb, but it’s quickly transforming into something sharp. He manages to get his feet under him, and when he stands, his vision is blurry as Minghao stomps toward him.

“I saved you for this!” Minghao bellows.

Mingyu wants to cower under Minghao’s voice. In these past three weeks of knowing the angel, Mingyu has been downright rude and unbearable. He knows that Minghao has been more than patient with him; it is only inevitable that Mingyu manages to wear him down when Mingyu stormed into a vampire’s nest without backup. The only reason he’s not dead is that Minghao appeared and single-handedly killed the six vampires and then flew him to Vernon’s. 

“I didn’t ask you to save me!” Mingyu shouts as Minghao pins him to the wall. He had it—sort of. He would have found a way to kill the monsters sooner or later.

“You know very well what I mean! I pulled you out of Hell. I can put you right back!”

At Minghao’s words, Mingyu sucks in a breath. He didn’t even know it was possible.

Minghao takes a step back. 

Off to the distance, Vernon is standing by his desk with a gun pointed at Minghao. The three of them know that the threat is useless. Guns can’t kill angels. Mingyu had already tried when he shot Minghao’s superior, Jihoon, at point-blank. But Mingyu appreciates that Vernon is trying to be protective of him. 

“You think you have everybody fooled, don’t you?” Minghao questions. “No matter how hard you try to deny it? You’ve been telling everyone you’re fine, but I know the truth. I’ve looked into your soul. Ever since I’ve pulled you out of Hell, you’ve been running around chasing monsters with a death wish. Why?”

Mingyu sags against the wall and spares a glance at Vernon before turning back to Minghao. “I didn’t deserve to be saved.”

Minghao’s face softens, but he meets Mingyu’s stare. “In time,” Minghao begins. He pauses, searching for the words. “I hope I can make you see what I see.”

The sound of wings flutters around the living room as Minghao disappears. 

Mingyu traces a fingernail along the winged-scar on his chest. His hand tries to memorize the length of each feather, but his fingers easily lose the shape. The scar—it’s fading. 

The realization makes his breath catch in his throat. A nervous tremor wracks through his hand, and he brings it down to grip the edges of the sink. He takes deep, measured breaths, just like Wonwoo showed him. 

It’s been three months since he lost Minghao.

In some sense, he’s been able to get through it. Hunting has been a nice distraction. He killed two Djinns three days ago. But most days, it’s still difficult to even roll out of bed. 

He knows that in a few more weeks, the wings on his chest will heal altogether. When Minghao had first pulled him out of Hell, Minghao had left an imprint of his hand on Mingyu’s left shoulder. It had been a mark of his grace. But after a few months, that mark had healed. 

Mingyu doesn’t want this to heal.

It’s all he has left. 

The rain patters against the wooden roof of Vernon’s home. The damp air sinks under Mingyu’s skin, into his bones, and fills his lungs with a must. 

It’s been raining every evening for the past week. Mingyu, Seungcheol, Wonwoo, and Vernon and have been surviving off potato pancakes, spicy noodles, and reruns of Hello Counselor. After dinner, Mingyu excuses himself and heads outside.

He turns his coat collar up against the rain and enters the small shed attached to Vernon’s home. He sits down at his workbench and turns on his radio, tries to find a station that’s more music than static, but it is no use in this rural part of the country. He turns it off after a few moments, grabs a pencil and paper and starts sketching boxes, goes through photos on his phone for inspiration.

“What are you working on?” 

Mingyu jumps in his seat as Minghao appears behind him. He has been so caught up in his work that he didn’t hear the usual flutter of wings that accompany Minghao’s angelic teleportation powers.

He spares him a glance and looks back at his sketch, “A traditional Korean lamp.”

Minghao steps forward and examines the drawing over his shoulder. “What for?”

“They are extremely handy against ghouls, and you saw that in our last hunt, I accidentally broke Vernon’s lamp. So I’m going to rebuild one from scratch to replace it.”

Minghao smiles and sits next to him without prompting. He doesn’t say anything anymore. Instead, he fiddles with Mingyu’s radio, twisting through the dial. He gets to his favorite pop station. It’s filled with static for a few seconds, and then it clears, and the room fills with a soft melodic hum.

“Show-off,” Mingyu teases at Minghao’s little display of angelic power.

Minghao giggles and just sits there observing him. Mingyu begins to work out the dimensions for the wood that he’s going to need to collect. There’s some sitting on the front porch, and Mingyu really doesn’t want to go outside and get pelted by the rain. Minghao seems to read his mind, and he appears a second later with his hair plastered to his forehead from the rain, shirt soaked through, and a pile of wood in his arms.

Mingyu laughs brightly. He grabs the wood, murmuring a quick thanks. Minghao plops next to him, still soaking wet, and Mingyu can’t stop laughing. He needs to record this occasion. He pulls out his phone, ready to snap a picture.

Minghao sees his intention and politely interrupts, “Can I try?”

“To take a picture?”

“Hmm.”

“Alright, but don’t drop it.”

Minghao takes the phone and says with a smile, “You’re always dropping Seungcheol’s phone.”

“Please don’t tell him that. I managed to convince him the crack in the screen was from a hunt.”

Minghao laughs and points the camera toward them. He clicks the picture, and when Mingyu looks at it, he frowns.

“Hao, you cut half our faces off.”

Minghao looks at the picture carefully, “I like it. We’re two halves.” 

“Dammit, Jeonghan!” Mingyu shouts through the phone. “You can’t just turn on your powers and let me know if you hear anything on the angel radio? Please?”

“Mingyu. I’m a psychic, not a satellite connection. And I can only speak to spirits, not angels,” Jeonghan states in clipt tones. 

“I just thought you might have heard something about…”

“About Minghao?” Jeonghan asks with a soft sigh.

“Yeah.” Mingyu sits outside of Vernon’s home with a cold beer. His fingers fiddle with the neck of the bottle, twisting it and letting the sun bounce off the dark glass.

“I haven’t heard the spirits whisper anything about an angel,” Jeonghan admits. “I’m sorry.”

“I don’t—Jeonghan. Jeonghan, I need to bring him back,” Mingyu chokes out. 

“I know.”

There’s a moment where neither of them says anything. Mingyu can hear the sound of Jeonghan’s noisy dishwasher in the background. He lets the rumble of it travel through the receiver and dim the gnawing anxiety inside him. 

“There are hushed conversations,” Jeonghan begins. He sounds hesitant. “I heard Seungkwan is back in Jeju.”

That’s all the information Mingyu needs.  

Mingyu is busy unlocking the cuffs of the demon’s prisoners while Minghao takes on the blunt force of the attack.

The last human is set free, and Mingyu makes sure they are a safe distance away before turning to Minghao. 

Before the demon can even get a lock on Minghao’s shoulders, the angel maneuvers his head sweeps it under the demon’s arm, and smoothly transitions into ramming his shoulder into the demon’s ribs. The demon stumbles back, the wind knocked out of him but didn’t appear very badly hurt. 

Minghao throws a punch. The demon blocks it, but Minghao pulls the demon toward him and sinks his knee into his diaphragm. 

The demon falls over; the breath sucked right out of him. Minghao pulls out his angel blade and stabs the demon in the chest. Orange and red electricity crackle inside the human body as the demon dies inside. 

Mingyu is absolutely impressed at Minghao’s display of power. It doesn’t last long because another demon sneaks behind Minghao. He screams out his friend’s name. 

The demon attacks first; she punches the back of Minghao’s head. Minghao groans from the force. He turns around and tries to block each barrage of hits. It’s useless. The demon is skilled a fighter with every punch, claw, and kick she throws. The demon finally grabs Minghao’s wrist and twists until the bone cracks. 

Mingyu desperately looks around and sees Minghao’s angel blade discarded on the ground. He rushes forward to grab it. 

Mingyu reaches the demon right on time as she has Minghao pinned to the ground, her knife ready to pierce him. Mingyu doesn’t hesitate. He lunges forward and sinks the blade deep in the demon’s back. She howls in pain, and she collapses right beside Minghao.

Minghao grunts and shoves her off, standing with the help of Mingyu’s offered hand.

“You didn’t have to do that,” Minghao says, almost embarrassed.

“And what? Let you die?” Mingyu states.

“It’s not your job to keep me safe.”

“Of course, it is!” 

Minghao tilts his head in confusion.

Mingyu smiles and places a warm hand on Minghao’s shoulder, “I said we were friends, right?”

“Right.”

Mingyu knows that Seungkwan can sense him a mile away, so it doesn’t surprise him that when he has a gun pointed at Seungkwan’s head, Seungkwan continues to mix potion ingredients like he’s not there.

“We’re not on polite terms for a phone conversation, but we are for a home visit?” Seungkwan asks sarcastically. He roots around a jar and pulls some yarrow out before placing it on his cutting board.

Mingyu ignores him. “It’s all your fault. If you hadn’t betrayed us—”

“I betray everyone,” Seungkwan mutters, cutting up the herb.

“That’s not—I thought we had become—”

Seungkwan drops the knife and looks straight at him. “Friends? Helping you defeat the devil doesn’t exactly mean we’re suddenly going to bond over some soju and beer.”

“Then why did you help?” Mingyu clenches his jaw.

Seungkwan tears his gaze away. He takes a deep breath and resumes cutting. “You should know better than to trust me, Mingyu. I’m always rooting for the bigger player,” Seungkwan obviously lies.

Mingyu has the audacity to scoff at the most powerful witch on Earth. “And that allegiance is with Soonyoung? What? Did he offer you to be his right-hand man?”

“Soonyoung isn’t going to have the throne for much longer. Chan is looking to steal the seat.” Seungkwan smiles fondly. “Everyone is calling him the ‘Future of Hell,’ my allegiance is with him.” 

Mingyu isn’t concerned with Hell’s politics, so he cuts right to the chase. He unclicks the safety of the gun and says, “I want you to bring Minghao back.”

“No.” Seungkwan drops the yarrow into the pot, flicks his wrist, and mutters, “Vicissim.” The spoon begins to stir the pot independently. 

“Why the fuck not?”

Seungkwan walks around his work station and leans against the table. “I can't.”

“I’m getting really tired of that word. You really expect me to believe that you of all people can’t bring an angel back from the dead.”

“While I’m flattered with your confidence in my abilities, no, I can’t. Humans are easy. Angels...I don’t know if I can replicate their grace.”

“Don’t know? That means you haven’t tried,” Mingyu says hopefully.

Seungkwan stares at him and then nags, “How do you still have the gun pointed at me? Put it down, Mingyu. Were you raised by animals?”

Mingyu lowers it and keeps his left hand wrapped around it, just in case. 

“There are some spells that theoretically can summon an angel’s grace,” Seungkwan states. He walks over to a shelf of books and pools out a dusty tome. “But there’s nothing to summon if he’s dead...but this might…”

Seungkwan scribbles on a scroll for several minutes and then hands the parchment to Mingyu. 

“Here,” Seungkwan hands it to him. “You need to perform the spell in a place where a large part of his angelic grace was released.”

Mingyu looks down at the spell and back at Seungkwan. “And this will bring him back?”

“It’s a spell to see him,” and Seungkwan leaves it at that.

There are seventeen empty bottles of wine in between them on the floor. Mingyu can barely finish one bottle while Minghao easily drinks sixteen. The angel isn’t even drunk. Mingyu can’t tell if he’s impressed or upset by that revelation.

Both of them are sitting in the shed, radio settled on Minghao’s favorite artist, humming through their skin, moonlight peeking from underneath the door, and cracks in the wooden ceiling. The night is peaceful, and Mingyu is too drunk to get up from the floor and head to his room.

He hiccups, and Minghao giggles. He takes the bottle of wine from Mingyu and places it at a safe distance away. Mingyu sighs and drops his head on his friend’s shoulder. Minghao does something with his angelic mojo powers because the bottles all neatly align themselves on Mingyu’s workbench. 

They stay like that for a few moments until loose drunk words spill from Mingyu’s lips. “Sometimes, I don’t want to live anymore.”

“What do you mean?” Minghao asks. He laces their hands together, holding him steady. 

“Live as a hunter. I just want to be normal. Go back to college and finish my degree.”

“It’s selfish of me to say this,” Minghao admits slowly, “But that’s all I’ve wanted for you.”

Mingyu pushes off Minghao’s shoulder and turns his head so they can look at each other. “For me to live a normal life?”

Minghao nods. His other hand comes to wrap around their joined hands. “When I pulled you out of Hell, I rebuilt this body. Molecule by molecule. Stitched it together with my grace. And when I saw you, I didn’t want any more harm to come to you. But I knew that was illogical. Both of us had our role to play in the apocalypse.”

“But we stopped it.”

“We did.”

“So, there’s no more role for us?”

“No.”

Mingyu tightens his hand around Minghao’s. “Then, after this mission, would you come with me? Would you live a normal life with me?”

“I will follow you always.”

Mingyu wants to reach over and kiss his best friend. It would be so easy to close the distance, but he doesn’t want to kiss Minghao while he’s drunk. Minghao deserves better than that. They can wait. 

So instead, he pushes to stand on shaky legs. “C’mon. We have to summon that annoying demon, Soonyoung tomorrow. I need to get some shut-eye if I’m going to be asked to work with Seungkwan all day,” Mingyu shivers at that. 

Minghao stands gracefully with a giggle. Mingyu reaches for his hand again. “Then we leave?” Minghao asks hopefully.

Mingyu smiles, “Then we leave.” 

Mingyu holds a plastic bag in his hand as he climbs up the mountain. It crinkles with every step. The atmosphere is orange and warm, the sun nearly setting along the horizon. Small birds sing and fly over the ground, the purple and pink cosmos hastening in their growth. They brush up against Mingyu’s shins and calves with each step he takes. 

He finally reaches the spot of all beginning. The cosmos are lit luminously around the broken coffin. It is barely distinguishable from all the shrubbery surrounding it. 

This is where Minghao had pulled him from Hell and breathed life into him. 

He sits on his knees beside the coffin and pulls out the contents of the bag. Setting the mortar and pestle in front of him, he begins to drop the ingredients from the list that Seungkwan provided him with. Mingyu follows each direction carefully, and when the spell asks for blood, Mingyu wastes no time in drawing a clean line along his palm. The blood falls into the mortar and starts glowing a vibrant green.

Mingyu utters the incantation like a prayer. His eyes are closed, and he’s looking up into the heavens.

When he finishes the spell and opens his eyes, Mingyu’s heart stops for a moment. Then it surges and pumps uncontrollably inside him.

Minghao stands over him, and Mingyu cries.

For the first time, he can see Minghao’s wings. They are bright, fiery green, nearly neon yellow. His wings dance like flames in the sunlight, each feather swaying as if there was a breeze.

Minghao is looking down at him with a soft smile. His wings stretch toward Mingyu like a cocoon. 

“Minghao,” Mingyu dares to breathe out.

The sun sinks beneath the horizon, flickering everything into black and nothingness. A broken sob leaves Mingyu’s throat. He collapses and presses his forehead against the earth. 

A gust of wind passes by and brushes a curling whisper against his ear.

~One of these days, it won’t be long
You’ll call my name and I’ll be gone
Fare thee well, oh, honey
Fare thee well~