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The angel looks him up and down with distaste, but that’s no surprise so Yoongi’s smirk doesn’t falter. Always the same routine: some dirty looks here, some scalding remarks there, and poof he’s out of his life again for maybe five human lifetimes. And yet— he’ll never tire of it.
He wants to worship those lips more than anything.
The routine breaks.
This time there’s no remark about how he reeks of sulphur despite both of them knowing it’s not true. No telling Yoongi to wipe the devilish smirk off his face. The angel looks.. wistful, and somehow, even more beautiful than usual. Enough so that he forgets his own part of the banter.
“Jimin?” He licks his dry lips as he waits, but the angel says nothing. Yoongi clicks his tongue and steps closer.
To his surprise the angel doesn’t flinch away, not even when he’s close enough to touch. Daringly he brings a hand to the angel’s back, just beneath the sprouting of his, he assumes, silky wings.
“Are you okay?” Yoongi looks him over. He appears to be physically unharmed and it puzzles him further; it’s unusual seeing an angel being vulnerable. Some would say unheard of. They’re the unmoving instruments of God. Jimin’s never been quite like the rest though. He’s always had more of a heart than any other angel he’s ever met. Jimin is special, of that Yoongi is convinced. God must have made him from different stars than the rest of them.
“I’m— I don’t know,” the angel looks up from the ground and tilts his head. “Thank you, Yoongi.” A half smile forms on his plush lips. For the first time Yoongi hopes for more, disregarding how inconceivable that may be.
The angel isn’t so hostile after that. The friendly banter continues, but with every consecutive meeting they stand just a tiny bit closer. It’s a tiny bit warmer and puts a torch to his heart.
They flinch apart when their wings touch.
Yoongi’s eyes widen and he blanches completely. His mind goes into overdrive after registering the furious blush on Jimin’s cheeks. Angel wings must be just as sensitive as those of a demon for him to react that way.
The angel disappears without his usual dazzle after trying and failing at forming a coherent sentence.
“Cute,” Yoongi mutters to no one but himself, but where he expects silence a familiar voice lets itself be heard.
“Took the words right out of my mouth.” Yoongi instantly turns around to face the uninvited demon.
“Don’t you have anything better to do?”
“Other than observing what will surely be the gossip for the next millennium? Surely you’re not foolish enough to lust for an angel?” Taehyung looks equal parts amused and astonished.
“What’s it to you,” Yoongi snorts and turns away from him, eyes darting back to the place where the angel had been just moments earlier.
“Not even hell can protect you from Their wrath, Yoongi,” Taehyung warns. “And it certainly can’t protect your pretty little angel.”
Yoongi’s shoulders fall and a grimace of pain flashes his face. He already knows the harsh truth, the harsh reality. That’s why it should end here before it can properly begin—
✧
Unfortunately, it doesn’t.
✧
The next time the angel appears it’s been close to a millennium. He’s never gone so long without seeing him before. He imagines this must be what it’s like waking from a coma; his once lethargic limbs being rejuvenated. A small part of him, a selfish part, had hoped the angel would keep away. He’s not strong enough to reject him now that he’s here.
“Jimin!” The angel startles, but returns his smile. It’s big enough that his eyes close and Yoongi smiles wider still, gums on full display. He almost hugs him and tells him he’s been missing him, but that would be preposterous. What the hell is he doing?
“Yoongi, I,” the beauty looks away, a pensive frown on his brow. “Whatever this is- it has to—“
“Don’t,” Yoongi begs in spite of himself and takes a tentative step closer. He knows what the angel is about to say, but if he hears it spoken out loud he’s certain he’ll cease to function— exist even. He’ll surely turn to dust. “Please, Jimin.” It’s barely loud enough to be heard, but he can tell by the conflict in his eyes that he understands; that it might be true for Jimin as well.
He’s just about to confess, but the angel interrupts him by moving a pristine wing over his tainted ones.
“Yoongi,” it’s spoken in such a tiny, feeble voice. “Don’t.” He wants to cradle him close, take him under his wings, ravage him and run away.
That and a thousand more impossible things. They’re all impossible things and both of them are aware of this truth. Yet his demonic heart still yearns, claws, screams for him. For them.
When they finally part Jimin hands him an ivory feather. It’s the most precious and beautiful thing he’s ever had in his possession. Its beauty is second only to Jimin himself.
He’d offer a memento of his own in return, but who’d want such tattered, ugly things?
Stolen glances, flutters of wings and fleeting touches dominate the next millennium. He’s long since stopped caring about the ever-changing world beneath his feet. Human’s stopped being interesting a long time ago. He only cares about one thing. One angel.
They’re lying in a field of some sort, staring up at the night sky. Jimin is, at the very least. Yoongi’s too busy observing the angel’s profile and the way the moon shines in his hair. And Gods, that laugh. If only he could listen to it from this moment until the end of time.
The giggles stop, startling Yoongi from his reverie. Before he can ask what’s wrong the angel turns his head towards him.
“Run away with me.” How can something sound so hopeful and despairing at the same time?
The angel reaches out a hand to cup his face and Yoongi’s never wanted anything more than he does this in his entire life. But how does one run from an omnipotent God?
✧
There are stolen glances, flutters of wings and fleeting touches over the next millennium. He no longer cares for the ever changing world around him on earth. Human’s stopped being interesting a long time ago. He only cares about one thing. One angel.
They’re lying in a field of some sort, staring up at the night sky. Jimin is, at the very least. Yoongi’s too busy observing the angel’s profile and the way the moon shines in his hair. And gods, that laugh. If only he could listen to it from this moment until the end of time.
The giggles stop, startling Yoongi out of his reverie. Before he gets to ask what’s wrong the angel turns his head to him.
“Run away with me, Yoongi.” How can a thing sound so hopeful and despairing at the same time?
The angel reaches out a hand and cups his face and Yoongi’s never wanted anything more than he does this in his entire life. But how does one run from an omniscient God? Pushing the thought away he takes a hold of Jimin’s wrist and pulls him in for a soft kiss. Their first, he realises as his chest explodes with warmth.
He wants to cry— it’s only when Jimin brushes them away does he realise he already is.
He snorts as he realises a human might pray to God to live in a moment such as this forever. What pitiful creatures. Though he supposes, if anything, he is perhaps the most pitiful creature of all.
✧
One does not run from God.
✧
They’re in a run-down cathedral; humans have no need for gods anymore. He’s holding Jimin close, hand on his neck to brush at his skin, while their wings move together softly. He’s happy. Content.
Their lips occasionally brush together, but mostly they just bask in each other’s presence.
Doors that are barely attached by their hinges fly open with an unnatural force. They hold each other tighter, both realising and dreading what’s coming for them.
Before he can think Jimin steps in front of him, arms stretching out in a protective stance before him. Yoongi wants to cry, yell and protest; beg for them to lock him away in the deepest, darkest pits of hell and do whatever they want so long as they don’t harm the angel.
It’s a fool’s wish
✧
Jimin springs to his feet. He recognises the auras of the powerful angels who've made their presence known. Without hesitation, he shields the demon he loves.
“How?” He asks, resigned to his fate. “They know?”
“They see all, Jimin,” Namjoon answers, looking down at him.
“Please,” Jimin begs. “I love him.”
“I know,” he replies simply. He almost sounds sad.
“Why?”
“You know why.”
“Nephilim,” Jimin says, voice flat as he feigns indifference, though it’s way too late for that.
The first, and last, union between angel and demon created a being that could have grown powerful enough to rival even Their power. The three of them had all been put to death before it could happen. His heart weeps for them, albeit belatedly, in understanding.
“I understand,” Jimin says, voice steady. He turns his head, looking back at Yoongi, his poor love still frozen. “Can you spare him?” He asks as he turns back to the other angel.
“Yes,” Namjoon lies. Jimin might have appreciated it if he hadn’t felt so utterly despaired at the thought of the demon’s death.
A flash of light, a gasp and then nothing—
✧
It’s only when Jimin falls to the cold, hard ground of the church floor that Yoongi wakes from his stupor. His throat burns as he screams and his entire being feels like it’s being torn asunder. In response to the life extinguished in front of him while he did nothing, he untethers his demonic powers. In a split second he’s extinguished all life in a ten-mile radius.
All except for the three angels standing before him. His eyes are burning with fire and for the first time in millennia, he feels like the monster they’ve painted every demon to be.
The angels look at him, lips curled in disgust and Yoongi snarls at them.
He’s the abomination, but they cut the thread of the purest of all of them.
“Why?!” He scrams as burning flames roll over him in waves. “Why do you hate us so? They created us as much as They created you. I never chose to be what I am any more than you did.”
He spits at them. “Any more than I chose..” his voice breaks even as he seethes with anger. “To love him.” It’s almost a whisper, a pitiful sob.
“Be grateful we took him first,” an angel says as they step from behind Namjoon’s shadow. “We spared him the pain of your demise.” The angel scowls at him as he spits out the word ‘demon’ like it’s a curse.
“Seokjin. Let’s get it over with,” the third angel says impatiently.
“And I’m the monster,” Yoongi laughs pitifully, falling to his knees to cradle his love to his chest one last time. “I’m sorry, Jimin,” he whispers as he kisses the angel’s temple.
He doesn’t make it easy for them. It takes more than a half dozen angels to fell him. In another lifetime -before Jimin- he might have been pleased to have taken some of the angels with him, but nothing matters anymore— and nothing ever will again.
✧
A boy is crying -alone- at the otherwise deserted school playground. Recess is over and the other kids have scattered. He contemplates walking away, he’ll be late to class, but there’s something about this boy that makes him want to stop.
He shuffles his feet forward, biding his time while stealing glances at the still sniffling kid. This is when he notices the trail of snot slithering from his nose and his own scrunches with disgust; yet it doesn’t deter him, somehow.
He crouches down once he reaches the sandbox. The boy finally notices him and flinches away so hard he falls onto his back. He barely suppresses a giggle, but his mother’s taught him it’s not nice to laugh at another’s misfortune, so he manages. Barely. Reaching out a hand he expects the other boy to take it. When the sniffling boy hesitates he waves his hand impatiently.
There’s a flicker of something in his shiny eyes before he finally takes his hand. He grimaces when he notices how wet it is with snot and tears. Thank god it’s not a girl or else he’d be covered in cooties by now.
When the boy is finally on his ass again he decides to sit next to him.
“You okay?”
“‘M fine.” He snorts at the response. He’s very obviously not fine.
“What happened?” He’s determined to find a cause and a cure. “Lost a toy? You can have one of mine.” Before he can reach for one of the figurines in his pocket his eyes widen as the boy seems to cry more at the offer. “I won’t give you any toys, I promise. Please stop.” The boy finally giggles.
There’s an urge growing within him then, to have him giggle more. It must be because he looked so sad and he’s much cuter when he’s smiling.
“Bullies,” he sniffles, some of the accumulating snot disappears up his nose again. “I have a scar,” he continues timidly, but doesn’t offer anything more.
“A scar?” I have scars too,” he announces proudly. “They’re cool. I’ve got one right between my shoulders.” He’s about to boast some more, but the boy stares at him with such awe that his mind goes uncharacteristically blank.
“Really?” He asks quietly, voice filled with the same awe that’s lingering in his eyes.
When he nods the boy’s face lights up with the most precious smile. “Me too!” This leaves him blinking. He’s never met someone with a scar like his before. The boy’s face falls again. “That’s why they were being mean. Call me names. ‘Demon.’” As his lips start wobbling again he panics and waves his hands in front of him.
“That’s the stupidest thing I’ve heard,” he clicks his tongue. “You’re obviously an angel. Everyone can see that,” he snorts. “Anyone say it again and I’ll show them a demon.” He makes a fist and the threat of tears disappear, successfully replaced by harmonious laughter once more.
He stands up and reaches out his hand. “Friends?”
The boy takes it less hesitantly than before, but is still timid as he says “Jimin,” while looking anywhere else. It’s cute.
“Yoongi,” he grins and intertwines their fingers, tugging him in the direction of the swings, the end of recess long since forgotten.
✧