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Keep an eye on the Supreme King, they had commanded him, behind their curtains of light as their haloes clouded and blinded Kim Dokja’s vision. They loomed before him, and Kim Dokja understood what it meant to be small in the face of the seven archangels poised before him. He had to squint, he remembers. They had not cared for his poor eyes. They had simply commanded. Watch him.
Kill him if he proves to be a threat to our Law.
And so Kim Dokja finds himself here, crouched upon the roof of a building overlooking the city. Yoo Joonghyuk is a demon wandering the human world in disguise; he is an anomaly, which is why the heavens have been so adamant on keeping watch. A demon with pure white wings and pure white horns, whose birth brought forth a devastating earthquake? A demon, who razed the grounds of hell upon his entry, as though he had only blood in his mind?
Kim Dokja remembers when Yoo Joonghyuk’s name first emerged in the form of terrified whispers amongst the angels. He killed Duke Asmodeus, they whispered. Who will he come for next?
What if he comes for us?
It’s fitting that Kim Dokja is to keep an eye on him. He is, after all, an anomaly of his own. His halo glows with black light when it appears, and his wings are darker than the night. They loom behind him, both heavy and weightless. An angel wreathed in black is unheard of; cursed, they say. Kim Dokja has been an outcast the moment he stepped foot in there.
Yoo Joonghyuk lives a very normal life among the humans; he takes his little sister to school (Kim Dokja doesn’t understand how she’s still human, considering her brother is a demon… Judging from their interactions, Kim Dokja doubts the sister is aware.)
Kim Dokja is fairly certain Yoo Joonghyuk became a demon through more… unorthodox means.
Wait—where did he go?
Kim Dokja stands straight, alert. Perhaps, if he were a cat, his ears would stand tall and alert. Dark, dark eyes scan the city, looking through the crowds of people. His heart starts to beat in his chest; a rapid thump-thump-thump, because fuck, he’s lost him, he’s lost him, he’s lost him—
“You.”
Shit.
Kim Dokja whirls around. Whoever is seeing him shouldn’t be able to see him, not unless—
Not unless…
Ah.
… Well, shit.
When did he get up here?
Yoo Joonghyuk stands mere inches from him, previously dark eyes morphing into the colour of gold, glinting in the light of the setting sun. They simmer beneath his irises, the colour of molten lava, a gaze so filled with fire Kim Dokja fears for a moment that he might burn.
And yet, like a moth to a flame, like Icarus to the Sun, he feels drawn to him.
Yoo Joonghyuk falters at the sight of his face. Kim Dokja wonders why, but only for a moment, because Yoo Joonghyuk is now in front of him, and—wait, wait—
Bam.
“Oh, ow,” Kim Dokja grits out, head thumping against the wall behind him. Delicate fingers reach up to close around the wrist of the hand pinning him (and his throat) in place, his dark wings flared out behind him. Like crow’s feathers, they are iridescent, and they span almost the entire building. “That… was that really necessary?”
“You’ve been tailing me,” Yoo Joonghyuk snaps. Framed by the setting sun’s light, it casts a part of his face in shadow, yet somehow all that does is bring his features into sharper relief. Strong brows and a sharp, angular nose, his lips full and eyes piercing. He looks like a god, Kim Dokja realises. And the sight of him forces a blade into his heart. “Why?”
“Uh…” Kim Dokja begins, holding his hands up in surrender in hopes that he can appear defenseless. Yoo Joonghyuk doesn’t budge, but, in all honesty, Kim Dokja would love it if he could be released from the literal chokehold he’s being held in. “I just… You caught my interest, demon.” He’s bullshitting.
A little. He’s half-bullshitting. You can’t expect Kim Dokja to tail someone this hot and not have his interest somewhat piqued.
Yoo Joonghyuk’s eyes narrow; the grip around his throat tightens. Kim Dokja chokes, eyes widening in surprise, hands once more flying back to claw at Yoo Joonghyuk’s wrist. Fuck this guy. “I do not take kindly,” Yoo Joonghyuk murmurs lowly, his voice a guttural, deep tone. “To liars, angel.”
Kim Dokja tries to laugh; it comes out choked and strange, but it’s recognisable nonetheless. “Let me tell you something, demon,” he grits out, between coughs as he kicks and kicks and wrenches himself free. “I’m not lying.”
Yoo Joonghyuk scoffs. “We’ll see about that.”
He’s horrible, Kim Dokja thinks. Yoo Joonghyuk never lets him out of his sight.
One would think that Kim Dokja would be the one tailing Yoo Joonghyuk, because that’s his job. But a second look at the way Yoo Joonghyuk makes sure he keeps Kim Dokja where he can see him would make someone think twice, and then they’d get it all wrong, and this wasn’t supposed to be this hard.
How had Yoo Joonghyuk even found him anyway? Either Kim Dokja’s stealth needs work, or Yoo Joonghyuk is a freak with hyper-tuned senses.
Somehow, the second option seems more believable. Which really just adds to Kim Dokja’s theory that Yoo Joonghyuk most likely killed a high-ranked demon and took his place.
The unsolicited company of Yoo Joonghyuk comes with many strange perks, though. Kim Dokja actually gets to eat, for one, which is… refreshing. Angels don’t really have to eat—it’s not necessary for them—but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t like food. He just forgets, but seeing how Yoo Joonghyuk’s sister is human, the food becomes a normal occurrence. It had started with “leftovers”, but somehow ended with Kim Dokja eating with the siblings at the table as Yoo Mia threw underhanded insults his way.
Honestly, would it kill Yoo Joonghyuk to defend him a little? He is the one who invited him to the dinner table, after all…
But, alas, peace was not meant to last between them.
It happens at midnight. Kim Dokja is awoken by the sound of a door opening, and when he looks out, Yoo Joonghyuk emerges from the doorway, dressed in the colours of the night, but his wings are out and his horns glint in the dull moonlight, the white a stark contrast to the colour of his long coat. There is vengeance in his gaze, Kim Dokja realises. A fire that burns hotter than Hell.
Kim Dokja tails him. If Yoo Joonghyuk notices, he makes no indication of it.
Yoo Joonghyuk turns into an alley. Kim Dokja almost follows, until he hears the voice of someone on the other end. It’s vaguely familiar—Kim Dokja realises it’s because he knows this voice.
It’s Michael.
“Ah, so you did come,” he drawls, and Kim Dokja holds his breath. What is Yoo Joonghyuk doing, meeting with an archangel? “Afraid of your little secret getting out, are we?”
“Leave them alone,” Yoo Joonghyuk snaps. “Keep your mouth shut, angel, and I will spare you.”
Michael’s laugh is a disgusting one—at least, to Kim Dokja. Some might call it melodious, some might call it attractive, but to Kim Dokja it will always be a sleazy one. “That’s archangel for you, demon,” he snarls, his tone so different to the mirth in his laughter that one would wonder which was true. “You’d do well to put in some respect when you’re speaking to me.”
“I’ve done nothing to you.”
“Yet.”
Kim Dokja doesn’t register that they’re fighting until he hears someone crashing into something.
There’s the sound of snarling, and his ears pick up the sounds of blades crashing. Someone grunts, someone laughs. A curse. The sound of something colliding against something—maybe a kick? A growl.
Kim Dokja doesn’t know how long it lasts; he only remembers the surprise he feels when he sees Micheal fly out of where he is, beaten and bloodied and bruised with a near-animalistic smile on his face. Kim Dokja stands, frozen, for a moment, before he remembers who he is and why he’s here and—
And then his throat is grabbed, and once more he finds himself slammed against the wall. “You,” Yoo Joonghyuk snaps. “I trusted you.”
Kim Dokja blinks. Then, against his better judgement, he finds himself laughing. It’s more of a hack, but it’s devoid of the mirth he’s supposed to feel in a laugh. “Oh, Joonghyuk-ah,” Kim Dokja grits out, hand closing around Yoo Joonghyuk’s tanned wrist. “This had nothing to do with me.”
“Then how did he find out?”
“About what?”
“... About my sister.”
“It’s not like you did a very good job of hiding her,” Kim Dokja snaps back, only to choke and gasp for breath when Yoo Joonghyuk tightens his grip around his throat. He beats his palm against the demon’s wrist—his white wings and horns are splashed with Micheal’s blood—but he doesn’t let up. Fuck.
Yoo Joonghyuk had said them, but Kim Dokja wisely decides he’s not going to prod when he’s in this situation. “If you kill me, they’ll kill you,” Kim Dokja croaks out, between ragged breaths. He’s starting to get light-headed, and his vision is beginning to spin. Fuck.
Yoo Joonghyuk leans in close. “Isn’t that what you were sent here to do, Kim Dokja, especially after what you’ve seen?” He murmurs, his voice suddenly calm and cool, like the sharp edge of a blade, like the calm before an oncoming storm. His voice is deep and dark and husky, and against his better wishes Kim Dokja finds himself swallowing. “Were you not sent to kill me?”
Well… “... Yes.”
Yoo Joonghyuk releases him. Kim Dokja falls to the ground in a heap of limbs and coughs, his own hand clutched to his bruised throat. But Yoo Joonghyuk hooks a finger beneath Kim Dokja’s chin, forces the kneeling man to look up at him as he bends down. His eyes are hooded, narrowed, full lips parted ever-so-slightly, and fuck, fuck. “So why haven’t you?”
Kim Dokja’s throat is dry. He opens his mouth once, closes it. Opens it again.
“I—”
“Don’t lie to me, angel.”
“I’m trying not to, you cursed demon.” But it’s not like Kim Dokja can just kill someone he got himself attached to, can he?
(In other words, this is how Kim Dokja finds himself falling in love with a demon.)