Archive of Our Own

At the beginning of time, there existed the Heavens. Then, the Queen of the Heavens and Mother of all creations formed the mortal realm, where humans and animals live among lush forest and deep oceans. Everything was peaceful; everything was in harmony. Until the day a group of angels rebelled and severed their ties with the Heavens. In the midst of the Great Fall, the Abyss came into existence.

From then on, the world was divided into three: the Heavens, the mortal realm, and the Abyss.

Junhui doesn’t know much about the Abyss, except that it’s where demons dwell. For the lack of knowledge he holds about the subject, though, he makes up for it plenty when it comes to the Heavens. Of course, it’s only natural when he’s an angel himself.

While it’s true that the Heavens is the source of all creations, it is also the destination of every soul once a person passes on. An angel’s main duty is to take care of them. Once a reaper escorts a soul past the Gates, an admission rite takes place, where each soul is brought forth to be weighed. They are divided into three main classes.

The lightest souls have no sins. Usually, those are the souls of very young children and babies. Although occasionally, there are exceptions. People who spent their lives doing good deeds, or who have genuinely repented their wrongdoings and sought to become better, do pass away with a very light soul. Class I is moved to the inner building, where another group of angels will perform the Light Ceremony. The souls are given a little flame, representative of their health. Next, they will be cleansed from the grime and stains of the mortal realm by a set of different angels. Once that’s done, the souls are nourished and allowed to rest. They will remain in the Heavens for as long as they wish.

Class II, where most mortals end up, is composed of souls who have committed some sins, but not grave ones. They are allowed to atone and repent for their mistakes, depending on the severity of the offenses. Once the process is finished, they are cleansed once more, and their past memories are sealed away. Only then, do they get returned to the mortal realm via reincarnation.

The last one, Class III, is the one Junhui is the least familiar with. It is reserved for the bad seeds, and only the highest ranking angels oversee the procedures. Since he is merely a recent graduate, he has never personally seen the Judgement, but he knows the souls are given a hearing. If they truly wish to repent for their crimes, they are given a second chance. If they stubbornly refuse to accept their guilt, they are burned. The Class III repenting souls are kept apart from the others, confined in the Purgatory building, until they are deemed worthy of reincarnation.

Junhui and his siblings all have rotating duties, but only the most experienced are given responsibilities with Class III souls, since the younger ones would not be able to handle the working conditions there. Young angels tend to be too softhearted. As such, they are unable to execute the appropriate punishment when needed. Additionally, Class III souls, more oftentimes than not, belonged to criminals and genuine villains; they know how to take advantage of naive angels for their own benefit. It is simply too dangerous.

In Junhui’s case, it’s going to take a couple more centuries before he’s permitted anywhere near the Restricted building complex. Not that he minds very much. But for now, he’s happy to celebrate his 300th year. Reaching the 3rd rank means that he’s finally given permission to visit the human realm (unchaperoned). Over the years, he’s heard so many stories from the souls he’s taken care of. They talk about their lives, their experiences, the things they’ve accomplished, and what they wished they could have done. All in all, it sounds so incredibly exciting, he can barely contain himself.

If he lists out everything he wants to see and do, the list would be endless; however, he’s narrowed it down to two main bullet points:

•Foods: no one gets hungry in the Heavens, so they don’t eat. There is only ambrosia—a sweet and fragrant wine fermented from the fruits in the gardens. He wants to know what human food tastes like. He chatted with a chef once, and the man had such a knack for descriptions, Junhui could almost feel hungry.

•Love: all he’s known is the familial and platonic kind he holds for Mother and his celestial siblings. He also feels a sort of soft endearment for the sweet souls he helps taking care of. However, the kind of love these souls talk about, it sounds… magical. To love someone to death, and beyond even, to wish to be with them in the next life.

What does unconditional love feel like?

And it’s with that very question in mind that Junhui embarks on his first trip.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆: *✧･ﾟ:* 　꒰ঌ ໒꒱　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

For something as rare and intangible as love, Junhui expected the starting point of his research to be quite difficult to pinpoint. Yet, to his amazement, the moment he breaks through the clouds and enters the human realm, he spots an impressive building. At its side, the word LOVE flashes in bright, fluorescent pink. What a stroke of luck! he thinks as he slowly makes his descent toward the ground. Quiet as a cat’s paws, Junhui lands on the pavement.

Safe in the knowledge that humans cannot see him unless he sheds the cloaking defenses, Junhui stands in front of the Love building and observers his surroundings. The neighborhood is quite lively, especially at this late hour. Across the street, many establishments seem to be hosting some sort of gatherings, with large crowds laughing and cheering through the glass panes. They seem to be eating and drinking, a banquet, perhaps? Those shops would be good starting points for the first item on his bullet list.

Someone walks by his side, nearly colliding into him. Junhui startles, flying up a few inches into the air. Whew! A second too late, and he would have gotten an elbow to the ribs. Junhui breathes out a sigh of relief, landing back on the ground. This is what he gets for getting distracted by food. He needs to focus!

The man, completely oblivious to the fact that he almost slammed into an angel, holds the door open and ushers his partner inside. The young woman smiles in appreciation and steps through the entrance, her high-heeled shoes clicking sharply. The man follows, letting the door swing shut behind him. Through the glass, all Junhui can see is a large lobby, furnished with a desk and some potted plants. The view is obstructed beyond the corner, but he can see the start of a corridor. 

What is this place? Is this where love can be found? What goes on in there?

The longer he spends outside observing the people coming in and out, the more perplexed he grows. The visitors seem to be exclusively couples, with a few exceptions. They vary in ages and genders, as well as attires. One man is dressed rather ostentatiously in a deep red suit and silk dress shirt, unbuttoned down to his sternum, completely overshadowing his shy partner, who is wearing a pair of old jeans and a light sweater. Junhui can’t make heads or tails of these guests. There doesn’t seem to be any coordination.

He’s even more confounded when they exit the building.

The two people who, mere moments ago, hugged each other so tightly Junhui thought they had fused together, now barely even look at each other as they part ways on opposite directions. Does that mean they were unsuccessful in finding love within the building? Is that what all of these people seek when they enter the premises? Must they endure some kind of challenge or a series of trials before they can find love? Some of them seemed so fond each other before entering. What could have caused them to drift apart in such a short time, treating each other like complete strangers?

Clearly, standing out here will only lead to more and more questions. But going inside, to some unknown place, is unwise, to say the least. He gnaws on his bottom lip, the gears in his mind spinning.

It’s while he’s deliberating whether to follow after a pair of giggling girls that a deep and unfamiliar voice echoes behind him.

“You’re a long way from home, little angel.”

Junhui yelps, spinning around. At the sight of the tall, intimidating figure in front of him, he plasters himself against the wall. Heart in his throat, he comes face to face with a young man.

No.

This is no ordinary mortal.

Junhui’s been caught by a demon. A shiver wracks through his body, and he shrinks in on himself, at a loss for words or actions.

All his life, he’s been taught that demons are hideous creatures, grotesque in form and vile in character. They are terrifying monsters infused with evil, seeking to wreck havoc for their own pleasure and satisfaction. An angel caught by one will certainly be killed or dragged down to the Abyss to be tortured and mutilated out of spite.

Yet, the longer Junhui stares at this man—this demon—the less accurate his lessons seem to have been. For one, Junhui is still alive, with his feet firmly planted on the ground. Moreover, the demon is beautiful: sculpted features, piercing gaze, square jaw. Tall and well-built, basked in vitality. If Junhui didn’t know better, he would have taken him for a human, but there is no mistaking the ominous aura radiating out of him. A smoldering heat, glowing faintly in the depth of his dark eyes, like embers.

Unabashedly, Junhui continues to ogle him, enthralled. A peculiar sense of serenity seeps into his consciousness as he recalls the rest of his childhood lessons. Lessons about how demons came into existence. Lessons about the Great Fall.

Lucifer and his followers were among the most beautiful and powerful angels, but they didn’t agree with the rules and restrictions of the Heavens. They considered themselves superior, resenting the Heavens for curbing their appetites and desires. Their uprising and the subsequent severance of their ties to their roots gave birth to demons. To distance themselves even further from their origins, some decided to adopt repulsive and twisted appearances. A final act of rebellion against the beauty of the Heavens.

Clearly, not all of them share the same sentiment.

Is that why Junhui senses no killing intent from the demon in front of him?

Taking advantage of the daze Junhui seems to have fallen into, the handsome demon approaches even closer, breaching into his personal space. Junhui has nowhere to go; his back hits the wall. A gasp gets stuck in his throat as the demon presses both palms on either side of his head, effectively caging him between his body and the building.

“By the lack of weapons and armor on you, you’re no archangel,” he assesses, critical gaze flickering up and down his body and noting the flimsy strips of lavender silk. Dark eyes return to the angel’s face.

Junhui’s tummy does a funny dance.

“So what’s a little fledging doing in the human realm without guards?”

“I’m not a fledging!” Junhui retorts before he can stop himself.

The demon arches a brow, smirking. He seems almost impressed. “No? Then shouldn’t you know better than to wander alone at night on your own? I’d have thought that the Great Lady in the sky would at least instill a sense of self-preservation into her children, if nothing else, before allowing them out of the Gates.” He tilts his head, amusement flashing. “Or perhaps… Someone snuck out?”

“Absolutely not!” Junhui cries out, shaking his head adamantly. “I would never dare doing something so reckless.”

The demon’s smile grows wider. “No, of course not,” he agrees easily. “A good little angel doesn’t break rules. But bending them?” He’s obviously enjoying toying with him, but Junhui can’t stop replying.

“There was no breaking nor bending!” he insists. “I have come of age, and Mother granted me permission to visit the mortal realm to do research.”

“Research,” he repeats, seemingly perplexed. “On humans?”

Junhui nods.

“What’s so interesting about them?”

“The souls have told me about certain… things,” Junhui finds himself answering once again. “Things that have piqued my curiosity, so I wanted to see and experience them for myself.”

“Curiosity, hm? Let’s hope you don’t end up like the proverbial kitten.”

Junhui frowns. “Are you… threatening me?”

Chuckling, the demon shakes his head and regards him with both amusement and something akin to indulgence. “I’m just wondering what could intrigue an angel to the point of coming to the human realm. Admittedly, mortals do have nice rarities, but I doubt anything could compare to the wonders of the Heavens,” he thinks aloud. “What can fascinate a young and sheltered angel, something that can only be found among humans?”

Suddenly, Junhui grows nervous. Why is he feeling nervous? His heart is beating so erratically, the fabric above his chest jumps. Considering how wide the demon’s smirk has grown, it’s exactly the reaction he expects from the boy caught under his charms.

Head lowered, the places his mouth right by the pink shell of the boy’s ear. Temptation itself would not sound as alluring as his deep whispers. “Which sin would you like to taste first tonight, angel?” He presses in closer. The scent of mahogany fills his lungs, warm and rich, luring him in. It’s such a contrast to the light and airy fragrances that Junhui is used to.

His head turns fuzzy, senses dulling.

He open his mouth, ready to answer. Although to say what, he’s not quite sure.

A commotion in the adjacent alley shatters the moment.

Cursing under his breath, the demon steps back to check it out. Junhui slumps against the wall, inhaling lungfuls of the crisp and fresh night air. He shakes his head to clear it, willing his heart to slow down. Loud cackles and indistinct voices prompt him to turn toward the direction of the alley.

“Here.” The handsome demon cuts into his view. “Put it on.” He’s removed his leather jacket, and now hands it toward Junhui.

Bewildered, Junhui doesn’t understand, but at the other’s urgings, he hurries to follow direction. Once more, that intoxicating scent surrounds him. Junhui tightens the flaps around him a little more.

“Keep your head down,” the demon tells him, shielding him from the alley. When he notices Junhui glancing up at him, doe eyes full of questions, he gestures toward the crown of light sitting on top of his hair. “Don’t let them notice you.”

Just as he’s about to ask “Who’s them?”, movements in his periphery catch his attention. With a squeak, he huddles in close and peeks over his shoulder. A group of demons amble out of the alley. Their appearances are as hideous as the books described. Even more disturbing is the person they’re dragging along. A man, a human.

The human’s gait is stilted and awkward, face red and flushed. He’s inebriated, perhaps explaining why he doesn’t seem shocked by his demonic companions. Although ‘companions’ is the wrong term. The poor man is getting bullied, tossed from one monster to another, mocked and abused. His clothes are torn from the numerous falls, red patches staining his knees. One of his shoes is missing.

Can no one help him?

Just as Junhui tries to move, the man swings an unsteady arm around the closest demon. His words slur. “Lezgo! I can drink more!” He hiccups, laughing senselessly. He shoves a hand into his pocket and pulls out a stack of money. “Where should we go next?”

The group laugh and smack his back, nearly sending him toppling against the sidewalk. “All right! But why stop at just food and drinks?”

“Yes, why not try something more fun?” Another plucks the money out of his fingers. He eyes the Love building, lascivious grin widening. A red, forked tongue pokes out to lick his lips. “How about we give this place a try?”

Oh no. If they come closer, they could spot him. He has no trouble believing they’d drag him to the Abyss and cut him open for fun. Junhui’s fingers peek out of the sleeves to cling to the demon’s shirt in distress.

“Hey!” the latter suddenly shouts over his shoulder, startling the angel in his arms, as well as the group of hooligans.

They turn toward the call, hissing and snarling, ready to attack the unfortunate soul daring to interrupt their fun. Junhui squeezes his eyes shut.

“The fuck do—Oh, shit.”

“Take this somewhere else,” he orders.

Junhui’s eyes fly open, shocked to see the group scurrying away, dragging their poor prey along with them. A couple turn to throw furtive glances toward them and the building, but they quickly disappear from sight.

“You okay?”

Junhui looks back toward his unexpected savior, still in shocked and confused. He nods. “Y-yes, but what about that man? I need to help—”

“You want to be turned into minced meat and eaten for dessert?”

Junhui flinches.

He sighs, running a hand through his black hair. “Those idiots won’t get far. With how obnoxious they are, it won’t take long for an archangel to notice and deal with them.”

“Oh.” No need for further explanation. Despite never having seen it in person, Junhui knows exactly what happens to demons once an archangel sets their sights on them.

“This should be enough excitement for your first time in the human realm, don’t you think?” he asks. His tone is teasing, but sincere at the same time. He offers Junhui a small smile.

Right. He needs to return home. Junhui nods, reluctantly peeling off the jacket and returning it to its owner. “Thank you for keeping me safe.”

“Any time.” Shrugging the jacket back on, he grins. His eyes twinkle with mischief. “Just remember that my offer still stands.”

“S-sure.”

The blush dusting Junhui’s cheeks doesn’t abate until he lands back in the Heavens. The sun has set hours ago, and the clouds are already curling around his ankles. Surely, no one would notice the state he’s in. Nevertheless, just to be sure, he double checks his reflection in the many mirrors adorning the Celestial Hall. He fixes his hair and rearranges his clothes, ensuring none of the ribbons on his sleeves are tangled. Next, he turns, checking on his wings. The feathers are a little ruffled, but nothing that a good preening session won’t solve later.   

Once presentable, he heads off for the Empyrean Chambers. Everyone, with the exception of archangels, must come greet Mother before and after traveling to the mortal realm. He pokes his head through the large open doors to find her discussing the latest state of affairs with a high-ranking angel. Both of them are pouring over the scroll, voices low and melodious.

Junhui waits in the corridor, passing the time by wondering if he, too, will have to wear such stuffy robes once he reaches 2000 years. The fabric seems light enough, but the hoods are so large, he can never see the faces of the angel wearing it. Not only that, those cloaks make it impossible to stretch out their wings all day. How suffocating. At least the ones worn by the high-ranking officials in the restricted area make sense. Since the souls kept there are dangerous, there is always a chance that the angels interacting with them might get affected. As such, the full-body coverage serves as a protective barrier against the sins and corruption.  

He understands the reasoning behind the mandatory but stifling uniform in the Purgatory building; he doesn’t understand why Elders enjoy walking around the Heavens in such impractical robes. Since angels don’t age once they hit maturity, do they wear them to appear old and authoritative?

“Junhui?” a lovely voice calls.

“Oh! Yes!” Snapping out of the idle monologue, he hurries inside. “I’ve returned, Mother.” He stops a few paces away and bows respectfully. When he straightens up, she smiles, kind and gentle.

“How was your first visit?”

“Eventful!” he answers, “Although I haven’t learned much yet.”

She chuckles. “Even as precocious as you are, it would be quite difficult to finish your research in a single night. So tell me. What did you see?”

Junhui doesn’t lie (he can’t), but he also veers clear of his encounter with the handsome demon who protected him. It’s not that he’s afraid of Mother’s reaction. After all, she doesn’t harbor ill will toward demons simply for existing. As for archangels, they don’t slay demons indiscriminately; they only target those who deserve it.

No, Junhui simply wants to keep him a secret. A little piece of something precious that only he knows about.

“And so, even after observing them for hours, I still have no idea what goes on inside the building,” he narrates sadly.

She hums in sympathy. Then her nose wrinkles daintily, and she waves him closer. “Did you run into trouble?”

His heart jumps. Head lowered, he approaches. “Y-yes. Before I could try to follow two humans inside, a group of demons appeared nearby. They were abusing a poor man.”

Gently placing her hand on his head, she begins to cleanse him. The familiar crisp sensation washes over him, removing all the impurities accumulated from the human realm. By the time she’s finished, his halo shines brighter, and his body has lightened. Still, he can’t help feeling disappointed that he’s left with nothing but memories of the handsome demon. It was probably his scent that Mother picked up on.

“They must have been very close to you,” she comments, gently patting his head. Her long and cool fingers glide through the brown locks of hair, undoubtedly taming the stubborn knots he couldn’t see in the mirror earlier. “You were covered in demonic aura.”

His heart skips a beat. “I tried to help the man they were harassing,” he says instead of confirming her statement. “But their interest shifted, and they left.”

“Leave it to your siblings,” she advises. “They have the means and skills to deal with those troublemakers. Rely on them, too, if you’re ever in danger.”

“Yes, Mother.”

“Good. Now go rest. It is quite late, indeed.”

“Mother?”

“Yes?”

“Tomorrow, after I finish my duties, may I please return to the human realm?”

Surprise crosses her features briefly, but a soft smile soon adorns her lips. “You may.”

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆: *✧･ﾟ:* 　꒰ঌ ໒꒱　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

Junhui isn’t here to look for the handsome demon, he tells himself. He’s returned to the same neighborhood because last time, he was interrupted before he could make any progress on his research. He still has no idea what the Love building is all about, and today, he is determined that he will find out. Or at the very least, he must make some kind of progress, discover something new. He will not get distracted!

What he notices first is how different the neighborhood looks and feels in the daytime. In the Heavens, the sun and moon cycle merely represent the passage of time. Unlike humans, they don’t sleep at night and work in the day. Souls come and go at all hours, so to them, time matters very little. It’s fascinating that humans reserve certain activities for specific times.

As Junhui shields his eyes with a hand and studies the crowd, he spots children. Real, breathing and living baby children. He giggles to himself, finding them adorable in their strollers, watching the world with huge eyes. As cute as babies are, toddlers are such a treat to watch, tiny little humans still wobbling on their feet, but full of energy. He hopes one of them will come closer so he can say hi. He’s so used to the calm and collected souls in the Heavens, getting to meet one as exuberant fills him with giddiness. Curiously, though, for some reason, the parents refuse to cross the street.

Junhui peers behind him at the building. His eyes narrow. What kind of mysteries do you hold? He has to go inside, he decides, spinning around to head for the door. At that moment, a delicious aroma wafts into the air. Junhui stops in his tracts, head turning back and forth to try to find the source.

Down the street, a young lady has opened the door of a seemingly popular restaurant, letting out the delectable smell of the food served inside. Junhui abandons the building and heads for the restaurant. Maybe today he’ll focus on the first bullet point of his list, instead. Angels don’t get hungry, but he has a working nose, and his nose is telling him that the food must taste yummy.

He stands in front of the establishment, gazing at the posters displayed. Their menu must be composed of dozens of dishes, ranging from soups to sandwiches. One particular poster catches his attention. All the more when he sees a family sitting by the window eating the exact dish. With rapt attention, he watches as the father dips his chopsticks into the broth and picks out pieces of tofu and meat, which he puts into his daughter’s bowl.

“Is gluttony no longer a sin?”

Junhui shrieks, jumping a whole foot into the air. Whirling around, he finds the person he was definitely not looking for grinning at him. “Please stop sneaking up on me,” he says, glaring at him.

Not that it does any good.

The dark haired demon grins wider, leaning against the building. “I thought I scared you off for good that night. I didn’t expect you to return.”

“What do you mean ‘that’ night?” Junhui asks, confused. “It was only yesterday.”

“Time passes differently down here, kitten. It might have been one day for you, but three have gone by since then.”

Junhui’s eyes pop open. “Really? Wow! What an unexpected discovery!” he exclaims, full of wonder.

His companion chuckles. “Are you still doing research?”

“Yes, I am. That’s why I’m here.” He points to the vitrine.

Nodding slowly, the handsome demon glimpses at the glass panes, then at the awning of the restaurant. When he looks back at him, he says, “You know, when I offered to let you experience a few sins with me, I did not think it’d start with gluttony.”

“I’m not committing gluttony!” Junhui exclaims, ignoring how quickly his cheeks turn pink at the mention of the other night. He may be a sheltered angel, but he’s not completely clueless. He knows what the other is implying. He just chooses to pretend not to. “I’ve never had anything other than ambrosia in my life, so I’m curious about how food tastes.” He points again. “Especially this dish. It smells heavenly.”

The demon snickers. Junhui pouts.

“All right, well, a promise is a promise.” Grabbing his hand, he starts toward the door. “Let’s give you a taste of hotpot.”

“Wait!” Junhui grabs his wrist, stopping him from continuing farther.

“What’s wrong? Can you not eat at all?”

Junhui shakes his head. “No, it’s not that. Just… How will I pay?” Sadly, he pats his empty pockets, the blue ribbons fluttering around as he moves.

As though realizing something, the demon pauses. Dark eyes follow the contour of his thighs and hips, up his waist, before resting on his bare shoulders. Something flickers, the embers in his eyes flash briefly, but by the time he’s meeting innocent doe eyes again, it’s gone. He smiles, gentle and soft.

“Don’t worry. I’m not so terrible that I’d make you pay on the first date.”

Junhui knows it’s a joke, but it doesn’t stop his heart from pumping blood right to his cheeks. He drops his gaze, too shy to even look at him as he mumbles, “We can’t go on a date if I don’t even know your name.”

“What have you been calling me in your head?”

“The handsome demon—” Junhui presses a hand to mouth, trying in vain to take back the words, but it’s too late. He is mortified.

“You really can’t lie, can you?” he teases.

Junhui sulks. “I’m going to change it to the mean demon.”

“Isn’t that superfluous?”

“Maybe, but it doesn’t make it less true.”

Laughing, he relents. “Wonwoo.”

As though given a gift, Junhui beams. “Wonwoo,” he repeats happily. “I’m Junhui.”

“Pretty name. Fitting.”

Junhui blushes again, doing his best to bite back the dopy smile.

So distracted by the warmth filling his chest and the butterflies in his tummy, he doesn’t remember to change his appearance once he makes himself visible to humans. The whole restaurant turn to stare at them. While he panics and attempts to flee, Wonwoo holds him back, squeezing his hand.

“Your costume looks amazing!” the hostess exclaims, genuine awe and wonder coloring her voice as she stares at his wings. “Are you guys doing promo for something? Or is there some kind of convention nearby today?”

Junhui has no idea what she’s saying. Like a deer caught in headlight, he stands frozen. Thankfully, Wonwoo understands all the strange terms and easily moves the conversation along. In no time at all, they’re shown to a table. Junhui has to move slowly, hyperconscious of his wings lest they bump into furniture or people. Buildings are so packed and cramped in the human realm.

“Are you okay?” Wonwoo asks once they’re seated. “If the booth is still too small, I can take you somewhere else.”

“I’m okay!” Junhui quickly reassures him. It’s true that here, Junhui has a lot more room than if they were given a table at the front of the restaurant. “T-thank you. I’m not really sure what happened, but I’m glad no one ran away screaming.”

Wonwoo chuckles. “Humans have a weird fascination with angels and demons. Some of them dress up like us for fun. That’s what she thought. Besides, if they knew you were the real deal, they’d be running toward you, not away.”

“Oh.” He brushes the back of his hand against his wing. “Do people like angels that much?”

Smirk flashing, he replies, “I can only speak for myself.”

Junhui turns as red as the bottle sitting on the table, and he lowers his head. He has to fight the urge to curl up and use his wings to hide in embarrassment. Thankfully, a different girl approaches their table. She’s as peppy and friendly as the hostess at the entrance, and just as enthusiastic about Junhui’s “costume.”

Since he has no idea what any of the items on the menu are, Wonwoo orders for them.

“I asked for a little bit of everything,” he says once she’s left.

As it turns out, ‘a little bit of everything’ is a feast. To be honest, Junhui isn’t even sure how they’re able to fit so many dishes on a single table. Not that he pays particular attention to the details. For the first time in over 300 years, he comes across an explosion of flavors and textures. Angels and demons have often sneered at humans for being weak and flawed, but Junhui thinks mortals are amazing. Only amazing creatures can create such wonders as these dishes.

“No wonder gluttony is a sin,” he muses, chewing on a piece of beef.

Wonwoo laughs, switching the empty plates out for the staff to take away.

Eventually, he does come across a flavor which he finds icky. Frowning, he swallows the bite in his mouth and pushes the plate away. “Yuck!”

“What did you eat?”

Junhui points to the mushy green pieces covered by a dark purple skin.

“Oh.” Wonwoo chuckles. “You don’t like eggplants?” Without waiting for him to answer, he gathers all the eggplant pieces and piles them on his own plate.

“Amazing,” Junhui praises.

Wonwoo snorts.

“Is there anything you don’t like?”

“Just seafood.”

Curious, Junhui eats some shrimp and fish when Wonwoo points them out. He still doesn’t understand why Wonwoo doesn’t like it. They taste fine. They taste infinitely better than eggplants. By the end of the meal, Junhui has the difficult task of trying to figure out what he likes best. He narrows it down to spicy and sour.

“I’m surprised,” Wonwoo comments once he hears Junhui’s assessment.

After leaving the restaurant, the two have simply started walking. Junhui receives the occasional odd look from passersby, especially older citizens, but they’re left alone to stroll leisurely.

“About what?”

“I didn’t expect an angel to like spiciness, much less to that degree.”

“How come?”

“I always thought of you lot as mild, in both manner and character.”

Eyes narrowed, Junhui shoots him a glare. “You think we’re all boring and bland, don’t you?”

Chuckling, Wonwoo shakes his head but doesn’t reply.

Junhui harrumphs. “I’m only letting it pass because you bought me milktea earlier.” He decides it might become one of his top three tastes.

Next to him, Wonwoo grins.

They walk in comfortable silence for a while. Then Junhui thinks of a question. “How come you know so much about the human realm?”

He shrugs. “I just spend a lot of time here. Like with anything, you adapt and learn.”

“Do you live here, then? I thought demons all lived in the Abyss.”

“Why do you ask?” he turns to him with a mischievous smirk. “Would you want to come visit me if I did?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“You didn’t answer my question, either.”

Junhui remains quiet. The same cannot be said for his heart. He wonders how good a demon’s hearing is. He peeks over at him. Seeing how the teasing grin has remained on his handsome face this entire time, it’s a pretty safe bet that he can hear every hiccup the angel’s heart stumbles through.

Eventually, Junhui says, “If hypothetically, I did want to request your help with my research. How would I contact you?”

“Is there really a need to be that formal?”

Junhui pouts, eyes big and beseeching.

Wonwoo lets out a small laugh. He looks around them, seemingly searching for one thing or another. A second later, he yanks a small notice from a wooden pole and flips it over. He brings his right index finger to his mouth and bites, drawing blood.

Junhui cries out in shock. “What are you doing?!”

Ignoring his fretting, Wonwoo moves his bloody finger with speed and expertise across the blank page. Little by little, an image forms. Junhui’s gapes, unable to believe how he can draw such intricate lines and designs in such a short time, and with a bloody finger, no less. By the time he’s finished, Junhui stares even harder. It’s some kind of seal.

Wonwoo hands him the bloody paper. “Any time you want to see me, light thirteen candles and summon me with this. Mortals have to include some kind of offering, but I’ll give you a pass.”

Junhui startles. “I have to go through a demonic ritual whenever I want to see you?” He shakes his head. “Never mind that. I can’t take this back with me to the Heavens!” It’s one thing to return with light traces of humans and demons on him. But bringing back a blood-soaked summoning circle? He’ll be grounded until his next centenary.

Sticking his hands into his pockets, Wonwoo shrugs and offers him a small smile. “Weren’t we speaking in hypotheticals, anyway?”

“Wonwoo!” Junhui sulks.

Deliberating for a moment, he suggests, “How about a deal, then? I’ll tell you where I stay if you kiss me.”

Heat engulfs him as Junhui sputters, blushing all over. “Y-you! You—You—You—”

Unrepentant, and quite proud, Wonwoo smirks and peers into his face. “Demon?”

“Scoundrel!” Junhui finally manages to exclaim.

Wonwoo cackles. He’s laughing so heartily, his nose scrunches up. If Junhui weren’t so utterly flustered, he’d comment on how cute the gesture looks, a stark contrast to the sharp points of his fangs.

Maybe that’s what prompts him to agree.

“F-fine,” he whispers.

Shocked, Wonwoo freezes and stares at him. Junhui can’t meet his gaze.

“C-close your eyes.”

“But then how would I see your pretty face?”

“Wonwoo!” At this point, he’s near tears. He doesn’t think he can handle much more teasing before he simply collapses. Or flees.

Perhaps sensing the risk, Wonwoo eases up and takes pity on him. He cups his elbow, hand warm and firm, and gently turns him in his direction. “How about I kiss you instead? May I?”

Now it’s Junhui’s turn to freeze, eyes wide open as he gapes at him. Did Wonwoo just… ask permission? But demons are thieves, vulgar, and deceitful. They lead people astray, luring them into temptation. All for their gain and benefit. Yet Wonwoo had been none of those things. Sure, he’s been teasing Junhui almost relentlessly, but it’s been harmless. Compared to what some humans are capable of, it’s not even worth mentioning.

Ever since the first time they’ve met, Wonwoo has proved himself to be so different from his brethren. Instead of hurting him, Wonwoo protected him. He spent the day with him, indulging his whims, showing him a plethora of flavors and new experiences.

At first, Junhui was simply intrigued, but the more time they spend together, the more captivated he becomes. Something about this particular demon draws him in.  Against all reason and logic, with Wonwoo, he feels safe. He doesn’t have the power of clairvoyance. He has no means of knowing what the future will bring, but at this very moment, he knows what his heart seeks.

Junhui looks into those dark, smoldering eyes, slightly obscured by the overgrown black hair. He nods, shy but unmistakable.

A faint breath leaves Wonwoo’s lungs, and his expression softens. With the utmost care, as if handling something as fragile as a soap bubble, Wonwoo cradles Junhui’s face into his palm. His thumb brushes against the soft apple of the angel’s cheek, and he smiles when he senses the skin gradually heat up.

Slowly, naturally, they come together. It’s odd to describe their first kiss as natural, considering who they are—what they are, but there is no other way for Junhui to express this feeling blooming in his chest. A low hum, a quiet contentment. A lock finding its key. Pieces falling into place. His heart is threatening to beat right out of his ribcage, and yet when Wonwoo parts his lips to deepen the kiss, Junhui’s blood sings.

Maybe… just maybe, Wonwoo feels the same way.

He certainly shows no sign of letting him go, the hand around Junhui’s waist presses the angel firmly to him, the skin hot even though the layer of fabric.

One kiss turns into two.

Then three.

Four.

Five.

Six.

Eventually, Junhui loses count.

All he knows is that by the time he returns to the Heavens just before sunset, his lips are throbbing pleasantly, and an address scribbled on a receipt lays hidden in his pocket.

In the Empyrean Chamber, he regals Mother with details about his adventures in the culinary world. He describes to the best of his abilities all the dishes he tried, all the flavors and textures, how delicious (almost) everything was. He tells her about milktea, but he keeps it to himself that he’s found a taste he likes even more.

When he finishes, she once again calls him forth for cleansing.

“I’m happy you’re enjoying yourself, Junhui,” she says patiently. “But I hope that you won’t forget to remain vigilant. The human realm is fraught with dangers, from humans and demons alike.”

“I know, Mother,” he assures her. “I’m always careful.”

Nodding, she sends him off to rest. As he crosses the threshold, she adds, “Know that demons are capable of worse sins than slaughter.”

Junhui pauses, turning on his heel. He opens his mouth to ask her what she means, but she’s already returned to work. Perplexed, he hurries to his bedroom. What could be worse than dying?

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆: *✧･ﾟ:* 　꒰ঌ ໒꒱　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

As he has previously thought, the Love building is not at all impressive in the daytime. The letters that shone in bright pink that night now rest against the wall in dull gray. He’s also noticed that not that many couple frequent the establishment, either. Junhui floats over to the main entrance. Not having to worry about people bumping into him, he can finally take his time to read the sign posted there. It’s old and faded, some parts unreadable.

He hopes for some information, however small, but instead, he sees nothing but a list of prices. He’s been under the impression that couples came here to find love, but could it be that these people actually sell love?

“What is it with you and this love hotel?”

Junhui startles, landing unceremoniously on the sidewalk. Thank goodness he was only a couple feet off of the ground.

Honestly, he should have expected it. This marks the third time he’s visited the realm, and the third time Wonwoo has snuck up on him.

Glowering as fiercely as he can muster, he turns to him. “Why do you keep scaring me like that? No, wait. What did you say?” He points to the building. “You called it a love hotel?”

“Yeah.” He strolls up to him and gestures toward the sign. “Those prices reflect how long you get to spend inside.”

“Do people come here to find love?”

Wonwoo snickers. “Sure, some might get lucky.”

Junhui frowns. “But not everyone?”

“Kitten, mortals come here to fuck. Plain and simple.”

Junhui flushes. “O-oh. U-um, t-then shouldn’t it be called lust hotel, instead?”

Wonwoo chuckles. “Yes, that would be more accurate, but not as catchy, I suppose.”

Junhui grows pensive. So he was wrong after all. This place isn’t what the souls talked about.

“What’s wrong?”

Shaking his head, Junhui smiles, a little dejected. “I should’ve known love wasn’t so easy to find.”

Wonwoo agrees with a nod, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his black jeans. With utmost seriousness, he says, “I can’t offer any help on love, but if you ever need assistance while researching lust, I’ll lend you my expertise.”

To hide the new blush dusting his cheeks, Junhui shoves him away. “Thank you for the kind offer, but I’ll pass.”

Barely budging from his spot, Wonwoo snickers and uses the angel’s extended arm to tug him close. Junhui shows no resistance, smiling despite himself as an arm is swung over his shoulder, and he’s led away.

Idly, Junhui reaches up to grab onto the slender fingers adorned with rings. Since the weather is quite balmy today, Wonwoo has forgone a jacket. This way, the tattoo on the inside of his wrist is clearly seen. He’s not sure what he’s looking at initially, but upon closer inspection the design is familiar. It’s at the very center of the summoning circle Wonwoo drew for him. Junhui guesses it must be related to the demon’s lineage, something important. Thorny vines seem to protect it, the ink curling up and around Wonwoo’s forearm several times, before disappearing under the short sleeve of his shirt.

As they stroll through the neighborhood, Wonwoo points to certain shops and explains what they are. Clearly, he doesn’t want Junhui to make another mistake about human occupations. To be fair, though, that glowing sign was very misleading.

Junhui tells him as much, to which he responds with a chuckle.

Eventually, they come across a sign for a park, and Junhui asks to visit it.

“It won’t come anywhere close to the parks you’re used to, though,” he warns.

“That’s okay. I’m sure it’ll be fun since you’re with me.”

Wonwoo glances at him, suspicious. “You saw the ice cream truck, didn’t you?”

Junhui grins.

The demon makes a show of groaning in annoyance; however, he waits patiently for Junhui to choose what he wants and pays the nice man inside the truck.

“Thank you!” Happily, he accepts the cone and takes a small bite of the lemon flavored cream. “Whoa!” Eyes bright, he points to it. “It’s delicious! Do you want to try?”

“It’s not sour?” Wonwoo asks, eyeing the cone.

“Only a little. It’s more sweet than—Mm!” The rest of his sentence is swallowed up, swept away by Wonwoo’s tongue.

Pulling back, he licks his lips. “You’re right.” He smirks, self-satisfied from the success of the theft. “Sweet.”

Junhui blushes so intensely, he’s surprised the ice cream hasn’t melted in his grasp. “You demon!” he hisses, munching on the cold treat in an attempt to cool down.

“You realize that’s not an insult to me, don’t you?” he cocks a brow, amused.

“Hmph!”

“Do you want to be kissed again?”

Junhui nearly chokes on the waffle cone. “I’m not answering that question.”

“I think that’s answer enough.”

Junhui pouts. Wonwoo grins.

For the next several moments, they walk in comfortable silence. It’s true that in comparison to the gardens of the Heavens, the park is rather small and plain. Nevertheless, it has a charm of its own that Junhui finds endearing. The pair stroll through the long row of timeworn trees, their canopies vast and thick, only letting through small patches of sunlight, which dance whenever a breeze blows by. All around them, the scent of citrus blossoms permeates the air. Every once in a while, Junhui spots a fluffy bunny hopping from bush to bush, munching on young leaves. Very nice and pleasant, indeed.

“I’ve been wondering something for a while now,” Junhui says casually. “But I don’t know who to ask.”

“About what?”

“You. Well, demons in general, I suppose.”

“Ah,” he nods in understanding.

“Mother would probably know,” Junhui muses. “But I don’t think it’d be wise to broach the subject.”

“No. I wouldn’t risk asking the Great Lady up there, either. What would she say if she learned one of her beloved children went astray?” He gasps, theatrically, scandalized.

“I haven’t gone astray!”

Wonwoo cocks a brow, smirking. “Then what do you call this?” To emphasize his point, he shakes his arm, still swung over the angel’s shoulder. “Not only are you hanging out with a demon, you’ve even let said demon take liberties with you.”

Junhui swats him, ignoring the heat spreading to his cheeks. “Do not twist it up into something naughty!”

Holding back laughter, Wonwoo clears his throat. “Okay, so how you describe what happened?”

Put on the spot so abruptly, words fail him. All he can think about is how nice it felt when Wonwoo kissed him. But admitting so would only lead to more teasing, so he mulls over his thoughts. “I… You… We… we made a trade,” he manages to say with no small amount of difficulties. “It was fair and square.”

Wonwoo is still wearing that infuriating smug grin, enjoying the exchange a little too much. “We did, indeed. My address for a kiss, which you paid in full. What about the rest of them? A tip?”

With a whine, Junhui buries his face into the demon’s collar to hide, prompting the latter to chuckle and hug him close. They stop at a bench overlooking the small lake.

“All right. I’ll relent. What was your question?”

Junhui sits down. “How can we touch each other without getting hurt?” he asks. “Should we not be repelled by each other, at the very least?”

The first time they met, Junhui had been too shocked to notice. On their second meeting, he’d been distracted by the myriad of delicious food. It wasn’t until after they’ve kissed, and Junhui came to terms with what he might be feeling toward Wonwoo, that questions began to swirl all around his head.

Truth be told, he’s worried. As far as he’s aware, there are no rules forbidding their relationship. However, he’s highly doubtful that it would be accepted. Not only that, he’s not even sure how a relationship between a demon and an angel is supposed to work out.

Leaning back against the bench, Wonwoo stretches his arms out on either side. “Our powers, both yours and mine, are greatly diminished once we venture into the mortal realm. It’s one of the many ways the Universe keeps itself in balance. If all the angels and all the demons were as powerful here as they are in their own domains, the world would probably implode.”

“That makes sense,” Junhui muses.

“Unless you’re an archangel,” he sneers. “Those bastards have free reign in both the Heavens and the mortal realm. The only place they can be overtaken is the Abyss, but no angel would venture down there of their own free will.”

Archangels may be his siblings and protectors, but Junhui has always found them somewhat scary. For one, their physicality is imposing. Junhui considers himself pretty tall, yet some of his siblings tower over him by a couple feet. Plus, they’re always armed and wear a constant scowl. If Junhui, an angel meant to be protected, feels uneasy about them, he can’t even begin to imagine the dread weighing on a demon’s shoulders.

Although Wonwoo doesn’t show much fear. He sounds more annoyed than anything.

“The mortal realm is an adequate equalizer,” Wonwoo continues. “But it’s far from safe.”

Junhui turns, picking up on the change of tone. Just then, Wonwoo sits up and meets his gaze. “Which is why you need to be careful when you’re down here by yourself. My brethren wouldn’t be as… accommodating, if they came upon an unguarded angel, especially one as sheltered and pretty as you.”

There’s no teasing, no playful glint. Wonwoo is completely serious. It’s not that Junhui hadn’t known. After all, on the first night, he had expected the worst from him. However, to hear the warning coming from a demon himself makes the reality all the more frightening.

Barely repressing a shiver, Junhui scoots a couple inches over, pressing their sides together.

Wonwoo ruffles his hair and offers a gentle smile. “Sorry for scaring you, kitten.”

Junhui leans into him, head resting on his shoulder. “Thank you for looking out for me.” After a few beats, he adds, “Are you sure you’re a real demon?”

Wonwoo cracks up.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆: *✧･ﾟ:* 　꒰ঌ ໒꒱　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

“Can I touch them?”

“What, my wings? Sure.”

He and Wonwoo are spending the day at the demon’s apartment. The first time Junhui visited, he expected a dim and dingy place, illuminated by candlelight. He thought black curtains would be drawn over the window to block the sunlight, and the walls would have some remnants of blood splatter. He even braced himself for human remains to be used as trophies or decorations.

Basically, he expected to see a real life representation of what he’d learned from lessons—all the illustrations drawn of the Abyss squeezed into an apartment.

In actuality, Wonwoo’s place is, well, normal. A little on the small size, but considering only one person lives there, it makes sense. It’s bright and clean, with the usual clutter of a house lived in. The only dead things Junhui found were potted plants. Apparently, Wonwoo likes flowers, but he’s never been able to maintain them for long. While he wasn’t looking, Junhui used a bit of his powers to bring them back to life. Now the four clay pots sit on the window sill of the living room, the stalks of purple and white foxgloves bursting with life. 

From where Junhui sits on the floor now, he can see them at the periphery of his vision. He’ll have to remember to water them before he leaves. But that’s for later. He has more important matters to attend to. Knees to his chest, he’s squeezed between the couch and the coffee table, eyes glued to the television, thumbs and forefingers pressing buttons clumsily. Wonwoo has taught him how to use something called a controller to move a little character on the television and lead them on adventures. Junhui might be growing addicted.

Wonwoo is lounging on the couch, offering advice here and there. Most of the time, he’s laughing at the silly things Junhui gets up to in the game.

“You rarely have them out nowadays,” Wonwoo comments, fingertips grazing over his left wing. It tickles, and Junhui squirms, giggling.

“I keep forgetting to hide them before I remove my cloaking defenses,” he explains. “All the humans I’ve encountered have been under the illusion that I’m—What was the word?” He looks back.

“Cosplaying?” Wonwoo helps.

“Yes, that. But after a little kid pulled on them, I’ve learned my lesson.”

Wonwoo winces in sympathy. “That must have really hurt.”

“Not too much,” Junhui says breezily. “He was only a child, after all, but it was startling. His parents apologized profusely. They probably thought he’d ruin my costume.” He laughs.

Wonwoo smiles, gentle and fond. “You forgive so easily.”

In response, Junhui points to the shimmering crown sitting atop his head and bats his eyes exaggeratedly, eliciting a hearty laugh from the demon.

About a month has passed since their date in the park. Since that day, Junhui has come to visit almost every day, as soon as he’s done with his duties. He spends nearly all of his time with Wonwoo, enjoying his company and learning about the intricacies of the human realm. Every now and then, though, he wanders through different neighborhoods on his own, invisible to mortals, to observe their habits and how they go about their lives. Since Wonwoo has explained and given context, many of the activities that he once found silly now seem quite logical. On the other hand, there are things that are objectively ridiculous, and he simply cannot wrap his mind around how they’re allowed to exist.

Unfortunately, he’s still nowhere close to understanding love, but he learns about off-days and vacations, which are apparently very precious to humans. Most of his solo explorations are mundane and peaceful, but occasionally, he does encounter his own kind and Wonwoo’s. Just last week, he came across a group of bullies terrorizing two kids for fun, showing no leniency even after stealing their pocket money. Most disturbing, perhaps, was the demon egging them on, whispering into their ears, feeding on their brutality, and amplifying it.

Junhui isn’t meant to interfere—he’s neither equipped nor trained—but he couldn’t just fly away after calling for help. While he looked around the area in search of something to create a distraction, a loud crash captured his attention. His head whipped around to see the demon getting thrown against a dumpster. The impact was strong enough to dent the metal. The bullies couldn’t see the demon, but the sudden crash scared them, and they all scattered, leaving behind their victims.

Junhui flickered his gaze back toward the demon. He gasped.

An archangel stood in front of his slumped form. With no effort whatsoever, he wrapped one hand around the demon’s neck and lifted him cleanly off of the ground. No matter how much the demon clawed and kicked, the archangel’s grip was like steel. Then, a blinding light flashed, causing even Junhui to cry out and squeeze his eyes shut. When he next opened them, there remained nothing of the demon but a pile of charred remains.

In that moment, Junhui vowed never to let Wonwoo get anywhere near one of his armed siblings. He told him as much later on.

Smiling, Wonwoo ruffled his hair. “Thank you for worrying about me, but you can rest easy. I’m not that kind of petty demon.”

“What kind of demon are you?” Junhui found himself asking.

Brow arched, Wonwoo smirked. “Shouldn’t you have asked before getting into bed with me?”

“You’re making it sound suggestive on purpose!” Junhui accused. “All I did was fall asleep on your bed after the movie, and you happened to sit next to me.”

Wonwoo laughed, successfully avoiding the question.

Every time Junhui remembers to broach the question, he gets distracted. Wonwoo is really good at that.

Today is no different.

“They’re so soft… and silky,” Wonwoo praises, tracing along the contour of his right wing.

“Thank you!” Junhui beams with pride. He takes great care of them.

Wonwoo chuckles, gently caressing the feathers with the back of his fingers. “I didn’t expect them to. They look so sturdy from afar.”

Junhui turns his head slightly to the side, eyeing him. “How many angel wings have you been staring at?”

“What?” The corner of his mouth twitches upward. “Jealous?”

Junhui huffs in indignation, shifting his posture to sit ramrod straight. He shakes his wing out of the demon’s touch. “We do not get jealous.”

“Of course,” Wonwoo placates. “Divine beings are well above such based vices.”

Junhui pouts.

Behind him, he hears Wonwoo move. The couch dips as he sits up, and soon enough, his legs appear on either side of Junhui. Gently, he wraps his arms around the angel’s neck and tugs him back toward him.

A sweet kiss is pressed to his forehead, and a fond smile fills his vision as Wonwoo leans down to gaze at him. “You’re the first and only angel I’ve ever gotten close to, Junnie.”

His heart skips a beat, which Wonwoo probably hears.

He wiggles out of his embrace and retracts his wings, giving him more room to maneuver. Sitting on folded legs, he crosses his arms over Wonwoo’s lap and rests his head there, looking up at him. “Why did you help me that night?”

The warmth and affection bestowed upon him is so earnest, Junhui fears his heart might burst. Still smiling, although more ruefully, Wonwoo strokes his cheek, the rings gently gliding on his skin.

“What are demons, if not covetous creatures?” Wonwoo muses quietly. “There you were, so pure and utterly beautiful. Ethereal. A literal angel among the filth of human kind. Instead of being swallowed by the darkness, you shone… and like a moth to a flame, I was helpless. I knew I couldn’t have you, but I’d be damned if I let anyone else touch you.”

Sensing the blush heating up his face, Junhui attempts to use humor to dispel the shyness as he nuzzles closer. “And here I thought you liked me because I was wearing your favorite color.”

Wonwoo laughs, tucking an errant brown strand of hair behind his ear. “It did play a part,” he admits. “How could I help but covet you, when it seemed like you were put there just for me?”

Reaching up to take his hand, Junhui meets his gaze. “Does it still count as a sin if I’m here with you on my own volition?”

They share a soft laugh as Wonwoo leans down to kiss the crown of his hair. “You’ll make a useless demon out of me, angel.”

Junhui giggles, pulling him down by the neck to ask for more kisses.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆: *✧･ﾟ:* 　꒰ঌ ໒꒱　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

The expansive marble room shines with the first rays of sunlight. Between the tall columns where there is no wall, white clouds coil and glide across the pale stone steps. The staircase comes in and out of view, hidden by the layers of clouds and streams of sunlight. Up and up, the way leads to the next chamber, where another group of angels are already standing in position.

A silent, almost imperceptible, hum travels through the air. The chandelier hung at the very center of the dome ceiling trembles, causing the thousand shards of crystal to twinkle. Junhui and his siblings take in a breath in synchrony, the tips of their fingers tingling. They keep their heads bowed as they line the curved wall of the chamber, awaiting the arrival of the new souls.

Soon, the quiet sanctity is broken by the opening the large doors, their hinges creaking lowly. Junhui straightens up, turning toward the group of souls like he’s done for hundreds of years. Only this time, he hesitates, eyes widening.

Accompanying the five souls is not only the designated reaper, but an archangel is also with them. What’s going on? By the raised brows and downturns of mouths on either side of him, it’s safe to say that his siblings are clueless, too. Nevertheless, they keep their questions to themselves. They have an important job to do.

He assesses the group. They’re one family, composed of parents and three children. The couple were in their forties, approximately, when they died. A child of about four stands in between her parents, holding their hands in each of hers. The mother is carrying a smaller child—a toddler of maybe a year or two. Behind the father, a young teenager wipes at his eyes, sniffling. They’re all covered in soot and burns.

A house fire? Such accidents aren’t rare. Tragic, yes, but why is there an archangel with them?

His sister on the left subtly nudges him. Junhui snaps out of his musing and scrambles to follow procedure. He closes his eyes and breathes in, gathering his powers. In unison, the group of angels extend their arms, circling the air. In their hands, a small flickering blue flame comes to life. Each flame is to become the representation of soul’s health while they reside in the Heavens and undergo every step of the process to either return to the human realm through reincarnation, or to stay here permanently.

One by one, the angels approach their respective soul and hand them their little flame. Junhui is in charge of the tiny child. His heart lurches when the mother settles him onto his own feet in order to accept her flame. Junhui kneels and gently helps the baby cup his chubby hands together. The baby stares at him, then at his mother. She smiles encouragingly, which in turn helps him copy the motion.

Carefully, Junhui sets the blue flame within his grasp.

Face darkened with soot and smoke, but otherwise uninjured, he looks up at Junhui and grins, clearly dazzled by the flame.

Once again, Junhui’s heart clenches.

In perfect synchrony, the angels guide the family to the white marble staircase. Up ahead, the next group has already gathered at the entrance, ready to take over.

At the threshold between the chamber and the first step, Junhui stands watching his little charge. His steps are still unstable as he wobbles along behind his mother, clumsily carrying his little flame. At the last second, before he starts to climb, he turns over his shoulder, probably expecting Junhui to follow. But the latter can only smile and offer a little wave. They’re usually not allowed to interact with the souls beyond the necessities, not until they’ve properly been cleansed and guided to their respective resting chambers. However, children are the exception.

As such, Haneul breaks protocol and hurries down the steps, gently helping the child along up the rest of the staircase. Before long, they disappear through the thickening layer of clouds.

Like clockwork, Junhui and his siblings move back into position to await the next group. However, as he does, he glimpses the reaper and the archangel disappearing down the corridor, heading for the Restricted building complex. Odd. With the next souls entering, though, Junhui doesn’t have much time to dwell on it. The rest of the morning goes on like usual. No more archangel accompanying the reaper and the souls.

As soon as the day’s tasks are completed, Junhui hurries off to find the one person he can trust to answer all his questions without censure. The same cannot be said about the others. Even though Junhui considers all the angels in the Heavens to be his siblings, they are not, in fact, related. Not in the same way that humans or even demons have blood relatives. The only thing connecting them is Mother and her Gift of life. 

Angels are created from a dollop of cloud, shaped and molded into form. Then, a flower is plucked from Mother’s private gardens, and placed inside as a core. Each plant is unique, sprouting one single bud, which blooms into a flower that gives each angel their personality, defining them as individuals. Lastly, Mothers lets her powers flow, bringing the fledging to life. The babies are then raised and looked after in the nursery until they reach maturation. 

Something a little different happened in Junhui’s case. Or rather, in Jeonghan’s case. The plant that was chosen for him didn’t sprout just one, but two, distinct, different kind of buds. One had already bloomed, which Mother turned into Jeonghan’s core. It would take nearly two centuries for the other to follow suit, becoming Junhui’s own. For two angels to be created from the same plant is unheard of—an occurrence so rare, it hasn’t been seen before, nor since. 

As such, he and Jeonghan share a deeper bond than with any other angels. Although nowadays, he doesn’t get to see him very often anymore, the two of them assigned to completely different divisions. It wouldn’t be such a problem if Jeonghan worked anywhere other than the restricted area. Getting permission to speak to his own brother outside of the allotted times is equivalent to exploring the ocean depths. Junhui neither has the time nor the will. He’ll have to resort to a bit of sneaking.

Huddling behind a tree, Junhui peeks toward the courtyard. He spots him immediately, blond strands as bright as the sun. He’s talking to some high-ranked angels, the hooded cloaks hiding their faces. Junhui waits until the elders leave to call out to him.

“Hannie!”

His brother lifts his head and searches. A moment later, he spots him. Junhui waves him over.

“Junnie,” Jeonghan smiles. “What are you doing? You’ve long outgrown the age of playing hide and seek.”

“I wouldn’t have to do something so silly if I was allowed to go into the courtyard.”

Patiently, Jeonghan pats his head. “You know why.”

“But it’s just the courtyard!” he argues. “It’s not like the souls of all those sinners are ever allowed anywhere close to it, anyway. Besides, I just wanted to see you for a second.”

“Okay, okay. What’s all the fuss?”

“Something odd happened. I was on Light duty this morning, and an archangel showed up with the souls and the reaper guiding them. Isn’t that strange? Don’t they normally report directly to Mother when they return from duty?”

“Ah.” Jeonghan nods, understanding. “Yes, normally,” he says, going on. “Archangels only attend the Light Ceremony when the cause of death is related to a demon. Most of the time, they’re the one who dealt punishment. Consequently, they and the reaper responsible must report on the matter together. This is especially important when the souls are taken before their times.”

“Because if a reaper takes a soul prematurely, they’d be in big trouble.”

“Exactly.” Jeonghan nods. “And since reapers can’t leave the souls they’re guiding until the Light is given to them, it just makes it simpler for the archangel to come along. I’m sure that’s what happened this morning. It’s very rare, but it happens.”

Junhui falls silent as he remembers those children, that baby. The entire family died in a house fire, but it was caused by a demon. Or maybe the fire came afterward, as an attempt to hide the crime. Regardless, innocent lives were lost, cut short because of a vile creature. To what end? For fun? To create chaos? To feed?

His stomach twists at the thought.

Next to him, Jeonghan watches his baby brother quietly. At last, he advises, “Be careful of whom you confide your heart to, Junnie. Yours is especially pure and fragile.”

Junhui looks over at him, at a loss.

Jeonghan sighs and shakes his head. Someone calls his name, probably needing him his help in the building. Turning back to him, Jeonghan kisses his hair and hurries back to his duties.

Still troubled, Junhui meanders back to the main gardens and takes a seat on the marble bench overlooking the lush rose bushes. On any given day, the scent and sight of his favorite flowers would ease his mind, but it doesn’t work quite well today. He’s still so conflicted, and his thoughts keep contradicting each other.

A demon killed that family, and the archangel killed them.

Junhui doesn’t know their motive, not that it really matters. Archangels make no compromise. They are merciless. If they catch a demon mistreating someone, regardless of the reason, they exact punishment.

Killing innocent people is wrong, made all the worse when the murderer is a demon. But…

But.

That one, small, single word.

In the past, Junhui wouldn’t have thought twice. Everything was black and white. If a demon hurts someone, they must be punished.

Now that he has Wonwoo in his life, he finds himself trying to understand and make excuses. What if the demon didn’t commit the crime out of malice? What if the demon did it out of survival? What if the demon was simply at the wrong place and wrong time?

Head throbbing, Junhui buries his hands into his hair and pulls his legs to his chest. This is wrong. He shouldn’t be thinking like this. Just because of Wonwoo…

He has never seen Wonwoo harm anyone, but he is certainly capable, isn’t he? On the night they met, those lesser demons were scared of them, implying that he must be a high-ranking demon.

His stomach twists in on itself.

Not all powerful demons are murderers, he tells himself. Some openly dislike humans and steer clear of them. As a result, they don’t even leave the Abyss.

Wonwoo lives in the human realm.

Junhui squeezes his eyes shut.

It’s not unheard of that certain demons sustain themselves by sharing a symbiotic relationship with humans.

In which category does Wonwoo fit in?

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆: *✧･ﾟ:* 　꒰ঌ ໒꒱　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

Leaning back against the trunk of the tree, Junhui looks out into the playground, his legs dangling to and fro. The fluffy cat on his lap lifts her head, blue eyes blinking slowly at him, then licks at his fingertips. A smile stretches across pink lips as Junhui pets his newest friend. He’s hoped that coming down to the mortal realm might quiet down the cacophony of worries and questions in his head.

It helps, to a certain degree.

After wandering around the new neighborhood for a while, he came upon a row of tall and robust trees planted along the sidewalk. Their thick and vibrant leaves create the perfect canopy to shade young school children from the bright sunlight. Junhui picks a nice tree and settles on its branch, watching the inhabitants going about their daily lives. A man walking his dog, a housewife going shopping, a dad running after his daughter with a lunchbox, a group of friends visiting the convenience store for snacks.

A school bell resounds. The cat on his lap startles slightly, then as if remembering something important, she sits up and stretches. Then she looks at him, meowing in farewell, before hopping from the branch to the nearest wall. She hurries off toward the housing complex, but she does turn around.

Giggling, Junhui waves at her and watches as she nimbly jumps over the fence and disappears. Maybe it’s about time he heads home, too, he considers, glancing around him. He’s been sitting here long enough. From the direction of the bell, he spots groups of children pouring out onto the streets. He stays put for a little longer, observing with delight as the tiny humans, wearing matching uniforms and similar hats, walk alongside their older siblings or parents. Babies are so cute, he thinks, giggling to himself.

Momentarily, his spirits are healed, and the dark thoughts seem to have been blown miles away. Children’s laughter and silly antics really do work wonders on the anxious mind.

At least, that’s what he thought.

Until he notices two figures. They’re older boys, probably attending the high school a block away. They’re both wearing navy blue pants and gray blazers, but one has a green tie, while the older boy has a yellow one. Normally, Junhui wouldn’t have paused to study them. After all, high schoolers are nearly adults. Few of them still exhibit whimsical habits which interest him. However, something about these boys prompts him to furrow his brows in consternation.

Judging by their body language, the two are close, either very good friends or even siblings. The shorter of the two, the one wearing the green tie, is animated and cheerful, while his companion looks like someone’s just eaten his favorite snack. One hand grips the strap of his backpack tightly, back arched as he glares at the ground, kicking away pebbles. As they cut through the empty playground toward the main road, shortening the distance, their conversation reaches his ears.

“Doyun, are you sure you’re not sick?” Green Tie wonders, peering up at the older’s face. “You’ve been so down since afternoon break. Did Emi say something—”

“Leave me the fuck alone.” Doyun shoves his friend away with so much force, the boy loses his balance and nearly falls backward.

Eyes wide with shock and worry, he scrambles to follow. “Doyun,” he calls, voice trembling. “Please tell me what’s wrong—”

Doyun barks out a cruel laugh, whirling around. “What’s wrong?” he repeats mockingly, looming over him. He stalks forward, forcing the younger boy to back up. His shoe hits the base of the castle. Before he can even react to being trapped, Doyun grabs his collar and pins him against the wooden planks. “Your entire existence is wrong, Jongsu” he spits out.

“W-what?”

“First, you ingratiates yourself into my life, then you manipulate my parents into taking you in.” He tightens his grip, cutting into the boy’s oxygen intake. “Now you’re after Emi? Do you know how long I’ve loved her?” He scoffs. “Of course you know. I was the idiot who told you everything. I trusted you.”

“Doyun!” he gasps, hands weakly clawing at his throat, trying to dislodge the hold. “Please! What’s gotten into you?! I would never—Please! Stop!”

Coldly, Doyun releases him. Jongsu falls into a heap at his feet, coughing and wheezing. Doyun watches him impassively for a moment, then he lowers himself onto his haunches.

That’s when Junhui sees it.

A dark, wispy shadow behind him. It has no solid form, its entire being shifting in and out of focus. Thin, straggly tendrils protrude from its dark mass. A few are wrapped tightly around Doyun’s torso. The angrier the boy gets, the clearer the demon takes shape.  However, it’s not until Doyun speaks next that its hideous face appears.

“You call yourself my brother. Well, brothers share, don’t they?” He pulls a pocket knife out of his pocket and flicks the blade open.

Jongsu, face ashen, freezes, too frightened to even breathe.

“Since it’s your fault that my heart was broken, how about we share yours?” Doyun grins, gleeful and unhinged. Behind him, the demon licks its lips, tendrils flaring in jubilation.

Junhui jumps to his feet. He knows he’s ill-equipped to interfere, but he can’t just sit here and watch a murder unfold. The least he can do is stall for time until an archangel—

As though the mere thought is enough to summon one, a sudden gale blows through the area. The force shakes the entire tree, dislodging its leaves and almost Junhui with them. He grabs onto the nearest branch to steady himself, brushing the hair out of his eyes to see the flash of white and silver. The majestic figure instantly severs the tendrils sucking the energy out of their prey, causing the demon to shriek in pain, writhing pitifully.

Junhui covers his ears, eyes darting to the boys. Both have collapsed on the ground, unconscious. Deeming the demon no threat to himself, the archangel lowers himself to one knee to check on them. He passes a hand over their heads, a blue glow emanating from his palm.

“Sky bastard!” the demon cusses. “How can eating be considered an offense?”

The archangel pushes himself to his full height, regarding the demon with disdain. “Because it brings harm to innocent lives.”

Disgruntled, the demon grumbles. “How do you expect me to survive, otherwise?”

“I don’t.” In one swift flick of his wrist, the silver sword slices cleanly through the dark mass.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆: *✧･ﾟ:* 　꒰ঌ ໒꒱　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

“What do you eat?”

The two of them are in Wonwoo’s apartment again, sprawled across his bed. With the current heat wave, staying indoors seems like the only solution to not melt into a puddle. Moreover, with the air conditioner (a miracle of modern technology!) working, the couple can cuddle to their heart’s content. Junhui takes full of advantage, perched on Wonwoo’s back, while the latter attempts to read.

“What?” Not removing his gaze from the pages, Wonwoo asks him to repeat the question.

So Junhui does, leaning forward until he can lace his hands on top of the demon’s head and rest his chin on top. “What do you usually eat? When I’m visiting, you always take me to eat human food to expand on my research, but what about when I’m not around?”

Surmising that he won’t be able to finish his reading, Wonwoo tucks the bookmark in between the pages. “Are you sure you want to know?”

Junhui hesitates. From this angle, he can’t see what kind of expression Wonwoo is making, and his tone isn’t enough of an indicator. “Y-yes. You can’t scare me!” he claims, gathering all of his bravado, forcing himself to be brave.

Carefully, Wonwoo reaches back to catch Junhui, afraid of his fall when he moves. Junhui would find the gesture sweet if his stomach didn’t resemble a pretzel at present. They sit facing each other, and Wonwoo smirks.

“Children’s souls.”

Doe eyes balloon to the size of dinner plates.

“And then I come home and kiss you.”

Junhui’s hand flies to his mouth. All the blood has drained from his face.

Unable to hold back anymore, Wonwoo collapses across his lap in a fit of laughter. For a moment, Junhui can’t even react. Not until Wonwoo wheezes out, “Oh, kitten. You are so gullible.”

“Wonwoo!” Junhui cries out, whether it’s out of annoyance at having been teased again, or in relief, he’s not certain. Probably a combination of both. He swats him, hitting his arms and shoulders. White ribbons flutter all over the place, mostly tickling the snickering demon’s face.

Sitting up, he wipes at the tears on the corner of his eyes. “You’re so cute.”

“So it’s not true?” Junhui wants to know, just to be safe.

“Of course not. Demons never truly get full. There’d be no children left in the world,” he laughs, shaking his head.

Junhui lets out a breath of relief, the knots in his stomach slowly coming undone.

“Why do you ask?”

A small shrug. “Just wondering.” He watches him carefully before continuing. “I know that what you consume depends on your specific kind. Like those lesser demons we see most often around the neighborhoods, they can eat practically anything, since they don’t consume as much energy.” He throws him a furtive look as he fidgets with the ribbons on his sleeves. “A-and the really scary and powerful ones receive human sacrifices. But the ones in the middle of the range… like… like incubi and succubi…” He can feel himself turning progressively more red.

It doesn’t help that Wonwoo is so quick, never missing the chance. He leans in, mischievous grin dancing on the corner of his mouth. “Yes? What do incubi and succubi consume?”

“S-se—You already know!”

Wonwoo chuckles. Tantalizingly, he runs his fingertips up Junhui’s inner thigh, the material thin enough that even the lightest touch is felt. “Mm. They’re lust demons.”

Swallowing down a pleasant shudder, Junhui stammers, “A-are you… Are you a…”

“What, an incubus?” Wonwoo nuzzles into his throat, the light stubbles on his cheek scratching at the sensitive skin. “If I were one, would you help me feed?”

Trembling all over and blushing up to his hairline, Junhui grips onto Wonwoo’s shirt, fingers curling into the fabric. “I… I’ve never…”

Letting out a low groan, Wonwoo flattens his hand on the small of the angel’s back, pressing him to him. His breathing deepens; his scent thickens. “Fuck.” He bites onto the slope of Junhui’s shoulder, through the silk. It’s nowhere near enough to pierce through to his skin, but Junhui gasps as an electric jolt shoots through him. “What I wouldn’t give to fully corrupt this innocence of yours, angel,” he mutters, almost to himself.

Junhui can’t breathe. His head spins.

After a few more breaths, Wonwoo slowly pulls away. His eyes are blown, pupils wide, shimmering red. He blinks slowly, willing himself to calm down. When he gazes at Junhui next, they’ve returned to their usual brown with specks of red embers. He chucks his chin affectionately. “Another time.”

Junhui can’t tell whether he’s glad or dismayed. Shaking his head, he returns to the topic at hand. “So you’re not one of those.”

“No, I’m not a sex demon,” he confirms with a chuckle.

“Oh.”

A dark brow arches. “You sound disappointed.”

“Yes—” Junhui starts to say, then immediately backtracks. “No!”

Laughing, Wonwoo asks, “Which one is it?”

“I am disappointed, but not because I was hoping you’d be an incubus,” he starts to explain. “I just… wanted to know about your nature and origins.”

A peculiar flicker crosses over his face, but it’s gone too quick for Junhui to be sure he’s seen it correctly.

“Would it change your perception of me if you knew?”

Junhui tilts his head, blinking innocently at him. “No, of course not.”

A smile returns to his face, but it’s thin and strained, nothing like the ones he’s shown him just minutes ago. “Then why would it matter?” Getting up, he walks off toward the other end of the apartment, putting as much distance between them as possible. More precisely, between him and the topic. He clearly wants to end the conversation, but Junhui tries one more time.

He pushes on quietly, “I just wanted to know more about you.”

Keeping his back to him, Wonwoo opens the cupboard above his head to retrieve a glass. “What is it that you really want to ask me, Jun?”

It’s at moments like these that Junhui really wishes he could lie. Pinching his bottom lip, he tentatively starts, “Have… Have you ever k-killed—”

“Yes.”

His heart pounds, echoing in his ears. “B-b-but that’s in the past, right? I mean, you’re not like th—”

The glass clacks against the counter, by some miracle not shattering.

Junhui jumps.

“It’s getting late. I think you should head home, Junhui.”

His shoulders slump. He’s made Wonwoo angry. Furtively, he takes another look at that imposing back, wishing he could take back the insensitive questions. But no matter how long he looks, Wonwoo doesn’t turn around. Not even when he quietly opens the window and climbs out onto the fire escape. For the first time since they’ve known each other, Wonwoo doesn’t see him off.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆: *✧･ﾟ:* 　꒰ঌ ໒꒱　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

In the Heavens, Junhui goes through the motions. He attends to his duties without fail, and thankfully, nothing out of the ordinary occurs. He doesn’t even cross paths with an archangel. Not that it helps. Whoever came up with the expression ‘out of sight, out of mind’ is completely wrong. His head is filled with Wonwoo, regret, and worry.

It’s so long since he’s spent his free time in the Heavens, he doesn’t know what to do with himself. Aside from sulking. The first day he stays cooped up in his room, then he switches to the gardens for a change of scenery, hoping a solution would come to him. To no avail.

On the third day, he seeks help.

“Mother?” He trudges into her private gardens, lingering at the low wooden fence.

She looks up, pruners in hand, a delicate basket hanging around her wrist. “Yes, Junhui. Come and take a seat.”

Permission granted, he carefully makes his way to the marble bench. He looks up at the flower arch hanging above his head, the vines shading him from the sun. “What should I do?” he asks sadly. “I’m not sure exactly what I said, but I might have made someone very angry with me.”

“Is this about that new friend of yours?”

Junhui gulps, then nods, keeping his eyes lowered. Technically, it’s true. Wonwoo is his friend. A friend he kisses a lot and has immense affection for. But a friend, nonetheless.

Although now that brings up a point. Perplexed, he peeks at Mother. She must know that Wonwoo is a demon. Considering all the times she’s cleansed him after he returns home, it’d be impossible for her not to notice that it’s always the same scent and aura clinging to his clothes and skin. So why hasn’t she told him to stop seeing him? Why hasn’t she even mentioned it? Perhaps… Perhaps she can tell that despite his origins, Wonwoo is a good demon (no matter how much of an oxymoron that is).

“You should know better, Junhui,” she chides lightly, checking over the sprouting leaves. “No matter your intentions, whether deliberate or not, if you’ve hurt someone, you need to apologize.”

He knows. Of course he knows.

He just needed to hear it from someone else, he supposes.

Glumly, he nods. “May I go see them?”

Pausing her perusing briefly, she glances up at him. But otherwise, she says nothing further on the topic. “You may.”

Aside from that first night, Junhui hadn’t ventured into the human realm this late. Wonwoo told him it was dangerous. Nighttime is when the bigger, more vicious demons cross over to cause trouble. Consequently, archangels are on the hunt. Amidst the chaos, Junhui might end up in the crossfire. He had listened and obeyed, making sure to return to the Heavens before sunset. But tonight is an exception.

Still, it’s always wise to be extra prudent. Before he lands, he hovers in the air for a few minutes, checking the surrounding area for any unusual noises or signs of skirmishes. When he sees none, he lands on the empty roof of the building. His wings are barely hidden that he’s already running toward the door.

“Meow.”

His feet skid to a stop.

“Meow.”

A cat, as black as the night itself, emerges from the shadows. Were it not for the glow of the moon, Junhui would have had a hard time discerning from him the darkness.

“Meow~” he greets softly, kneeling down. He puts a hand out, and to his excitement, the cat trots over to him. Junhui giggles as the kitty rubs his face all over his hand, stretching his body so Junhui can scratch and pet him.

He’s wearing a collar.

“Your owner must be worried sick, kitty,” he murmurs, reaching for the tag to search for an address. What he finds instead is an engraved apology and a very familiar handwriting.

Heart skipping a beat, he jumps back to his feet and whirls around, searching. “Wonwoo?”

Like the cat, which was no doubt a product of his powers, Wonwoo walks out of the shadows. He stands a few feet away, eyes downcast but earnest. “I’m sorry,” he repeats in his own voice, meeting Junhui’s gaze directly. “I lost my temper. I shouldn’t have—Oof!”

Junhui throws himself into his arms and squeezes him tightly. “I’m sorry for making you mad.”

The pressure around him is returned as Wonwoo gathers him close. He cups the back of his head, fingers stroking the silky locks. “I wasn’t mad,” he says. “I could never be mad at you, kitten.”

“But you were angry,” Junhui whispers, burrowing into the crook of his neck, refusing to let go of his shirt.

Wonwoo lets out a shuddering breath. “I was,” he confirms, but quickly adds, “But not with you.” He kisses his temple. “Can you come with me somewhere?”

Junhui looks up and nods firmly. “Yes.”

Wonwoo smiles, the tension easing slightly. “It’s rather far, even with your wings, so it’s best we travel my way.”

The excitement is evident in the widening of his eyes and the perfect circle of his mouth. Wonwoo has mentioned it before, that he has the gift of teleportation, but Junhui has never seen it in action.

Wonwoo chuckles, sensing the buzzing of his enthusiasm. “Close your eyes and breathe in.”

No sooner has Junhui done so, that he feels a light breeze. Then comes Wonwoo’s voice again. “Okay. You can open them now.”

His eyes snap open to a large flower meadow. Magnificent mountain ranges line the horizon, and below are thick and grand conifers growing in a dense forest all around the meadow, as if protecting it from outsiders. Under his feet, the grass is lush and vibrant, even through the cover of night. Hundreds, maybe even thousands, of wild flowers grow among the blades, the petals delicate and dainty as a breeze rustles past and caresses them. Junhui breathes it in, smiling contently.

“It’s a lot prettier in the daylight,” Wonwoo says next to him, apologetic, “But—”

Spinning around in a slow circle, Junhui sighs wistfully. “It’s beautiful.”

He hears Wonwoo laugh quietly, relieved and happy. “I found this place by chance,” he reveals. “And for the longest time, I thought it’d be the closest I’d ever come to seeing the Heavens.”

Junhui pauses to look at him.

Taking his eyes away from the meadow, he casts them onto Junhui and smiles. “But then I met you, angel.”

Blushing, he lowers his gaze, and walks back to him when Wonwoo extends out a hand for him. They walk hand in hand, slowly and leisurely toward the center of the field.

“You must find it odd, for a demon to dream of the Heavens.”

“A little,” Junhui replies, glancing at him. “But you’ve been fascinating to me ever since we first met.”

A soft chuckle melts into the quiet night. “Is that your way of saying I’m a weirdo.”

“No!”

Wonwoo grins, and Junhui realizes he’s been teased again. In retaliation, he bumps their shoulders together, although his responding giggles give away any semblance of annoyance. After a few more paces in silence among the singing crickets and distant owls, Wonwoo breathes in, readying himself to speak.

“My family lineage dates back to the original group of fallen angels.”

Junhui whips around, eyes large. He can’t find his words.

“It’s ironic,” Wonwoo says with a wry laugh. “That pride is the sin that started the revolt and led to the Great Fall, and yet I felt ashamed to tell you.”

Junhui still hasn’t found where he keeps his words. All he can do is nod along to show Wonwoo he’s listening. Suddenly, he thinks of Mother, and an icy jolt runs down his spine, causing him to shiver. What would she do if she knew that not only is Wonwoo a demon, his own ancestors rebelled and sought to overthrow the Heavens? Would she be so willing to accept their “friendship” then? Wait, forget Mother accepting their relationship. If one of the archangels found out, Wonwoo would be turned into toast, and Junhui would be sent to confinement.

Wonwoo lets out a deep sigh. “I could never be angry with you,” he says. “But I was frustrated with myself, my ancestors…” He squeezes his hand. “Our circumstances.”

“I don’t hold it against you, Wonwoo,” Junhui tells him softly. “The Great Fall happened so, so long ago. Not to mention, you played no part in it.”

A faint, resigned smile graces his lips. “Be that as it may, but I must carry the sin and live with the consequences even to this day.”

Hugging Wonwoo’s arm to his chest, Junhui leans onto his shoulder. Wonwoo was worried about his origins, his past. Meanwhile, Junhui worried about his future. Although, isn’t that just two sides of the same coin? Wonwoo is a demon. Nothing will change that fact. A fact that they both know very well. What remains is how they’ll go on from here.

“That day…” Junhui starts hesitantly. “I was part of the Light Ceremony for a family with young children. They were killed in a house fire, caused by a demon. An archangel attended the ceremony. He…”

“He killed the demon responsible,” Wonwoo finishes for him.

Junhui nods against his shoulder. “I was scared of… everything. What if… What if it had been you? Are you capable of committing such atrocious crimes? Would you be caught? Would it be wrong for me to wish you could escape punishment? But then, what about those innocent people whose lives were cut short?” He presses his fists to his eyes. “All I could do was hope. Hope that you weren’t that kind of demon. Then everything else would be moot.”

Wonwoo pulls him in and breathes out. “I don’t go out on killing sprees for the fun of it, but I have committed innumerable sins. I have spilled blood, too.”

“I… I know, and I understand.” He swallows. “But I meant what I said the other day. It doesn’t change how I see you… nor how I feel about you,” he adds under his breath.

By the squeeze around his fingers, Wonwoo heard him perfectly well.

“I’m just worried about you and your soul.”

A chuckle fills the air, dispelling some of the heaviness. “That’s very sweet, kitten, but you can rest easy. I have no soul.”

Junhui frowns. Inching away to see him clearly, he states, “Yes, you do. All living beings have souls.”

But Wonwoo shakes his head. “All, except us.”

“I don’t believe that demons are soulless,” he insists. “After all, you were angels, once, before the Great Fall.”

“Maybe so, but the aftermath of the Great Fall is our split from the Heavens. Our souls, even if they existed, would never be allowed back. Besides, my soul would be riddled with so many sins, it’d break your fancy scale.”

Junhui can’t help giggling at the imagery, although he doesn’t agree with the assessment. “I can maybe believe the others don’t, but you have a soul, Wonwoo.”

The demon side-eyes him in feigned irritation.

Junhui swats him.

Wonwoo retaliates.

Quickly, it turns into a game of tag, each player trying to outdo the other while dodging and hitting the other back. Junhui flies; Wonwoo uses portals. Eventually, they fall into a mess on the grass, laughing too hard to stand upright and continue the game. They roll onto their backs, staring up at the night sky while catching their breaths. Remnants of the laughing fit escape in bursts of giggles.

After a few minutes, their breathing evens out, and they simply lay beside each other.

“I’ll try,” Wonwoo says quietly, unprompted.

Junhui turns to look at him. “Hm?”

Reaching for his hand, he laces their fingers together and meets his gaze. “For you. I’ll try.”

Junhui returns the smile, warmth filling his chest, bursting into effervescent bubbles.

Jeonghan warned him about wisely choosing the recipient of his heart, but he thinks it’s far too late. He’s already given it away.

“I can’t believe you found this place by chance.”

He and Wonwoo haven’t moved since their impromptu game of tag. They’re probably covered head to toe in grass and pollen, but they don’t mind. Hands still entwined, they gaze up at the sky, admiring the myriad of tiny sparkling diamonds spread across the inky canvas. A stubborn wisp of cloud refuses to float away, though, partially hiding the moon.

“Mm.”

“It’s like your own little piece of heaven.”

Wonwoo laughs.

“What?”

“Nothing. It’s just amusing coming from you, of all people. I know it’s nothing in comparison to the actual Heavens.”

“No, but…” Junhui’s mind drifts, recalling images of the heavenly gardens with its pristine and perfect flowers. “Is there such a thing as too… idyllic? Too perfect?” he muses aloud. “Everything has a place, and everything is where it should be, not a hair out of place. Like cogs in a well-oiled machine, spinning and spinning, relentlessly and constantly to maintain the flow. All our needs are met, so we want for nothing. We also know nothing beyond what is given to us. Thus is the price for perfection.” He pauses. “I don’t condone the actions nor the approach, but now that I’ve experienced the human realm, I think I can understand why your ancestors decided to join the rebellion.”

“Blasphemy!” Wonwoo gasps in mock shock, scandalized. “I’ll have to wash your mouth out with soap.”

“Shhh!” Junhui giggles, bumping into him. “We never had this conversation.”

The two laugh conspiratorially, huddled together.

“Your secret is safe with me.”

“It should. It’s partly your fault,” Junhui accuses.

“How so?”

“If it weren’t for you, I never would have experienced all of these emotions so fully.”

In the Heavens, everything is to be done in moderation, and that includes feelings. He knows it’s to protect them, to prevent lingering attachment and deep sadness. But how can he cherish a sunny, balmy day if he’s never encountered freezing snow? The elation of a reunion can only be felt after a separation.

Looking at him fully, Junhui confesses, “I’ve never missed anyone before.”

“I’ve missed you, too, kitten,” Wonwoo whispers. “But now you’re back in my arms.”

Heart full enough to burst, Junhui smiles, the corners of his eyes wet. He scoots even closer, burrowing into his favorite spot.

At that moment, the last wisp of cloud clears up at last, allowing the moonlight to shine down on them. Sensing the cool yet bright silvery light, Junhui peeks.

Excitement overtakes his whole frame as he points. “Ooh! Look!”

“Mm.” Wonwoo hums. “The moon is beautiful tonight.”

“It is!” he agrees.

Had Junhui turned his head, he would have noticed that Wonwoo isn’t gazing at the night sky at all, and yet his smile is the fondest since they’ve reunited.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆: *✧･ﾟ:* 　꒰ঌ ໒꒱　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

On the rooftop of Wonwoo’s building, Junhui paces back and forth anxiously. He watches his shadow, cast by the moonlight, moving along with him on the concrete. Unsurprisingly, his shadow offers no help whatsoever. A million butterflies are doing summersaults in his stomach, and his head is swimming. How in the world is he supposed to broach the subject?

For all the teasing that he puts him through, Wonwoo hasn’t done more than kiss him. Junhui knows a lot—if not all—of that restraint is for his sake, and he truly appreciates everything that the demon has done for him. He’s been so patient and kind, indulging Junhui’s every whim, looking out for him, and putting his own needs last. He doesn’t want to scare Junhui off. He treats him like a soap bubble and a precious jewel at the same time. Which makes it all the more difficult to bring up. At a loss, he whines and stomps his feet.

A flash flickers at the periphery of his vision. Were it not for the dull thud that follows, Junhui would have thought it’d been a trick of the light. He stops pacing. Tentatively, he tiptoes toward the edge and peers down at the little courtyard behind the complex.

A startled cry lodges itself into his throat. He drops to his haunches and scurries behind the nearest shelter, the electrical box just big enough to conceal him. Steadying himself, he leans out once more. A shudder runs through him while he watches the huge snake… creature. It slithers across the lawn, crushing the grass in its wake under its enormous weight. The scales glistens in the silvery glow of the moon, but Junhui doesn’t get a good look at the creature until it stops in front of a tree. With a gasps, he realizes there’s a figure slumped there.

The black haired angel clutches at his side. Blood seeps through the gaps between his fingers, staining the thin fabric of his torn robes. Upon closer inspection, Junhui frowns in confusion and concern. His right arm is bare, making the necrosis all the more obvious. The skin has turned blue, a black liquid coursing through the blood vessels. Two distinct puncture wounds pierce the slope of his shoulder, where the highest concentration of the liquid accumulates.

Did… Did he get bitten by this snake?

As though to confirm his suspicions, the culprit lifts itself off of the ground, its tail curling into a neat pile. Junhui presses his hands against his mouth to prevent any sound from escaping. The creature has arms. While the torso is covered in scales, there is an unmistakable hint of human musculature underneath. But perhaps the most disturbing aspect is the face. There is something so warped, so unsettling about the distorted humanoid features. It looks as though a human face has been forced to stretch unnaturally in the vain hopes of fitting over the frame of a reptile. The mouth is too wide, the corners extending up to its ears, the tip of the nose almost nonexistent. Without eyelids, the eyes appear to protrude out of their sockets like two amber marbles. They assess their prey now.

“It seems that I have underestimated your resistance to my venom,” the snake notes with a twinge of regret. “I apologize. Believe me, I was trying to make this process as painless as possible for you.”

“Believe you?” the angel spits out with a scoff. “How could I believe a single word uttered past your lips after all the lies you’ve told?”

“Lies?” it tilts his head. “When have I ever lied to you, Kihyun?”

“You… You…” Kihyun groans weakly, breath labored. He grits his teeth. “You claimed you needed my help… You wanted to reach the Heavens… seeking forgiveness… You wanted to absolve yourself of your sins…”

Crossing its arms, the snake chuckles as it leans its face against a fist. “Was it really I who spoke of such noble intentions? Or was it simply your wishful thinking?”

Kihyun freezes, eyes snapped open.

Sighing, the snake demon shakes his head. Patronizingly, it pats Kihyun’s head. “I will take the blame for a poor use of my words, but I did not lie about wanting to go to the Heavens and needing your help.” The same hand that has stroked his head so gently, now wretches the coronet of light adorning the crown of his head.

Kihyun cries out, horrified.

A gasp slips past Junhui’s lips as terror freezes him to the spot. He grips the top of his knees, body trembling.

In the grips of the demon, the ring of light immediately begins to dim. The shine dulls, the sparkles vanishing. The snake’s transgression doesn’t stop there; it lifts the empty ring and places it onto its own head. Right away, the halo deteriorates, breaking away piece by piece, as if corroded by its sheer proximity to the demon’s aura.

Kihyun sobs uncontrollably, tears streaming down his cheeks as he watches his own grace and virtue being destroyed.

The snake turns to him, the delight evident on its hideous face. “Now for your wings,” it murmurs ominously.

“No!” Kihyun tries to move, to escape, but with his injuries, it’s impossible.

“Don’t fret.” The snake grabs onto his ankle and yanks him back. His defeated and hopeless cries fall on deaf ears. “This time, I assure you, Kihyun, I will ensure there is enough venom to offer you permanent relief from all the pain.” Its free hand reaches for his wings, its jaw opens wide, fangs aiming straight for Kihyun’s heart.

Junhui doesn’t think.

He puts his thumb and middle finger to his lips and blows. The long, high-pitched whistle tears through the night like an arrow. Kihyun laughs in relief, but his assailant whirls around in panic, searching the surrounding for the source of the alert. Junhui crawls as quickly as he can, scrambling to hide from view.

He breathes out in relief when he reaches the door leading into the building. His hand grabs onto the handle, head lifting for a final look around him—

Across the street, Wonwoo turns the corner.

Junhui’s heart drops.

No no no no no no!

He’s just called an archangel to the scene. If one of those brutes spots Wonwoo, they won’t wait around for an explanation. They’ll hack into pieces any and all demons within the vicinity.

Without a second to lose, Junhui jumps off the edge. His wings break the fall, but he doesn’t account for Wonwoo jogging across the intersection. The momentum propels him straight for him. Wonwoo barely has the time to register the angel flying into him that the two collide into each other.

Dizzily, Junhui groans and sits up, hand to his head. “Are you okay?” he asks, blinking the spots out of his vision. Thankfully, the crash hasn’t sent them into the middle of the road. It might be late, but cars still drive by.

Wonwoo seems to have collected himself rather quickly, standing up to dust himself off. He offers Junhui a hand to pull him up. “When I said I have fantasies of you jumping into my lap, this is not how I expected it’d go.”

“This is no time for jokes!” Junhui grabs his hand, yanking on it “We have to—”

Something behind Junhui catches his attention, breaking the easy grin. “Shit!” One hand atop Junhui’s head, he pushes. The two find themselves on the ground once more, but this time, concealed behind the lush bushes decorating the city sidewalk. Within the little garden, a few trees also offer their help, their trunks and canopy large enough to hide the couple from sight.

Wordlessly, Wonwoo points toward the sky. Junhui follows his direction to see an archangel approaching the building. The pair shrink further into the shadows. At that moment, Kihyun screams for help, probably spotting his savior. The latter charges toward the courtyard, raising a gale in his wake. Junhui squeezes his eyes shut, burrowing into Wonwoo’s shoulder.

Not even a second later, the snake rushes out, slick body moving like a river through the streets. It’s incredibly fast, but nowhere near enough to get away. The archangel flies straight for it, sword glinting. He plunges the blade into its tail, halting its escape.

A blood-curling scream bounces off the buildings. Junhui curls in on himself, feeling Wonwoo’s arms tightening around his shoulders.

Walking to its front, the archangel casts the monster a look of utter disgust and contempt. The snake writhes in agony, blood spilling from its wound, flickering onto the archangel’s pristine white uniform. Completely disregarding the state of the demon, he wretches the halo off of it head. Then, perhaps in an act of mercy, he unsheathes his second sword. In one swoop, he decapitates it.

The head doesn’t even make it to the ground before the entire body sizzles and catches fire. The corpse burns up in the blink of an eye, turning into gray smoke. Within seconds, it’s carried off by a breeze, vanishing into nothingness.

“Come on,” Wonwoo whispers against his ear. “Let’s go before he senses our presence.” Discreetly, he opens a portal and teleports them away from the scene.

Junhui opens his eyes to the meadow. Cool moonlight caresses his cheeks, unobstructed by imposing buildings and street lamps. The fresh and crisp scent of flowers and pine trees fill his lungs, his legs tickled by the tall grasses and flower stems. Still dazed from the ordeal he’s just witnessed, Junhui thinks out loud.

“There was no reaper.” This wasn’t the first time he’s witnessed it, but something has always prevented him from seeing the ending. Tonight, he had seen it with his own eyes. The demon just completely vanished. Nothing of it was left.

“Demons have no souls,” Wonwoo repeats in lieu of an explanation. “There’s nothing for a reaper to guide away. Now that you’ve seen it for yourself, it might be easier to convince you.”

And yet Junhui continues to refuse. “Surely that’s because it was slain by an archangel,” he muses. “If the cause of death is natural, then—”

“We don’t die unless we’re slain,” Wonwoo interrupts gently. “Either by one of your big brothers or by one of our own. Human exorcism only displaces the entity. It doesn’t die.”

Junhui remains silent. He cannot accept that Wonwoo has no soul. Admittedly, it’s hard to deny the truth now he’s seen the proof, but there must be something more. Something different. Wonwoo isn’t like all those demons. With that said, isn’t the topic a bit of a moot point, anyway? If a demon cannot die unless slain, then all Junhui needs to do is keep Wonwoo away from his warrior siblings. Wonwoo is more than capable of defending himself against other demons. As long as he’s not caught, then there’s nothing to worry about.

Satisfied and glad to put that upsetting topic behind him, Junhui breathes out. He doesn’t want to think about it anymore. Moreover, this isn’t what he came down to discuss in the first place. Just the thought alone turns him into a nervous wreck.

He stands there, gnawing on his lip, hands fidgeting with the long ribbons of his shirt. With everything that happened, he never got around to figuring out what to tell Wonwoo.

“Junnie?” he calls, turning around to check on him. “Are you okay?”

He jumps, flailing a little. “Yes!”

The strange behavior earns him a curious look, but Wonwoo doesn’t call him out on it. “What were you doing in the human realm, anyway? Didn’t we agree that you shouldn’t be out after nightfall?”

Flushing, Junhui mulls over his words. “I… saw that Kihyun was in danger, so I called for help.”

“And I’m sure he’s very grateful, but why were you there?”

“I… was in the neighborhood.”

An inky brow arches. “You just happened to be in the neighborhood…”

“Yep!” he grins, bright and innocent.

“My neighborhood.”

“Yes.”

With steady steps, Wonwoo approaches. “Any particular reason?”

Junhui moves along with him, keeping him within sight. “I wanted to tell you something.”

Smile growing wide, Wonwoo presses on. “And what might that something be?”

Unable to bear it anymore, Junhui whines and plasters himself against Wonwoo’s front. He drops his head and burrows his face against his favorite spot. He mumbles something unintelligible.

Wonwoo chuckles, circling his arms around him. He presses a kiss to his temple. “My hearing is good, but not that good. You’ll have to use your words, kitten.”

It takes a few seconds, but eventually, he does peek. “Wonwon,” he pouts.

The smile is gentle, but teasing at the same time. “Yes? I’m listening.”

His voice is barely audible, but at least his mouth isn’t obstructed anymore. “I said…” he swallows. “I said that I don’t have to return to the Heavens until morning.”

Wonwoo freezes for a second as the words sink in. Then his arms tighten around him. “Are you sure?” he asks.

Shy but certain, Junhui nods, lashes low. “Yes. I lov—Mm!”

Wonwoo kisses him.

“I lo—Mm!”

Once more, Wonwoo swoops in to steal a kiss. Every time Junhui tries to speak, Wonwoo interrupts. And he always wins.

After about a dozen attempts, Junhui manages to stand his ground. “Wonwoo!” he cries out, fingers clutching onto his shirt. “Why won’t you let me—”

This time, the kiss is longer, sweeter. Enough to sway him, knees threatening to buckle. When Wonwoo draws back to look at him, his eyes are the most tender they’ve ever been. Stroking over the pink cheeks, he presses another kiss onto his lips. “I love you, Junhui.”

He stops breathing, the emotions too overwhelming. It manifests into tears, overflowing his vision as he laughs wetly. “You made me cry,” he accuses without an ounce of reproach.

Wonwoo laughs, too, wiping the sparkling drops on the corners of his eyes. “I am a demon.”

Junhui smiles, sweet and content. “And I love you.”

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ꒰ঌ ໒꒱ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

“Mm.” Happily, Junhui sighs, scooting back until his back hits Wonwoo’s chest. The thin blankets help slightly, but a small shivers runs through him, despite their presence. The night has turned a little chilly. Earlier, it had been a nice relief on his feverish skin, but now that he’s calmed down, his skin breaks into goosebumps.

Gently, Wonwoo uses the back of his fingertips to brush against the pebbled skin of the angel’s shoulder, smoothing the goosebumps away. He kisses the spot tenderly, then pulls the blanket to cover him fully. “Are you cold?”

“I’m fine. You’re warm,” Junhui giggles, looking behind him.

Wonwoo chuckles, settling his arm over the other’s middle. “Just let me know when you want to leave.”

“I actually wish we could stay like this forever.”

“Well, we can’t actually stay here forever.”

“Why not?”

“Because getting slapped awake by the sun is a bitch,” he deadpans.

Junhui bursts into giggles, laughing into his hands, feet kicking. “You know that’s not what I mean,” he says. He feels Wonwoo smiling into his hair.

“I know.” His hold tightens as he vows, “We’ll always have each other, kitten. Today, tomorrow, and the day after.”

“And the day after that, too,” Junhui continues. “Forever.”

“Forever.”

Smiling contently, Junhui shifts so he can nuzzle into him. Wonwoo accommodates him easily, settling him across his chest, and rearranges the blankets around them. Idly, his fingertips draw invisible patterns across Junhui’s naked back, occasionally dipping down to the curve of his bottom, before returning to his waist and shoulder blades.

After a moment of comfortable silence, simply listening to each other’s breathing and heartbeat, Junhui folds his arms across the wide chest and looks at him. “I’ve never once felt envy,” he says. “Until now.”

“What do you envy?” Wonwoo asks patiently, brushing the hair out his eyes.

“The power of creation.”

Puzzled over his answer, Wonwoo’s brows knit together.

Junhui laughs softly and reaches behind him for his boyfriend’s hand. Then, timidly, he guides it to his belly. He watches with mirth as Wonwoo’s eyes widen in realization, his hand spanning almost entirely across the angel’s width.

“Oh. Oh.”

Just as quickly, mischief replaces it. He flips Junhui onto his back and slots himself in between his legs, bracing himself on his elbows so not to crush his lover under his weight. Junhui barely has the time to blink and flick the hair out of his eyes that his vision is filled with Wonwoo, set against a canvas of the night sky.

He smirks. “If that’s what you truly want, I’ll do my best to knock you up, angel.”

They had just spent hours in each other’s arms. There isn’t an inch of skin on his body that Wonwoo hasn’t kissed or touched. He’s made Junhui see stars, shown him pleasures he’s never known. Wonwoo has marked Junhui as his, inside and out.

And yet none of it has helped him get over his shyness and embarrassment.

With a whine, Junhui covers his blushing face with both hands. “T-that isn’t how it works!” He hears Wonwoo laugh, bending down to press a kiss to his bellybutton.

“You’re adorable,” Wonwoo murmurs, gently lowering his hands, so he can kiss him sweetly. “I wouldn’t mind having a miniature version of you.”

Dazed, Junhui smiles dopily at him, lips swollen and red. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He runs his palm down the length of his lithe body, stopping at his waist to grip it. There are already several handprints there, but Junhui wouldn’t be opposed to a few more. “Although…” he pauses, gaze lifting to meet his. “Maybe it is a good thing you don’t have the power of creation.”

Confused at the shift of sentiment, Junhui frowns and tilts his head, doe eyes blinking. “What do you mean?”

“With how insatiable you are, we’d have a dozen baby angels running amok in no time.”

Flushing anew, Junhui swats his huge bicep. “I am not insat—insati—I’m not that!”

Wonwoo resists the urge to laugh, smirk still perched on the corner of his mouth. “No? Then, did my ears deceive me? I could have sworn I heard a beautiful, alluring voice calling my name, begging me for more.” To drive the teasing further, he leans in to kiss him, gently biting and nipping at the full bottom lip. “Did those breathless moans and needy pleas not come from this gorgeous mouth?”

Junhui’s own body betrays him, moaning into Wonwoo’s mouth, proving his point. The demon grins, well satisfied and smug.

“Good boy.”

“Wonwon.” Junhui pouts. “You’re no fair.”

Chuckling, Wonwoo gives his thigh a squeeze, hand curling around to grope the curve of his bottom. “How am I not fair?”

“It’s your fault that I’m… like that.” Wrapping his arms around his lover’s neck, Junhui pulls him down so he can hide against his shoulder.

“In that case, I’ll gladly accept the blame.” This time, when he grins at him, there is no traces of teasing.

“As you should!”

The two laugh, sharing several more kisses. Afterward, they lay side by side, Junhui’s head pilled on Wonwoo’s arm. Noticing the goosebumps on Junhui’s body, he conjures up a thicker blanket and drapes it over the two of them.

“Thank you.”

“Mm.” He strokes up and down his arm, warming him up. “How come you’re more willing to ask me for a baby rather than admit you’re cold?”

“Hey…” Junhui swats him, but that only prompts him to laugh. A few heartbeats pass before he speaks again. “If we lived in the Heavens, I bet Mother would give us one.”

Wonwoo hums. “Maybe. She seems very fond of you.”

“Mother loves all of her children equally.”

“I don’t know…” he laughs. “I think the fact that she turns a blind eye to our relationship speaks volumes. She’s quite partial to you.”

Junhui’s heart soars with hope, even though he knows he shouldn’t rely on something as unreliable as mere speculations. As wonderful as it would be, he has to remind himself to be cautious. It’s unwise to hope for too much. Nevertheless, it doesn’t hurt to imagine the impossible, right?

“If given the chance, would you ever want to go to the Heavens?”

Without missing a beat, Wonwoo replies, “I’d go anywhere with you, kitten.”

Smitten, Junhui can’t help grinning like a fool. “Come on,” he pokes him. “Answer me properly.”

Inhaling, then breathing it out slowly in a sigh, Wonwoo takes his time to consider his response. “If I could get a glimpse of it through a magic mirror or a crystal ball, without actually setting foot there, then sure.”

“Wow. That’s… oddly specific.”

A soft laugh, then a pause. Eventually, he explains, “As much as I resent the actions of my ancestors, I understand why they broke away. They sacrificed a lot, and too much blood was spilled, on both sides. For me—a demon—to step into the realm that they fought so ardently to break free from would be an insult to all the lives lost.”

Junhui nods. “I see.” Glancing at him, he asks, “Would you still say no even if it meant living happily with me and a potential baby?”

He receives a side-eye and a light pinch to the bottom for his trouble.

Junhui yelps. Laughing, he tries to roll away, yanking the blankets with him.

Wonwoo sits up, too. Instead of playing tug of war over the covers with him like Junhui expects, though, he stops him with a gentle but firm hand around the arm. “I love you, Junhui, with every fiber of my being, but that’s exactly why I can’t ever go up there with you. I can’t ignore the past and live blissfully with you as though nothing happened. Not only would that be disrespectful, it’d be like stomping on all those who fought and perished. Besides,” he chuckles, “I think I’ve already committed the greatest sin by making you mine, angel.”

Throwing himself into his arms, Junhui shakes his head vigorously. “That is not true! We may not have the Heavens’ blessings, but our feelings are the furthest things from a sin.”

“Okay.” Indulgent as always, Wonwoo gathers him up and presses a kiss to his temple.

After a short pause, Junhui says, “I think a crystal ball or a magic mirror might be a tad difficult to obtain, but there is another way to peek at the Heavens.”

“What’s that?”

“We could go on an adventure and search for the spot where the portal from Mount Elysian opens into.”

A dark brow arches. “Mount Elysian?” he repeats. “Aren’t angels terrified of that peak? That’s where Lucifer tore through the realms,” he reminds him.

“I know,” Junhui laughs. “I’d never try to climb it from the Heavens. What if a demon actually does pop out and yank me to the Abyss?”

Wonwoo snorts out a laugh, ruffling his hair.

“Would you come and save me?”

“I’d follow you to the ends of the world.”

“Mm.” Junhui makes a pensive face. “Everywhere except the Heavens.”

“You…” Wonwoo pokes his side, prompting a peel of giggles to echo across the quiet meadow. Once they settle back, he says, “I changed my mind. I don’t need to see the Heavens.” When Junhui turns to face him, he adds, “We’ll just create our own little piece of heaven here.”

Junhui agrees with a cheer.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆: *✧･ﾟ:* 　꒰ঌ ໒꒱　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

For the next month or so, life seems to unfold like a fairytale. His days are filled with sheer and utter happiness. As soon as he finishes with his duties, he’s off to the Gates, traveling down to the human realm. No matter how much time he spends with Wonwoo, though, it never seems to be enough. The grains of sand flow much, much too quickly.

He mentions it to Wonwoo once, while they’re in the meadow. The demon is lounging under the shade of a tree, eyes closed peacefully, while Junhui meticulously weaves together a crown from twigs and flowers he’s gathered earlier.

“I wish there was a way to save memories,” he comments casually. “Tomorrow, these flowers will have wilted.”

At the time, Wonwoo doesn’t say anything substantial, but the following day, he brings along a bag. Ever the curious kitty, Junhui sits on folded legs, watching him pull out several black and silver items.

“These are cameras,” Wonwoo explains. “For all intents and purposes, they’re able to save memories.” Eyes bright with excitement, Junhui gasps, requesting a demonstration. Wonwoo laughs and brings the black camera to his face. He clicks a button.

“What happened?” Junhui asks, crawling over to peer at it.

“I just took your picture. Look.” He turns it over, and there, in a small rectangle, Junhui sees himself.

“Wow!” he exclaims, full of awe. “This is fantastic! Can I try?”

“Sure.” Patiently, Wonwoo explains each button and its function, going over what the parts are called and what they’re used for. Since Junhui’s nervous about breaking such a wonderful device, his hands shake slightly. Wonwoo reassures him that even if it breaks, he can fix it with his powers. Nevertheless, he doesn’t miss the chance to hold his hands with the excuse of the lesson.

In no time at all, Junhui is snapping shot after shot. Giddy, he runs off with the camera, taking photos of flowers, the mountains, the woods, the sky. Most of all, though, he takes pictures of Wonwoo. To his surprise, his boyfriend brings out a different camera and starts taking pictures of him. The two run around the meadow, laughing like children, trying to catch the other onto pictures.

Later on, while taking a break from all the laughing, Wonwoo goes through the shots Junhui took, deleting the blurry, nonsensical ones. When Junhui leans onto his shoulder and inquires about the other camera, Wonwoo tells him they can’t see the pictures yet.

“Why not?”

“This one uses film. The pictures need to be developed,” he explains, although it’s not much of an explanation. Seeing the confused look on the angel’s face, Wonwoo chuckles and kisses him. “I’ll show you later.”

True to his promise, later in the week, Junhui learns all about film, a dark room, an enlarger, and all the various accessories and tools associated with film photography. He even helps dunk the photo paper into the little container of fluid. To his amazement, the black and white image slowly appears. It’s a shot of Junhui standing under the sun, smiling up at the sky, his eyes closed. Unknown to him, Wonwoo had managed to sneak that shot in. In fact, it’s one shot among many.

Since Junhui shows so much enjoyment in taking pictures, Wonwoo buys him his own camera. Although this one is quite different from the ones his boyfriend already own.

“Oooh!” Junhui exclaims with glee, cradling the new camera. Unlike the dark and sleek models Wonwoo prefers, this one has soft edges and fits nicely in one of his hands. Still, the color is exactly to his taste—purple. “It’s so pretty and cute!”

“Like you.”

Junhui blushes, shoving him away playfully. “How come it’s so different from yours?”

“Give it a try,” he urges.

Not sure how that differs from usual, Junhui follows his direction, regardless. He aims, getting Wonwoo into focus and clicks. To his surprise, a piece of paper pops out, startling him. “Oh! What is that?”

Wonwoo catches the strip and flips it over. “I think you’ll really like it,” he chuckles. “Just give a second.” Gradually, a ghostly image begins to appear on the paper.

“Oh!” Finally understanding, Junhui grips the camera and gawks at it with admiration. “It gives us the photos right away?”

“Yes,” Wonwoo confirms, handing him the now fully developed picture. “It’s a polaroid.”

“A polaroid,” he repeats, delighted. “And it’s in color!”

And thus begins his love affair with the purple camera, much to Wonwoo’s amusement and chagrin.

“Come on, Wonwon! Pose for me!”

“Junnie…” he groans, looking up from his own camera. “How many have you already taken?”

Junhui makes a face. “I don’t know. Probably half as many as you’ve taken of me.”

Wonwoo pauses. A beat of silence. “Touché.”

For all the griping and reluctance that he displays, Wonwoo ends up indulging him, nonetheless. In no time at all, Junhui amasses a veritable priceless collection of memories, taken by the both of them. They range from the candid and mundane, to the artistic and poetic. His favorites, though, are the selcas he manages to snap of the two of them. Many are silly shots, some even end up blurry because of his shaking hands while laughing. A few of them, though, are simple but intimate snapshots of the couple simply basking in each other’s warmth and affection.

  Junhui saves all of them in a pretty paper box, which Wonwoo bought for him. Included in his treasure box are stems of wildflowers from the meadow. He hasn’t told his boyfriend about his secret project yet. He wants it to be a surprise.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆: *✧･ﾟ:* 　꒰ঌ ໒꒱　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

One evening, before he retires to his private chamber, Junhui gathers his treasure box, along with some freshly picked flowers, and heads off to the library. At the very back of the ancient building is the atelier, where book repairs and restorations take place. It is also where the book binding workshop is located. With a spring to his steps and a song on his lips, Junhui all but skips through the large, open doors.

He nods his greetings to the few night owls occupying the reading room, and meanders through the towering shelves in search of the staircase that would lead to the lower floor. It’s during his perusing of the signboards and placards that he nearly runs into a familiar angel.

“Oh! Junhui!” he exclaims, left arm cradling a thick tome.

“Kihyun.” Junhui can’t help but glance at the bandages wrapped around his injured arm, gaze flickering to his torso. Of course, the injuries are as good as gone now, but it was a painful and tedious process.

According to Jeonghan, after Pyongho returned to the Heavens with an unconscious Kihyun, the Heavens were in great agitation. The healers got to work immediately, extracting the venom out of his system, and reverting the effects of the necrosis. He was bedridden for a whole week, only perking up when Mother visited and restored his halo.

Now the ring of light sits nicely on the crown of his head, shining beautifully.

“You’re a true master of hide and seek,” Kihyun jokes. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you.” He reaches to clasp his hand. “Thank you, Junhui,” he says sincerely, eyes brimming with tears. “If it hadn’t been for you…”

Patting his fingers, Junhui smiles. “The real hero is Pyongho,” he tells him. “He saved you. All I did was call for help and run away.”

Kihyun shakes his head. “You did the right thing. If you had approached, it would have lured you in, too.” He heaves a sigh, hanging his head in shame. “I was a fool for trusting a demon. All they bring is woe and tragedy.”

Junhui’s heart squeezes painfully. For a moment, he stops breathing. Pasting on a serene smile, he forces the air out of his lungs. He doesn’t blame Kihyun for harboring such condemning sentiments. After all, that snake manipulated his feelings and tricked him, nearly killing him. It’s a perfectly normal reaction. Junhui can only hope that one day, he can show his brother that not all demons are vile creatures.

After bidding farewells to each other, Kihyun returns to his studies, while Junhui descends the onyx staircase. The workshop is empty, most artisans preferring natural light over lamps. Junhui is grateful. Angels aren’t nosy, so they wouldn’t be sneaking peeks over his shoulder while he worked. Nevertheless, he doesn’t want to risk anyone seeing Wonwoo. Especially after the horrific attack on Kihyun.

Pulling out a stool, Junhui settles down at the bench and sets his treasure box to the side. To create a scrapbook, he’ll need a book, first and foremost. And so, little by little, like an ant gathering ingredients, Junhui potters around the atelier. He pulls out sheets of paper, measuring and cutting them down to size. He stacks them into a neat pile. Then he picks out the material for the cover, something thick but light.

The process lasts almost the entire night, but just before dawn breaks, Junhui lifts the completed scrapbook into the air triumphantly. He’s managed to organize and glue all the pictures from his treasure box. Interspersed throughout, he’s decorated the pages with the flowers he’s picked. Under each photograph, he’s written in a few lines to caption them. Thanks to all the memories, the book is twice as thick, but he doesn’t mind. He still has plenty of empty pages to fill. The bigger it grows, the more happiness is captured.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆: *✧･ﾟ:* 　꒰ঌ ໒꒱　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

“Wonwon! Look what I made!” Junhui sing-songs in lieu of a greeting. He conceals his wings and climbs through the window of his boyfriend’s apartment. Proudly, he brandishes the heavy scrapbook in the air.

Sitting on the couch, bent over the coffee table, Wonwoo pauses his writing to look up at him. His expression softens, and a fond smile appears on his lips. “Hi, kitten.” He shuts the journal he’s been jotting notes in and throws it into the small drawer.

“What are you up to?” Junhui asks casually.

“Accounting.”

“Accounting?” he repeats. “For what?”

“How many hearts I’ve stolen,” he smirks.

Junhui makes a face. “Ha ha. Hilarious.”

Snickering, Wonwoo scoots over to make room for him. “What did you want to show me?” he asks, chin gesturing toward the tome under the angel’s arm.

Junhui joins him on the couch, setting his most prized possession on the table. “My first ever scrapbook! I finished it last night.”

“Wow,” Wonwoo lets out a low and impressed whistle as he scans the cover. “You bound it all yourself?”

“Yeah!” Excitedly, Junhui opens it up, fingertips grazing over the page reverently. “They’re mostly in chronological order,” he tells him.

“So this is the reason why you squirreled away all those polaroids,” Wonwoo teases.

“They’re not all polaroids!” Junhui points to a black and white photograph of himself, which obviously Wonwoo took. “But I wanted to include more shots of the two of us. These are meant to be our memories, after all. It can’t just be pictures of me.”

“Mm.” Humming, Wonwoo leans in close to read the silly captions. “I wouldn’t mind owning several volumes cataloguing photographs of you.”

Blushing, Junhui huffs and bumps their shoulders together. Wonwoo chuckles, pressing a kiss to his temple.

For the next several minutes, they go through each page with care and enjoyment. They recall the moments, laughing together at the silly antics preceding or following the snapshots. When they turn to a page with the pressed flowers, their light fragrances waft through the air. Wonwoo has a lot of fun searching for the little doodled cats Junhui includes in hidden corners.

Nothing happens at first, because Wonwoo’s mouth is attached to Junhui’s nape, and his hands have found their way underneath the silk of his blouse. However, at the halfway point, the heftiness of the pages causes the book to flip. Wonwoo reaches out to prevent it from tumbling down the side.

The moment he comes into contact with it, he yanks his hand away as if burned. Junhui whirls around, eyes round.

“What happened? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Wonwoo claims, but he winces. “Just static.”

“Static, my eye!” Junhui practically crawls over him in order to wrestle his arm out from behind him. He ends up sitting on his lap, thighs bracketing his hips. “What kind of static burns like this?!” Carefully cradling his hand, Junhui studies the red and angry welts on his fingertips. He lets his powers flow. Gradually, the swelling goes down and the skin returns to its natural state.

“Thank you,” Wonwoo pecks his cheek, ready to dismiss the ordeal.

But Junhui refuses to budge. Still holding his hands, he glimpses at the scrapbook over his shoulder. “Did… Did you really get burned because you touched it?” Anxiety bleeds into his tone as he looks back at him in alarm.

Wonwoo brushes the errant lock of hair out his eyes, touch lingering over his cheek. His smile is patient, but resigned. “Sinful creatures are forbidden to touch sacred objects.”

“But this is just a photo album,” Junhui argues. “Not some ancient and holy relic.”

“Regardless of its use, it was still created with materials from the Heavens. It’s infused with the Great Lady’s magic and power.”

Sadly, Junhui lowers his face. “I’m sorry.”

A gentle finger lifts his face, and Wonwoo smiles. “You’re not at fault, kitten.” He kisses the downturned corners of his mouth to perk him up. “I’m the one who should have been more careful.”

Scooting closer, Junhui wraps both arms around his neck. “Then how come you can touch me? I’m from the Heavens, too, created by her own hands.”

“Hm…” Wonwoo makes a show of mulling the question over, all the while deft fingers glide under the hem of the blouse to caress the golden skin underneath. “There’s only one viable explanation that I can think of.” Tucking his face into the crook of the angel’s shoulder, he nips at the exposed skin through the thin fabric.

“W-which is?” Junhui’s breath hitches.

Smirking against his skin, Wonwoo says, “You’ve been thoroughly corrupted.”

Junhui giggles, rolling his head to the side to allow him more room to maneuver. “Nice try, Mr. Demon.” He scrunches up his face, prompting the other to chuckle. “See how brightly my halo shines?” he points to the coronet on his head.

“Uh-huh. Even a blind man would.”

“Exactly. Which means that nothing we’re doing is detrimental to my virtues. Try as you might, Wonwon, you can’t fool me.” Playfully, he pokes his cheeks. “Our feelings are good and true. The purest there is!” he giggles.

A glint flickers across his features. The embers of his eyes flash for the briefest of moments. Junhui hardly has the time to finish his thoughts that Wonwoo flips him onto his back and hovers above him. “That won’t do,” Wonwoo feigns indignation. He tugs his shirt off and makes quick work of Junhui’s own clothes. “I have a reputation to uphold.”

Or so he says.

However, all Junhui senses when the two of them come together, is how much Wonwoo loves and cherishes him.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆: *✧･ﾟ:* 　꒰ঌ ໒꒱　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

That day should have been a warning. The book. The burns. Wonwoo’s reaction to Junhui’s comments. The expert method with which Wonwoo distracted him from asking further questions. Junhui should have known. People say hindsight is 20/20, but he blames his own naivety and his unrestrained love. He’s let his emotions blind him, content to wander through the rose-colored fog of bliss. There is a very good reason behind the Golden Rule of the Heavens. Everything is meant to be taken and done in moderation. Excess is the first step into folly.

It takes Wonwoo returning to the apartment ragged and bloody to blow away the fog.

“Wonwoo!”

The lifeless demon all but collapses into his arms. Panic fills him as Junhui hitches him over his shoulder and starts to lead him toward his bed.

“Jun…” he calls feebly. “Don’t… worry. I’m fine.”

“You are the furthest thing from fine!” Junhui cries out. “What happened to you? Did one of my brothers—”

“No.” Wonwoo immediately puts him at ease, squeezes his waist. “This was all me. I overexerted myself.” Arriving at the bed, Junhui gingerly sets him down, wincing in sympathy when Wonwoo groans in pain. After catching his breath, he slides his lids open to search for him. Finding the angel, he clumsily pats the space on the bed.

Junhui approaches and kneels on the carpet to be on eye level. He reaches for him, only to pull back at the last minute. He doesn’t want to accidentally hurt him. There’s so much blood.

Noticing his concerns, Wonwoo lets out a wry laugh. “It’s not mine, kitten.”

Brows furrowing, Junhui stares at him. “What happened? Where did you go?”

He sighs. After a moment, he raises his arm and points to the tattoo. “I was summoned. My contract holder wanted to do some cleaning. She had… very specific instructions.” Expression somber, he whispers, “I’m sorry.”

It’s not that Junhui wasn’t aware. He just chose not to think about it. After all, Wonwoo never mentioned the details of his summonings, nor what those who call him ask for. It never occurred to him that it could leave Wonwoo in this state. Part of him wants to ask what that woman requested, but the other thinks better of it. Demons are said to be the embodiment of evil and vices, but sometimes, humans can be much worse.

Junhui shakes his head, lacing their pinkies together. “I don’t blame you, Wonwoo. You were merely the instrument, not the wielder.”

Closing his eyes, Wonwoo chuckles softly under his breath. “Most people wouldn’t care for such distinctions.”

“You don’t find enjoyment out of the violence, and that’s enough for me.”

“But that’s how I feed.”

Junhui freezes.

“You asked me, once, what I eat,” Wonwoo recalls. “And I never gave you a proper answer.” He sighs, turning to stare up at the ceiling. “I consume the sins of the summoner, the worst the better. It’s not the violence, nor the viciousness that I enjoy, but I can’t deny that I love the power and energy it gives me.”

Silence envelops them, saved for Wonwoo’s slow and labored breathing.

Junhui sits there, dumbfounded. He can’t bring himself to hate him—he simply cannot. Instead, he’s terrified and utterly helpless. How can the demon nature be so cruel? Is the price of freedom from the confines of the Heavens really worth it? In other for them to stay alive, they must inflict so much harm on others. Admittedly, it isn’t out of their own volition, but they depend on those who sin. And because of them, they end up committing such atrocities.

He ends up spending the night over with the pretense of looking after Wonwoo, although in reality, there isn’t much to do. Within the hour, his boyfriend had regained his strength and power. A single snap of his fingers, and all traces of filth and blood disappear. If Junhui had delayed his visit, he never would have known.

“Is there nothing you can do?” Junhui whispers later on against his chest. They’re in bed, the angel curled around him as though it would protect him from all evil and crime.

Wonwoo gently combs his fingers through the soft hair, mindful of the ring of light. “About what?”

“I understand answering to summoning and completing contracts is how you feed,” he says, “But is there any way for you to decline certain requests?” He tightens his hold.

Not only is it taking a toll on his body, it blackens his soul even more, which in turn creates a bigger target on his target for all the archangels. Can he not choose to only accept small requests, like cheating at the lottery? Greed, dishonesty, and trickery are all terrible, but no one has to die.

A kiss is pressed to his forehead. “Sadistic psychopaths like that woman are rare. Rarer still are ones who resort to black magic and demonic rituals to achieve their goals. There’s nothing to worry about. I’ll be fine.”

The second time Junhui catches Wonwoo returning from a summoning, he’s nowhere near as bloody, but the exhaustion confines him to bed for the same duration. The colors don’t return to his face until much later in the afternoon. He plays it off as a normal occurrence as he hugs Junhui like a body pillow, but the angel can’t help feeling the sense of dread mounting.

When he attempts to voice his concerns once more, his boyfriend masterfully derails his thoughts. The next thing Junhui knows, he’s panting out his name like a mantra, fingers clutching at ebony locks as Wonwoo thrusts his tongue and fingers into him.

After that, Wonwoo disappears for days on end. This has never happened before, and Junhui sits on pins and needles. He conjures up all sorts of terrifying scenarios, driving him insane with worry. Has he collapsed somewhere? Did he get into a scuffle with another, more powerful demon? Has he been caught by one of the patrolling warriors?

The moment the fear enters his thoughts, it consumes his entire being.

As soon as he gets a chance, he rushes to the Archives. Soaring shelves, seemingly extending to the ends of the world, are filled with books, documents, files, and scrolls. Only one high-ranking angel sits at the reception, tasked to help visitors locate a particular kind of document or soul. The rest of their siblings are scribes.

Junhui asks to see the reports on all the entities slain by archangels within the past couple weeks in the mortal realm. She throws him a curious look; nevertheless, she guides him to the correct floor and aisle. There are a lot more than he expected. Heart in his mouth, he gets to work. Much to his relief, by the end of the day, he finds no description matching Wonwoo’s.

The following day, he returns to the mortal realm and searches every location that he knows Wonwoo likes to frequent. When that amounts to nothing, he returns to the apartment and waits. Too anxious to play games or read, Junhui resorts to pacing back and forth along the length of the flat. Upon his third round, his eyes fall on a piece of paper with insignia he knows by heart by now. Wonwoo’s summoning circle.

Holding the paper to his face, he recalls the first time Wonwoo showed it to him. Along with the brief instructions on how to summon him. He hesitates, chewing on his lip. He doesn’t know much—if nothing at all—about the logistics of demon rituals, but one thing for certain is the need for blood—human blood. Even if he knew all the steps it takes to summon a demon, he doesn’t have the necessary integral element.

With a sigh, he abandons the idea. Although, maybe he could pass the time by practicing how to draw the complicated design.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆: *✧･ﾟ:* 　꒰ঌ ໒꒱　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

One thousand three hundred seventeen copies and nearly half a week later, Wonwoo finally reappears. The relief is short-lived. He’s pale, weak, and gaunt, barely recognizable. Were it not for the unequivocal affection in his gaze and the tenderness of his smile as he calls, “Kitten,” Junhui would have thought himself mistaken.

Vision blurry, Junhui bites back the sob lodged in his throat as he hugs him tightly.

He doesn’t try to dismiss the issue this time, mainly because he succumbs to fatigue almost immediately. Junhui helps him to the bed and pulls the covers over his chest. He brushes the hair off his forehead to take a good look at him.

His heart aches as he stares at the puffy, purple bags under his eyes, and the hollow of his cheeks. His skin is pallid and ashen. The clothes on his back are ill-fitted, the weight loss made all the more evident when Junhui hugged him earlier.

“What is going on with you, Wonwoo?” he whispers into the silent room, hands clutching at boney fingers.

In the middle of the night, Wonwoo wakes up with a startled gasp.

“Junhui?”

The fear and panic in his voice is so raw, so visceral, Junhui feels himself terrified, too.

“I’m right here,” he reassures him.

They’re lying back to chest, Wonwoo’s arm swung over his middle as per habit. Now Junhui squeezes his hand, ignoring the distress churning his stomach at the way the bones poke out. Behind him, Wonwoo sighs, forehead dropping to his shoulder blade.

“You’re here,” he repeats for himself to hear, to tell himself Junhui won’t disappear.

They lay in silence for a long time.

Then, Wonwoo whispers, “I’m sorry, kitten.”

“Please… Just tell me what’s going on,” he begs. “I know you want to spare me the details, but keeping things from me only serves to make me worry even more.”

Burrowing his head against Junhui’s back, he gathers himself. “There’s been a surge of summons. Usually, it occurs once or twice a month, at most. Lately, it’s been nearly every day.”

No wonder he’s left so ragged. He’s being worked to the bone. Idly, he wonders if he can report these sinners to his warrior brothers, but he quickly dashes the idea away. While it might put an end to these atrocious summons, it would also put Wonwoo in danger. With a sigh, Junhui switches onto a different topic.

“Why didn’t you come home? Where did you go?”

“To the Abyss.”

Doe eyes widen in the dark. “Why?”

“I didn’t want to scare you,” he explains, hugging him even more tightly, kissing his shoulder. “I thought… I thought I could resolve the issue on my own and come back to you. But I missed you too much.”

“I missed you, too,” Junhui echoes, a wobble to his voice. Carefully, he twists around, facing him. “I was so scared that something horrible had happened to you. I even went to check the Archives in case... in case…” Refusing to say it out loud, he shuts his eyes and shakes his head.

“Shh, it’s okay,” Wonwoo whispers, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “It’s okay.”

Looking up beseechingly, Junhui asks, “Is there nothing that can be done?”

For a long minute, all Wonwoo does is gaze at him. His thumb gently strokes the apple of his cheek, back and forth, back and forth. Something akin to… longing settles over his expression, the embers in his eyes so faint, they’re almost indiscernible. “Never have I resented my fate as a demon as much as I do now.”

It will take Junhui a few more days to fully understand what Wonwoo meant that night. Until then, he goes about life with a looming sense of doom stalking his very shadow. Wonwoo keeps his promise; he doesn’t disappear anymore. Although that is the sole spot of sunlight amid the rolling dark clouds. His health continues to deteriorate, little by little. Nothing Junhui tries works. He can’t even transfer some of his energy to him. It’s like feeding soup and medicine to a brick wall.

By the second day, he’s convinced Wonwoo is keeping a vital piece of information from him. There are plenty of other demons around, most of them weaker than him. Why aren’t they faced with the same problem? It can’t be that every rotten soul in the human realm simultaneously decided to only summon him and no other demon. He knows Wonwoo isn’t lying about the summons, but he’s definitely hiding something about his poor health.

Seeing as there’s no one he can ask, Junhui decides to do some research in the Heavens. He knows there’s an entire department dedicated to demonology. The collection is said to be the most complete and comprehensive. Everything there is to know about demons is written down and documented. If Junhui wants to get answers, it’s almost guaranteed to be hidden somewhere in there.

That’s the good news.

The bad news is that the Demonology department is within the Zion building, and entry is strictly reserved for the warriors.

Junhui prepares himself for some major begging.

Or… maybe not.

When Junhui arrives at the courtyard in front of the building, he spots Kihyun with a very tall archangel, Pyongho. The two are sitting on a bench shaded by a large tree. Pyongho looks as stoic as ever, but Kihyun doesn’t seem to mind, smiling brightly as he tells him about the family of rabbits he’s rescued during his latest visit.

Noticing Junhui, Kihyun’s face lights up, and he waves him over with his good arm. Junhui is glad to note that the bandages only cover his shoulder now, where the initial bite had been. From his elbow down to his fingers, the skin has returned to its original health and glow.

“Hey, Kihyun.”

“Hi! What a nice surprise!” Kihyun greets. “Pyongho, this is Junhui. My hero.”

Pyongho throws him a glance, but turns to nod at Junhui, nonetheless.

He does the same, too scared to really speak to him.

“What are you doing here?” Kihyun wonders. “Just taking a stroll?”

“Um.” His eyes dart toward Pyongho. “Not exactly. I was hoping to do a little bit of research.”

“The main library is in the opposite direction,” Pyongho informs him.

“Y-yes, I-I-I know,” Junhui stammers. “But I was hoping to gain access to the Demonology department.”

Pyongho narrows his eyes. Junhui gulps.

“Demonology department?” Kihyun echoes. “Oh! Have you been worried ever since this happened to me?”

Honestly, Junhui hadn’t really known Kihyun before the attack. He’s seen him around, of course, but they hadn’t exchanged more than a few greetings here and there. Right now, Junhui is ready to make him his bestest friend in the world (sorry, Hannie).

“Y-yeah,” Junhui laughs nervously, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear. His words are pouring out of him too quickly to be convincing, but he can’t help it. “I like visiting the mortal realm to learn about their food. I figured, I should brush up on my knowledge of demons and what kind of tricks they can pull. I haven’t encountered any hostile entities yet—I mean, I’ve seen them, but so far, I’ve managed to slip away. Still, better safe than sorry, right?”

“I agree!” Kihyun exclaims, turning to Pyongho. “You can grant Junhui access, right? Actually, why aren’t we all getting a proper education on demons? I mean, sure, we all had general lessons, but it doesn’t always work!” To prove his point, he waves his arm around, pointing to the bandaged shoulder, fully vexed.

“That’s because you’re too gullible,” Pyongho mutters. Then he turns to Junhui. “Trusting demons is suicidal.”

A shiver runs down his spine. Pyongho couldn’t have seen him with Wonwoo, could he? No, impossible. He never would have let them go unscathed. He definitely wouldn’t have kept silent. Junhui is probably overly anxious and imagining things.

“R-right,” he nods woodenly. “I know.”

Pyongho watches him for a tense moment, before mercifully breaking eye contact. He pulls out a silver chain, a small medallion engraved with the seal of the archangel division dangles in the middle. He hands it to Junhui, much to the younger angel’s surprise. “You have until sunset.”

With shock and reverence, Junhui accepts the token with both hands. “Thank you!” he exhales with genuine gratitude.

“Aww,” Kihyun elbows Pyongho. “I knew you were a softie.”

Pyongho scoffs. “You’ve clearly been spending too much among humans.”

Kihyun ignores the jab, waving at Junhui as the latter starts toward the entrance. Thank you, he mouths. Kihyun grins.

Inside, Junhui collects as many volumes as he can carry at once. He has no idea where to start, grabbing everything he thinks could be relevant. All he can do is narrow down the search, focusing on high-ranking demons. He discards files concerning appearances and glamours, methods on how to identify them if they take on human disguises.

He skims through the table of contents of dozens and dozens of books. When none of the topics pertain to his concerns, he sets the book aside. The piles on the table grows ever larger, and the sun moves ever quicker toward the West. He’s running out of time. How many more does he need to—”

His finger pauses on the old manuscript. This book gives a general overview of high-ranking demons and their constitutions, with an emphasis on how to exploit their weaknesses. He flips to the correct chapter, picking up on all the bullet points.

Archangels are capable of killing all demons, regardless of rank. The only variant is strength, the bigger the demon, the more force and power are needed.

The paragraph goes into more details, but Junhui doesn’t mind it. He’s focused on the little footnote: ‘The Fallen Ones and their lineage require a different technique. See p.646.’

Junhui flips to the back of the book.

The Fallen Ones refer to the original group of angels who followed Lucifer and rebelled. Unlike the rest of the demons, they retained all of their powers after the Great Fall. As such, it is near impossible for a regular archangel to slay them.

With that said, they carry the greatest sins and burden, a lifelong punishment that they cannot escape. As much power as they wield, their weakness is quite simple.

They draw their energy and strength from sin itself. In other words, if they are cut off from the presence of evil and wickedness, they will begin to weaken. The only way an archangel can destroy a demon descended from the lineage of the Fallen Ones is by isolation. In their weakened state, they will be susceptible to the Divine Sword. This method, while effective, is not guaranteed to work. If the archangel lacks experience or resolve, the demon can use the angel’s own powers to regenerate part of theirs. After all, they share the same roots.

Junhui reads on to the next paragraph.

His heart drops. Ice shoots down his spine.

Abandoning the piles of books, he runs out of the library.

For the foolish creatures who defiantly rejected the light of the Heavens, with all its beauty and goodness, virtue shall be their undoing. Never again will they be allowed to experience kindness, benevolence, happiness, or love. Excruciating suffering await those who dare.

…

True Love is the rarest, most powerful magic in existence. As such, it is the sole effective weapon against the lineage of the Fallen Ones.

The purer the feeling, and the nobler the intentions, the more potent the poison will be.

Slowly, it will seep into the creature’s body, infecting each and every fiber of its being, killing it from the inside out.

Slaying it would be a mercy.

Out of breath, Junhui climbs through the open window. He’s barely regained his footing that he sees the unconscious body on the floor. A terrified cry spills out of him, and he clasps his hands over his mouth. Past the tear-streaked vision, he notices the minute movements of his chest. Relief floods his system as he hurries close. Kneeling on the floor, he hesitates. Would he make it worse by touching him?

Wonwoo groans, face contorted into a pained grimace.

Junhui throws caution to the winds. “Wonwoo,” he calls softly, gingerly pulling on his arm to lift him up. He only receives a low groan in response, the demon’s body lax and limp. Exhaling shakily, Junhui blinks rapidly to clear his vision, swallowing past the lump in his throat.

He settles Wonwoo in bed, pulling the light comforter over his chest. Then he slumps on the floor, arms folded on the bed as he looks on helplessly at the man he loves, dying because of him. His vision blurs once more, and he roughly wipes at his face.

“I am so sorry,” he whispers, fingers clutching into the sheets. “I am so sorry, Wonwoo.”

A gentle, but feeble palm settles on his head. Junhui startles, tear-stained face lifting to see Wonwoo gazing at him with half shut eyes. In spite of it all, he tries to smile.

“So… you found out.. in the end…” he rasps.

Tears well up once more, rolling down his cheeks as Junhui struggles to breathe. “Why… Why didn’t you tell me?”

Wonwoo sighs, dropping his hand until he can cup over the angel’s trembling fingers. It feels so cold to the touch, such a stark contrast to the warmth always emanating from him. Junhui can’t help but cradle his hand in between his, a futile attempt to warm him up.

“I believed I could handle it on my own.”

Realization hits, and Junhui gasps. “Is that… Is that why you took on so many summons?”

Wonwoo blinks slowly, humming. “Mm. I’d hoped that if I consumed enough energy, I could counter the rate of deterioration. I should have known, though,” he says wryly, a faint breath leaving his lungs in place of a laugh. “I should’ve known how futile of an attempt it was. Men, beasts, monsters…” Gently and slowly, he strokes over Junhui’s cheek. “Even divine beings. We’re all at the mercy of love.”

His nose burns as fresh tears spills over the corners of his eyes. “How can something that beautiful…” he struggles to speak, swallowing. “Something wonderful… and filled with splendor… be so cruel?”

“It’s divine punishment,” Wonwoo replies simply.

A sob cracks his ribcage, and Junhui shakes his head vigorously, refusing to believe it.

Wonwoo breathes in and out, shallow and meek. “After the Great Fall, Lucifer and his followers reached their goal. They gained freedom and severed their ties to the Heavens. But in exchange, they paid a great price. Never again would they, nor their children, be permitted to come near any sort of virtue or goodness.

“We are cursed to dwell among vices and depravity, forced to witness endless hatred, brutality, and corruption. We steal, lie, and kill. Our entire survival depends on the vilest of acts. The sins that we indulge in, are they not mere mockery of the virtues that we can never attain?

“We are greedy, envious creatures who covet things we can never truly keep. We eat and eat and eat, but the hunger will ever be insatiable; we’ll never know the relief of fulness. We fall into lust because there is no hope of finding affection, otherwise. It’s fun, enjoyable, liberating. But it’s hollow and empty. Worst of all? Pride, the sin that started it all. It prevents us from admitting our wrongdoing, admitting that the consequences of the revolt might not have been worth it.”

Wonwoo tries to grip his hand more firmly, but the fact that he only lightly touch him prompts another sob to wrack through the angel’s body.

“Love and happiness…” Wonwoo muses softly. “Ideals… Unattainable concepts that I never even dared to hope for.” He smiles faintly, but the affection reflecting in his glassy eyes is unmistakable. “Then I met you, Junnie, and they became reality.”

Junhui weeps, head bowed over their joined hands.

“You made it possible for me to experience the most precious and beautiful feeling of all,” he says, thumb caressing the back of the angel’s hand.

“But… because of me..” Junhui chokes, words slurring together through the tears. “Because of me… Because of my love… you’re… you’re… I am so sorry, Wonwon.” He sobs, face pressed over their hands. “It’s all my fault.”

Using his free hand, Wonwoo strokes his hair, consoling him. “Don’t blame yourself, kitten. I love you, to my own detriment, but I hold no remorse.” Gently, he coaxes Junhui to lift his face so he can look him in the eye. He wipes the tears away, and vows, “I would willingly die every day for a thousand lifetimes, if it meant I could love you for a thousand years.”

Tears flood his vision as his chest constricts. He feels his heart cracking, the pain so acute, he can barely breathe. Junhui burrows into Wonwoo’s chest, soaking his shirt within seconds. “I love you, Wonwon,” he whispers in between whimpers, fingers clutching at him. “I’ll love you until my last breath.”

Wonwoo presses a final kiss on the crown of his head. He breathes out. The faint heartbeat under the angels’s ear fades into a deafening silence.

The remnants of Junhui’s own heart shatters into nothingness as violent waves of sobs wrack through his body. He squeezes his eyes shut, fingers curling into the fabric of his lover’s clothes, unwilling to let go despite its futility.

A disturbing crackling sound forces him to cease moving. Struggling to make sense of the situation through the fog of grief and despair, Junhui sits up slowly and wipes at his blurry eyes. No sooner has his vision been cleared that he bounds backward in shock.

Wonwoo’s body begins to burn, catching light like paper. The flames lick up his legs, engulfing his torso. They devour his entire frame within two heartbeats, leaving behind nothing but fine ashes floating in the air, carried off by a gust of wind.

Stunned, Junhui sits on the floor, staring at the empty bed. All traces of him… gone.

He doesn’t even get the chance to bury him?

Wonwoo…

Wonwoo is really gone. All of him.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆: *✧･ﾟ:* 　꒰ঌ ໒꒱　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

Junhui wakes up. Disoriented and confused, he sits up and pushes himself against the headboard of his bed. How did he end up back in the Heavens? Mere moments ago, he was still sitting by Wonwoo’s bedside, soullessly staring off into space, eyes swollen. Was he not? What happened afterward?

He tries to recall his actions. The memories return in vague, sporadic flashes. Groaning, he winces, trying to make sense of them. He’s clearing the apartment floor, pushing the couch and coffee table against the wall. Next, he’s searching through cabinets and drawer. There’s a box of candles on the floor. On his knees, he’s drawing a summoning circle on the floor in red ink. The lighter shakes in his hands as he tries to light the candle, but they keep slipping out of his grip. The red liquid coating his fingertips is slippery, yet sticky at the same time.

Junhui looks down at his own hands now. They’ve been bandaged.

Wonwoo always responds to his summons, he remembers thinking, frantic and hysteric with hope. I just need to perfect the ritual, and he’ll appear. I’ll substitute human blood with my own. An angel’s blood, surely, must be more effective at calling a demon.

Running a hand though his hair now, Junhui sighs. He pulls his legs to his chest, resting his folded arms atop his knees. The pinpricks behind his eyes start up again. He squeezes them shut, curling up into himself even more.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ꒰ঌ ໒꒱ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

Later on, he comes to learn that his prolonged absence led Mother to worry. She sent Pyongho to search for him. The warrior found him lying unconsciously on the floor next to Wonwoo’s summoning seal, his fingertips cut and bloody. The thirteen candles were burnt nearly to little stubs. Pyongho brought him back to the Heavens and straight to the healers. Afterward, Junhui slept for three days.

On the fourth day, Mother calls on him. Obediently, Junhui shows up at the Empyrean Chambers and waits to be called in.

The disapproval is evident in the furrow of her fair brows, and the downturn of her mouth. However, the moment she notices the sparkling droplets at the corners of his mouth, her expression softens. She sighs, opening her arms.

Like a child, Junhui falls to his knees and sobs into her lap.

“My poor, naive child.” Softly, she shushes him, dainty fingers stroking his head. “Everything will be all right. Shhh…” She pauses, then goes on, “In order for them to grow, children are meant to make mistakes and learn from them, but I do wish you hadn’t tried to learn about love. Heartbreak is the one wound I cannot heal for you.”

After that, Mother says no more on the subject. She allows him to cry until he exhausts himself, then asks for one of his brothers to carry him back to his chamber to rest. In the days following, Junhui floats around the Heavens like a ghost. The daily tasks assigned to him change. His siblings collectively agree that he’s in no shape to work; he’s too weak to endure the strain of looking after the souls. Consequently, they move him to the gardens.

Aside from vague instructions about the upkeep of the flowers, Junhui is left to his own devices. There isn’t much to do aside from watering them. These plants are eternal, and unlike the ones in Mother’s private gardens, they require no care to grow healthy. He putters around, carrying the watering can. He gazes at the breathtaking sights of the flowers with a strange sense of detachment. He recognizes the floral scents, and he finds them pleasant, but he moves on. It’s like all the colors, all the vitality and beauty have faded away.

They all pale in comparison to the flowers in the meadow.

A hot tear rolls down his cheek, and Junhui quickly wipes it away, sniffling. Where there is one, more soon follows. Pressing his hands to his face, Junhui drops onto the bench nearby. His shoulders tremble, trying to contain the sorrow within his chest as best as he can. It’s useless, though.

Rumbling in the distance prompts him to look up. His vision swims, but it doesn’t lessen the impact of the view on the horizon. An immense, dense layer of dark clouds gathers around the Heavens. Within the towering mass rolling in, flashes of lightning strikes, quickly followed by thunder booming.

That year, it is said that the rainy season in the mortal realm seems to last an entire lifetime.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆: *✧･ﾟ:* 　꒰ঌ ໒꒱　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

Junhui requests to be put back into the usual rotation of his duties. The hollowness in his chest hasn’t ebbed away, but he can’t continue to burden his siblings any longer. During his absence, the others have had to expend more of their powers to cover for him. Now that his physical strength has regenerated in full, he can shake off the lethargy that clung to his limbs, but more importantly, he can gather and create the soul flame for the new arrivals again. 

Everyone around him acts as though nothing happened, speaking of his absence as if he’d merely been ill. Junhui doesn’t contradict them. His grief is his alone. As far as the others are concerned, he fulfills his tasks without mistakes, going through the motions. Jeonghan comes to visit as often as he can. He doesn’t pry. He doesn’t even ask Junhui questions beyond whether he’s doing okay, if he needs more time to heal. Most of the time, though, he gladly sits next to his younger brother, just letting the latter take refuge in his company.

Time continues to tick by. The grains of sand pause for no one, not even an angel. Humans have a phrase: time heals all wounds. Junhui isn’t sure if it’s quite true. Perhaps mortals have been more fortunate than him when it comes to grief. For him, time seems to have merely dulled the sharp edges of the wound, allowing for a scar to form so others can’t peer in. Inside, though, it’s still raw, the pain just as agonizing as the day it was inflicted. In a way, Junhui is glad. It’s a reminder that Wonwoo existed. The scar that remains is the proof that he took Junhui’s heart with him when he left.

Mother and Jeonghan are optimistic, though. They see the gradual shift in the dark clouds as a good sign. Junhui thinks he’s just run out of tears.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆: *✧･ﾟ:* 　꒰ঌ ໒꒱　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

One day, while Junhui is on his way to the gardens, he inadvertently overhears part of a hushed conversation. He’s taken a shortcut, meandering in between the main library and the school. The footpath there is often empty, most angels disliking how narrow and a little claustrophobic it is. Perhaps that’s why it’s an ideal spot for gossip.

The two angels are huddled close together. They seem to be around Jeonghan’s rank, one of them wearing a similar pin on his shirt, indicating their limited access to the restricted area. Junhui keeps to himself, head lowered to check out the content of his basket, making sure he hasn’t forgotten anything.

“Are you sure?” the shorter angel asks.

“Yes! I was standing right by the entrance, so I heard everything. Some special new souls have just arrived this morning. They were put immediately in the Purgatory building.”

At first, Junhui doesn’t pay much mind to their gossip. It’s none of his business. Right now, he’s more concerned about the packets of seeds in his grasp. He hopes they’ll take roots and sprout. A few days ago, Kihyun came to visit him, asking if he wanted to tag along for a short trip to the human realm. Junhui hadn’t returned once, not since Wonwoo left. Still too scared, he thanked Kihyun but declined the invitation. Instead, he asked for a favor.

Kihyun didn’t let him down. Somehow, his brother managed to get him the exact seeds that give rise to Wonwoo’s favorite flowers from the meadow. For the first time since what feels like ages, the corner of his mouth lifts minutely.

He’s just about to exit the narrow alley when he hears:

“…very special. Three of them are Fallen Ones.”

Junhui freezes, the packet of seeds slipping out of his hand. Fallen Ones. Fallen angels. Demons?

He whirls around, ready to run up to them to ask what they meant. But at that moment, the bell in the central tower tolls. The gossiping angels yelp in surprise. One after another, they push and shove, trying to hurry out of the narrow alley. They rush past him, barely even registering his presence at all. Out in the open, they flap their wings and fly away, toward the direction of the restricted complex.

Junhui takes off in the opposite direction, heading straight for the nursery. Jeonghan is on duty this afternoon. In the courtyard, Junhui takes a moment to catch his breath. The angels working in the nursery are rightfully protective. Any hint of over exuberance or melancholy, and they’ll kick him out. He has to seem neutral and stable, no matter how erratic his heart beats inside his ribcage.

“Hello,” he bows his head in greeting at the two high-ranking angels in the lobby. “May I ask which room Jeonghan is in change of today, please?”

“Oh, Junhui,” she smiles. “Sure. He’s just down the hall. The little ones are napping, so shh.” She puts a finger over her hips and chuckles.

He nods, mimicking a smile. “Thank you. I’ll be quick and quiet.”

Practically tiptoeing down the corridor, Junhui passes by several empty activity rooms before he spots his brother through the window of the napping room. Jeonghan is walking through the rows of cribs, tucking blankets that have been tossed. Gingerly, Junhui pushes on the handle and pokes his head through the small gap.

“Hannie,” he calls as quiet as a mouse.

“Oh!” Jeonghan glances up full of surprise. He takes a second glimpse at the sleeping babies, then silently joins Junhui in the hallway. They shut the door behind them. “What are you doing here? Is everything okay?”

“I just heard…” Now that he has to say it out loud, he sounds rather absurd. But if there’s even a tiny chance that it’s correct, he has to try. “Is it true that the restricted area has just recently welcomed three souls belonging to Fallen Ones?”

Jeonghan’s eyes widen. “How did you—”

Junhui grabs his hand. “Is it true? Can one of them be—”

Immediately, Jeonghan presses a hand over his mouth. A firm head shake shuts him up. Once he’s certain his brother won’t shout, he releases him. “I haven’t heard much,” he whispers, eyes darting around him. “And I’m not allowed into the inner sanctum, so I haven’t seen anything, either.” He sighs, bringing a hand to rub his forehead. “But it would explain all the preparations going on lately. Souls of criminals, no matter how evil, don’t usually require that much work.”

His heart lurches at the possibilities. Anticipation coursing through his body sends tingles to his hands and feet. “Please, I need to—”

“No.” Jeonghan shakes his head firmly. “I can’t help you.”

“Hannie!”

“I’m really sorry, kiddo, but I’m busy tonight. I need to check on my cloak.” Putting a hand on his chin, he muses, “I hope they were able to get rid of the corruption stains.”

Junhui stares at him with utter confusion. Ignoring the blatant ad hoc change of subject for a moment, Jeonghan doesn’t even wear a cloak. He has access to the Restricted complex, but he’s not allowed anywhere near the souls kept there. Why would his supposed cloak be stained?

Before Junhui can even voice his many questions, Jeonghan goes on with an exaggerated sigh. “Ah… What a shame. Here I was hoping to catch sight of the falling stars. It’s apparently going to light up the whole sky, even mortals will be able to see them. Isn’t it so amazing that they’ve created all sorts of myths about the constellations?”

“Wh-What in the world are you talking about?” Junhui sputters, bewildered. There is no falling star tonight, and even if there were, they wouldn’t be able to see them due to the clouds.

Instead of answering him, Jeonghan pats his head. “Be careful on your way back, Junnie. I need to check on the other babies.” Smiling beatifically, he winks and leans in to kiss his cheek. In the same instant, something small and metallic is pressed into his palm. Junhui’s eyes widen, fingers curling around the object instinctively.

Pulling back, his brother waves at him. “Oh!” he turns around just before heading inside. “Don’t forget to close your door and windows, Junnie. We don’t want you to wake up flooded by rain clouds again, right?”

Now he knows all the nonsense his brother is spewing actually means something, but he’s not quite sure what. “R-right. I’ll… I’ll do that,” he replies, brows furrowed. “See you later.”

Nowadays, with the exception of Jeonghan, Kihyun, and occasionally Pyongho, the others give him a wide berth. They hesitate to initiate conversations beyond the topics of work or important announcements. He’s never minded their eggshell approach to his grief, but now he’s glad. No one tries to stop him as he heads back to his chambers. Safely inside his room, door and window closed as Jeonghan instructed, he climbs into bed to study the key.

It’s tiny, barely measuring half of his index, and very ornate. In the entirety of the Heavens, only the Purgatory building is under constant lock and key. If this key truly does open that door, he has to wonder how Jeonghan got it. The whole spiel about his cloak does not mean he’s actually allowed near the building. Wait. Cloaks.

To gain entrance to the building, one must be wearing a cloak… which covers their entire body and hides their face. That’s surely what the clue meant. He still can’t make sense of what what Jeonghan was referring to when he mentioned the falling stars and the rain clouds, but hopefully it’ll make more sense later on. For now, he needs to strategize.

He waits until the sun completely disappears behind the horizon, then with the help of the clouds hiding the bright glow of the moon, Junhui leaves his chambers. Cautious, he checks his surroundings. When he’s sure no one is around to accidentally see him, he heads for the garderobe. Any clothing that have been stained by wickedness is kept here after a thorough cleansing. And that includes cloaks. While the entrance is unguarded, Junhui still makes sure he sneaks in and out unnoticed. He wouldn’t be able to explain himself, otherwise.

Hiding behind the building, Junhui retracts his wings and throws the robes over himself. He tucks his hair under the hood, checking his reflection in the birdbath. Then, armed with the key in his pocket, he sets off for the Purgatory building.

To his surprise, there are no guards, no warrior standing at the entrance. He supposes it makes sense, if entry is only possible with a key. Keeping his head lowered, he turns the intricate metal piece, heart drumming. The mechanism clicks. He lets out a breath of relief and slips inside.

Wow.

Unlike all the other buildings, which are open and spacious, some not even needing walls, Purgatory is cramped. It’s a very bizarre sensation, because logically, the building is more expansive than even the Empyrean Chambers. The pillars are bulky, and the color scheme is dark and dreary, all accumulating to make it feel oppressive. There’s no such thing as a lack of air, and yet Junhui feels himself struggling to breathe.

Slowly, he walks to the center of the lobby. He spins in a small circle. Protruding from the center are seven hallways, going off into different directions. He picks one at random and peers down it for as far as he can, but it suddenly bends at a sharp corner. Checking the adjacent corridor shows a fork in the road. Quickly, Junhui comes to understand. The entire building is a labyrinth. Unless one knows the way, there’s no way they can reach the exit. It’s a fantastic way of ensuring the souls cannot escape (and to prevent young angels from venturing where they’re not meant to).

Junhui gnaws on his bottom lip, crossing his arms as he thinks of what to do next. He glances at the walls, hoping to see some kind of placard or signs, but no such luck. Although, the longer he stares, the more likely those engravings resemble constellations. Wait, what did Jeonghan say? Falling stars so bright even humans can see them. And something about myths.

Junhui looks back at the walls. From what he remembers, there are nearly a hundred constellations. Seventeen of them depict humans and myths. Is he supposed to follow only the constellations that fall into that category? Then at the end of the road, he’ll find…

Heart lurching, he clutches the robes over his chest. He has to try. With a resolute breath, he sets off, eyes flickering to the first constellation: Gemini.

After what feels like decades, he at last manages to emerge into another lobby. Branching from the center are more corridors, but Junhui doesn’t attempt to follow any of them. Right in front of him are a set of giant doors. The last constellation ends here. Through these doors is where he’ll find him.

Heart rate increasing tenfold, Junhui swallows and prudently approaches. Since there are no keyholes, he tries to push the door open. It doesn’t budge.

“Oof!” Panting, he gathers all his strength and tries again. This time, a tiny crack appears, allowing a pale blue light to spill out into the lobby. His brows furrow. That color and the power it emits are very familiar. He gives it another push, this time creating a wide enough space that he can slide through.

As expected, the large room is bathed in a serene blue light. Matching drapes flutter in the breeze through the large, open windows. In sharp contrast to the building he’s just spent so long crossing, this room is designed like all the others in the Heavens. It’s large, airy, and bright. Tranquil and peaceful. What is this room’s purpose? Why is it here, of all places?

Head swiveling back and forth, Junhui slowly walks further inside. He finds several marble slabs, big enough for a person to lounge on. As soon the thought crosses his mind, he spots the first soul. The woman is laid across the stone, a thin blanket pulled up to her chest. Her hands are placed on either side of her. She looks… asleep. Face relaxed, expressions smooth. At the head of the bed, a tall and ornate golden stand holds a little blue flame.

Understanding chases away his previous questions. This is a resting chamber, meant to nourish the soul, helping them gather their strength before they can move on.

Junhui puts a hand out toward the flame. His brows knit together as he steps back and stares at her. She’s not human.

Special new souls. Three of them are Fallen Ones.

With a start, he spins around and searches the rest of the room. About a dozen souls occupy the marble beds, but aside from the first woman he encountered, they’re all humans. His heart threatens to beat out of sync every time he steps up to a bed and doesn’t find the man he’s been yearning for.

Junhui reaches the end of the room. And that’s when he finally sees him. His knees buckle, suddenly unable to bear his weight. Junhui nearly collapses, but before he can even consciously make the decision, he’s running. The hood falls away, his hair sticking to the fresh droplets on the corners of his eyes.

“Wonwoo…” he whispers, kneeling at the side of the stone bed. “You’re here…” Sniffling, he laughs wetly, wiping away the blurriness. His heart is ready to burst out of his chest, and honestly, Junhui wouldn’t mind. How long has it been since he’s laughed? Since he’s felt any kind of emotion besides loss?

Folding his arms on the marble next to Wonwoo’s elbow, Junhui takes steady breaths, composing himself. He’s gotten this far, he can’t get swept away by his emotions and risk jeopardizing this miracle. Gradually, he senses his heartbeat returning to normal, his lungs soon following suit.

He looks up, hand automatically reaching out to stroke his lover’s hair.

He halts, hand hanging in midair.

Now that he’s really studying him, Wonwoo looks… different. The tiny scars on his face are gone. The familiar black vine of thorns climbing up his arm and onto his shoulder, his family insignia—his tattoos have been wiped clean. All the rings adorning his fingers and the piercings on his ears have been stripped. Even his hair is shorter, more neat and proper. It’s like he’s been purged.

Distressed, Junhui sits back on his legs to look at him from head to toe. He’s wearing white. The choice would be odd in and of itself, but Junhui recognizes the clothes. It’s the white uniform all souls wear when they’re sent through the reincarnation cycle, with their memories erased.

What is going on?

Just as he’s wondering what to do, the heavy doors creak open. He bounds to his feet, body moving on its own to stand between Wonwoo and the intruder protectively. However, instead of high-ranking angels or even archangels arriving to arrest him, it’s someone else entirely.

“M-Mother?” Junhui stammers, blinking the haze away. But sure enough, she stands in front of him, her gown of the night sky spread around her feet. The halo atop her hair glows like sunshine. It can’t be anyone else, no matter how bewildering he feels.

“I suppose I’m not completely surprised to see you already here,” she muses, a faint smile on her lips.

“Mother, what is going on? Why…” he looks over his shoulder at Wonwoo’s sleeping form. “Why is Wonwoo here?”

“This is the Phoenix Chamber,” she begins to explain. “It is reserved for demons who have recanted and renounced their roots, for those who wish to seek forgiveness. With the help of an angel, their souls are returned to the Heavens.”

Right away, he remembers the snake demon that tricked Kihyun. So it wasn’t all just a bunch of lies.

“Here, they will be purged and purified,” Mother goes on. “Just like a mortal soul, they will then be nourished and allowed to rest until they are ready to be reborn.”

“They’re all… demons?” he asks, glancing at the bed across from him. “Why didn’t I sense their aura?”

“Only three of them are strong enough for you to distinguish.”

“Because they’re descendants of the Fallen Ones.”

“Precisely.”

Junhui turns to Wonwoo once more, hand reaching out for him. His skin is cool to the touch. “But Wonwoo didn’t recant,” he says quietly, trying not to let his memories flood back to that tragic day. “How can he be here?”

“Wonwoo earned his rebirth,” Mother replies. “He has done something no demon ever has before.”

Junhui turns back to her, a silent question hanging in the air.

“He put your life before his.”

Uncertain, Junhui stares at her with knitted brows.

“When he first realized that your love was poisoning him, he could have killed you and returned to the Abyss to recuperate. He might have survived,” she reveals. “Although, the likelihood is low. Nonetheless, most demons would have taken the chance—and they have.”

Junhui’s mind is reeling. “B-But the book didn’t mention anything of the sort. It said it was a death sentence.”

She tilts her head, smile patient. “Did you finish reading the whole chapter before you ran off?”

Realization dawns on him. Wonwoo could have lived. If he had known… If he had learned the truth sooner, Junhui would have gladly given him his life. Perhaps, that’s the reason Wonwoo never ever mentioned it. Instead, he endured all on his own, protecting Junhui as best he could.

“He truly loved you,” Mother says softly.

Junhui squeezes his hand, a tiny smile forming upon his lips even as his eyes mist up.

“And he can love you again.”

At the odd phrasing, he turns around. “What do you mean? He’ll… wake up soon, right? He doesn’t need to go through the reincarnation cycle like the others. Once his soul is healthy again, he can just return to the mortal realm.”

“As a demon, much less a descendant of a Fallen One, he cannot stay in the Heavens. Not even during the healing phase.”

“What? But—”

“The rebirth process has already begun.” She inclines her head toward him, referring to the removal of his tattoos, scars, and anything else that was deemed inappropriate. “Once completed, he will gain his halo and wings. There’s no need for him to return to the mortal realm. He can stay by your side in the Heavens, forever. Isn’t that what you’ve longed for?”

“No, please, wait.” Junhui struggles to think, to make sense of the flow of information. All of these demons will be reborn as angels? And so will Wonwoo? The others might have wished for the transformation, but he didn’t. This isn’t right. “Mother,” he starts hesitantly. “I’m grateful that you’ve saved Wonwoo’s soul, but this isn’t what he would have wanted.” He thinks back to that night, when the two of them talked. Wonwoo had been adamant.

“I understand,” she nods in acknowledge. “But fret not. His concerns and guilt stem from his demonic upbringing. It will no longer be an issue once his sins and memories are expunged. He will have a clean start.”

“Wait wait wait!” Junhui panics. “His memories? You can’t—Do you really need to go that far?”

Her serene expressions turns stern. “It’s all part of the rebirth process, Junhui. You know that.”

“If his memories are erased,” he murmurs quietly, turning to face Wonwoo. “Then what will that mean for us?” The man who will wake up from this bed will have no recollection, no past experiences. Who he is, his personality and temperament, his likes and dislikes—all those things are shaped by the environment surrounding him. If they all disappear, then what is left?

He will be a stranger, an unknown man wearing Wonwoo’s face and answering to his name.

Ice spreads through his whole body, and Junhui trembles at the horrible consequences. He can’t accept it.

Muted footsteps echo from the front of the chamber, accompanied by the rhythmic clinking of metal. Junhui glimpses over his shoulder to see two archangels entering, Pyongho being one of them. He throws a brief nod in his direction.

“It’s getting late,” Mother announces. “You best head back to your chamber, Junhui. Wonwoo will be reunited with you soon. There’s nothing to worry about. Go now,” she urges, gently tugging on his wrist to peel him away from the bed and guide him toward the newly arrived pair. “Your brothers will escort you back.”

Warily, he eyes the two warriors, gaze dipping down to the ever present swords at their hips. Naive and sheltered Junhui may be in comparison to them, but he’s no idiot. The subtle message is not subtle at all. Because he’s made his unease and discontent known, Mother is taking precautions.

Out for options for now, Junhui has no choice but to acquiesce. He keeps his mouth shut, hands bunching into the fabric of his sleeves. At the threshold, he throws a final wistful look toward Wonwoo. The heavy doors slowly shut, blocking his view.

Pyongho walks him to the door of his chamber, lingering at the threshold while Junhui enters. He heads straight for his balcony and leans over the stone balustrade. As expected, a guard has already been posted to keep an eye on him. He lets out a wry laugh, shaking his head.

“It won’t last forever,” Pyongho promises, reading his gloomy thoughts.

“No. Just until Wonwoo forgets everything.” Junhui walks back to his desk. He stops, fingers grazing along the cover of his scrapbook. He’s left it open to a page dedicated to the meadow, with various polaroids of the couple. In one of them, Wonwoo has reluctantly agreed to wear the flower crown Junhui weaved, the two smiling at the camera, blue and purple blossoms adorning their hair. “Including me.”

Behind him, Pyongho heaves a sigh. After another pause, he states, “It takes three days for a soul’s memory to be completely erased.”

Perplexed, Junhui faces him. “Why are you telling me this?”

Pyongho shrugs, crossing his arms over his chest. “I’m merely relaying information pertaining to your confinement. What you do with it doesn’t concern me.”

A small smile flashes, and Junhui nods. “Thanks.” As the archangel retreats, he asks, “Do you no longer harbor hatred for demons?”

“I do.” Pyongho confirms; however, he adds, “Nevertheless, I’m willing to make an exception for yours.”

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆: *✧･ﾟ:* 　꒰ঌ ໒꒱　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

Meticulously, Junhui gathers the dollop of cloud in his grasp and starts to mold it. He forms the round body, pinching two points for the ears. Four stubby little legs and a matching tail. Finished, he sets the third kitten next to his siblings and leans back on his chair to admire the result. A streak of cool, early morning light shines over them. He smoothes out a few errant wisps here and there. Satisfied with the level of cuteness, he reaches for the bottle of ink. He colors the first one all in black, leaving just enough for the second to be gray. The third will remain as white and fluffy as the cloud it was created from.

Junhui gets up and checks on the guard on duty below his balcony. A young archangel, recently accepted into the ranks. Perfect. Turning to his plants, he assesses which ones are currently in bloom. He plucks a flower from the three. Back at his desk, he carefully inserts the lemon blossom into the tummy of the black kitten, a peach for the gray, and tangerine for the white. Without the power of creation, he can’t bring these little kittens to life, but he can animate them for a short while.

The three balls of fluff bounce around his desk, each one requesting pets and attention. Junhui giggles, shushing them as he pats their heads. “Be good, little ones. Help Mama distract the uncle on guard, okay?”

They mew energetically, climbing into his palms.

He gingerly approaches the balcony and peers down one more time. The young warrior stands tall, taking his watch duty very seriously. Be that as it may, who can resist the cuteness of these kitten? Junhui expects the answer to be no one.

“All right,” he whispers to the little ones. “Go play with him. Make sure he doesn’t see Mama, okay?” He receives confirming mewls, and he giggles, setting them down on the stone.

One by one, the kittens hop onto the vines growing next to his window, climbing down to the ground. Junhui watches just long enough to see the guard gasp in delight, kneeling to pet them.

“Where did you come from?” he coos, one hand scratching under Lemon’s chin, the other rubbing Peach’s tummy. Tangerine is making his way up his knee and hops onto his shoulder. “Ah, you’re so cute! Ah! Hey, that tickles!”

Good job, little ones!

Grabbing his borrowed cloak and key, Junhui makes his escape.

The longer Wonwoo stays asleep in the Phoenix Chamber, the more of his past life they’ll erase. They’ve already gotten rid of his tattoos and family seal; Junhui doesn’t want to wait to find out what comes next. He expects to find the building on high alert, but much to his surprise and gladness, it’s business as usual. He hides behind a pillar to observe the entrance. Only high-ranking angels pass through. No sign of Mother nor any guards.

Pulling the hood even lower over his face, Junhui squares his shoulders and heads in. His heart beats like a drum when he pushes the door open, expecting someone to jump out at him, but it’s eerily quiet. He doesn’t linger, taking off down the corridors and into the maze. He finds the Phoenix Chamber in exactly the same state as the previous night. Breathing out, he hurries to the back.

As much as he hates to admit it, there is a purpose to this stage of the rebirth process other than completely erasing a soul’s past identity. While they sleep, the soul is healed and nourished, as indicative of the blue fire by their bedside. They will only regain consciousness once they’ve gathered their full health. Going by the feeble flickers of his flame,Wonwoo won’t be able to wake up on his own any time soon.

Junhui takes a deep breath, closing his eyes. He clears his mind. Then, he rests one hand on Wonwoo’s shoulder, the other hand extends toward the stand. Little by little, he starts to pour his own energy into the flame, feeding it. It starts out well; he feels the flow of energy coursing steadily from him toward Wonwoo. After a while, though, breathing becomes difficult. Lightheadedness creeps up, and he sways. He catches himself, bracing his weight against the marble.

Briefly, his eyes crack open, locked on the stand. He lets out a weak but joyous laugh. The flame has grown thrice its original size. Just a little more. Just a little more. A little… more…

Junhui tumbles, momentarily losing his balance. His eyes snap open, only to wince in pain at the splitting headache. He cradles his forehead, taking a few seconds to just breathe and catch his bearings. His skin is clammy, covered in a thin sheen of cold sweat. He blinks the dots in his vision away, checking the stand once more. When he sees the full, vibrant and strong blue fire bursting from the stand, Junhui laughs. He drops down on the edge of the bed like a puppet with its strings cut.

“Wonwoo,” he calls softly, cupping his cheek. It’s warm. “Wonwoo, please, wake up.”

It’s impossible to know if Wonwoo really heard his pleas, or if it’s a coincidence, but he groans. His brows pull together. Junhui gasps, heart leaping out of his chest. He draws back to give him room to sit up. The moment he does, Junhui throws himself at him, circling his arms around his neck. A sob breaks out of his throat, but Junhui laughs wetly as he burrows into the crook of Wonwoo’s shoulder.

“Wonwoo,” he sniffles in between hysterical laughs. “You’re here. You’re really here,” he murmurs to himself, still unable to believe the miracle. “I’ve missed you so much!”

How long has it been since he’s felt this warmth, those familiar arms surround him, the steady heartbeat under his own chest? Not only that, Wonwoo is full of life, no longer weak and sickly. His limbs are strong, full of vigor and vitality.

Fresh tears roll down his cheeks, seeping into the white fabric. Junhui laughs. “I’m sorry. I keep soaking your clothes with my tears.”

A pause.

The euphoria fades. Dread, glacial and merciless, spreads through his limbs.

Not once since he’s woken up has Wonwoo spoken. What if…? Pyongho said it takes three days for complete memory loss, but he never specified how the memories would disappear. What if it’s not from oldest to the most recent? What if it’s done the other way around.

Stomach twisting into knots, Junhui bites down on the pain and swallows around the tightness in his throat. Slowly, he pulls back. The thumping of his heartbeat is deafening, but he pushes through. Roughly, he wipes the tears hanging on his lashes.

“I’m really sorry,” he says quietly, avoiding eye contact. “You must be very disoriented and bewildered.” He sits with his hands in his lap, head bowed. “Um, do you… Do you know who I—Do you recognize me?” Peeking through his lashes, he risks a furtive look.

He waits with bated breath while Wonwoo studies him with an unreadable expression. At last, he raises a hand toward him. Junhui sits in stunned silence as he cups his face, thumb reverently stroking over the apple of his cheek.

“I was lost and stranded in an endless ocean of darkness,” he murmurs. “You were my one and only light.” Gently, he rests their foreheads together. “How can I ever forget you, Junhui?”

Clinging to him, Junhui sobs into his shoulder, heart alight, fireworks bursting out of his chest. He hasn’t realized how much he’s missed the deep timber of his voice. He thought his memory could hold on to it and keep it safe, but it pales in comparison to the real deal. Warmth spreads through his whole body as Wonwoo strokes his hair and whispers sweet words of reassurances.

“I love you. I love you so much, Wonwon.”

A tender kiss is pressed to his temple as Wonwoo hugs him even more tightly. “I love you more, kitten.”

Junhui laughs, voice wet and nose stuffy, but he doesn’t care.

Suddenly, the bell in the central tower tolls, the loud chimes breaking the moment. The couple startle, looking toward the open windows. Junhui furrows his brows, an impending sense of unease welling up. The ringing is different from usual. It’s rapid, incessant, alarming. His eyes widen when he makes the connection.

“We need to go! They must have figured out I’ve escaped!”

“What?”

Quickly, Junhui tries to explain as he hops down from the stone stab. But he gets up too abruptly, his strength haven’t had enough time to regenerate. He sways and topples over.

“Hey!” Wonwoo catches him by the upper arm before he can hurt himself. “Are you okay?”

“Yes,” he nods. “Thank you. I’m fine. I just…” Guilty, he darts his eyes around the room, waving at the blue flame. “I might have overexerted myself.”

Wonwoo groans, face-palming. “Junnie…”

“Just a little, though!” he tries to retort. “And anyway! That’s not important right now. We have to get back to the human realm and hide. Mother wants to wipe your memories and turn you back into an angel. When she sensed that I would contradict her, she put me into temporary confinement.”

At a complete loss for words, all Wonwoo can do is sigh and shake his head, running a hand through his hair. He turns to an empty spot and waves his hand. Nothing happens. “Fuck,” he curses under his breath. Meeting Junhui’s questioning stare, he comments, “Your family moves fast. My powers are gone.”

“Oh.” Truth be told, Junhui hadn’t even considered that as part of the purging process. “We’ll have to find an alternate route to the human realm.”

Wonwoo walks to the window and peers out. “Easier said than done.” He frowns at the frantic state of the Heavens. Most of the angels have no idea what the alarming bell chimes signify, but they know enough to run and take cover. Archangels are patrolling both on the ground and flying overhead. 

Junhui joins him, gnawing on his lip. “We just need to get to the Gates,” he points to the sparkling golden iron doors. It’s located at the farthest end of the Heavens from the Purgatory building to prevent this exact scenario. “From there, I can get us—”

“You can barely walk on your own,” Wonwoo reminds him, disapproval still evident. “There is no possible way you can fly, let alone support an additional body weight. There has to be another portal around here, right?”

“I’m not sure.” He’s only ever come and gone through the portal past the Gates. He racks his brain for a solution. “Ah!”

“Oh!”

The two turn to each other, exclaiming at the same time, “Mount Elysian!”

A creak resounds from the other end of the room. The door slowly swings open. Wonwoo grabs Junhui’s hand and tugs him behind the marble bed. He motions for Junhui to stay quiet as he grabs an empty metal stand. With no effort whatsoever, he folds the dish at the top, quickly bending the metal into a sharp point. In the blink of an eye, he has a spear, ready to be used as a weapon.

Frantic, Junhui waves his hands around, head shaking back and forth.

“I’m not going to kill anybody,” Wonwoo whispers next to him. “I’ll just knock them out. This is in case they refuse to cooperate.”

Junhui groans, cowering behind his hands.

The footsteps get gradually louder. It sounds like it’s only one person. He doesn’t hear the usual clinking of metal, so it’s probably not an archangel. Either that, or they aren’t armed, which is unlikely. Discreetly, Junhui pokes the top of his head around the corner to track the intruder. Their figure is obscured by the billowing drapes, but they’re alone. Next to him, Wonwoo tightens his grip around the metal shaft, body coiled to attack. Junhui holds his breath.

Blond strands catch the sunlight. The intruder walks into view—Junhui gasps, reaching for his boyfriend, but it’s too late.

He lunges out, arm raised to skewer the poor, terrified angel.

“Wonwoo, stop!” Junhui cries out, yanking on the back of his shirt with all his might. “That’s my brother!”

“Aren’t they all your brothers?” Wonwoo retorts, arm still poised to strike.

“Hannie is different,” Junhui insists. “Please. We can trust him.”

Still eyeing Jeonghan warily, Wonwoo doesn’t move at first, but after a few seconds of consideration, he lowers his makeshift weapon.

Jeonghan returns the dubious look, sneering, “Protective. Good. I expect nothing less from the one I’m entrusting my baby brother to.” He takes a step closer. Despite his shorter stature and build, he stands his ground. “But believe you me. I don’t care how powerful you are, how high-ranked in the demon realm you are. If he gets hurt because of you, I will skin you alive.”

Wonwoo scoffs. It’s clear he’s not afraid, but there is no doubt a newfound respect. “And you call yourself an angel?”

Narrowing his eyes, Jeonghan grins beatifically. Junhui shudders at the hidden viciousness. As soon as his brother sets eyes on him, the glacial aura melts away. “Junnie! What do you think you’re doing? This is beyond reckless!”

“I’m sorry, but I didn’t have any other choice! And we were on a pretty tight time limit.”

Jeonghan sighs, rubbing his forehead. “You are so lucky that no one saw you slip in here. They’ve got the whole building surrounded by now.”

“Then how’d you get in?” Wonwoo wants to know, still suspicious.

Junhui trusts his brother wholeheartedly, but he is curious.

Cutting his eyes at Wonwoo, Jeonghan snorts. Nevertheless, he does answer the question. “There’s a hidden set of entrance and exit. Only a certain few know about it. I managed to wiggle the secret out of the high-ranking staff when I first began working in the complex. I can sneak the two of you out, but after that, I don’t know how we’ll get you to the Gates. They’re waiting there, too.”

“Let them,” Junhui says, surprising his brother. “We’re going to Mount Elysian.”

“What!” Shocked, Jeonghan almost shrieks. “There’s reckless, and then there’s utter idiocy! Do you know how dangerous that mountain is?”

“I know, but we don’t have any other options, Hannie. It’s the only remaining portal. Unless you know of another one?”

“Who do you take me for? A magician?” Groaning, the older angel hangs his head, resigned.

“Don’t worry.” Junhui pats his shoulder. “Just help us get out of here, and we’ll manage the rest.”

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆: *✧･ﾟ:* 　꒰ঌ ໒꒱　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

Mount Elysian. The highest peak in the Heavens, where the original astrology tower was erected. During the last battle of the Great Fall, Lucifer tore through the fabrics of the realms, creating a rip where the Fallen Ones escaped to. The Abyss is the space in between the realms. Because of its notoriety, no angel has dared to climb or fly near the mountain since. The astrology tower was abandoned, and a new one was built on a mountain peak lower down the ridge.

Growing up, fledglings have been told numerous stories about the dangers of Mount Elysian. Most of them are meant to be cautionary tales, but some are simply outrageous. Although it still took Junhui a few decades to get over his fear of getting kidnapped by giant monsters if he so much as set one foot on that mountain.

Now he’s climbing it with his boyfriend, a former demon, no less. Fascinating how the tides turn.

“When Mother and Hannie told me that Mount Elysian was too perilous to get near, this is not what I imagined!” Junhui shouts over the hurling wind in order to be heard. His eyes are half shut to prevent dust and debris from getting to them.

Wonwoo marches ahead, one hand gripping his so they don’t get separated. The climb is arduous to say the least, the incline nearly vertical. Luckily, there are plenty of rocks for them to hold onto. “It’s from the rift,” Wonwoo shouts back. “It’ll only get more severe the higher we climb. Are you still doing okay?”

“Yes!” Junhui confirms, giving his hand a firm squeeze. “We need to take advantage of the head start. I don’t know how long it’ll take the guards and archangels to realize we’re here.”

“Even if they knew, how are they going to fly in this whirlwind?”

“Good point!”

Little by little, they ascend. Wherever possible, they take refuge behind large rock formations and recesses to catch their breaths. Junhui has never been afraid of heights (it would be tragic for an angel), but even he has to admit that it’s terrifying when he glances down. His tummy swims with anxiety, and the soles of his feet get all itchy. He shudders.

Soon enough, he spots the base of the ancient astrology tower.

“We’re almost there!” he rejoices. “There’s the tower!”

“The portal should be close!” Wonwoo assesses, looking around him. “If we don’t spot it by the time we reach the tower, we can at least rest inside and get a better view of the surrounding.”

“Okay!”

The higher they hike, the thinner the air becomes. Junhui’s been able to manage it so far, but his energy has been depleted quicker than it can replenish. Dots of lights swim across his vision, and even after dipping his head below his knees, they still don’t disappear. He hears his breath in his ears, and his head spins. To wreck even more havoc, a gust of wind hurls in their direction, carrying a cloud of dust.

“Won—Wonwoo!” he swallows, mouth parched. “Wonwoo, I—”

The ground slips out from under him. He’s falling over the thin ledge. Wonwoo whirls around, eyes wide in distress as he tightens his grip, shouting Junhui’s name. He yanks him back toward him harshly, but he can’t win against the momentum. Junhui slips over the edge.

In the split second of terror, he sees Wonwoo jump after him, catching his wrist. “I got you!”

Junhui opens his eyes and gasps. He’s dangling off the side of the mountain, held only by Wonwoo’s grip as the latter lays flat on his stomach. His muscles strain, his fingers slowly slipping.

A terrifying crackling begins to rumble right by their ears. The pair swivel their heads to see a fissure opening up like a zipper in the rocks, heading straight for them.

“Let go!” Junhui shouts, wiggling against the grip around his wrist. “Let go of me! Save yourself before—”

“Don’t you dare, Junhui!” Wonwoo roars, a second hand clamping around his left arm, ceasing his attempt to wriggle free. His eyes flash in anger, but he quickly blinks it away, taking a steadying breath. “I am not leaving you. Never again,” he vows. “It’s either the both of us, or nothing at all.”

“But the rocks—”

“Forget about the rocks. Keep your eyes on me. I’ll get us out of here, okay?”

Hesitantly, Junhui nods.

“Good boy.” Cautiously, he gathers his knees under him, the grip around Junhui’s arms tightening to the point where he has to wince. He grits his teeth and endures it. In no time at all, Wonwoo manages to sit up properly and pull Junhui back over the edge. Not a second too soon. The moment Junhui’s leg clears the area, a deafening crash resounds and a chunk of rocks from above drops onto the spot where the two had hung on to.

Panting raggedly, Wonwoo leans back against the rough wall of the alcove. Here, they’re sheltered from the violent winds and more avalanches. “Are you okay?”

Junhui nods, dazed, eyes still glued to the ledge. He can’t believe how close they came to plummeting to their deaths. The sharp surface tore through his shirt and left red, angry welts among the numerous scratches all along his arms. The sting is there to ground him. Those terrifying couple minutes really did happen. 

Just as he’s about to speak his awe out loud, the sporadic falling rocks catch his attention. The crumbling boulder from earlier has long since vanished from view, but the smaller rocks and pebbles continue to scatter down. Junhui keeps his gaze steadily on them. He gasps. Instead of plunging through the thin layers of clouds, they… disappear. The clouds are untouched.

“Wonwoo.” Unable to tear his attention away lest the phenomenon doesn’t repeat, he reaches blindly behind him. “Wonwoo, come here. Look!”

He hears his boyfriend shuffling toward him. “What is it?” He sees it before he even finishes the question. “You have got to be kidding me. That’s where the portal is? In the middle of the fucking sky?” Heaving an exasperated sigh, he studies their surroundings. “I didn’t think the Great Fall was this literal,” he mutters.

Junhui cracks a dry smile. He slides a hand under Wonwoo’s, catching his attention. Briefly, he glances down at their injured hands, then lifts his gaze toward Junhui. “Together ‘till the end, right?” He squeezes his fingers.

A soft and tender smile stretches across his lips. “Yeah.” Wonwoo returns the pressure in confirmation. “Together ‘till the end.”

Standing hand in hand at the edge of Mount Elysian, they face the sheer drop. Gusts of wind blows past them harshly, howling like a beast. Junhui supposes this is no different than jumping into the mouth of one. His heart pounds, his fingers and toes tingling. He looks over to Wonwoo to find the latter already watching him.

“Ready?”

Junhui breathes in. “Ready.”

They fall through the air.

The fear that they’ve made a grave mistake barely crosses his mind that they pass through the portal. A rush of wind blows over them, then a complete and eery lack of sound and sensation. It’s nothing like when he crosses from the Heavens to the mortal realm at the Gates. Neither does it share any resemblance to the portal Wonwoo used to create for fast traveling. It’s like time has stopped. He’s deprived of his senses; he can’t see where he is; he can’t feel Wonwoo’s hand in his. He can’t even hear his own breathing. The two of them seem to have been plunged into a void of nothingness.

Then, as suddenly as it has occurred, time starts again. His eyes flash open to see them tumbling toward the ground. Wherever they are, it’s nighttime, the moon shining brightly over what appears to be a forest. Junhui doesn’t have much time to think. He opens up his wings to break their fall, flapping them as vigorously as he can to regain altitude.

It doesn’t work.

“I can’t—” 

They’re falling too quickly.

“Watch out!”

They crash through the treetops unceremoniously, the branches and leaves miraculously somewhat breaking the fall, so that by the time they land on the forest floor, they’re still fortunately in one piece. With that said, if they were human, they’d be dead. They roll through the grass and twigs for a few feet, until finally coming to a full stop at the foot of a large tree. Not dead, but close to it. 

Junhui groans, tears springing to his eyes from the debilitating pain coursing through his body. It feels like he’s just been crumpled into a ball, like an unwanted piece of paper. Wincing, he tries to move his limbs, sighing in relief when his fingers and toes wiggle. “W-Won… Won… Wonwoo?” He gathers his legs from under him, bloody palms smearing red across the grass. Cautiously, he wiggles his wings. “Ah!” The wind gets knocked out of his lungs, tears spilling down his cheeks. It hurts so much, spiraling dots of light swim across his vision.

“Junhui?” Unsteadily, Wonwoo ambles toward him, arm propped against the tree around him to keep from toppling over. His forehead is cut, a line of blood running along his right temple. He’s holding onto his side, limping. “Junhui,” he sighs in relief when he spots the angel. Grunting, he falls to his kneels in front of him. Now that he can see him more clearly, he sucks in a sharp breath. “Junnie… Oh, kitten, your wing.”

Junhui squeezes his eyes, already guessing the damages. “It’s broken, isn’t it?” he croaks out. “My left wing.”

Wonwoo winces, frowning as he assesses his back. “I’m afraid so.” He sighs, hands hovering but too afraid of hurting him to touch the injury. “I’m so sorry, I—”

Gingerly sitting up, Junhui tugs on his boyfriend’s torn sleeve. “We’re alive. Together,” he enunciates. “That’s all that matters.”

Wonwoo isn’t that easily swayed. The frown carves deeply into his handsome features, made all the more stark by the fresh abrasions and bruises. Despite his disapproval, he inches closer to let Junhui lean against him. He holds him by the shoulder, nuzzling into his hair. “We need to find a way to get you proper care, otherwise, you risk—”

At that moment, a bright and blinding light illuminates the entire portion of the woods they’ve landed in. The couple wince, crying out in shock. Junhui tucks his face against Wonwoo’s chest, the latter doing his best to shield him. 

“Foolish, obstinate child,” comes the very familiar voice of a woman. 

Junhui lifts his face to see Mother standing in front of them, flanked by about a dozen guards. For a second, he wonders if he’s hallucinating. As far as he’s aware, she’s never left the Heavens. Not even to pursue the Fallen Ones after the Great Fall. Maybe he hit his head a little too hard on a branch. Or perhaps the pain from his broken wing is so severe, it’s causing him to have hallucinations.

“M-Mother?” he wonders, hesitant. He glances over to Wonwoo, silently checking with him if he’s seeing the same illusion.

Wonwoo darts his eyes from him to the group of celestial beings.

“Look at the mess you’ve gotten into, Junhui,” she scolds. That tone is unmistakable. This is real. She’s really here. For what? To admonish him? Capture them? Force them back to the Heavens?

He fists his hands, steeling himself. 

“Why couldn’t you have listened to me?”

Junhui shakes his head, appalled that she would ask such a question. “Because it’s not right!”

“What about this situation is right, then?” she throws back at him. “You tricked your guard, escaped confinement, trespassed into a forbidden building, disturbed a resting soul and woke him up before he was ready, scaled Mount Elysian, and jumped into an unstable portal. All to end up bruised and battered. Do you even understand the gravity of all your transgressions?” She heaves a breath. “We’ve had to banish angels for much less.” 

He grits his teeth, hot tears blurring his vision. “Fine. Then consider this my fall from grace.”

“Junhui!” Wonwoo gasps, horrified. “What are you saying?!”

“I mean it! If staying in the Heavens as an angel means forfeiting your soul to the wills of anyone but yourself, then I refuse!”

Wonwoo stares at him in stunned silence. 

“I refuse to partake in something so inhumane. I refuse to live a lie, deceiving myself and my own feelings just to please you, Mother.” 

“Do you think of me so cruel?” she asks calmly. “Always. I have always only wanted the best for you, Junhui.”

He deflates upon hearing the sincerity in her voice, anger making way for sadness and regret. “I know, Mother,” he replies quietly. And he does. Not once has he believed her actions to come from a place other than love and protection. Nonetheless, it doesn’t make it acceptable. “I know how dearly you hold me, but I can’t go along with the plans you’ve set out for me this time. Undoubtedly, the rest of my existence would be perfect if I did. I would have Wonwoo by my side, and the two of us would never want for anything, worry about anything. I would never taste sadness again, nor would I get hurt.  

“But Mother, that’s not true happiness. It’s just an illusion. When everything is perfect, then what is there to look forward to? What is there to rejoice over? What is there to cherish and love?” He reaches for Wonwoo’s hand, smiling when the latter immediately laces their fingers together. “I can’t lead such a life, Mother. Not anymore.”

They hold each other’s gaze for a long moment, the only sounds around them coming from the night critters and hooting owls far away. At last, Mother gives in. 

She sighs, shaking her head minutely. “Such a waste,” she mutters. Without another word, she waves her hand. A blue flame appears, floating above her palm. 

Junhui’s eyes widen in recognition. It’s Wonwoo’s. In the chaos, he completely forgot about it. With trepidation, heart pounding, he shifts his gaze back to her face. 

Wordlessly, she twirls her other hand, bringing forth a second flame. Although he’s never seen it before, he instinctively knows. It’s his.

“Such a waste,” she repeats, wistfully gazing at the objects in her grasp. “Two strong, beautiful, perfectly matched souls.” She brings her hands next to each other, and the flames merge into one. For a few seconds, she observes the dancing blue flickers of light. Then, she inhales and encloses the flame in between her palms. When she exhales, she releases the hold, revealing millions and millions of tiny blue sparkles. They float through the air, gently gravitating over to the astonished couple. 

Instantly, a cool sensation settles over their skin, soothing the sting and soreness of their injuries. Every cut and bruise is instantly healed, the pain fading away. Even their clothes are repaired.

“This is all I can do,” Mother says, nodding toward Junhui’s wings.

Wing.

Only one remains now, he notes with a twinge of sadness. Gingerly, he stretches behind him and touches the spot where it used to be. His fingers graze over a faint scar.

“From this night onward, you will no longer be able to return to the Heavens,” she states with no small amount of sorrow.

“I understand.” Junhui bows deeply. “Thank you, Mother, for granting me this final selfish request.”

Out of the periphery of his vision, he sees the hem of her gown brush over the wild grass, her footsteps nearly soundless on the forest floor. He lifts his head when she stops just a foot away. Softly, she smiles at him, but the gesture is bittersweet. “Foolish,” she corrects, “But not selfish.” She strokes his head like she has done a million times in the past, but they both know this will be the last. His heart sinks at the thought. 

“I will miss you, Junhui. My very special flower.”

He laughs quietly, eyes misting up. “I, too, Mother.”

Then, she leans down to kiss his cheek, whispering one final secret.

Junhui’s eyes balloon as he gapes at her.

She chuckles, standing up to her full height. “The two of you hold life’s most precious jewel. Treasure it and look after it well.”

Both he and Wonwoo bow deeply in unison, in gratitude, and in farewell. 

In another blinding flash of light, the group of celestial beings disappear. The pair wait until the silence of the night returns, before daring to move. As soon as they’re back on their feet, Junhui throws himself at Wonwoo, laughing in sheer exultation.

Wonwoo embraces him tightly. Instead of rejoicing along, he remains solemn. “I’m sorry about your wings,” he whispers into his shoulder. “I never wished for you to Fall and lose them because of me.”

From their position, Junhui can’t see his face, but the conflicting emotions can be heard in his tone. To lighten the mood and ease Wonwoo’s mind, he asks cheekily, “Has our relationship lost its appeal now that it’s no longer forbidden?”

He receives a firm spank on the bottom for his nonsense. 

Junhui yelps, but the giggles still spill free. Wonwoo shoots him an unamused look. Regaining his composure, Junhui gives him his full attention. He understands the concern, and no doubt, the guilt. If Junhui were in his shoes, he’d be riddled with remorse, too. “I’ll miss my wings,” he admits, smiling faintly. “And I’ll miss my home in the clouds, too, but if the alternative means spending an eternity at the side of a stranger wearing your face, then I gladly give it all up. Besides,” Junhui squints and points at him, mouth forming a pout. “You sacrificed your life because of me first, so I say we’re even now.”

Wonwoo snorts out a laugh, shaking his head in dismay. “You… Really. What am I going to do with you, hm?”

Junhui giggles, taking his hand into his. “Well, we’ve got forever ahead of us, so you have plenty of time to think it through!”

Nose scrunching adorably, Wonwoo laughs. “Indeed.” The laughter gradually fades into a sweet smile. His face softens, eyes utterly fond as he gazes at him. Tenderly, he strokes Junhui’s cheek, touch as light and delicate as feathers. “I can’t possibly fathom what I have done to deserve you—a literal gift from above—but I will be eternally grateful that you came into my life that night, in spring.”

Junhui nuzzles into his palm, holding on to his wrist as he smiles. “Me, too.”

When Wonwoo leans in to kiss him, Junhui meets him partway. His heart soars; his blood sings. At last, he feels whole. Two halves becoming one, two souls merging. It’s incredible to think that an angel found his soulmate within a demon, that their love would be both their downfall and salvation. That one of them would need to die before they can be reunited.

But reunite they did, and Junhui feels as light as air, buoyant with joy. Wonwoo is his anchor, tethering him to the ground. He reminds him that even though his head spins from the sheer amount of love poured into him, none of this is a dream nor an illusion.

Sensing that Junhui is running out of air, Wonwoo gradually inches away to let him breathe, but the former angel chases after him for more kisses. Chuckling, Wonwoo obliges, pecking the moles dotting his cupid’s bow.

Dazed, Junhui flutters his eyes open to see Wonwoo gazing tenderly at him.

“Thank you for falling in love with me, Junnie.”

Junhui meets his gaze and smiles sweetly. “Thank you for showing me what love means, Wonwon.”

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆: *✧･ﾟ:* 　꒰ঌ ໒꒱　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

Epilogue

Deep in the woods, off the beaten path, there stands the cottage where he and Wonwoo have made the decision to take roots. It’s a bit of a fixer-upper at the start, but for a couple who went against the Heavens to defend their love, a little house renovation is nothing they can’t handle.

With that said, they still encounter many mishaps, some funnier than others. Like the day Junhui gets startled by a dove and nearly falls off the roof, but ends up dangling from the beam by the strap of his overalls. Or when he runs out of the attic shrieking, adamant he’s seen a ghost, which turns out to be an old mannequin. That afternoon, Wonwoo gets caught in such a laughing fit, he almost tumbles over the broken stairs banister.

Gradually, little by little, their home takes shape. It’s small, but beautiful and cozy. Best of all, it’s their very own little piece of paradise.

Junhui comes to find out that Wonwoo has been secretly swimming in wealth. Not that anyone would know by the way he conducts his life, so humble and sensible. But he supposes it makes sense. Wonwoo had been living in the human world for hundreds of years. For him not to have savings would be the oddity.

As a result, when Junhui anxiously asks him if they needed to find jobs in order to survive, Wonwoo simply tells him that he already had all their expenses covered. If Junhui wanted to pursue an interest, then by all means, he’ll help him find a job. Otherwise, there’s no need to worry. The relief is imminent. For starters, he wouldn’t know where to start. Needless to say, he’s only ever worked in the Heavens. Nevertheless, he would love to give human occupations a try, if given the chance.

A few days later, after a trip to village for groceries, the couple notice an announcement. Apparently, Mr. and Mrs. Lee, the librarians, are retiring, much too old and weak old to look after the crumbling building. Unless someone takes over, they will, unfortunately, have to close it down.

Junhui and Wonwoo share a look. With matching smiles, they head for the library.

A few weeks after they’ve settled in, while Wonwoo has gone to the village, Junhui finds three little visitors on the back porch. The kittens are adorable, barely a few weeks old. What strikes him, though, is their uncanny resemblance to the three littles ones he molded from clouds back in the Heavens. Unable to resist, he brings them inside, giggling at the ticklish sensation when they climb on him. He names them Open, Close, and Lock, taking inspiration from the spot where they were hidden.

He promises to do everything he can to convince Wonwoo to keep them. As it turns out, though, it doesn’t take all that much convincing. Wonwoo is just as smitten.

“I’m already taking care of one kitten. Three more isn’t going to make much of a difference.”

Jeonghan visits from time to time, often accompanied by Kihyun, and sometimes, even Pyongho. Despite his older brother’s scary threats, Jeonghan does not blame Wonwoo for their self-inflicted exile, nor does he try to flay him alive for playing part in his brother’s broken wing. Much to Junhui’s relief. On his first visit, Jeonghan brings along Junhui’s old scrapbook, knowing how precious the item is to him.

From now on, when the couple reminisce and add more memories to the pages, Wonwoo can fully participate without dire consequences to his well-being. They quickly fill up the first book. Before long, two more volumes sit beside it on the shelf. Then another. And another.

After all, they have a lot of wonderful moments to capture and keep safe. 

August 2nd.

With this ring, I thee wed. To have and to hold. To love and to cherish. To honor and to respect. In sickness and in health. For richer or for poorer. For better or for worse. For as long as we both shall live. As the Heavens as my witness, I vow to stay by your side, in this lifetime and in all the ones following it.

I love you.

I love you. 

Much to Junhui’s delight, Wonwoo successfully locates their beloved flower meadow. It’s a couple hours away by car, though, which means they won’t be able to visit as often as they did in the past. Nevertheless, the fact that they can see it at all is already wonderful. 

Right before the end of summer, they head out for a day trip, packing along a picnic. And all of their cameras. Junhui brings home two flower crowns.

You, Me, and Baby Make Three.

On May 26th, two years later, he and Wonwoo welcome into the world their son, Siyeong.  

It’s amazing how his heart seems to grow with each breath, filling up with so much love and joy. What had started as wishful thinking from a lifetime ago, has miraculously become real. Even as Junhui holds Siyeong in his arms and kisses him, he can hardly believe it’s not a dream. Silently, he sends a sincere thank you to Mother, recalling what she whispered to him as she kissed him farewell. ‘To you, the child whose core was formed from the flower of innocence, purity, and new life, I shall bestow on you a Gift worthy of those attributes.’ 

Now here he is, the physical manifestation of his and Wonwoo’s love. 

“He looks just like you, Wonwon,” Junhui giggles softly, holding the bundle against his chest. Gently, he strokes the tiny hand, cooing when Siyeong yawns and quickly falls back asleep.

“What are you talking about, kitten?” Behind him, Wonwoo smiles with the utmost affection, hand cupping their son’s head, thumb caressing the downy hair. “He’s the spitting image of his mother.”

Jeonghan pokes his head in, peering at the sleeping baby. Wryly, he glances at them. “Has living in the mortal realm affected your eyesights?”

The couple share a confused look, before directing their attention back to him.

“I’d never seen a baby with features so evenly split between his parents,” Jeonghan explains with a chuckle. “But I guess it’s true what mortals say. Love is blind. Makes sense that you’d only see each other in him,” he snickers. Smiling gently, he touches his nephew’s tiny fingers.

Blushing, Junhui sticks his tongue out and grins.

Wonwoo kisses his temple, hand steadily on his waist.

“Congratulations, you two,” Jeonghan grins, eyes kind and earnest. “He’s healthy and beautiful.”

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆: *✧･ﾟ:* 　꒰ঌ ໒꒱　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

“‘And they lived happily ever after.’” Gingerly, Junhui closes the book and places it on the small nightstand. He leans down and presses a kiss on the crown of Siyeong’s head. “Goodnight, baby.”

Turning off the lamp plunges the bedroom into darkness, but only for a second. The nightlight flickers to life, casting images of stars, clouds, and the moon against the walls. It was Wonwoo’s choice, wanting a little something to ease Junhui’s longing. Plus, it’d ne nice if one day they can tell their son all about their origins and his, too.

Junhui smiles faintly, pulling the covers fully over his son’s chest.

As he turns to leave, a small hand reaches out to grab onto his fingers. Junhui turns around, seeing Siyeong crack his eyes open.

“What’s wrong baby?” he sits back down.

“Baby, Mama, and Daddy happy ewuh aftuh too, Mama?” he asks.

Out from the corner of his eye, Junhui spots Wonwoo leaning against the doorframe. His husband smiles, fond and tender as he gazes at the pair of them.

Junhui returns the smile, then kneels on the carpet so he can be on eye level with their son. “Yes, baby. Just like us.”