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Johnny meets the devil on a cold night of thirty-first of October in a park in the middle of a city crawling and bustling with tired people eager to go home to their loved ones. He sits on a bench, staring at the dark woods. A single lamp, flickering weakly, is his only companion. It’s been a while since he went down to Earth. So much has changed, yet at the same time, nothing has changed. Humans are still committing sins, still hurting each other, still exploiting their lands. Centuries have passed, and still they those pride, lust, greed, and envy stick like a curse, for generations and generations. But Johnny is not in the habit of questioning His will.
It’s also been a while since he met Hell’s inhabitants. Most people would think that the devil is a monstrous creature, with a big hulking body and large horns, or someone like Lucifer from the movie Constantine—an old man in a white suit with tar-blackened feet.
The sound of footsteps stepping over the fallen yellow leaves draws Johnny’s attention. He watches as the devil approaches him. The devil looks nothing like one of those depictions. Instead, what greets him, for lack of a better word, is a rockstar. His hair is red, same with his eyes, dark lips that curl into a smirk. Silver rings adorn his fingers, slim legs clad in tattered jeans, and his thin body is camouflaged by a leather jacket. A cigarette hangs between his lips, smoke curling around him as he exhales into the night.
“Hello, Yuta.”
The devil smirks and purrs, “Good evening to you too, Johnny. Do you like what you see?” He twirls, blond hair swaying with the wind.
“You look different.”
And he does look different. Gone is the black hair. Yuta’s face is more angular now, and his ears are pierced. There’s a cross earring dangling from his left ear—a blasphemy, it sways in tandem with Yuta’s movement, mocking him, as if daring Johnny to smite the wearer.
“Now, are we here to take a trip down memory lane, or are we going to talk business?”
The cigarette is dropped to the ground, black boots smushing the embers out. All traces of playfulness on Yuta’s face are gone. His body language changes, becoming defensive, and something in Johnny’s chest aches. No matter what happened, there’s always a part of Johnny who will always miss his brother.
“What do you want, Yuta?”
“You know what I want, Johnnyboy. The question is, are you going to give it to me or not?”
Yuta’s purr is contradicted by the way his body coils, ready to strike. His eyes glow under the weak light. Eyes that used to look at Johnny with fondness are now filled with malice and hatred. But Johnny doesn’t blame him. He doubts he would fare any better if their positions were reversed.
“They would never agree to it. You know it, Yuta.”
Johnny sighs. His shoulders feel so heavy.
“Then what’s the point of this meeting, Johnnyboy? One last clandestine night before we meet on the battlefield?”
Suddenly, Yuta is in front of him, cold fingers cradling his face.
Every angel is raised to resist temptation, to fight demons, to banish them back to Hell where they belong. Johnny has always upheld his duty, even when it tore him apart, even when that duty cost him his love. Even when that day still haunted him—the smell of burning flesh, the cries of his brothers-in-arms, Yuta’s scream as his wings burned into ashes, terror in his eyes as he stretched his hand out towards Johnny, the way he screamed, desperate and desolate, “JOHNNY!” And all Johnny could do was watch, tears streaming down his face, hand stretched out uselessly as Yuta plummeted down, down, down to where Johnny couldn’t reach him anymore.
Yet, Johnny is weak and has always been weak when it comes to Yuta. It has been many years since Yuta touched him like this. Johnny closes his eyes, and while he prays for forgiveness, he can’t help but lean into the touch, savoring the feel of soft skin against his cheek. His Father would forgive him for this moment of weakness. After everything Johnny has been through, every sacrifice, every task executed in His name, surely He could overlook this. He is, after all, All-Forgiving.
“They’re going to destroy you. And this time there will be no mercy if you don’t return them, Yuta.”
Johnny murmurs, regretfully mourning the warmth before it is gone the next instant. When he opens his eyes, Yuta is standing several paces away, his face blank.
“Then they’re welcome to try.”
With those last parting words, Yuta walks away. Johnny had hoped, foolishly, that his warning would be enough to dissuade Yuta from going to war with Heaven. But Johnny has never been enough for Yuta—not then, and not now.
“Wait.”
The footsteps stop.
“What if I trade my place for them?”
The air seems to freeze as soon as Johnny utters those words. It’s as though the world is holding its breath, anticipating, for the first time in centuries, an angel making a deal with the devil. Yuta turns his head, his eyes unreadable.
“You realize what you’re doing, Johnny?”
There’s no inflection in Yuta’s voice, but Johnny still feels the reprimand, the warning to knock it off, to walk away. Because Yuta knows that once you betray Him, there’s no going back.
But Johnny has had enough of being a coward, of these illicit meetings, of stolen moments just to be by Yuta’s side every few centuries, while the gap in his heart widens and the longing threatens to choke him.
“Yes.”
He can see that the conviction in his voice rattles Yuta, evidenced by the widening of his eyes. This time, he turns, facing Johnny fully. A few long strides, and he’s back in front of Johnny, so close that the distance between them is almost negligible. His eyes roam over Johnny’s face, as if seeking a sign of hesitation. But Johnny makes sure he won’t find it. After all, this is where it was always going to come to.
Then Yuta’s hands are on his face again, thumbs caressing his cheeks. And for the first time in a long, long time, there’s warmth in those red eyes, and Johnny drinks it all in, his lips curving into a smile.
“This is your last chance to back off, Johnny.”
If Johnny said no, if he changed his mind, Yuta would let him go. If there’s something that has remained constant these past centuries, it is Yuta’s inability to force Johnny into anything he doesn’t want to do. Which is how all of this started, because they were both too stubborn, both unrelenting, yet equally unable to deny what the other wanted. Yuta wanted to be free of Heaven’s shackles, and Johnny didn’t. In the end, he couldn’t prevent Yuta from falling. Just as Yuta can’t, won’t stop him now from selling his soul to the devil. Despite knowing how much Johnny loves Him, despite knowing how much Johnny adores Heaven. Yuta is selfish, and if Johnny wants to give himself to him, who is he to deny this divine gift?
Johnny shakes his head, and Yuta guides his lips to meet his beloved’s. The moment their lips meet, the air crackles with energy. Lightning flashes, and thunder roars in the distance. The deal is sealed. It is done.
On the night of the thirty-first of October, Heaven has lost one of its children, has lost a brother, and the devil has finally reunited with his beloved, and the angel has finally, after all this time, found happiness.