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Going home alone while deadass drunk was not the best of his ideas, Sunwoo reflects as he wobbles along a dimly lit street in the wee hours of the morning. He can’t even remember why he drank so much, nor why he ended up in that bar in the first place… oh, right. He tries to jog his memory into shape.
His asshole of an ex had just dumped him, and he had been drowning his sorrows in alcohol, dragged out of his apartment by a couple of friends he used to play soccer with back in college. It was all going swimmingly until one of them successfully picked up a pretty girl on the dance floor, who happened to have another pretty girl friend who found his other friend cute. He was on his third glass of gin and tonic when he had gotten two successive text message apologies and no wingmen to find him someone to distract him from his heartbreak. Traitors, both of them.
He vaguely remembers crying embarrassingly and sharing his woes to the disinterested bartender, next turning to the nearest person within reach. A man much prettier than the girls his friends left with, sitting alone beside him at the bar counter and offering to buy him drink after drink, which he had only been too happy to oblige. There might’ve been a bit of flirting involved. The pretty man had run his dainty fingers affectionately up and down Sunwoo’s arm as they talked, but everything after that is a huge blank in Sunwoo’s brain and whatever progress he made obviously came to nothing, if his current pathetic state is any indication.
A wave of nausea overcomes him, and he steadies himself against a street light, its harsh fluorescent bulb flickering ominously. One moment he’s plunged in darkness, and in the next the light comes back on, little purple spots dancing in front of his unfocused vision. He closes his eyes when the world spins off-kilter, and when he opens them again, it’s in time to the street light flashing blindingly bright, a man clad in a plain white t-shirt and white pants suddenly in front of him like a heavenly apparition.
He screams and backs up, landing painfully on his butt on the cold concrete pavement.
“Kim Sunwoo?” the stranger asks, pristine white high-tops stepping lightly towards him. Sunwoo, in his alcohol-addled thoughts, notes importantly that the man isn’t carrying a weapon, so he must not be here to mug him. But is he some sort of stalker? Why does he know Sunwoo’s name?
“Listen, I don’t have any money on me,” Sunwoo says weakly, his mouth not quite catching up with his thoughts. It’s true. That’s why he let the pretty man at the bar ply him with alcohol.
The stranger stares back at him with large, unblinking eyes, tilting his head slightly, and drunk Sunwoo thinks he looks unreasonably cute, for a stalker. “You poor thing. You shouldn’t have talked to Chanhee.”
Who’s Chanhee? Sunwoo wants to ask, but the world is spinning faster, now. He knows he’s about to pass out. The street lamp casts a white light against the stranger’s head, and it kinda looks like a halo, he thinks dumbly.
“Oh well. This’ll be interesting,” the stranger quips. He opens his mouth to say something else, but Sunwoo finds himself pitching forward, blacking out before he can hear the rest of his words.
—
The first two things Sunwoo’s mind registers when he comes to are a splitting headache and the familiar fabric softener smell of freshly changed bedsheets. His memory is all fuzzy—this headache must be a hangover. The soft duvet pulled up to his chin is his, and he’s still wearing outside clothes, so he must’ve drunk somewhere and gotten home safely.
“Good morning!” a voice chirps at his side, and he yells reflexively, because no matter how drunk he’d been, he was positive he hadn’t taken anybody home with him.
“Who the fuck are you?” Sunwoo screeches, scrambling to sit up against the headboard. It’s all coming back to him now. He had passed out on the street, right in front of this weirdo in white who suspiciously knows his full name. Wait, how did he get into his apartment?
The stranger hands him a glass of water. “I’m Changmin,” he says with a bright smile. He has a dimple. Charming. Sunwoo drains the glass and sets it on the bedside table.
“Yeah? Care to explain why you’re breaking and entering into my home?” Sunwoo crosses his arms.
“How rude. I carried you here on my back. You punched in the passcode yourself,” Changmin says, offended.
“Fair enough. You didn’t answer my first question, and I don’t mean your name.”
Changmin blinks at him. “Let’s just say I’m your guardian angel,” he says carefully.
Sunwoo scoffs. That’s the worst pickup line he’s ever heard. Changmin is quite handsome, but there’s a scarily intimidating gleam in his eyes that fills Sunwoo with a sense of foreboding, cute dimple be damned, and Sunwoo hopes to all the deities that he isn’t a serial killer because Sunwoo is too young and beautiful to die.
Changmin clicks his tongue in annoyance. And then white-feathered wings unfurl on his back.
Sunwoo drank a lot of alcohol for sure, but he definitely doesn’t remember taking any recreational drugs last night. The wings attached to Changmin’s back glow with an unearthly sheen that couldn’t possibly be attributed to the cheap fluorescent lights in Sunwoo’s room.
“What the fuck!” he exclaims, throwing up his hands. Something glimmers faintly on the inside of his left forearm as he does so, and he momentarily tears his disbelieving gaze from the anomaly in front of him to inspect it.
It looks like a tattoo but also not, five black lines criss-crossing to form a five-point star spanning the width of his forearm near the crook of his elbow, enclosed in the black outline of a perfect circle. Tilting his arm at certain angles caused the lines to shimmer, iridescent, indecipherable runes flashing momentarily along them before disappearing as quickly as they appeared.
“You even made a blood pact with him? Your moral compass must be more skewed than I thought,” Changmin comments, peering at the mark with mild disapproval.
“Blood pact with who? What is this?! What are you?” Sunwoo is so ready to have a nervous breakdown right about now.
Changmin’s wings flap slightly, and the look on his face is unimpressed. “Can you calm down? I don’t want to keep repeating myself.“
“How can I calm down when I’m talking to a guy with wings?!” Sunwoo wrings his hands, willing himself to wake up from this bizarre, alcohol-induced dream.
Changmin sighs and grabs Sunwoo’s left arm, pressing two of his fingers against the middle of the pentacle drawn (is this thing permanent?!) on Sunwoo’s skin. Sunwoo hisses as the mark burns with the motion, and he yanks his arm back out of Changmin’s reach.
A puff of black smoke coils and expands at the foot of Sunwoo’s bed, taking the form of a slim-figured silhouette. When Sunwoo blinks, it’s replaced by a person—is it a person? He gasps when the uninvited guest lifts his head, piercing dark eyes staring into Sunwoo’s own. The pretty man from last night!
“Hello, Chanhee,” Changmin speaks up, tilting his chin up to acknowledge the newcomer.
The man named Chanhee slides his eyes over to Changmin. “Oh, it’s you. I was wondering why I got dragged here when the brat clearly wasn’t the one who summoned me.” His voice sounds as sweet as honey, and he’s decked all in black, dark sleeveless shirt a sharp contrast to his pale shoulders, his long legs looking very fine in tight-fitting leather pants and ankle boots. He looks just as intoxicatingly desirable as Sunwoo remembers him last night.
“Can someone please tell me what is going on?” Sunwoo pleads, clutching at his sheets for dear life.
“Isn’t he adorable? Abject terror looks so flattering on him,” Chanhee says. The pupils of his eyes momentarily narrow into slits, irises flaring blood red, and when Sunwoo lets out a strangled yell, Chanhee blinks brown, innocent, human-looking eyes back at him. The mark on Sunwoo’s arm throbs with a dull pain.
Changmin claps unenthusiastically. “Congratulations, Kim Sunwoo. You just made a deal with the devil.”
—
It’s been a weird, draining, and mildly traumatizing week for Sunwoo. He’s paying quite a steep price for his careless little jaunt at the bar, the least of which are the two new roommates—yes, that’s the plausible thing to call them when people ask—he acquired overnight.
Chanhee very vehemently corrected Changmin’s statement from the get-go. He wasn’t The devil, no. He’s just an immortal being—not all that different from Changmin; they just happened to reside in completely opposite ends of the afterlife—who heard Sunwoo cursing out his ex to the bartender, and has the power to easily make all of Sunwoo’s problems go away, in exchange for the meager price of Sunwoo’s soul. He insisted that it was an excellent bargain that Sunwoo readily agreed to, the receipt glaringly obvious on Sunwoo’s arm.
And for the first few days, it seemed so. Sunwoo’s vindictive boss gets fired (“Are you sure he wasn’t—one of you?” he asked Chanhee. “How dare you compare me to such a disgustingly vile human?” Chanhee says, offended), he’s handed a promotion and a raise that very conveniently makes it feasible for him to feed two extra mouths, and he finally overcomes the songwriter’s block he’d been dealing with in those last few rocky weeks before he broke it off with his ex.
Then he hears that said ex nearly got run over by a car, and suddenly the situation isn’t just a string of fortuitous coincidences anymore.
“Was it not enough? The doctor who attended him said he had eight broken ribs, and a punctured lung,” Chanhee says, clearly puzzled by the grief on Sunwoo’s face. “Ah. You did say that you wanted your former lover to die in the most excruciatingly painful way. I was going for that, but someone,” and he rounds on Changmin, who sticks Sunwoo’s Airpods in his ears and hums Sunwoo’s newest work in progress loudly, avoiding Chanhee’s keen gaze, “decided to be a goody-two-shoes and put him out of harm’s way.”
“Out of harm’s way?! He has a punctured lung! That thing I said at the bar, that was just a figure of speech!” Sunwoo cries, distraught.
“I see.” Chanhee appears unperturbed by the correction. “I underestimated your ill will. A quick death would be mercy; he ought to incur increasingly more debilitating injuries over time, to draw out his suffering in a more effective manner.”
Changmin has the audacity to burst out laughing. Isn’t he supposed to be the voice of conscience here? For someone who claims to be an angel, he seems quite tolerant of Chanhee, unbothered when Chanhee regales them with his recent exploits whenever he isn’t lounging around Sunwoo’s apartment. Like how he took a stroll around the neighborhood and incited two gangs into an all-out brawl. Or how he killed some time at the nearby university and was impressed at the ingenious cheating methods some of the academically dishonest students came up with. When Chanhee had quite a temper on him the other day, royally pissed off after a local satanic cult mistakenly summoned him into their damp and dinky basement, Changmin had said, “You could have easily taken their souls en masse. Why didn’t you?”
That had certainly shocked Sunwoo, who prides himself on being a good judge of character (except for when he’s in love, as Chanhee is wont to remind him on why he’s in this grand mess in the first place). Changmin appears cute and harmless (angelic) whenever he smiles, but he is weirdly fascinated by eerie and macabre things, like horror movies and Japanese animé that involve man-eating monsters as adversaries. The life-sized Chucky doll sitting in one corner of Sunwoo’s bedroom is a recent acquisition of his. Sunwoo once caught him browsing an online shopping app after snitching Sunwoo’s phone, adding porcelain clown-face figurines to his cart, Chanhee peering over his shoulder with undisguised distaste.
It’s almost like the two of them are…friends. Esoteric, immortal friends from unfathomable planes of existence who could easily wreak havoc on Sunwoo’s life with a snap of their fingers, and so Sunwoo, who values his life quite a lot, has deemed it essential to keep them happy and satisfied as much as possible. For self-preservation. Just until he figures out how to get Chanhee’s mark off him.
“No! No maiming, or dismemberment, or anything even remotely horrible like that! Just…leave him alone, please,” Sunwoo implores, flashing his best puppy-dog eyes at Chanhee. For some reason, Chanhee’s terrifying aura vanishes without a trace whenever he does this.
Chanhee huffs. “Fine. You’re too soft! That’s why you attract dreadful people who take advantage of your kindness and stomp all over your heart until all you have left in you is an empty void.”
“Yeah, that’s me,” Sunwoo quips. It stings to be abruptly reminded of his recent breakup, but truth be told, he hadn’t even thought about his ex once this entire week, not until this moment when Chanhee’s attempt to “help” Sunwoo was brought to Sunwoo’s attention. The two new nuisances in his life have been keeping him so preoccupied, he hardly has any time to wallow in self-pity. Not that he would, if he weren’t sufficiently distracted.
“Are those tears in your eyes? Maybe I shouldn’t have saved your ex’s life after all,” Changmin says with a pensive frown.
Chanhee throws Changmin an exasperated look. “Yah! You’re regretting it now? If you hadn’t interfered, the loser who made Sunwoo sad would’ve left this earth already!”
“Stop talking about killing my ex,” Sunwoo admonishes, rubbing his temples.
“Who said anything about killing? Some careless human driving a car almost ran him over, not me,” Chanhee says, putting a hand over his chest like Sunwoo has deeply offended his character. Sunwoo scowls, not feeling very sad anymore. Now he feels like strangling Chanhee for being annoying, but he quells the urge because Chanhee is a demon with an angel’s face and even if he looks ridiculously adorable wearing an oversized pink sweater and a knitted cat-ear beanie on his head, Sunwoo’s still a little intimidated by him.
Just a teeny, tiny, negligible bit.
“Anyway,” Sunwoo says, attempting to steer the conversation into safer, murder-free waters, “I’m starving. Chanhee, make me some tteokbokki.”
“Use honorifics,” Chanhee says, crossing his arms. “Also, I am not your personal cook!”
“But you said you would make all my problems disappear. My current problem is that I’m hungry as hell, and I want to eat tteokbokki,” Sunwoo says matter-of-factly. If Chanhee is going to eat his soul or whatever when he dies, he plans on milking his contractor for all he’s worth.
“Or I could just make your stomach disappear, so you’ll never feel hungry again,” Chanhee casually suggests, the sweet smile on his face so incongruent with the terrible words spilling out of his mouth.
Sunwoo stoically holds his ground. “I would rather eat Chanhee-hyung’s tteokbokki. Please,” he adds for good measure, mirroring Chanhee’s smile.
Changmin shakes Chanhee by the shoulders. “Make me some too!” he demands.
“Alright, alright!” Chanhee grumbles. “But we have to restock Sunwoo’s fridge first. It’s deplorably empty.”
“Can’t you just will ingredients into existence?” Sunwoo asks.
“Creation is more Changmin’s boss’s thing,” Chanhee says with a careless wave of his hand.
“But I like grocery shopping! Let’s go spend all of Sunwoo’s money!” Changmin exclaims excitedly, jumping up and pushing Chanhee out the front door.
This is Sunwoo’s life now.
—
After a month, Sunwoo resigns himself to the fact that he is going to be stuck with Changmin and Chanhee for the unforeseeable future. He once asked them why they don’t just…go home (do angels and demons even have living spaces in the human world?), but they both just exchanged pointed looks at each other and said, in uncanny unison, “But we like hanging out here with you.”
He then asked them why they kept “hanging out” with him when they surely must have more important things to do, like influencing other humans into doing good or evil, or something. Chanhee merely shrugged and resumed organizing Sunwoo’s pantry, smirking when Sunwoo realized Chanhee wasn’t going to satisfy him with an answer and stuck his tongue out at him. Changmin just said, in an annoyed tone because Sunwoo had interrupted him while he was watching The Conjuring on Sunwoo’s flat screen TV, “Because I have to keep tabs on Chanhee, obviously.”
But Chanhee hasn’t done anything devious since that stunt he pulled with Sunwoo’s ex. In fact, he seems to have settled into domestic human life quite well, cooking for Sunwoo, cleaning Sunwoo’s apartment, and prettifying Sunwoo’s room with little aesthetic things he brings back from his daily walks. When Sunwoo points this out to Changmin, Changmin glances at Chanhee with a proud look on his face. “Isn’t that great? Makes my job easier.”
Sunwoo’s not sure what exactly a guardian angel’s job entails, but he’s willing to bet that idling around watching blasphemous horror movies on Sunwoo’s couch is not part of it.
Chanhee plops down on the free space next to Changmin, tearing open a bag of caramel popcorn that he nicked from the pantry. Changmin throws an arm around Chanhee’s shoulders, eyes not leaving the TV screen.
Another thing Sunwoo’s willing to bet on is that some major rule in The Grand Order of Things must be being broken right now by the two people (not people) in front of him. He’s not entirely certain he wants to be involved in it.
Chanhee cuddles further into Changmin’s personal space, laying his head on Changmin’s shoulder. They make an annoyingly cozy picture, and Sunwoo is overcome with the irrational urge to join them.
Well… you only live once.
He huffs and pushes them apart, wriggling into the spot he creates in between. “Give me that,” he demands, snatching the popcorn bag out of Chanhee’s hands and ignoring the warmth in his cheeks when Chanhee laughs prettily at his antics.
—
“What’s heaven like?”
Sunwoo waits patiently while Changmin brushes his wings with meticulous focus. He figures Changmin wouldn’t mind him asking, if he’s determined to litter Sunwoo’s bedroom floor with faintly glowing feathers.
“You’ll know when you get there,” Changmin says absently. He pauses. “If you get there,” he amends, glancing at the pentacle on Sunwoo’s arm.
Sunwoo rolls his eyes. “If I don’t end up there when I die, you’ll probably get demoted for slacking off on the job, right?”
Changmin glares at him. “I never slack off at my job.”
“Sure,” Sunwoo says doubtfully, eyeing the Annabelle doll perched on his desk chair, another thing that Changmin had brought home after disappearing (and distinctly not guarding Sunwoo) for a day. The doll turns its head Sunwoo’s way, and he lets out an unmanly shriek.
“Don’t freak out. That’s just my colleague! He likes his little pranks,” Chanhee, who’s sitting on the floor gathering Changmin’s loose feathers into a neat pile, reassures Sunwoo. The doll jumps off the chair and toddles eerily towards Chanhee, stopping to smirk up at Sunwoo and causing a shiver to run down Sunwoo’s spine.
Sunwoo watches the doll whisper something inaudible into Chanhee’s ear, then latch its frail arms around Chanhee’s neck in a sinister-looking hug. Chanhee calmly grabs the doll by the scruff of its neck and flings it against the wall. It lands with a hard thump on the hardwood floor, lifeless and, Sunwoo guesses, no longer possessed.
“Hey!” Changmin shouts in outrage, scrambling to pick up his beloved toy.
“I wouldn’t touch that if I were you. It’s still got Jaehyun’s miasma all over it,” Chanhee says.
Changmin picks the doll up anyway, giving Chanhee a meaningful look that is lost on Sunwoo. “I know what he’s working on, and who with.”
Chanhee’s smile is sharp. “Aren’t you a diligent little angel. You won’t rat them out, right?”
“It’s not in an angel’s nature to betray one’s friends,” Changmin says haughtily.
“Since when has Jaehyun been your friend?” Chanhee retorts.
Changmin raises his eyebrows. “I meant Jacob.“ He stares Chanhee down with that loaded expression, and they say nothing for an entire minute, wordlessly communicating with their eyes. Or maybe they’re using angel-demon telepathy; Sunwoo doesn’t know. He remembers them doing it a couple other times and it’s just as annoying this time around.
“You’re plotting something,” Changmin says, finally breaking the silence after sparing Sunwoo a pitying glance.
“It’s in a demon’s nature to always be plotting something.” Chanhee stands and picks off one of Changmin’s feathers that managed to find its way into his hair. He twirls it by the shaft and it bursts into flames.
Changmin’s eyes follow the scattered cinders falling slowly to the floor. Sunwoo feels a prickle of static running over his skin, as if the air is charged with electricity.
“But you wouldn’t stop me, right, Changmin? Because we’re friends. And angels never betray their friends,” Chanhee continues in honey-sweet tones, breaking the tension and batting his eyelashes coquettishly at Changmin.
Changmin marches up to him with a forced scowl. “Stop that! It doesn’t suit you at all,” he chides, but when he takes Chanhee’s face in his hands and smooshes his cheeks so his lips form a duck-like pout, Changmin’s laughter rings clear like church bells, and Sunwoo thinks that the angel’s endeared gaze is more telling of how suitable he actually finds Chanhee’s attempt at acting cute is. Sunwoo suddenly feels bereft and out of place, which is ridiculous because he’s standing in his own home.
He finds it vaguely unsettling that he can’t pinpoint whether it’s Chanhee or Changmin he’s jealous of.
—
As the months pass, Sunwoo can no longer ignore the growing attachment he feels towards the two supernatural beings who have so firmly ensconced themselves into his life. More than once, he wonders why, of all the billions of people in the world, they chose to stick to him. Not that he’s complaining, after getting used to them being around him 24/7.
They don’t really do human work, but Sunwoo discovers that Chanhee sings like an angel (he took offense at that, but humors Sunwoo anyway whenever he pesters him for a lullaby before going to sleep), and sometimes he wheedles Chanhee into recording the guides of some of the songs he’s working on.
On weekends he goes to a dance studio for fun, and Changmin’s always eager to accompany him, giving the instructors a run for their money with his unparalleled and unfairly god-like dance skills. Sometimes Chanhee tags along with them just to watch. He once got bored and caused two of the main dance instructors to come to blows during a particularly stressful week when they were preparing choreography for an up-and-coming idol group, thriving on the tension and resentment in the air. Changmin thoroughly (and to Sunwoo’s horror, literally) chewed him out for it as soon as they got home, upset that he had cut the session short with his antics.
That was the first time Sunwoo saw Changmin get mad. It was a scary experience that put the term ‘wrath of God’ into sharp perspective for him, and he silently vowed never to intentionally piss Changmin off, while trying not to stare at the bite marks all over Chanhee’s arms and shoulders.
(“I swear, you’d think he’s the one with demon blood in him,” Chanhee said sullenly, tugging at the fashionably loose collar of his shirt to reveal the smooth expanse of a pale shoulder marred by unmistakeable teeth marks.
The slope of his bare neck looked sinfully delicious enough to bite, and Sunwoo could see the appeal. He swallowed hard and did his level best to tear his eyes away.)
In contrast to Changmin’s vampire squirrel side (or so Chanhee likes to call it), Changmin in a pleasant mood is sweeter than anything. When Sunwoo comes home after a stressful day at work, Changmin is always ready with a hot bowl of ramyeon and all the time in the world to patiently listen to Sunwoo rant about his job. He nags Sunwoo endearingly to finish his projects whenever deadlines are looming, and goes out on little trips with him so that he can find his inspiration again when he sometimes gets burnt out and loses motivation.
One time during winter, Chanhee had been on one of his week-long absences, and Sunwoo was moodier than usual after being stuck at home because of heavy snowfall. Changmin offhandedly commented that Sunwoo’s name was appropriate for him; he needed the sunlight to thrive. Next thing Sunwoo knew, he was transported to a tropical beach, already in his swimming shorts and flip-flops, and Changmin had let him play in the water to his heart’s content for hours. They then returned to the apartment in the blink of an eye, Sunwoo considerably more cheerful and refreshed than before, surprised when he glanced at his phone and noted that not more than five minutes had passed. Changmin simply said it was an angel’s blessing and to leave it at that, and also to not mention anything to Chanhee, who’d be unbearably smug about Changmin not doing the right thing. Sunwoo distinctly heard him muttering about breaking protocol under his breath.
Changmin lets Sunwoo hold his hand whenever they go out. One of their dancer friends once asked if they were together, and Changmin just laughed cutely, his little dimple popping out, while Sunwoo shoved his nose further into his scarf to hide the blush on his cheeks. Going home to find Chanhee waiting and tackling Changmin in an aggressive full-body hug was a huge reality check that wiped the goofy smile off Sunwoo’s face. He’d shuffled off into a corner, trying not to look pathetically sad, but Chanhee noticed and gave him a breath-stealing hug too.
“Poor baby, I didn’t know you were pining for me this much,” Chanhee cooed, and Sunwoo didn’t bother correcting him because part of him did miss Chanhee—the part of him that casually bantered with the demon with a comfortable ease that felt more and more natural, and the part of him that enjoyed being spoiled by him even if it was probably just because of their blood pact.
Also, the part of him that thought Chanhee looked extremely pretty with his dark hair in soft curls and his lips stained cherry-red with lip gloss.
Chanhee isn’t nearly as affectionate with Sunwoo as Changmin is, but even he didn’t escape from being mistaken as Sunwoo’s significant other at one point.
“These guide tapes sound so good,” one of Sunwoo’s colleagues said after listening to Chanhee’s smooth vocals directly through her noise-cancelling headphones. “Your boyfriend, that cutie who always looks like he just walked straight out of a fashion show, recorded this for you, right? You should introduce him to one of our agency’s recruiters.”
“He’s not…” Sunwoo didn’t finish the sentence, thinking it wouldn’t hurt if one person mistook Chanhee and him for a couple.
Sunwoo’s colleague laughed and gave him a knowing smile. “Ah. Don’t want to share him, huh? I get it; if he has a fighting chance at debuting as a singer, you’ll have to end your relationship or get a right headache trying to keep it under wraps.”
Sunwoo has no qualms that Chanhee would pass any agency’s auditions with hellish ease, and the demon would probably do it for shits and giggles if the notion ever got into his head, which is why he forbade Chanhee from ever accompanying him to work. That one time he’d meddled with Sunwoo’s work life was enough.
He doesn’t really take the time to give himself a reality check, to just sit down, look at his situation rationally, and have the wisdom to recognize that it’s crazy to develop a crush on a biblically canonical immortal being. Even worse, two of them.
If there really is a god, and a demon king, they must be getting a kick out of watching him lose his sanity right now.
He just has to play it cool and stay in the human friendzone, or something.
—
“What’s hell like?”
Chanhee lifts his hungry gaze from the medium rare steak he’s cutting with a knife, favoring Sunwoo with a raise of an eyebrow. Sunwoo had whined at him for the better half of an hour that he was craving meat, and Chanhee insisted they go to a Western restaurant instead of buying a set of the hanwoo beef Sunwoo wanted.
He only gave in because like this he can pretend that Chanhee is taking him out on a date. Yeah, he briefly considered suppressing his frankly mad attraction to both demon and angel, but his parents raised him to be a go-getter, and he decided he didn’t give fuck all about how unconventional his predicament is, he’s just gonna run full blast ahead and see where this takes him. He’d wanted Changmin to go with them too, but the angel turned down their invitation when they were still in the apartment, saying something about a meeting in the Higher Plane, and had soon after disappeared with a sudden flash of light that almost blinded Sunwoo.
Chanhee delicately puts a piece of steak in his mouth, chewing as slowly as possible on purpose to rile Sunwoo up. “Hell is but a human construct,” he finally says after swallowing and primly dotting his lips with a napkin.
“Why must you talk like everything’s a damn riddle?” Sunwoo grumbles, hacking away at his own slab of porterhouse with much less finesse.
The smile Chanhee gives him is warm and deceptively kind. “What was it that Changmin told you? Ah, yes. You’ll know when you get there.” He bursts out laughing at the scowl Sunwoo gives him.
“You can just tell me a little bit. You owe it to me, seeing as I’m legally bound to give you my soul upon my death.”
“Owe you? The only thing I owe you is my loyalty, for as long as your human heart still beats,” Chanhee scoffs.
“Exactly. Your loyalty. So you’re basically my permanent personal butler who’s conveniently equipped with the powers of darkness, which means you have to answer my question!” Sunwoo taps his fork impatiently on his plate.
Chanhee lets out a long, drawn-out sigh. “Oh, fine. The first thing you’ll see when you get there is this gigantic gate crafted from the bones of the damned, on top of which is written ‘Abandon all hope, ye who enter here.’ In front of the gate is an equally enormous three-headed dog whose slobber smells absolutely atrocious.”
Sunwoo’s eyes are wide as saucers. He leans forward with renewed interest, not counting on Chanhee actually humoring him and excited to hear more.
“That’s how a bunch of long-dead human wordsmiths imagined the entrance of hell looks like when they wrote about it,” Chanhee continues with a smirk. He dodges the carrot stick Sunwoo flicks at him with fluid grace.
“Very funny,” Sunwoo snaps. He should have known better.
“Listen, brat. If every demon summoned by a nosy person like you chatted their heads off about the mysteries of our realm, more people would be incentivized into doing good instead. How are we supposed to feed the flames of the Eternal Abyss if we run out of cursed souls to burn?”
“You’re going to burn my soul when I die?” Sunwoo squeaks, paling at the thought.
Chanhee rests his chin on a loosely-closed fist and sizes Sunwoo up. “I could. But maybe if you’re a really, really good boy, I could spare you the suffering and consume your soul instead. Then you would be a part of me forever.” He licks his lips, a different kind of hunger in his eyes, his terrible but beautiful eyes that flash blood-red and reel Sunwoo into a mesmerized trance.
“That wouldn’t be so bad,” Sunwoo says, enthralled. Chanhee’s eyes shift back into the light blue color he fancied having that day, and his pale cheeks are tinged pink.
“You’re a really weird human, you know that?” Chanhee mutters, his gaze dropping from Sunwoo’s eyes to the food he’s now picking at on his plate. “You’re lucky Changmin isn’t here. He’d scold your ear off for saying that.”
Sunwoo laughs out loud, because the sight of Chanhee looking so shy is an amusing novelty that doesn’t quite compute in his head. “What are you so embarrassed about?”
Chanhee coughs. “I’m not. I’m just flabbergasted that your brain is so messed up, you actually think that getting your soul eaten by me isn’t something to be scared of.”
Sunwoo leans back in his seat. “I know that you’re interesting, and you can’t be that evil if your best bud is an angel,” he points out. He watches Chanhee mouthing ‘best bud’ to himself like it’s something distasteful. “How’d that happen, anyway?”
He’s genuinely curious. Sometimes Changmin and Chanhee would squabble over the pettiest things, like whose turn it is to use the TV remote control, or who’s more deserving of sleeping on the bed beside Sunwoo for the night (“Sunwoo helped a little old lady cross the intersection today! He’s been good!” “Yeah? Well, Sunwoo left his stinky socks in his friend’s locker at the dance studio before going home! He was such a little shit about it.”). You’d think an angel and a demon would have bigger things to argue about, but no, it’s always over Sunwoo’s things, and Sunwoo’s daily activities, and Sunwoo’s mundane life.
Technically it’s not so mundane anymore, with the two of them in it. But Sunwoo digresses.
Chanhee shrugs, his face shuttered in the way it gets when he’s going to refuse answering one of Sunwoo’s more probing questions. “We go way back,” he says shortly, and when he uses that tone Sunwoo knows it’s a waste of time trying to wheedle anything else out of him.
“Okay,” Sunwoo says, not without a heavy sigh of disappointment that makes Chanhee’s eye twitch. “Who are Jaehyun and Jacob?” Their names cropped up a few more times in Chanhee and Changmin’s conversations lately, usually after Chanhee returns from one of his mysterious absences.
“You’re exceptionally irritating today,” Chanhee complains in lieu of an answer.
Sunwoo flashes him a shit-eating grin. “Thank you. It’s a natural talent.”
Chanhee rolls his eyes. “You have that in common with Jaehyun. And you’re better off asking Changmin about Jacob, because he’s an angel too.”
“Changmin said they were working on something,” Sunwoo presses on, heedless of the growing impatience on Chanhee’s face.
“Yes. If you really must know, they’re both higher-ranked beings in their respective realms, and they have crucial roles in bringing about the apocalypse and the last war on earth, which will end with our side winning, of course. Because Jaehyun is annoyingly competitive, and he hates losing more than anything.”
“The apocalypse?!” Sunwoo gasps, almost jumping out of his seat.
Chanhee nods solemnly, then says, “I’m just pulling your leg. You’re so gullible, it’s practically a sin to keep fooling you. But that’s what makes you so fun to tease.”
“You are so—ugh!” Sunwoo balls up his table napkin and throws it halfheartedly at Chanhee, who snickers.
“Stop being so nosy about otherworldly affairs that your tiny human brain will never understand,” Chanhee tells him.
“I take it back, I don’t want you to eat my soul. I’m going to dedicate my life to God and rinse my arm with holy water every day until your stupid pentagram dissolves, just to spite you. And then when I die, Changmin will take me to heaven and I’ll become an angel and we’re never hanging out with you again.” Sunwoo crosses his arms.
“That’s cute. Religion is also a human construct. But if it makes you feel better about yourself, then by all means do so,” Chanhee says mockingly.
Sunwoo stands up and glares at him before pretending to stomp off in a petulant fit. Then he comes back because he has to pay their bill—Chanhee would have just teleported away without a care after eating out the entire restaurant’s inventory of Angus beef, and Sunwoo doesn’t want to be scolded by Changmin when he returns.
—
When Sunwoo and Chanhee get home that night, the apartment remains conspicuously angel-free. Without Changmin to mediate, they end up bickering again over Chanhee’s reluctance to divulge information about hell.
“You’re so stingy, Chanhee. I just want to understand you more! I thought I was growing on you, when you said you wanted us to be together forever.” Sunwoo lays it on thick with his wide, I’m-so-cute-you-can’t-resist-me boba eyes.
Chanhee rolls his eyes at him, but he can’t hide the amusement in his smile. “Ask me another time, when you can prove you can stop being annoying for five minutes.”
Sunwoo sighs, goes into his room to change into his sleep clothes, then wanders back out to accost Chanhee, who was making a beeline for the bathroom with a towel slung over his shoulder. “It’s been five minutes. Will you tell me more about hell now?” Sunwoo asks hopefully.
“No. Are you seriously going to sleep without washing up? You need a shower more than I do,” Chanhee says, leaning in close to sniff at Sunwoo then wrinkling his nose.
“Good idea. You can tell me about all your interesting stories about life in hell while I wash your back for you,” Sunwoo replies without missing a beat.
Chanhee looks him up and down. “Is that all you want to do with me in the shower?” he asks, just playfully enough to make Sunwoo’s mind short-circuit and rethink his mindless suggestion.
The mental image of little rivulets of water running down Chanhee’s bare skin while Sunwoo has his hands on him causes Sunwoo’s ears to flush violently red, and Chanhee’s melodious laugh—probably at Sunwoo’s way too obvious reaction—snaps him out of his daze.
“No,” Sunwoo answers honestly. If Chanhee wants to tempt him, then he sure as hell doesn’t want to resist. He can blame it on his guardian angel not being here to stop him.
But that leads him to the mental image of Changmin’s dimpled smile, and Changmin dragging him by their intertwined hands as he squeals and chases after a cute puppy down a busy street, and Changmin bickering with Chanhee one moment then tackling him into an almost violent hug the next. Sunwoo swallows hard, frozen in place even after Chanhee stops in the bathroom doorway and gestures for him to get a move on.
“On second thought, I don’t need to take a bath! It’s freezing outside anyway, and I’ll catch a cold if I get my hair wet,” Sunwoo babbles under Chanhee’s scrutinizing stare.
“Suit yourself,” Chanhee says, pouting like Sunwoo actually let him down, and now Sunwoo’s feeling all sorts of conflicted and his libido is screaming at him for being an idiot.
Sunwoo’s already curled up in bed, waiting for Chanhee to hog the duvet from him when he goes back into the bedroom after his shower, but the demon only grabs a pillow and tiptoes back out to sleep on the couch.
Chanhee isn’t there when Sunwoo wakes up the next morning.
—
Snow is lightly falling as Sunwoo jogs around the neighborhood in a panic. He doesn’t know how to contact Changmin, and he tells himself that he shouldn’t worry about Chanhee; he’s probably just sulky because Sunwoo chose the high road and refused to let him cheat on Changmin with Sunwoo. Or something. Right?
He couldn’t understand what the demon was thinking even if he tried. Are he and Changmin in love with each other? Is Chanhee into Sunwoo in a more-than-platonic way? Is Sunwoo batshit crazy for having the audacity to think that a beautiful demon with an equally beautiful angel boyfriend would be remotely interested in him, a mere (but also beautiful!) human?
The answer comes to him faster than he thinks, upon rounding the corner and spotting Chanhee in an empty corner lot. He’s bundled up in a black beanie and padding jacket, holding a phone in front of him and laughing at something he seems to be taking a video of further away.
There’s a man with him, much taller than Chanhee, and, when Sunwoo sneaks close enough to see his face properly, incredibly handsome. The stranger looks like he’s failing miserably at building a snowman, which is probably what has Chanhee in stitches.
Sunwoo’s sharp eyes then notice that the snowman’s base is smack in the middle of a perfect circle in the snow, shoveled neatly with a diameter about half the width of the empty lot. There are more lines within the circle and around the snowman, crisscrossing in a suspiciously familiar shape…
He briskly turns around and runs a couple of blocks away before pulling up his left jacket sleeve and pressing two fingers to the pentacle on his forearm. His heart is beating fast, both from the exertion of running and the rising anxiety he’s feeling over the thought of Chanhee attempting to ensnare another soul, the soul of an unfairly attractive man, conveniently after Sunwoo refused his advances—
“I was doing something important, so you better have a good reason for calling me,” Chanhee says irritably as he appears before him in a poof of black smoke, arms crossed.
“Important?” Sunwoo can’t help scoffing in disbelief, imitating Chanhee’s posture defensively. “I saw you! You were trying to trick some other guy into making a pact with you too.” He’s annoyed at himself for the twinge of jealousy he feels as he says it.
Chanhee pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs. “Don’t be ridiculous, Sunwoo. A demon-human blood pact is exclusive and can only be rescinded upon the human’s death, or the demon’s. We’re both still standing here, aren’t we?”
“Who is he?” Sunwoo demands. “I’m not stupid, Chanhee. He was in the middle of a—a demon-summoning circle thing in the snow! Did you make him draw that?”
Chanhee scowls. “Not that it’s any of your business, but of course not! I just told you that I’m exclusively bound to you!”
“Are you really?” Sunwoo asks, feeling hopeful despite himself, and more than a little pleased that Chanhee is practically shouting that he belongs only to Sunwoo. In a manner of speaking, anyway. “Hey, wait! Don’t use your diversionary tactics on me. You were all chummy with that guy like he knew you!”
“What, I can’t hang out with people other than you and Changmin?”
“Not ones you draw random pentagrams with! And—not someone as good-looking as that. I forbid you.” Sunwoo grabs Chanhee’s hand and starts to walk, intent on dragging the errant demon back home.
“Forbid…? Oh, is this jealousy? Sunwoo, for a bratty gremlin you can be cute when you try,” Chanhee teases, pinching Sunwoo’s cheek with his free hand.
“Please stop talking.”
“Cute and polite! What’s wrong with you today?”
“Shut up, or I’m telling Changmin on you!”
—
Maybe it’s because he’s an angel, but Changmin is infinitely more forthcoming with information than Chanhee is. Sunwoo and Chanhee find him rearranging his creepy dolls when they step back into the apartment, and Chanhee takes that as his cue to leave again, probably to cook up whatever new mischief he has the compulsion to accomplish, and also so he can avoid the scolding Changmin will give him after Sunwoo reports on his suspicious activities. Sunwoo latches onto Changmin like a man on a mission.
“I missed you, Changmin-ah. Chanhee bullied me when you weren’t around,” Sunwoo sniffles, hugging Changmin from behind. He loves sticking this close to Changmin; he’s as warm as sunshine and smells like a pleasant combination of Sunwoo’s favorite scents all at once. It must be an angel thing.
“Yah. I know I look young, but you’re just a baby compared to me and Chanhee. So that’s Changmin-hyung to you.”
“Sorry, Changmin-harabeoji. I meant no disrespect,” Sunwoo deadpans, springing off Changmin’s back as soon as the angel’s wings erupt with every intention of flinging Sunwoo away.
“You’ve been alone with Chanhee for too long if you’re this insufferable,” Changmin laments. He tucks his wings back into whatever heavenly dimension they disappear to when he isn’t using them to knock Sunwoo around. There’s no resentment in his tone, only fond resignation, and yet again Sunwoo wonders how an angel and a demon could be as tight-knit as the two of them.
“How did you and Chanhee become close?” Sunwoo asks, plopping down the middle of the couch and patting the seat on his right. This time he’s not settling with no for an answer.
Changmin doesn’t hesitate, per se. He stares at Sunwoo for an unnervingly long while, probably weighing the merits of telling him something that Chanhee straight up refused to. Then he sits and crosses his legs up on the couch cushion to get more comfortable, and he tells Sunwoo everything he wants to know.
—
Chanhee was an angel, once. All demons used to be. It wasn’t that Chanhee decided to turn evil and fall; it was the complete opposite. He liked being an angel, singing heavenly hymns with his beautiful voice, and doing the Creator’s work in the same flock as Changmin, who was his close friend and designated partner whenever they descended to Earth to do work for the Higher Plane.
He was content, because angels were born without desire, never wanting for anything because everything they needed was already in heaven. That was the indubitable Truth.
But then Chanhee was sent on a mission to Earth alone, and when he came back, he wasn’t quite the same. He still sang as sweetly as he always did before, but where he used to have the most jubilant voice in the chorus, there was now a note of melancholy, and of discontentment.
He wanted what the Creator gifted mankind. He wanted free will.
Angels never wanted for anything because everything they needed was already in heaven, and so Chanhee was cast out. He asked Changmin to come with him, but Changmin had stayed. He had no choice.
“Where I’m going, we’ll both have a choice,” Chanhee had told him in that hauntingly sorrowful voice, the most heartbreaking smile on his face as he turned his winged back and the Golden Gates shut behind him.
Changmin searched for him for a decade in the mortal realm, and as time passed, a decade became a century. If Chanhee had turned human and died, he did not ascend to the Higher Plane.
Changmin finally found him much, much later, as ageless and ethereal as he remembered him, but his once-pristine wings were now obsidian black and his eyes reflected the fiery red of the flames that stoked the Eternal Abyss. He was with another of the Fallen, whose only sin was to love another angel.
“The higher-ups wouldn’t let me be with Jacob. Like hell they’re getting their favorite little songbird back,” Jaehyun said cheerfully, giving Changmin a little wave with the hand that wasn’t firmly gripped in Chanhee’s.
Back when Chanhee was an angel, he always had the sweetest smile. Maybe spending eternity with someone he disagreed with as much as Jaehyun was how he learned to scowl as viciously as he did now. “Let go of me, you oaf,” he said, clipping Jaehyun’s head with one of his wings. Jaehyun loosened his grip and Chanhee flew straight to Changmin, wrapping him in a warm embrace.
“I missed you,” Chanhee said tearfully. “I kept looking for you but Jaehyun said he’d made us untraceable to each other and the spell would only be lifted if I helped him find Jacob first.”
“I missed you too,” Changmin said, but he was so dismayed he couldn’t say anything else. Chanhee was a demon. This wasn’t something that mortal reincarnation and a nudge into the path of grace could fix.
“We’re demons; it’s all about contracts for our kind, Chanhee,” Jaehyun said, running a hand through his hair sulkily. He, too, had retained his God-given beauty, his fair skin a stark contrast to the black wings upon his back. Changmin wanted nothing more but to reach for their Abyss-stained wings, cleanse the filth off them, and drag them back to the Higher Plane where they once belonged.
“We’re not going back,” Chanhee said, and the conviction in his voice broke Changmin’s heart.
It was the first time Changmin tasted despair. If he stayed any longer with them, he would end up Fallen, too.
“Don’t come with us, fool. Someone has to keep an eye on Cobie for me,” Jaehyun chastised him.
“Jacob can take care of himself. You’re the high-maintenance one. I’ve never seen another demon as touch-starved and clingy as you,” Chanhee said, rolling his eyes.
“Says the one who cried for Changmin in his sleep, and needed me to stroke his hair and whisper soothing nonsense in his ear to calm down,” Jaehyun shot back with a devious grin.
“Shut up! He’s lying, Changmin. That’s the first nasty habit he developed when he Fell,” Chanhee said, lunging to wring Jaehyun’s neck. Jaehyun cackled and disappeared in a puff of black smoke, leaving Chanhee grasping at air.
“What do we do now?” Changmin asked Chanhee, when he was sure Jaehyun wasn’t coming back.
“I’ll see you around. Now that Jaehyun’s curse is dispelled, you can find me anytime you want.”
“But we’re on different sides now. We can’t…”
“We can’t what?” Chanhee’s eyes flashed a deeper red. The smile on his lips was not the bright and innocent grin that Changmin was used to, now edged with bitterness and a hint of pretension.
Changmin refused to utter the words. Anything an angel says is as good as truth.
“We can be together again, just not like before. I’ll find a way. I promise,” Chanhee said, touching Changmin’s face. Whatever he saw there must have reassured him because his smile changed just a little, still a pale imitation of what it once was, but enough to rekindle Changmin’s hope, which stayed even long after Chanhee teleported away, a lingering miasma of the Abyss’s essence left in his wake.
Anything a demon says must be taken with a grain of salt, because mixing the truth with lies is second nature to them. Chanhee was a demon now.
But Changmin still believed in him.
—
Sunwoo doesn’t remember at what point he reached for Changmin’s hand while the angel was telling his story, but he holds onto it tightly still, sniffling.
“Sunwoo, you silly raccoon. Don’t cry,” Changmin says gently, stroking Sunwoo’s hair with his free hand.
“But it’s so sad. You two can never be together together,” Sunwoo babbles, trying to stop his lower lip from jutting out. He must look so uncool, but he’s with Changmin, not Chanhee, and he probably wouldn’t judge him for having a bleeding heart.
“You’re not making any sense.” Changmin laughs, pulling Sunwoo into a hug. It’s nice. Changmin doesn’t let go of him even after he blinks all the tears out of his eyes, Sunwoo practically half on top of the angel as he snuggles against him.
That’s how Chanhee finds them later, when he materializes back into the apartment in a flurry of dark smoke. Sunwoo sits up and away from Changmin so fast he almost gives himself whiplash.
Chanhee gives him a funny look. “You look terrible. Did you go on a date with another horrible guy who treated you like trash?”
Sunwoo makes a face at him. “Yeah, I did. We went to a steak place last night, then I caught him flirting with another guy out in the snow this morning.” He jumps behind the couch, giggling when Chanhee raises a threatening fist at him.
“You’re a little demon in the making,” Chanhee mutters. He flings himself onto the spot on the couch that Sunwoo vacated, settling his head on Changmin’s lap.
“Daily reminder that I am not, in fact, a part of the couch upholstery,” Changmin says to no one in particular, but his fingers automatically card through Chanhee’s hair and he doesn’t push Chanhee off. Chanhee purrs contentedly and closes his eyes, like a sated cat.
“What’s got Sunwoo so depressed?” Chanhee asks.
Changmin’s hand freezes, and Chanhee’s eyes fly open. Then Chanhee sighs.
Right, angel-demon telepathy. Sunwoo tries and fails to make a surreptitious exit to his room.
“Come here, nosy brat.” Chanhee beckons him closer, still lazily curled up on the couch, and who is Sunwoo to disobey? Even if there is a fifty-fifty chance of death in some terrible form by that dainty, outstretched hand.
Chanhee’s taking up all the couch space, so Sunwoo sits on the floor in front of the middle part of the couch, facing Chanhee and Changmin.
Chanhee reaches up to trace the dried tear tracks on Sunwoo’s cheek with his thumb. “Such a fool. In all the millennia I’ve lived, I’ve never seen a human waste their tears on a demon.”
Tears are prickling at Sunwoo’s eyes again, and he’s half-touched, half-annoyed at Chanhee because it took a lot of effort for him to turn off the waterworks and seeing Chanhee’s impossibly gentle face ruined it. Chanhee’s hand is cold, but his gaze is warm. How can someone who looks at him like that be considered an embodiment of evil? Chanhee doesn’t feel like a demon, and Sunwoo thinks he shouldn’t be, because it doesn’t suit him at all. He thinks that Changmin doesn’t much suit being an angel either, with his penchant for possessed dolls and his other questionable, glaringly unholy interests.
The two of them act more human than a lot of people Sunwoo can name, and he’s a born extrovert, so that’s saying something. If souls who live in heaven can’t be together with the one they love, what’s the point of wanting to go there when a person dies?
“I want to help you,” Sunwoo says determinedly. He doesn’t know what sort of help he can give them though.
Changmin shakes his head, but Chanhee sizes Sunwoo up as if he’s considering his offer. Changmin rumples Chanhee’s hair in annoyance. “You’re plotting again.”
“But Changmin, a willing human sacrifice exposed to residual energy from both our realms opens up endless possibilities,” Chanhee says, his eyes shining with renewed fervor.
“You are not using Sunwoo as a guinea pig for one of your experimental rituals!” Changmin nudges Chanhee off his lap and crosses his arms with a displeased scowl.
Chanhee sits up and scowls fiercely back. “I’m not going to harm him! In case you forgot, he made a blood pact with me. I couldn’t hurt him even if I tried.”
“Can I make a correction? I’ll help you as long as it doesn’t involve me giving up any essential body parts,” Sunwoo jokes, trying to defuse their argument. He pushes Chanhee to the other side of the couch so he can sit in between them, and Changmin reflexively pulls Sunwoo’s back flush against him, wrapping his arms protectively around Sunwoo and glowering at Chanhee over Sunwoo’s shoulder.
“Nobody has to give up any body parts,” Chanhee says, exasperated. “I didn’t mean—ugh, I guess sacrifice is the wrong word for it. Don’t get your halo in a twist, Changmin.”
Changmin huffs in indignation. “You can’t use Sunwoo any way whatsoever! Go back outside and reflect on what you just said!”
“Demons don’t reflect on things, we just do them,” Chanhee complains, but he stands up anyway.
Sunwoo grabs onto his hand, alarmed. “Where are you going? You just got back.”
“Somewhere conducive for contemplation, so that Mr. Holier-than-thou here will bestow me with his blessing again,” Chanhee says sarcastically, pulling out of Sunwoo’s grip. Instead of teleporting away, he saunters off to the front door and slams it hard behind him, probably just to irritate Changmin even more.
Sunwoo blinks. “He’ll come back, won’t he?” he asks uncertainly.
Changmin doesn’t seem to be done ranting yet, tightening his hold around Sunwoo. “Don’t think you’re off the hook either! You already traded your soul to Chanhee. What else can you possibly offer him that he’d want, huh?”
“I’m pretty hot, so I can give him my body as long as he promises not to cut off any part of it to feed to his demon friends,” Sunwoo says without thinking.
Changmin pushes him away and looks appalled. At Sunwoo’s proposition or the idea of bits of him becoming demon food, Sunwoo’s not quite sure.
“I was kidding!” Sunwoo adds. His mind wanders inappropriately to the things he would allow Chanhee to do to him, if that’s what the demon wanted. And…he really shouldn’t be thinking such thoughts in front of his supposed guardian angel, who is also said demon’s soulmate in everything but name, and oh no, can Changmin use telepathy on humans too?? Because that would be so embarrassing…
Changmin doesn’t beat him senseless, just stares at him with that same appalled expression, and that way he still can’t tell.
“I don’t know what’s running through that head of yours but this is a good time to tell you that angels are empaths, and you’re giving off lascivious vibes that make me want to whack you with this cushion,” Changmin tells him.
Sunwoo blushes hard, mortified. “Sorry,” he says. An awkward silence ensues.
“Don’t feel bad. Chanhee’s always had that effect on humans. He knows how to use it to his advantage, being in the business of tempting people and all. But after your blood pact, he really tried to tone it down because he knows I disapprove…”
Great. Chanhee had been suppressing his sexy demon energy all this time so that Changmin wouldn’t get jealous, and Sunwoo is still attracted to him? He really doesn’t know what to do with the implications of that right now. “Wait a minute. Does he have that effect on you too?”
Changmin squeaks cutely, ears turning red. “Of course not! I’m an angel! We can’t procreate, we’re not like you humans who think about mating all the time…”
“I don’t think about it all the time,” Sunwoo says, unable to stifle a laugh at Changmin’s flustered reaction. Mating. Seriously. “Hey, when you say you can’t procreate, does that mean you don’t have a—” His eyes inadvertently slide over to Changmin’s crotch and Changmin gasps.
“Where are you looking?! I have it, but I don’t need to show you anything to prove it to you!”
“Chill out, I didn’t say you had to! What kind of sick pervert do you think I am?” Now it’s Sunwoo’s turn to blush furiously.
“I wasn’t thinking that. Your feelings of lust are directed at Chanhee, anyway.” Changmin says it so offhandedly. Is it just Sunwoo, or is Changmin not upset about that at all? Is this what it means to have an angel’s boundless mercy?
Sunwoo swallows. “Don’t call it that. I care about Chanhee a lot, it’s not just because I’m attracted to him physically. But it’s not just him. I like you, too.” Oh, fuck. There’s just something about the aura radiating from Changmin that makes Sunwoo want to blurt out his thoughts without first wrapping it in more socially acceptable half-truths. He doesn’t know how to describe it; Changmin just makes him feel…safe. Changmin is like sunshine in the shape of a person, warm and bright and seemingly tangible but still impossibly out of reach, and yet. His mere presence is comforting, allows Sunwoo to hope—beyond rational thought—that whatever he confesses, Changmin will accept without judgment or ridicule.
Changmin’s mouth forms a little O shape. “Oh,” he says. Then he smiles, his one dimple popping out. “I like you too, Sunwoo!”
Sunwoo stares at Changmin, feels the innocence and purity radiating off him in waves. “No, I meant, c’mere.” He gestures for Changmin to lean in closer, and when Changmin does, Sunwoo presses a chaste kiss to his lips.
Changmin slowly leans away, stunned. “Oh,” he says again, like he gets it now.
“This okay?” Sunwoo asks softly, bringing up a hand to brush his thumb over Changmin’s lower lip.
“I’m not sure this is allowed,” Changmin admits. “But—Chanhee would approve.”
Sunwoo raises his eyebrows at that. “He would?”
“He says you have very kissable lips, and he could just eat yours up if I’d let him.”
“You would?” Sunwoo knew that Chanhee enjoyed casually flirting with him, but it’s completely validating to hear that Chanhee’s just as attracted as Sunwoo is to him, that Chanhee actually wants to act on said attraction, and that Changmin is heavily implying that he’ll allow it.
“I’ll think about it,” Changmin says mock-seriously, then lets out a peal of laughter when Sunwoo tackles him and peppers his face with kisses until he agrees.
—
Changmin and Chanhee have never kissed. This completely blows Sunwoo’s mind. Changmin tells him that angel-demon relations are expressly forbidden, and it’s a moot point because demons are incapable of love.
“That’s just dumb,” Sunwoo says, because Chanhee looks at Changmin like he would give him the stars—or, well, freeze hell over—if Changmin ever asked. He bickers endlessly with Changmin over the snacks they should eat but always shares his food with him after pilfering money from Sunwoo, disappearing for an hour, and coming back home with takeaway. He keeps still whenever Changmin is in an irritable and pent-up mood, letting Changmin shake him bodily and mess up his hair and bite him to his heart’s content. When Changmin asks him to do things, or simply be nice, Chanhee acquiesces without question, so different from how he argues and gripes if it’s Sunwoo making a request—and Sunwoo’s the one he has a blood pact with.
If willingly going against your base evil nature to please the person you adore isn’t love, then what is?
Sunwoo asks Changmin if he has ever told Chanhee that he loves him. But Changmin just shakes his head. “That’d make him mad.”
“Not the reaction I’d be expecting from someone with mutual feelings,” Sunwoo says.
“He doesn’t want me to become one of the Fallen.”
“Is it worth it, staying up there when Chanhee’s down here?”
Changmin stays quiet for a long time. “You and him both,” he says, holding Sunwoo’s hand in his. “I guess I’m not so sure anymore.”
—
The cafe Sunwoo slips into is jam-packed. He was peacefully working on his next song at home, but then Chanhee dragged Changmin into Sunwoo’s personal space and bossed him into putting his hands over Sunwoo and bathing him in a warm, golden light. It caused the pentacle on his left arm to throb awfully. He could tell Chanhee was waiting for something significant to happen so he tried to hold out as long as he could, but when tears started forming at the corners of his eyes, Changmin abruptly stopped whatever he was doing and glared at Chanhee like it was all his fault. They fell into a barely audible hissing match, whispering furiously at each other as Sunwoo tried and failed to concentrate on his previous task, and he was so fed up with them he decided to escape for a little bit so he could get some actual work done.
He manages to secure a table that a group of people just vacated. He brought his laptop and work backpack with him, so he’s not particularly guilty about occupying a spot that would comfortably seat four people. Halfway through his drink, he’s finally gotten back into his songwriting groove when someone taps him on the shoulder.
Sunwoo reluctantly takes off his headphones, turning to say some choice rude words to the person who broke his focus, but whatever he was about to say dies on his lips as he looks up at the incredibly gorgeous man who interrupted him.
“Hi! Sorry for bothering you, but do you mind sharing a table? Everywhere else is full,” Mr. Gorgeous says. He flashes Sunwoo a hopeful smile as bright as the light reflecting off the (very cool-looking) silver cross dangling from his ear. Sunwoo takes in the stranger’s all-black ensemble—a sleeveless leather vest, black pants, and black combat boots. He looks like someone on his way to a wild night at the club, distinctly out of place in a coffee house bursting at the seams with caffeine-high yuppies.
“Um, go ahead,” Sunwoo says, pulling his stuff closer to himself to make room.
“Thanks! Hey, Jacob, over here!” Mr. Gorgeous shouts, beckoning at someone who just left the counter with a tray of drinks and food in hand.
Jacob? The other, also gorgeous stranger, more appropriately dressed for the season with a white NBA beanie, a fluffy white hoodie jacket and jeans, sets the tray down on their table and smiles warmly at Sunwoo. He gestures at the spot beside Sunwoo, and Sunwoo nods, letting him slide gracefully into the seat while Mr. Gorgeous plops down on the chair across his.
Huh. A beautiful white-clad man with an angelic smile whose name is Jacob. So Mr. Gorgeous, with his insane good looks, wearing black from head to toe, must be—
“Annabelle!” Sunwoo exclaims, pointing excitedly at the man across him.
‘Annabelle’ bursts out laughing, a loud, hearty guffaw that intensifies after he catches the confused look on Jacob’s face. “Yep, that’s me! You can just call me Jaehyun, though,” he replies, swiping one of the iced coffee drinks off the tray and taking a sip.
“Jaehyun, what have I told you about randomly possessing children’s dolls?” Jacob says with a sigh. He turns to Sunwoo. “I’m sorry. You can rest assured that he’s never going to try to scare you like that again. Right, love?”
Jaehyun looks appropriately contrite under Jacob’s watchful gaze. “Yes, Cobie,” he says dutifully, holding Jacob’s hand.
Sunwoo watches with interest. These two exude the aura of an old married couple, which he finds oddly comforting. “I take it you didn’t just randomly bump into me, then,” he says. He puts his laptop and headphones away, sensing that he’s not going to get any more work done in this cafe either.
“You don’t beat around the bush! I like that in a guy.” Jaehyun’s grin returns full force. He lets go of Jacob and pats Sunwoo’s left hand next.
Sunwoo recalls Chanhee’s words, now understanding firsthand what he meant about Jaehyun being touch-feely. He waits a full minute, his eyes still locked with Jaehyun’s, Jaehyun’s uncomfortably cold hand still resting atop his. “Uh, not to be awkward but… what are we doing?”
Jaehyun blinks. “Oh, sorry about that. I was just reviewing your blood pact with Chanhee. He’s meticulous to a fault,” he says that last bit to Jacob, who seems to be making more sense of the statement than Sunwoo.
“I think that’d work in their favor, actually,” Jacob says thoughtfully. He holds his hand out to Sunwoo. “May I?”
Jaehyun lifts Sunwoo’s hand and places it in Jacob’s waiting palm, not giving Sunwoo much of a choice. Sunwoo reflexively freezes when a tingling sensation travels up from his fingers to his arm, a barely-there golden light settling over his skin like an arm warmer. Unlike whatever Changmin tried to do to him, Jacob’s probing doesn’t cause the mark on his arm to hurt at all. When Sunwoo pulls his sleeve back to check, the pentacle is still there, but the iridescent runes look like they’re going haywire, frantically flickering into and out of focus.
“What did you just do?” Sunwoo quickly retracts his arm and holds it to his chest.
“Don’t be afraid. I tried to recalibrate the binding spell to take into account what you wanted out of it, that’s all,” Jacob told him, so gently reassuring that Sunwoo drops his guard almost immediately again.
“I don’t know what that means,” Sunwoo confesses, staring at the pentacle. Is it his imagination, or is it fading just the tiniest bit?
“It means that Cobie is a genius, Changmin’s getting demoted, and Chanhee’s going to d—” Jaehyun cuts himself off after a pointed look from Jacob, then promptly shifts his gaze to the cafe entrance. “Ooh, just in time!” He waves enthusiastically at whoever he saw there, but Sunwoo’s back is turned to them, and the only thing that’s echoing in Sunwoo’s mind are Jaehyun’s cryptic words.
“What was that you just said about Chanhee?” Sunwoo says sharply.
Jaehyun smiles disarmingly at him. “Never mind that! More importantly, you haven’t met Younghoon yet, have you?”
The newcomer slides into the empty seat next to Jaehyun, and Sunwoo is effectively distracted, because he’s staring into the face of the man that Chanhee was playing in the snow with the other day.
“Younghoon, Sunwoo. Sunwoo, Younghoon!” Jaehyun says succinctly, making animated gestures to emphasize who’s who.
“Hello,” Sunwoo says. This Younghoon dude is even more handsome up close. It still rankles a little that Chanhee preferred to hang out with him instead of Sunwoo, even if it was just that one time.
“It’s nice to meet you, Sunwoo. Chanhee’s told me so much about you. He adores you a lot, I can tell,” Younghoon says earnestly.
Hold up. Chanhee what? Sunwoo can feel his ears burning. “Is that so?”
“Younghoon’s our human,” Jaehyun informs Sunwoo cheerfully. He leans way too familiarly into Younghoon’s space and gives him a quick peck on the lips.
Oh… oh.
It seems Sunwoo owes Chanhee an apology.
“You must have a lot of questions. Younghoon can probably explain things better than we can, so we’ll leave you to it,” Jacob says.
“Yeah. Tell Chanhee we’re even now. And if anybody asks, we’re spending our last day of immortality tying up loose ends back home,” Jaehyun adds.
“Jaehyun! You promised me you’d notify your superior!” Jacob admonishes him.
Jaehyun shrugs. “Sangyeon won’t mind. He’s probably going to throw a harmless little curse at me for leaving him to handle Eric and Haknyeon on his own, though.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t worry about Eric. I heard Juyeon’s been a positive influence on him lately. And Kevin told me they’re thinking about following our lead too…” Jacob bites his lip. “I’ll have to nip back to the Higher Plane one last time to pass the know-how onto him.”
“See you later, babe,” Jaehyun tells Younghoon, giving him a flying kiss as Jacob hugs Younghoon goodbye. Sunwoo watches them leave, their intertwined hands reminding him of Changmin and Chanhee and how much he suddenly misses them.
Younghoon’s smile is nothing but kind as Sunwoo turns back to him with hope in his eyes. “Where do you want to start?”
—
Sunwoo races back to his apartment, his mind the clearest it’s been in ages. Talking to Younghoon had been like discovering the cheat code to an impossible video game.
It turns out Chanhee hadn’t been occupying himself with demonic misdeeds during his many disappearances, after all. It was Chanhee who picked up on Younghoon’s peculiar attachment to Jacob, and after putting two and two together and realizing they were in a taboo relationship, he naturally told Jaehyun about it to get a rise out of him. To his surprise, Jaehyun took it in stride, claiming that Jacob’s happiness was his happiness. Chanhee was astonished to see Jaehyun smitten over a human, almost as much as he was already in love with Jacob. It was such ridiculously anti-demonic behavior that Chanhee dug deeper and found out that there was power in that, the chaotic mingling of two opposing supernatural forces and a mortal intermediary that balanced them out.
A three-way relationship between an angel, a demon, and a human is simply unheard of, and since it’s never been done, neither the Higher Plane nor the Eternal Abyss have existing rules to prevent it or intervene when any of the involved parties decide to do something radical like, say, give up immortality for the sake of staying together.
Chanhee knew the Eternal Abyss’s laws better than any other demon, because he was adamant about never letting Changmin suffer the same fate as him. Conversely, Jacob knew the Higher Plane’s laws better than any other angel, so it followed that he’d be able find the loophole that would favorably give everyone the eventuality they wanted.
So Jacob and Chanhee made a deal. If Chanhee helped them sever Jaehyun’s ties to the Abyss, Jacob would do the same for Chanhee, and convince Changmin to descend into the mortal realm for good as well.
Sunwoo knows that Changmin didn’t need much convincing. The tricky part was figuring out how to end Jaehyun’s and Chanhee’s servitude to the darkness. But with a willing human thrown into the equation, it was really quite simple.
The demon makes a blood pact with the human. The human voluntarily offers his heart to the demon. The angel sacrifices his own immortality to sever their blood pact, now an easy feat because love effectively dilutes the potency of any curse…and the demon’s immortal soul, no longer tethered to the Abyss, dies.
Jaehyun lives on, heart and mortal soul bound to Younghoon’s, made possible by Jacob’s grace. And, of course, the unconditional love and trust they have for one another.
It’s a thing of beauty and poetic justice, Sunwoo would say. Maybe he can make that into a song someday.
But first, he has an angel and a demon to promise his undying love to.
—
“It worked when Jacob fixed it, right?” Chanhee’s already waiting for Sunwoo when he opens the front door.
“Chanhee, I’m in love with you, and I want to be together with you and Changmin until my last day on this earth,” Sunwoo tells him, throwing his arms around Chanhee’s neck and kissing him right there in the entryway. Sunwoo adds a bit of tongue into it, for good measure.
When Chanhee pulls away, there’s a pleased little smile on his face, and Sunwoo thinks he ought to kiss him some more. But Chanhee puts a finger over Sunwoo’s lips and inspects Sunwoo’s left arm with his free hand instead. “You can hardly see it now. I won’t get to eat your soul anymore. Shame, I bet it would have tasted delicious.”
Changmin sticks his head into the entryway. “Is it done? Get over here, Sunwoo.”
Sunwoo obediently extricates himself from Chanhee and stands in front of Changmin, who grabs his arm and prods at the fading pentacle with a glowing finger.
“What are you doing?” Chanhee asks amusedly, folding his arms while watching Changmin infuse a now-painless golden light into the mark.
Changmin pouts. “Jacob was the one who broke your blood pact. What if you forget all about me when you turn mortal and fall in love with him instead?”
Chanhee bursts out laughing at that. “As if I’d want to spend eternity with anyone other than you. This is why you’re not cut out to be an angel! I bet you don’t even understand half of the Higher Plane’s rules.” His tone is mocking, but his gaze is full of affection.
Changmin scowls at him, then grabs Chanhee’s cheeks in his two hands and kisses him aggressively. “I know that I’m not going to get in trouble with the higher-ups now for kissing your smug face. I understand the rules that count,” he says.
“We could have had this eons ago. You’re so slow on the uptake.” Chanhee is positively radiant with glee, way too happy for a once-immortal being on the verge of a figurative death.
“Sunwoo wasn’t born yet,” Changmin counters haughtily.
“That’s right. Also, I’m sure you’re not going to get in trouble with the higher-ups for kissing me, either. I understand the rules too!” Sunwoo looks at Changmin hopefully, and Changmin grins, letting go of Chanhee to kiss Sunwoo. Changmin breaks the kiss before Sunwoo can lick into his mouth.
Oh, well. Sunwoo will teach Changmin about French kissing later. Or maybe Chanhee will. Better yet, they can do it together, preferably on Sunwoo’s bed. That would be so hot.
“I’m still an empath for the next twenty-four hours,” Changmin reminds him.
Chanhee smirks. “I don’t need to be one to know what Sunwoo’s thinking.”
Sunwoo puts his palms out. “I’m an open book. Immortals like you can probably wait for eons, but that’s like a few weeks in human time. And I’ve waited for months. You honestly gonna tell me you don’t want a piece of this?” he says cheekily. He slowly backs into the bedroom, taunting both of them with a wiggle of his hips.
Sunwoo has never seen either of them burst their wings out so fast. Chanhee and Changmin literally fly toward him, the air rife with white and black feathers as they each grab one of Sunwoo’s arms and drop him unceremoniously on the bed.
Sunwoo doesn’t know much about the Higher Plane, but that’s the day he discovers that with a lot of love, and two very eager immortals finally resolving millennia of mutual pining, heaven could definitely be found on earth.