EDIT 200721: Kris Wu has been replaced by Huang Zitao.

§ 1

Once Zitao had left the shop, Sehun had ventured outside for a cigarette. Leaned against the wall, his eyes followed clouds and the countless flying objects in the sky. He never understood why some of those immortals always took such a weird interest in him; Zitao wasn’t the first one since he died. He had been approached a number of times and it didn’t feel right to him, even if Zitao still might have a different position in all this.

Devoted child, you met Zitao?

Sehun jerked and gripped his chest in fake hurt, “You can’t creep up on me like this!”

You’re not even trying to deny it?

“Death, your network is better than the government ever will be and I have a feeling you might have spied on me since I called on you?” Sehun whispered to the ground. Somehow he couldn’t face Death, he felt like he did something he shouldn’t have.

It’s not your fault it happened, Zitao is an incubus after all, and I know he can’t control himself when it comes to you, which is, quite frankly, interesting. He should’ve never caught feelings for a mortal, but he did.

A cold hand curled under his chin and lifted his head to meet Death’s eyes. He had to look up for once. He looked different, a bit like Russians had been portrayed by those old magazines. He was bulky, had immense broad shoulders, a beard that reached his chest and those clear grey eyes that suddenly had Sehun buckle his knees.

Like what you see?

“Never guessed I would say ever say yes,” Sehun bit the inside of his cheek. He didn’t plan on saying that, but whatever effect he had on Zitao, this effect had Death on him. Cold breath was ghosting over his lips, That’s because you look at me and not the appearance I have. You don’t see the ugly truth that his Death, but you see the immortal concept of Death, you don’t see me solely as Creator and Destroyer of the world, you see me as a friend you can trust your life with. You don’t have any stuck-up respect for me, you don’t worship me as a god, you don’t fear me, you see me as an equal, I couldn’t be more thankful, Sehun.

Sehun gripped Death’s wrist under his chin and pulled him closer. hHe had never hugged Death before, but he felt like it was the right thing to do. But the moment he did, he regretted it; what if someone saw him hugging air, talking to himself?

Don’t be afraid, I stopped the world for a minute.

Sehun buried his face in Death chest, enjoying the feeling of Death’s not so cold arms around him. He really liked Death.

“You didn’t let me finish earlier when I said you talk an awful lot these days.”

What was it then, I’m sorry, but I somehow felt rejection incoming.

“I could never reject you!” Sehun was put out. “Where did you even get that insane idea from? I wanted to say that I enjoy it a lot when you talk, it fills me with warmth and adoratio—” He wasn’t able to finish the sentence, when Death suddenly changed his appearance to Sehun’s preferred one and pulled down his face, dropping his cold lips at the corner of Sehun’s lips.

Merci beaucoup, Ankou. He vanished and left a flustered Sehun behind that felt his dead pulse quickening and something spread in his face. Suddenly the sound of motors and crows sounded again and the world moved again.

§ 2

Sehun wasn’t fully there, when he later met with Zitao and the other picked up on it, but learned soon after, that Death had visited Sehun after Zitao had left. But it was a nice dinner nonetheless, Sehun was finally able to tell Zitao face-to-face why he had broken up with him the way he did. He saw the hurt in Zitao’s eyes and apologised so much. But Zitao also explained that he didn’t understand where this borderline obsession with Sehun came from that he willingly approached a minor that he still was at that point, and would even engage in ual activities with him. Keep him around, fall in love with him. But he still was an incubus, that also explained the infatuation Sehun displayed with Zitao, even after Zitao finally told him what he was, after Death had hinted at it. Zitao had been surprised that Sehun was so welcoming and okay with him being a demon, an incubus, but Sehun never told him that he was friends with Death.

Back at the garage, Sehun had a cigarette between his lips, sunglasses pushed into his tied up hair and hands buried in his pockets when he eyed a pile of metal and wood. It didn’t look like replacement parts, but more like garbage and his eyes zeroed in on something that looked like a free standing punching bag. Stretching out his foot, he tipped at it, seeing if it was still complete.

“Arv?” He called out for the mechanic, jumping up on down on his heels. He had changed clothes at Zitao’s place and now sported a grayish olive-green hoodie belonging to Zitao and basketball shorts, also from Zitao. A drunk had spilt a whole bottle wine over Sehun. In the past, Sehun had been short-tempered at times and Zitao was afraid of what he might do; maybe he expected it or not, but Sehun just grabbed the man’s head and smashed it into a puddle of mud after he had talked about God and everything the church did and had done, calling every Catholic an abomination of a . That had been the tipping point for Sehun, to the point Zitao had to pull him back before he suffocated the drunk in the small puddle, knee pressed into the back, holding the face down with one hand.

“Yes?” he came outside the shop where Sehun was. He did assess Sehun in a brief once over.

“A drunk spilt red wine over my clothes, I had to change, and yes, I do have a mechanic leg.” He still had his foot pressed up against the punching back, leaning his whole weight against it. “Is that trash or do you need it? Otherwise I would borrow them for some time.”

The mechanic shook his head, “No, but what do you want to do with it? Need help to get it out? And your horse is on stand-by. By noon tomorrow, the core should be able to be adjusted and ready.”

This time Sehun shook his head in dismissal, “That’s the least of my worries, I have worse problems at my hands… Merci, is it okay to supervise the modifications? ”

§ 3

Sehun had the punching bag standing and gave it a few nudges with his bare foot, overseeing the stand it had. Shielding his face with his fists, he lightly jumped back and forth, keeping his right leg levelled up, before delivering a clean roundhouse head kick to the punching back. He switched between jabs, hooks and crosses, additional head and leg kicks in the mix. It had been ages since he trained his kickboxing the Dutch dude taught him over the years.

It’s been some time since you trained, hasn’t it?

Sehun didn’t answer. Being dead for once had the advantage he wouldn’t be out of breath and he thought that everything human he felt today might have been a hallucination, but he felt a pleasant burn in his muscles from overexertion.

“Oh, I didn’t know you’re such a fit guy. What is it you’re doing?”

Sehun felt Death rolling his eyes. “What is it you’re doing, who even says that? Kickboxing.” He realised he didn’t sound a bit tired or out of breath.

“I only heard about the underground fights, is that why you’re here?”

“Non.” Sehun and Death once or twice visited such events when they had to collect souls, both sitting on top of the bleachers, scythes suspended in thin air, leaning on them while Sehun explained the various combinations to Death. He pointed out advantages and weak points while keeping a close eye on the subject that was supposed to die sometime during the match. Souls didn’t need guidance, the would be weighed automatically upon leaving the body once it stiffens in rigour mortis between two and six hours, usually when the eyelids turned stiff. Death did mention that no-one would give a if the subject would suddenly collapse because everyone would see it as exhaustion from too much exertion. They would only make sure that he didn’t hit is head, that’s why Sehun had to appear before him the night before to warn the soul, but Sehun felt like Death only made him do it so he didn’t forget the procedures an ankou had to follow and also the euphoric feel that would rush through his veins when he announced a mortal’s death. Very macabre, but hey, Sehun lived for it through his death. And Death mentioned something about sparing the poor soul from the end it met. Death could have made one of his underlings do it, otherwise he would be constantly on the jump even if it isn’t as bad as before the bombs I have nothing to do with, I swear, but he took Sehun with him. Maybe it was because of the Muay Thai and Kickboxing?

Maybe he should try his luck in a tournament, but he knew that people got suspicious easily especially if something didn’t seem kosher to their eyes and the government had their ways to find out if you’re a mortal or not. But some demons worked right under the government’s nose without them being aware, take the incubus for example who owns a garage specialised in cars, nuclear energy and parts for those and a ing stripclub.

Sehun didn’t know how long he was outside dealing with the punching bag until the mechanic called out for him, a bottle of water in his hand. 

“ You’ve been punching it for a couple of hours now, maybe you should take a bre— ” Arv stopped talking when he took Sehun’s appearance in. Sehun looked exactly the same as when he came back to the shop, still wearing the hoodie, the shorts, hair tied up, without a sheen of sweat, not out of breath, as awake as before. Sehun looked at him with big eyes, when he redid the bandages around his hands.

“Why aren’t you looking a bit fazed after all that training?” Arv crossed his arms over his chest, throwing Sehun a warning glance. Sehun knew what he was hinting at and he almost side glanced at Death who was checking up on him from time to time.

“A local doctor in a different country ed up my sweat glands during surgery and radiation therapy. It’s a long story.”

Arv didn’t look too convinced with the answer. “Different country? Where’ve you been?”

I might retreat my comment about him being trustworthy, I thought he wouldn’t talk so much?

Sehun shrugged his shoulders, maybe he should stay with Zitao tonight? But he would have no idea what would come out of this. And walking back to the cemetery would be too suspicious.

“ North and South Africa, Eastern Europe, parts of the inhabited Asia. I actually lost my leg when I stepped on an anti-personnel mine in Syria. ”

“ How old are you?” now the mechanic just looked confused and cautious.

“Twenty-six,” Sehun stepped up to him.

“How are you only twenty-six with that kind of experience?” The mechanic took a step back, his eyes now transfixed on the black orbs where Sehun’s eyes should be, the Ankou realised.

Sehun stepped closer, almost feeling Arv’s sped-up pulse and he smelled the fear. Death had been right behind him, warning hand on his shoulder, when Sehun almost materialised his scythe out of thin air, the air around his fist starting to wobble. There was a dangerous crisp in the air. “Don’t you think you ask too many questions?” The mechanic gulped. “I only trust you because you’re acquaintanced with Zitao. And I preferred if my horse was ready before noon, Arv.”

§ 4

Sometimes I think you’re more like me than you’re an ankou, devoted child. Death combed Sehun’s hair with his fingers, while the latter rested his head in his lap.

“I just can’t with mortals. They’re too snoopy and only think about themselves. Talking about snoopy, there was an agent stalling me earlier when I came back from Zitao. I managed to lose him without a sweat but do you think they keep a close eye on Zitao?”

Death hummed in response and snapped his fingers, a void opening, filled with whispers that sent a shiver down Sehun’s spine when he looked into the abyss of absolute nothingness.

Don’t look too long into it, Death placed a hand over Sehun’s eyes to shield his view. A particular whisper slowly transformed into a long screech that made Sehun cover his ears in fear.

It ended suddenly and Sehun cautiously pulled his hands away, “What the was that?”

My network?

Sehun revolved his head around in Death’s lap. “The ? A void straight out of the darkest depths of hell that makes your blood boil and freeze at the same time? I felt tingles in my little toe.”

I’m sorry, but that’s the fastest way to get a multitude of information for different parts from around the globe and they’re always accurate. Talking about that, we should visit Zitao.

“Huh?” Sehun straightened his back watching Death getting up, who gripped Sehun’s elbow and pulled him up.

Once I pass the corner, I’ll look like a human, like... people can see me, but I’ll be mute, much like always, you’ll still hear me though. This way, I can keep a closer eye on you and get info even more directly. Demons in human form are able to approach me without looking weird, but you have to answer, I’ll sign the words to you.

Sehun just nodded dumbly, calling out over his shoulder to Arv that he’ll be back later. Once he passed the corner, he felt a shift in atmosphere and the hand clasped around his wrist suddenly felt less cold and the fingers slid down along his palm, between his. Death squeezed his hand and Sehun returned the gesture, overwhelmed with the change in the situation. Death looked cute, kinda, in Sehun’s eyes at least, even if Sehun had seen this appearance a hundred times, he never got over it. Sehun would have wooed the out of him if he had been a mortal back in the day.

§ 5

Death didn’t pull Sehun along to Zitao’s apartment but rather against the direction until the flashy lights of a nightclub appeared in his vision. The rain had started to fall earlier, and the lights were reflecting in the puddles and rippled with it when someone stepped in. The bouncer looked bulky and dangerous and assessed Sehun and Death with hostility.

Tell him we need to talk with Zitao, he’s known as Monsieur Wu here, Death signed to Sehun, while transferring the words to him. He flashed Sehun a handsome smile before redirected his eyes still smiling to the bouncer. Sehun, with his purple shaded sunglasses, swallowed thickly.

“Ah, salut. We’d like to talk to Monsieur Wu, if that’s possible. ”

“And who are you, kid?” The bouncer wouldn’t let them through, Sehun knew, maybe he should make a scene, but that would just bring more attention to them and Zitao.

“ Sehun and Mort, we’re friends of his. ”

“A lot of people try that, kid, that’s nothing new. I don’t think that Monsieur Wu would associate himself with losers like you, kiddo.”

What a loser himself, Death snorted to himself and Sehun had to swallow a smirk rising on his lips, “Guess that makes Zitao a loser, don’t you think?” Death nodded his head next to him, what fun it could be to mess with mortals.

The bouncer angrily talked in Chinese into his walkie talkie while Sehun started a discussion with him.

“Why is your friend not talking? Is he retarted?” the bouncer suddenly asked and Sehun lost his smiley demeanour, when the man threw a chin at Death.

“If you ever call him retarted again, I’m going to break every single bone in your body while I pour hot oil into your wounds.” He stepped closer, feeling a pull on his side who didn’t put force into it even if he could. “He’s mute, you degenerate mogui .” Sehun spit out before the bouncer. The air started to grow cold and the bouncer’s face paled.

So he is an imp-demon, I couldn’t pinpoint what kind of, because the spell surrounding him is strong. Definitely the work of a professionell. Death made sure the mogui heard him and knew who he was talking to.

“What’s going on here?” Zitao stepped outside the club, fuming with rage. He looked good, so worked up, in the tight dress pants and a white dress shirt, the first few buttons ed and his jacket just thrown over his shoulders. Sehun wasn’t sure, but he thought he saw a slight discolouration around the corner of his lips, probably lipstick. He felt a pull at his sleeve.

Did we interrupt him making out? Death signed.

“I guess you mean feasting?” Sehun looked between the bouncer and Zitao.

“Can’t you handle yourself two kid— Sehun!” Zitao definitely blanked out everyone else, when he set eyes on him, the widest smile with gums showing blooming on his face when he spread his arms out and walked up to Sehun, engulfing in him a tight hug and dropping kisses left and right on his cheeks, because Sehun just barely averted a mouthful of the incubus on his lips. He smelled like liquor. He had this lustful look and Sehun was glad he had Death by his s— Death!

He stood beside him, a smile on his face, when he tugged at Zitao’s sleeve and most definitely mouthing ‘ hey ’ when Zitao looked down on him, paling. “M-Mort!” If his forced smile was anything to go by, he was fearing for his life, but there was something else, something challenging. He had latched himself to Sehun without a care in the world, while Death was standing right beside him. Death waved him off, but his smile was another story.

“Guys!” Sehun stepped between them, pushing both apart, “You’re making a ing scene with your staring, both of you. We came here for business, Zitao, ...Mort.” Zitao caved in first and redirected his eyes back to Sehun, the lust gone, but scratching at the edges of the vision. His hand came to rest on Sehun’s elbow and he smiled slightly, side-eyeing Death. “You’re still wearing my clothes, it looks good on you.” Sehun shouldn’t blush. Death, on the other hand, stared Zitao further down until Sehun jabbed him into the ribcage and gave him the stink eye. “Keep yourself together, we’re not here to make a scene, we’re already suspicious enough.”

“Monsieur Wu?” The bodyguard interrupted, but Zitao ignored him. But he turned around and with every word the man said in Chinese, the weaker the mugoi got.

“Follow me, we’re going to my office, I don’t want anyone to interrupt us. ” Zitao waved them in, striding through the place like he was a king, everyone backing away while some females and males almost latched themselves to him. Sehun felt sick because he knew at some point he acted the same. Death felt it and wrapped his arm tighter around his waist while holding step with him because some of the patrons eyed Sehun suspiciously. Sehun was no incubus, that much was clear; he was a mortifer, a bringer of death, the ankou. The beat of the music thrummed in his eardrums and he felt the dreaded sense of hostility. It was like the mortals smelt who he was, what his connection with Zitao was when Zitao blindly reached for him, out of Death’s arms and manoeuvred him through the people to not lose him, a strong hand leading him, while Death had a fistful of Sehun’s, Zitao’s, hoodie, to keep up with them.

§ 6

Once the door closed, the music was cut off, but it still rang in Sehun’s ears. Zitao turned around to him, assessing him. “Did Arv do something?” Sehun shook his head and flapped his hands toward Death who sat on top of the mahogany desk, while he fell face-first onto the couch in the office. The whole office was so Zitao, tall, loud, mature, dominant… y—overwhelming in a nutshell. He wanted to leave the room, leave Death and Zitao to whatever they had to talk about.

“Sehun, you’re staying here. The mortals seem to be wary of you and I have no idea why,” Zitao spoke up from his swivel chair where he conversed in light voices with Death.

That’s because you touched him in a manner you would never touch someone. You made the first contact, not the other way around, incubus. The mortals don’t understand that, but they feel that Sehun is different for you.

“Yeah, , that’s right...” Zitao fell silent, typing on his phone and called someone. Death turned the desktop to himself, reading something on it. 

“Arv?” Sehun looked up upon hearing the mechanic’s name. “I need you to finish the horse in the next hour. Let no-one in, beside me or Se-Hyuk. I swear, if you go against me, you won’t see the light of the day. I’ll pay for him. He has to leave the city as soon as possible. Don’t ask quest–you know what. Don’t move, I’ll do it myself. I’ll be there in ten.”

Sehun stood up, he didn’t understand. Death teleported next to him, clasping his hand around Sehun’s, squeezing tight. “What’s going on?”

The government. I don’t think someone sold you out, but either the government checked up on you or an agent of them relayed information. We’re leaving the country, or more like you are.

“Come on, we’ll take the car. I’ll oversee the core settlement myself and Death will get your things from the chapel. You need to leave as soon as possible, they track your aura,” Zitao pointed at his desktop where Sehun saw his face and a multitude of information and data, as well as a last seen location. “It wasn’t the club, someone saw you somewhere else.”

§ 7

Everything passed in a blur after that. Sehun sat on the saddle of his horse and edged her to go faster and faster on the new core. He held his body close to her neck while the ruins and fields past by them. He had to be in Andorra by sunbreak, and he had less than 10 hours left. He urged his horse to go faster but he knew she was already at her limit, not fully settled to the core yet. She would get speed improvements once in Andorra. Meanwhile, Death stayed back in Paris with Zitao, doing what he had to do. Sehun could have stayed, but the faster he got to Andorra, the closer he would be to Gibraltar which would be another 940 kilometres. Good thing neither he nor his horse needed sleep and fuel.

The weight of his scythe weighed on his mind, the tattoo burning with hatred that he left his parish like that, leaving the pretre behind like this, his parents. This was the first time in five years that he left the vicinity of Paris.

He still had to race six hours, and somewhere a clock struck for the witching hour while he and his horse passed the path without a sound into the night. 

“Sehun, I’ll come and get you, when the time is right. Just stay low in Gibraltar, give me time, stay low. We’ll come and get you.”

Zitao had promised Sehun before he had suddenly pulled him in his arms and gave him a kiss Sehun never had before. It was full of care and adoration, maybe even love?

But his lips still tingled three hours later, before Zitao gave the horse a slap that made it run. Death had not kissed him, even though he looked like he was slightly sour that Zitao had done it. He had just squeezed Sehun’s hands and that was reassurance enough for him, he trusted Death with every fiber of his immortal being. He was already too long on earth, he shouldn’t be here anymore; he was long past and the earth would only endure you so long, even with Death being the Creator of it. If his time had come, so should it be. But until it was time, he would run.