“You weren’t even on time.” Jiyong says lazily. He was sitting on a stack of crates next to the wreckage caused by his most recent appointment. His legs were crossed and he was leaning back slightly, his arms folded over his chest and his eyebrows raised in a defiant challenge.

Daesung’s eyes travel quickly over the lifeless bodies hidden somewhat behind the crates before landing on Jiyong. “You were early.” He says softly, and Jiyong almost feels bad for doing his job; almost feels bad for the pain that he can see reflected in Daesung’s eyes. “Why did you wait?” He asks, barely waiting at all to let the words fall from his lips; if this were a movie there would have been a long dramatic pause while things were processed, but Daesung’s anguish was too great and this was most definitely not something written by mortal hand.

Jiyong shrugs delicately, sitting forward a bit and unfolding his arms so that he can place his hands on his knees. “Merely wanted to see the outcome.” He says, and he knows that Daesung knows it’s a lie, because Jiyong hates seeing the outcome of his own work. Jiyong can barely stomach bloodshed and he always leaves before anything actually happens; he doesn’t like knowing exactly what he’s caused.

In fact, most of the original demons refused to see their work through, residual feelings for the mortals that they had convinced themselves they despised made it hard to watch, hard to understand, hard to see what was happening. Jiyong never stayed, not ever, and he most certainly wouldn’t have stayed to see the outcome of something that was going to end in death; because that was the ultimate blow to the small amount of conscience that his mind had been unable to squash out. No, they both knew that Jiyong hadn’t stayed to see the carnage, and if Daesung stopped to think about it hard enough, he would probably guess that Jiyong hadn’t actually seen any of the fighting; though that guess would be inaccurate as Jiyong had forced himself to sit off to the sidelines and at least kind of watch so that he could prove to himself that he could.

Daesung doesn’t call him out on his lie though, and Jiyong almost wishes that he had, because then he could have said something petty about how Daesung must really like him to know so much about him. No, instead of calling him out on it, Daesung takes a deep and steadying breath (a rather horribly human thing to do) and looks him directly in the eyes. “What did you gain from this?” Daesung’s voice was soft and feathery light, but the pain blazing through it made the would-be comforting sound grate mercilessly upon Jiyong’s already disturbed conscience. “What are you gaining from all of the things you’ve done?”

And Jiyong doesn’t know how to answer because he hadn’t planned for these questions. No he had planned for the normal round of formal and polite conversation that all angels and demons spoke in. He had prepared for Daesung’s righteous and God-approved anger at the needless loss of would-be innocent lives. He hadn’t prepared himself for the possibility that Daesung might be personally affected. He hadn’t paid attention to the small things that showed that Daesung was not of the upper echelon of stone-cold angels. Daesung was one of the many normal angels, the guardians, who wandered about the Earth and helped those in need of something to live for and something to keep them on the straight and narrow. For Daesung, each life was precious because he wasn’t tasked with over-seeing other angels or with keeping tabs on certain demons. No, Daesung was one of the angels that all of the higher angels sometimes wished that they could be, and that a good majority of the original demons once were. He was a foot soldier, of sorts; created along with all of the rest but not an Archangel, not of the first or second choirs. No, Daesung was just an angel and he was tasked with helping individual souls, with taking orders from all eight ranks above him.

Not all of the original demons had been that ‘low’ on the angel scale (though one can’t really call it low because all of the angels were equal in God’s eyes) but they all knew the ranks by heart, and remembered, though distantly, where they had once belonged. Jiyong feels rather more worthless than being near the massacre had made him feel; how could he have fallen in love and not even taken the time to pay attention? Daesung, he knew, knew quite a bit more about him than he knew about Daesung. He had been being his own selfish and vanity loving self; Daesung was beautiful and perfect and there was something about him that made Jiyong’s physical form ache. He was blinded by the brilliance of the angel and the foolish mask he used to protect the selfishness that he had won the right to have so long ago.

“What am I gaining?” Jiyong asks, and his voice doesn’t waiver, but it doesn’t need to because Daesung is just that much better at reading him. His uncertainty is flowing off of him in waves and the short time that had passed while he contemplated Daesung instead of answering was enough for Daesung to guess that Jiyong didn’t really know.

“You aren’t gaining anything from all of this senseless bloodshed that you have been instigating for the past few months.” Daesung says, and Jiyong wishes that the anger in Daesung’s voice were real, and not just a cover for the pity that he knew the angel felt for him.

“Then why haven’t you stopped me?” Jiyong asks, and it sounds desperate even to his own ears and he’s kind of uncertain why and it angers him because he is not weak, not senseless, not in need of the angel’s approval. But you are in need of it. And that was precisely the problem.

Daesung contemplates him briefly before his attention is drawn back to the scene of the massacre where the police and paramedics have arrived. It’s too late, of course, everyone is dead, but it warms Daesung’s heart to see the humans trying to salvage any amount of life that they can for these people that they have never met. Jiyong watches Daesung contemplate and wonders if he could ever get Daesung to look at him like that, like the entire world was restored to its rightful place and like everything was perfect just because his eyes were on him. Daesung takes in another deep breath and presses his eyes closed tightly before returning his gaze to Jiyong.

“If I had tried, would you have stopped?” Daesung asks, and Jiyong feels like he’s back on the battlefield, like he’s back to listening to the orders from the Virtues and the Seraphim that made him feel small and useless as he was tasked with keeping the border between Heaven and Earth intact. “Or would you have done something more extravagant?” Jiyong rolls his eyes and looks away, his body running on autopilot as his brain tries to work out how to talk himself out of this situation. “Because I wanted to try, I really did. But I wanted to see how far you would go.” Daesung nods over at the nine bodies being diligently taken care of. “And this is how far, this is as far as you are willing to go, and I know this because you waited instead of running away this time.”

Jiyong hates how perceptive Daesung is, and wonders briefly if he had ever thought of Daesung’s rank of angels as anything more than just the closest to the humans. He knows somewhere deep down that he hadn’t, especially after hearing the poisonous speeches against the humans and the way the angels were treated. No, Jiyong had only ever felt sorry for the lowest rank of angels, felt sorry for their soft hearts and humanity. He had never understood how they could be so understanding of human emotion, but not be able to feel the full range of it themselves, and not even be upset that they couldn’t. Jiyong had relished in the sudden onslaught of emotion that he had gained along with his fellow fallen and had enjoyed every minute, most particularly all of the more ‘sinful’ emotions. Choice is what he had gained, but he hadn’t realized until now just how human both the angels and the demons really were. They weren’t given choice as angels, they believed and knew and accepted whole-heartedly, but it was the same kind of love and devotion that the humans were given. The demons gained choice, and with it came the tumultuous and oftentimes impossible to handle emotions that they had never felt as beings that loved unconditionally; hate, anger, malice, greed all became center stage for the demons, the only thing left being the small amount of conscience that came with the ability to choose. They were so human, so infuriatingly like the mortals that he had convinced himself to hate, that he was suddenly sick from the thought of it.

And it was all because of an angel of the lowest rank. He had obviously misjudged them, or maybe Daesung was just different.

“I could do worse.” Jiyong says, and it’s a lie, and Daesung dismisses it as if it hadn’t even been said.

“But what I really want to know is why I keep being assigned to the same people and places as you.” Daesung says, and Jiyong starts to feel antsy because he had only briefly wondered why it was so easy for him to find his angel whenever he wanted to see him. “Because that seems a little more than just coincidental, don’t you think? And I’ve been thinking” Daesung continues without waiting for Jiyong to answer or even really to think, “that maybe I’m not being assigned to the people so much as I’m being assigned to you.”

Jiyong wants to say that that is the most ridiculous thing that he has ever heard, especially since Daesung isn’t of the correct rank to be assigned to deal with Demons, but he also knows that rank never really mattered to any of the angels except for those who were cast down. “You’re doing an awful job.” Jiyong says, and that makes Daesung smile. The smile is bright and big and Jiyong wants to shield his eyes because just, God how could one being pack so much light and hope and warmth into a flash of teeth?

“You act angry and tough and acidic, Jiyong, but it’s not how you feel.” Daesung says, and Jiyong doesn’t think that’s fair because he most certainly does feel angry and tough and acidic; he just doesn’t right now and he can’t help that fact any more than he can help the feelings that claw their way through him whenever Daesung smiles.

Jiyong swallows lightly and with barely a movement he’s standing in front of Daesung, holding onto the angel’s chin with three fingers and looking deep into its eyes. “I wonder what type of war would start if I kissed you?” Jiyong muses aloud, and he’s happy to see confusion and shock replace the smug look of calm triumph that had settled onto the perfect lines of Daesung’s face.

“I don’t…” Daesung starts, but he’s cut off by Jiyong roughly pressing their lips together.

Jiyong pulls back and allows his gaze to travel over Daesung’s face, pausing briefly on the angel’s lips before trailing up to its eyes “You don’t what, angel? Comprehend?” Daesung tries to shake his head but Jiyong has a firm hold of his chin. “I’m going to make it hard for you, you know.” He says softly, seductively, as he drags his free hand lightly along Daesung’s shoulder and arm. “Because I happen to like tormenting you.” He continues, and Daesung gulps, causing Jiyong’s eyes to travel to the bobbing Adam’s apple in the angel’s neck. “And if the end goal is me being an angel again…” Jiyong releases Daesung’s chin and trails his fingers lightly down the angel’s neck as he leans in closer. “Then I want to feel as much as I can before that happens.”

He disappears before Daesung can even comprehend the slight nip to the ear he had received as Jiyong finished his proclamation. All that was left of the demon, aside from the mess he had left behind the crates, was the faint sound of a dark and seductive chuckle. It took a deep breath and a small shake of the head to get him back on solid ground for long enough that he could disappear too.

Jiyong was a tricky one, but now that he understood; now that he knew for sure that his real mission was Jiyong…Daesung was going to be ready for the demon. The next time that they met would be different; Daesung would be ready.