Some days, Yoongi missed the quiet forests that he used to frequently visit, collecting the souls of animals had been calm work.

But cities, cities were full of life, and lights, and sounds, and color, and people, people living and breathing everywhere. Yoongi had to cover himself from head to toe but at least he was able to walk through crowds, and hear heartbeats and conversations, and feel the warmth of blood thrumming through people’s veins. Cities were alive in ways that a forest could never compare.

When Yoongi was on assignments like this one, the wings on his back didn’t drag against the ground, they felt lighter than ever.

The city was Bangkok. A city of skyscrapers, red lips and high heels, gambling and casinos, and people with too much time and money on their hands.

An easy place for a murder.

Yoongi sighed at the thought, somewhere in this city someone was being prepared for death, a lamb to the slaughter. A shame, but at least they would die somewhere beautiful.

Yoongi side stepped a couple kissing in front of the hotel entrance.

It was on the tenth floor, in a corner room.

Asphyxiation, a plastic bag tied around the guy’s head. His face was blue, his tongue was black, and his hands were tied behind his back. The soul stood in the corner of the room, looking down at his body. There was something off about it, Yoongi couldn’t place it but this wasn’t the atmosphere associated with his line of work.

“It’s hard, seeing yourself like this,” Yoongi offered.

The guy looked up at him, his eyes lingered on Yoongi’s black wings. “It is,” he agreed, “so you’re death?”

“One of them,” Yoongi walked next to him, the buckles of his trench coat rang with each step, “That’s a painful way to go.”

The man stared down at his body.

A moment of silence.

“It’s beautiful.”

Yoongi looked at the man, horrified.

“I’ve done this before, it was my signature actually, suffocate pretty young girls after I’ve had my way with them,” he knelt down next to his body, “I always thought they were beautiful with their mascara smeared and their red lipstick and purple tongue sticking out, they were lovely.”

Yoongi trembled.

“But now that I’ve seen myself like this… I’m a masterpiece compared to them,” he turned to Yoongi, “Wouldn’t you agree?”

Yoongi’s seen his bodies before, young girls with no options in life except to sell themselves, looking at their strangled body with tears running down their eyes. Their lives were too short, Yoongi had pitied them.

He felt no pity for this one.

Now the uncomfortable atmosphere made sense. This man didn’t rue his death.

“I should have done this to my boss, he would have looked beautiful,” the man wistfully.

Yoongi felt sick, “Let’s go.”

“Yoongi?”

Yoongi turned to the voice.

Jimin. Jimin fresh from a shower with his hair still damp, and his skin clean, and fluffy towel wrapped around his neck. He looked warm, comfortable.

Yoongi felt a surge in his chest. It couldn’t mean anything, there was no heart there, but he felt the ghost of it.

“Hey Jiminnie,” Yoongi smiled.

Jimin smiled back, eyes curved into black crescents.

But then Yoongi remembered. He blinked and looked at the body behind him. The plastic bag over the man’s head.

Once is an accident. Twice is curiosity. Third time’s a habit.

Yoongi  remembered the words but not the place or the person. They ringed in the back of his mind as Yoongi looked back at Jimin, nervous Jimin whose toes were curling into the floor. He looked ten, he looked twenty seven, young and naïve, grown up and independent, all at once.

The third time Yoongi has completed an assignment, and Jimin was in the same room.

Yoongi swallowed, “Jimin, did you do this?”

The smile on Jimin’s face faded, his pose became cautious, “I wanted to see you.”

Yoongi’s wings feel heavy on his back.

“You shouldn’t want that…” his voice trailed.

“But I do,” Jimin said in a small voice.

“You shouldn’t you should want a promotion or a family, not me!” Yoongi shouted, his body was shaking, this can’t happen, shouldn’t be happening.

“You are worth it,” Jimin shouts back, “You were always worth it.”

Jimin’s breath was labored.

Yoongi stared.

Jimin reached out to touch him, but before he could Yoongi grabbed the man, not the victim he wasn’t a victim, and disappeared.

The hallway was red and hot to the touch, just as Yoongi expected.

“The man who killed you, what do you know about him?” Yoongi asked.

The guy was sweating from the heat of the walls, “He emailed me, said there was this pretty little we could share and kill. But then, well, you saw what he did to me.”

It wasn’t a senseless death, Jimin had planned it. But a homicide was a homicide, despite good intentions.

The guy gripped at his throat, “Can we leave now?”

Yoongi smirked, “Sure.”

They walked down the tunnel, where the ending was more painful than the guy could hope to imagine.

The thought made Yoongi smile, briefly.

After this there was still Jimin...

AN: sorry it's been forever since I last updated. I'm not giving up on this at all, my beta can vouch for that.

As usual, it's not in chronological order, this one happens years after the last one.

(this needs a story from Jimin's perspective)