Clouds are churning overhead. All he can see when he glances up are threads of grey weaving in and out of each other, and tears that are supposed to be salty sprinkle down around his face. The stray cat that’s long taken to his presence curls up next to him, black fur fluffy and dry as it hides from the rain underneath the majestic span of equally black wings.

The faint sound of rubble bouncing off the side of the building’s wall as it tumbles down towards the ground makes it to his ears, and he sighs heavily. He needs to move soon – they’re closing in and this building isn’t going to stay up much longer. Pushing wet chunks of hair away, he makes to stand, but as he shifts his weight, he catches sight of movement out of the corner of his eye.

Miles and miles away, an Angel pitches himself high into the sky, gold wings sweeping out into their full wingspan before beating once. The Angel shoots up towards the clouds, and for a moment, there’s nothing but aching beauty as he flies. But he sees the stream of fire that follows straight on the Angel’s heels, blue flames at pointed toes, and he turns away before the inevitable occurs.

Scooping up the cat by his feet, he takes a few bounding leaps before launching off the roof and towards someplace else it can call home for the next few days. The cat peers around the crook of a smooth elbow just in time to catch the graceful arch of the other airborne Angel’s back, arms splayed out into the space by his sides, wings unmoving. The fire envelops him whole, and the cat turns away with a soft whine.

As he finds yet another vacant building to hide in, the Angel with gold wings burns into nothingness. Not a single feather is left, and there are no bones to scavenge, just a pile of ashes on the ground that water will never wash away. The jet of fire dies out as soon as it’s no longer needed, and the nondescript cylindrical weapon is tucked away into the coat pocket of a tall, lithesome young man.

Swallowing around a dry tongue, Sehun peels off his soaked leather gloves and stuffs them into another pocket. Pressing the curve of his thumbnail into the thin skin stretching across the underside of his wrist, he waits until the skin breaks and blood pools underneath his nail before relieving the pressure. Hunching over his arm to prevent the rain from washing the blood away, he drops the small amount over the small, circular piece of plastic embedded just before the start of his elbow.

The scanner built into his arm scans the blood and Sehun waits for confirmation before sprinkling a pinch of Angel ash over it. The plastic glows a bright white and Sehun rubs the mixture of blood and ash away immediately. There’s a mass of small scars in the shape of his nails cluttered on his forearm, and with every new addition, Sehun hates himself just a little more.








The first thing Sehun sees when he enters his apartment is the old, dusty record player on a stand by the window. It hasn’t played music for as long as Sehun can remember – music is to be played in the presence of hope, and there is none. There hasn’t been any for decades. Natural light is fading fast, and the skies are darkening into deeper shades of grey. Pulling the curtains shut, Sehun drops his government issued weapon onto the couch and covers it with his coat. He’s not on duty tomorrow, and he doesn’t plan to touch that cylinder when he doesn’t have to.

Stripping out of his wet clothes, Sehun steps into the shower and lets the hot water attempt to wash away the images burned into the back of eyelids. It had taken him a few solid hours to track down the Angel he’d terminated today, and the sheer fear Sehun saw in the Angel’s eyes will never fully fade from his mind. On bad nights, Sehun's sleep is plagued with images of different coloured eyes, every hue unique, and wide with terror.

Clean and skin a little red from the heat, Sehun shuts off the water and grabs his towel. He avoids glancing at himself in the mirror as he dries off, but the embedded Braille numbers on his neck that make up his identification number brush against the pads of his fingers ever so often. He'd never wanted those numbers pushed underneath his skin, but as the war waged on and the people he loved faced danger, he had no choice but to enlist at the young age of fifteen. Now, ten years later, with his family dead and friends long gone, he's risen high amongst the ranks of the army with nothing but the weight of his decision in his heart.

People once claimed that they were defined by their choices — Sehun doesn't believe in having choices.








It hasn’t always been a life of bloodshed and death. The Angels and the human race have lived in harmony for the best part of three millennia. Sure, there have been conflicts and multitudes of tense situations, but they were always quelled in time. It wasn’t until all five reigning Archangels had been assassinated simultaneously that the war between the two species erupted. It had started messily — bodies strewn all over the streets, caused either by humans wielding weapons of mass destruction, or by angry Angels who ultimately broke their Code, using sheer speed and strength to break bones and flatten organs. Blood and loose feathers smeared into asphalt was a common sight, and Sehun had to grow up sidestepping remnants of life.

Over the years, as the population of both species dwindled, sights of death slowly disappeared from public view. There were occasional cases — that barely made headlines —, but life for the masses returned to normalcy. The problem was; as the vengeful Angels slowly died out, the humans foresaw a future without another race amongst them, without having to compete for resources and power. And so, the government took it upon itself to gather a group of individuals who had the ability to track down and kill the remaining Angels. At fourteen, Sehun witnessed his younger brother die at the hands of an Angel with flaming red hair. At fifteen, he enlisted and joined the ranks of the Bounty Hunters. At twenty-five, he wishes he could've taken the place of his brother instead.

Willingly taking the life of an Angel who took the life of your loved one is one thing. Being ordered to take the life of an Angel still abiding by the Angels' Code — an Angel who hasn't touched a single strand of a child’s hair out of malice — is another.

Revenge had been a constant player in Sehun's fight against the Angels, but he has no one to fight for anymore. He doesn't forgive the ones who killed his family and friends, but the regret of being one of them – a killer –, overpowers his ability to forgive. And yet, he can't seem to stop.








On Monday, Sehun wakes up to an incessant beeping. Red light is pulsing off the screen of his phone, and Sehun sighs deeply as he reaches out for the piece of technology. The text across the illuminated display is an address, and Sehun rolls out of bed automatically. Over the years, he’s been conditioned to experience a surge in energy whenever a pulsing red light is seen – he needs that energy to get out of bed at ridiculous hours in order to head out and hunt down another Angel. It’s an abominable commentary on how long he’s been doing this for, and Sehun realises that. He just never wants to face it.

The address is for an old, steel mill situated by the outskirts of town. Outside, the sun’s barely started bleeding into the chilled sky, and Sehun tugs his coat tighter around his shoulders as he walks purposefully towards his car. An old man passing by stops to bow at him, and before Sehun can even open his mouth to ask the elder to straighten, words of thanks are already pouring out between the man’s lips.

“...a great service, boy, people of my generation thank you for all the good you’re doing for us.” The old man reaches out with arthritic fingers and pats Sehun’s cheek twice before turning and shuffling off. As Sehun watches him go, a sense of loss and desolation settles into his bones. It’s only when a painfully strong gust of wind hits him right in the face does he open the door to his car and slide in. The engine starts with a purr.

The cylinder in his pocket is a familiar pressure against his hip, and Sehun’s gotten accustomed to its presence over the years. It’s a symbol of constancy, and more often than not, he’ll find himself reaching down to make sure it’s still there. It’s also a symbol of a massacre, evident from the flood of fear into an Angel’s eyes whenever they spot it in his hands.

As he slows to a stop and kills the engine, Sehun looks up at the crumbling building and wonders if the Angel inside knows that he’s coming. The act of killing doesn’t bother Sehun anymore – it’s always the aftermath that claws at his insides. Crows spring up from their perches and fly away at the click of Sehun’s car door, and Sehun wishes that he could let his mark go the way he’s letting all these birds fly away.

Inside, the ground is worn through and there’s a lingering scent of rusted metal. Broken pieces of machinery are scattered throughout the building, and holes in the roof let in the light of the rising sun. A faint meow reaches his ears, and Sehun’s eyes snap to the direction of the soft sound. He spots the cat immediately as it pads over to him, a stealthy creature with bright blue eyes and a jet black coat. It’s only when he crouches down to the cat’s level does he spot the frightened Angel curled up in the corner, knees pulled in and feet tucked close to his haunches.

His hand moves towards the cylinder of it’s own accord, but for some reason, it hesitates at his pocket. That’s when Sehun sees the Angel for the first time. The points of his ears peek out between strands of straight, ash grey hair, the ends of which are sweeping the floor. His black wings are held up defensively, pearl grey rims trembling slightly out of uncertainty. Wide eyes that match the shade of his hair stare back at Sehun, but the thing that catches Sehun’s attention is the halo hovering above his head.

“You – you’re an Archangel, aren’t you?”

The halo moves fluidly as the Angel slowly rises to his feet, the ring of silver giving off a sheen much like molten metal. Spikes spread out around the ring seem deadly enough to kill.

“Does that matter?”

Sehun had been expecting a timid, pleading voice – the Archangel’s words come out into the space between them with strength and solidity, and Sehun finds himself somewhat breathless.

“If you’re going to kill me, does that matter?”

Sehun lifts his eyes from where they had dropped to the Archangel’s soot-covered feet and holds his gaze steady. He lets his hand rest by his side.

“Are there enough of you?”

He regards him carefully for a few moments before opening his mouth.

“I don’t know. At the rate of us Angels dying, I’m not sure if there are enough Archangels for a new Tribunal. Even if there are, I don’t know how we’re going to find each other, what with you lot out there –”

“We haven’t sighted, much less killed, an Archangel in the last five years. Apart from the assassination of the last Tribunal, there have been three reported Archangel deaths. We’ve been under the impression that the Archangels have left.”

Musty air is swept into Sehun’s face as grand wings sweep back towards the Angel’s shoulder blades and fold into themselves. With the wings pressed back, he seems a lot less imposing – the cat curls itself around his ankle and settles down.

“And where could we have gone?”

A beam of sunlight hits Sehun right in the eyes and he steps aside, lifting a hand to shield himself from the brightness. The cat meows but doesn’t move. The Angel doesn’t seem to be bothered by the light in the slightest.

“I don’t know,” Sehun replies honestly. “But doesn’t that mean there could be –”

“Enough of us alive for a new Tribunal? If what you’re saying is true, then yes. But again, it’s impossible for us to find one another under these circumstances.”

The cylinder suddenly makes its presence known, and Sehun flinches visibly when he remembers why he’s here. The action doesn’t go unnoticed, and the Archangel takes a small step back.

A faint sound floats into the abandoned building, and Sehun recognises it as the engine of a government issued car. Someone else has come for the bounty – the Archangel realises it too, and he bends to scoop the cat up into his arms. Before he can turn around and flee, however, Sehun reaches out a hand and stops him.

“Wait.”

The cat meows.

“I want to help you – will you let me?”








Sehun waits until the Archangel’s settled into the backseat of the car, wings pressed into his back and against the leather backing of the seat. The spikes on his halo form indents in the car’s roof, but Sehun doesn’t really care – it’s not technically his car, anyway.

“How’d you do that back there? Make the other Hunter go away?”

“Seniority,” Sehun shrugs, pushing his sunglasses up the bridge of his nose. “And I told him I had some business I needed to handle with the bounty before I took it in.”

“Is that code for something?”

“Torture,” Sehun replies flatly. “Usually used when Hunters find the ones responsible for deaths of their family and friends.”

The Archangel falls silent, and for the remainder of the journey, no sound comes from the back seat except for the occasional meow from the cat in his lap. Dilapidated buildings slide past tinted windows as Sehun speeds down empty roads towards his building, swerving easily around broken down cars that have been abandoned in the middle of streets. The District, a small square in the middle of the city that’s just five blocks long and five blocks wide, is where most of the life is at. And that’s not much to speak of. Sehun lives right on the cusp of the District, in a modest flat that sits right opposite from a vacated library.

There are better, bigger, newer places he could afford, but this flat has an underground carpark. He doesn’t use it often, but it definitely comes in handy – especially today. He drives over a speed bump without slowing down, and the cat yowls as it flies a foot into the air. Sehun ignores it, nosing the car into a lot head first.

“Move fast,” Sehun says, opening the door. “Just in case the cameras in here actually work for once.”

He unfolds his frame from the seat and shut his door. The Archangel follows suit.

“What’s your name?” Sehun asks, striding towards the elevator. A soft rustle feathers is heard as the Archangel glides behind him.

“Lu –” a short pause, but Sehun doesn’t register it. “Luhan.”

“Well, Luhan,” Sehun begins, ushering him into the elevator. “I’m Sehun. Hopefully something good comes out of this.”

He hits a button, and the doors slide close.








It’s only been a few minutes since Luhan’s been in the apartment, and there’s already a feather on the sofa. Luhan looks mildly sheepish when Sehun plucks it off the upholstery and places it in the rubbish bin.

“How’s this going to work?” Luhan asks, a hand flitting up and down the cat’s back. “You say you get alerts to where an Angel has been spotted? Is there any way of you knowing if the Angel is an Archangel before you get to the destination?”

“None,” Sehun replies, “it doesn’t matter to the government one way or another. Our job is to hunt and kill anyone of your race, regardless of status.”

Luhan purses his lips, and Sehun shrugs a shoulder blithely. “It’s not pleasant to hear, I’m sure, but it is what it is. Which is why I’m attempting to help you out.”

“Alright,” Luhan says, “in that case, I’m going to have to come with you each time you get an address.”

“You do realise that I will have to keep hunting,” Sehun says. “I cannot afford to let every Angel go. The government will catch on.”

“I understand.”

Nodding, Sehun stands and walks into the kitchen.

“If you do find an Archangel, I’ll need to be alone with them,” Luhan says, eyes trained on Sehun’s back as he makes a cup of coffee. “There are certain… rites that need to be performed in the process of establishing a new Tribunal.”

“Of course,” Sehun replies, turning around to lean against the counter, a steaming mug in his hands. “Just be quick about it.”

Luhan exhales, and the cat fidgets. The mug pauses halfway up to meet Sehun’s lips.

“Do you want some coffee? Can you even drink coffee?”

Luhan snorts.








They fall into some sort of a routine. When Sehun’s phone lights up and fills the room with red, the first thing he does after disabling the alarm is to shuffle into his room – he’s been sleeping on the sofa – and shake Luhan awake. As Sehun uses the bathroom, Luhan will change, and they rotate. The walk to the car is always hurried, and the car ride is always quiet.

At the destination, Sehun will scour the place for other bounty hunters before gesturing for Luhan. They’ll walk in together, and Sehun’s bounty will always look confused and surprised for that split second before he kills them. It’s been weeks, and they haven’t found a single Archangel yet. It’s been weeks, and Luhan hasn’t gotten used to the sheer heat of the fire, the piles of ash, and the drops of blood Sehun draws from himself.

On their thirty-first trip, instead of gazing out the window the way home like he always does, he chooses to turn towards Sehun instead.

“Why did you become a Bounty Hunter?”

The car’s just made a turn, and Sehun waits for the steering wheel to stop spinning before he replies. The hand resting on the top of the wheel tightens its grip imperceptibly, but his jaw doesn’t tense.

“My younger brother was killed by one of your kind. I was young and impulsive. My parents were proud of me when I told them I wanted to enlist – they didn’t think for a second to stop me. Together, those factors led me to where I am now.”

“I’m sorry,” comes Luhan’s reply after a brief respite. “About your brother.”

Sehun’s lips curve cryptically. “Don’t be. I’ve long broken even with that one crime.”

“Why are you helping me? If –”

“After my first kill, I became no better than the Angel who killed my brother. And that was a long, long time ago.”








On Sehun’s days off, they stay home. Sehun doesn’t want to risk anyone spotting Luhan nearby, much less in his apartment. But every night, at a quarter to midnight, Luhan will make his way up to the roof and fly off into the woods. He does this without fail. Sehun will wait, eyes fixated on the clock hung up by the door, for midnight to strike. Luhan always makes it back right on time. Sehun doesn’t ask why he leaves every night, and Luhan doesn’t offer an explanation.

As it turns out, Luhan has a huge appetite. And so does his cat. Sehun ends up going to the nearby mart so often that every cashier on the establishment’s payroll recognises him after a few weeks. One comments on how he’s able to finish so much food and yet never put on weight – he simply shrugs and mutters a low, “I have a fast metabolism.”

Luhan spends his free time surfing the net and finding recipes to use. Sehun doesn’t complain – his creations usually turn out well, save for the one time the fish went black. The cat grows to like Sehun, and they’ll lounge on the couch together whenever Luhan’s whipping up a storm in the small kitchen.

It’s mundane, but nice. Sehun grows accustomed to his new housemates, and slowly, he remembers what it’s like to have people in his life. It’s comforting, warm, and solid.

The first time he wakes up at the crack of dawn to find Luhan’s hair tangled all over his chest, he forgets how to breathe for a few moments. When it finally registers in his mind that he’s not bothered by this setup whatsoever, he peers a little closer at Luhan’s sleeping face. He’s got a scar on his lip, he notes. Just as he’s about to look away and possibly try to grab another hour or so of sleep, he spots the small patch of drool on his stomach – and that’s when he shakes him awake. Anything but drool.








Neither of them were ready for their first encounter with another Archangel. In fact, Sehun was just about to reach into his pocket out of sheer habit when Luhan yelled in his ear and grabbed his wrist so tightly it formed a bruise the next day.

“I need to speak to him,” Luhan breathes. There’s something bright shining in his eyes and Sehun nods. He heads back to his car and waits, leaning against the hood. The sun shines hotly down on his nape. When Luhan reappears a few minutes later, he doesn’t expect to see him with a small pinch of ash in a cupped palm.

“What –”

“Don’t you need it? Registers a kill, right?”

“But –”

“Archangels can generate ash when they want to, it just hurts a little. Go on.”

As the scanner scans his blood, Sehun surveys the place. “Where’d he go?”

“The old Tribunal site. I told him to wait there, stay low.”

“Will that be safe?” Sehun drops a pinch of ash onto the scanner and Luhan shakes the rest off his palm.

“Best thing we’ve got,” Luhan assures him. He smiles. “Three more to go!”








They’re driving home a couple of weeks later when Luhan sighs heavily.

“Everything around here is…”

“Dying,” Sehun supplies. “Yeah.”

Passing what was once the Town Hall, Sehun points to the now-crumbling building and says, “I remember the first time I came here. I was three. Came as a family to register the birth of my brother.”

He turns right at the next intersection and drives another few blocks before slowing to a stop in front of an empty square plot of land.

“This was my elementary school. They had a really nice playground out back – I loved the sandpit. All gone now. My house was just a ten minute walk away.”

He presses lightly on the gas pedal. “I haven’t seen it in a while.”

“Do you not come to visit your parents?”

“My parents passed away five years ago. My father was ill and my mother was caught in the crossfire during a bounty hunt.”

Sehun’s hand is resting on the gear selector, and Luhan sets his own gently down over it. Sehun turns towards Luhan, gives him a small smile, and retracts his hand as he makes another turn.








Sehun’s never been in love. He had grown up way too fast, and somewhere in the constant cloud of death, he had grown afraid to fall in love. So when he finds himself thinking about Luhan’s smile in the middle of the night and how his hair somehow manages to be smooth yet tangled at the same time, he struggles.

Clueless, he attempts to fight his feelings and embrace them all at once, but something that juxtaposed is bound to fail. And it does. It fails after they find their third Archangel, which occurs just a few months after their first.

You see, the thing about having a mass of Bounty Hunters on the prowl for Angels means that with each Angel killed, the odds of Sehun’s next call being an Archangel increases. The time between finds has shortened considerably, and if all goes well, this collaboration would end soon.

Soon. A frown forms on Sehun’s face when he becomes aware of that fact, and it doesn’t disappear until Luhan finally brings it up when they get home.

“What’s with the frown?”

Sehun balks, and he only manages to come up with a reply thanks to the cat purring by his feet. In the two seconds it takes for him to bend down and pick it up, he decides to reply with a simple, “I’m sorry?”

Luhan pulls a face and Sehun feels his heart drop a little more at the cuteness.

“You had a frown on your face the entire way back here,” he continues. “Why? Aren’t you happy we’re making good progress? I mean, this is what you wanted, right?”

Sehun busies himself with scratching the cat’s chin as he does an awkward shrug of a shoulder.

“Yeah, of course I am. And yes, it is what I wanted.”

He can feel Luhan’s eyes on him as he disappears into the bedroom to drop off his gadgets. When he re-enters the living room, he sighs.

“It’s just – can Archangels have relationships?” It comes much more straightforwardly than he had intended for it to, and Luhan simply blinks at him in response.

Sehun’s starting to worry when Luhan clears his throat.

“Well, technically, we don’t have rules about this. Archangels don’t usually date, because they don’t really have the time nor the freedom to, but um –” Luhan runs his bottom lip through his teeth and takes a few steps closer to Sehun. The cat perks its head.

“Are you asking me because you’re interested in me?”

At that, Sehun blushes.

“I have to –” Gesturing wildly in the direction of the bathroom, Sehun drops the cat into Luhan’s arms and bolts.

“I’m interested in you too!” Luhan calls after him, knowing quite well that the door to the bathroom is thin enough for Sehun to hear him. The cat meows loudly.








Something in their dynamic changes after that. Luhan treats Sehun like he always does, but there are more smiles and lingering touches. Sehun, on the other hand, seems to go through a complete transformation – he even stops shrugging.

“Morning,” he mumbles, prodding Luhan gently on the nose. “I know it’s a bit early, but we have another call.”

“What are the odds it’s not an Archangel,” Luhan replies sleepily, shuffling deeper under the covers. Sehun feels the leathery texture of his wing down his calf.

“I don’t know, but the odds of it actually being one is increasing daily. There were five kills just yesterday. None of them were Archangels.”

Luhan huffs into the mattress but sits up reluctantly. “Fine. I’ll make the coffee.”

“Wait.”

Luhan turns around at the tone of his voice and squeaks in surprise when Sehun kisses him briefly, but softly.

“Okay,” he murmurs, pulling away so that their noses are barely brushing. “You can go now.”

Luhan, cheeks pink, leans in for another one.

It takes them twenty minutes longer to leave the apartment than usual.








The fourth Archangel appears just a month after the third one. Luhan’s excitement is tangible, and Sehun leaves his side with a brush of his thumb across the arc of his cheekbone. Luhan beams after him, and as Sehun walks out of the dusty building, he wonders if he’ll get to see that smile after the reinstatement of the Tribunal.

Luhan hurries out of the building not a moment too soon.

“Is it done?”

He gestures towards the car before opening the passenger side door and ducking in. Walking around the car, Sehun does the same.

“I’ll have to go to the Tribunal site tonight to see the ceremony through,” Luhan says. “But I have high hopes.”

Leaning in, he presses his lips against Sehun’s cheek. “Thank you for helping me.”

“My pleasure,” Sehun replies, chancing a glance away from the street to drop a kiss on Luhan’s nose. “Truly.”








“Stay safe,” Sehun presses, “don’t stay in one area for too long. Keep to the shadows.”

Luhan’s eyes crinkle and he stops the flow of words by smacking his hand over Sehun’s mouth. “I’ll be fine. Don’t worry. You don’t have to wait up, either.”

“You don’t know when you’ll be back?”

Shaking his head, Luhan sweeps his hair back into a bun and holds it in place with a hair elastic. “Could take ten minutes, could take an hour. Don’t worry, okay? I can take care of myself, and I’ll be home safe and sound before you know it. Don’t forget to eat! And feed the cat.”

With that, he darts out of the door. It’s barely swung shut before Sehun begins to worry.

He ends up waiting for Luhan’s return, lying on the couch with his head pillowed on the crook of his arm. The cat – still unnamed – flops over Sehun’s side and dozes. Dawn is breaking when Luhan finally returns. There’s mud all over his legs, and Sehun can spy a few twigs and leaves embedded in his hair.

“Didn’t I say not to wait up for me?” He asks lightly, stepping into the bathroom to rinse the mud off before returning to Sehun’s side. “You look half-dead.”

“I am half-dead,” Sehun replies tiredly. “I am very reliant on sleep.”

Luhan scoffs but runs a soft hand through Sehun’s unruly hair.

“How’d it go? Did it work out?”

“Not quite, I’m afraid. I’m going to need another Archangel. One of them wasn’t quite... suitable.”

Sehun makes a sound of acknowledgement as he drops his head onto Luhan’s lap.

“Okay. We can find another one. However many more you need – anything to spend more time with you.”

Before he realises what he’s said, he’s already fast asleep. Luhan stares down at Sehun’s sleeping profile with an unreadable expression on his face.








The night before they find their fifth Archangel, Sehun tells Luhan he loves him. His brow furrows and his voice shakes, but his heart is adamant and he yields to it. Luhan smiles, leans into Sehun’s chest, and lets Sehun hold him for a long, long time. Sehun thinks he hears Luhan say it too.

The next day, Sehun discovers that in actuality, he did not.








“The last time I was in these woods,” Sehun says, hearing the crunch of dried branches under his boots, “it was on fire.”

Luhan’s hand is warm in his.

“I remember the day it burned down,” he continues. “It was as if God lit a match and dropped it right in the middle of the forest just to see it spread. And spread it did.”

“Do you believe in God?” Luhan asks, letting go of Sehun and pulsing his wings once in order to glide over a pile of rocks. Sehun walks around it and takes the time to toss the question around in his head.

“I don’t know,” he answers honestly. “I really don’t. I bet you have an answer to that, though?”

Luhan smiles enigmatically, and Sehun doesn’t get a chance to ask what that smile means before he spies their target. Not a second too soon, Luhan darts over to the other Archangel’s side, wings spread wide and held high as he crosses the short distance between them in a heartbeat.

“You don’t have to leave this time,” Luhan says when Sehun catches up. The Archangel next to Luhan shifts, and Sehun looks over at him instinctively. His wings are a light gold, and they contrast beautifully with the jet black of Luhan’s own. A matching gold halo floats serenely above his head, free of spikes. When Sehun returns his gaze to the Angel’s face, he sees him staring back with a mix of horror, resignation, and disbelief in his eyes.

“It’s time I showed you the truth,” Luhan finishes. “I’m terribly sorry, Sehun.”

Nonplussed, Sehun watches as Luhan shoots ten feet into the air and hovers there. His wings extend majestically, the tips curving towards the sky – the Archangel by Sehun’s side falls to his knees. Chin tipped, Luhan closes his eyes. A gust of wind whips through the dead woods, and Luhan stretches out his arms, palms facing up.

Starting from his pointed toes, pearlescent scales begin to form. They creep slowly up Luhan’s feet, moulding around his ankles and spreading quickly up the length of his legs. His clothes crumble to nothingness as the scales replace them, wrapping around his neck and shooting down his arms. He flexes his gleaming fingers as the scales slide up his jaw, curve around his cheeks, and disappear into his hairline. A wash of black matching that of his wings sweeps down his hair. Luhan is no more. Instead, there is –

“Lucifer,” the Archangel whispers, voice cracking. “It’s Lucifer.”

The being in front of them descends, and the second it lowers its head, Sehun feels everything that’s he’s come to trust and love dissolve in the heat of his blood. Gold irises seem to see right through him, and suddenly, Sehun just wants to cry.

“...Why?”

When Lucifer speaks, it sounds exactly like Luhan. Sehun closes his eyes. In his mind’s eye, he can envision Luhan’s face as clear as day.

“I may be the Fallen Angel, but God will always need me.”

Dried leaves barely seem to be jostled under Lucifer’s footsteps, and Sehun opens his eyes just in time to see lustrous fingers close around the throat of the Archangel – he vanishes just a second later, leaving behind a small pile of ash in his wake.

“This war,” Lucifer continues, gesturing around the woods with a sweep of its arms, “has gone on for far too long. God wants a clean slate – He wants to start anew. Much like the Genesis flood narrative I’m sure you’ve heard as a child. In order for Him to do so, Archangels as you humans know it cannot exist. But as God, He simply cannot destroy them; it’s against His nature. So He sent me to do the job.”

A lock of raven hair tumbles down Lucifer’s shoulder and curves around the gentle swell of its bosom. Sehun stays completely still, and completely silent.

“When I first saw you, I was afraid. I was afraid of the fact that I might have to kill you. It would complicate things, you see, for your death is not in my job description. Yet, when you offered to help me find the remaining Angels, I accepted – why refuse something that would make my job easier?”

“You kill them when I leave you alone with them, don’t you?”

Lucifer nods easily. “As you can see, it doesn’t take a lot of time.”

Sehun’s throat is so very dry, and he swallows painfully.

“Those nights – the nights you’d leave at a quarter to midnight. The night you left to form the Tribunal –”

“There was never to be a new Tribunal. I leave every night to relay any news I might have of the remaining ones. When I thought we had them all, I had to check to make sure I had killed all of them. Which is when I was informed there was still one out in the open. Again, that’s where you came in.”

Something hurts somewhere. Sinking to the dirt-covered ground, Sehun pushes the heels of his hands against his eyes. They come away wet. He doesn’t quite know what to say – does it even matter anymore?

“Aren’t Archangels important? Why does God want them dead?” Turns out that’s what he settled on.

“The Archangels on this Earth are but a fraction of what they’re intended to be – in fact, the Angels you humans hunt and kill have no status to me. They may be powerful here, but they’re lowly beings up there. I am an Archangel. I am what Archangels are meant to be like.”

When Sehun finally wills himself to look Lucifer in the eyes, he asks, “All these months. Did you ever love me?”

Lucifer pauses. A pale tongue comes out to wet the swell of a blood red lip. “Luhan almost did.”








Sehun feels… submerged. Semi-conscious. Like he’s gasping for air and slowly decomposing at the same time. Part of him feels as though he’s entered oblivion, whereas the other feels as though he’s full enough to burst.

Above, Lucifer’s soaring high into the sky, closing the distance between it and God with every beat of its wings. When Sehun can no longer see it clashing against the paleness of the sky, everything becomes painfully, painfully bright.