“It’s sad to see him like this,” Hoseok said bitterly as he dropped another sugar cube into his tea.

“Indeed. That girl has always been his weakness, ever since she was young,” Taehyung replied grimly.

“… It’s funny how the world works. And sad.”

“A grim reaper should never fall in love,” Taehyung enunciated with a brief shake of his head.

Hoseok averted his gaze from Taehyung.

“… What do you think they’re going to do to him?” There was a trace of fear present in Hoseok’s voice.

“Him?” Taehyung responded sharply. “They aren’t going to do anything to him.”

“What?”

“Think about it, Hoseok. The deities like to have fun.”

Hoseok’s expression darkened as he realized what Taehyung was implying.

“That’s sick.”

“Indeed.”

“When…?”

“When she sincerely loves him, even after finding out the truth. You know that, Hoseok. You know that better than anyone.”

--

“Yoongi, I need your help with one of my clients. He said he wanted to speak to a doctor about how he died. You said you were one before you died, right?” Hoseok said as he paced across the room.

Yoongi pressed his hand against his forehead. “I never became an actual doctor. How did he die anyway?”

Hoseok shrugged. “Drugs.”

“What?” Yoongi scoffed, his brows furrowing in frustrated confusion. “Why would he need to talk to a doctor then?”

Hoseok frowned. It was obvious Yoongi was in a bad mood. “Beats me. His son was a doctor if that helps. Go talk to him so I can clock out. We can trade clients for today.”

Yoongi stood up with a troubled sigh. “You would think I would work less after I died,” he muttered under his breath, stalking out of the room.   

--

Seokjin knocked on the door and waited.

“Come in,” came the gruff voice from within.

The tall blonde took a seat next to Yoongi and offered him a can of iced coffee. Yoongi accepted it with a low murmur of gratitude and flipped another page. His eyes were glued to the pages of the thick biochemistry book, carefully deciphering every detail. He paid no attention to anything else—he had a practical and an exam the upcoming week.

Seokjin was the first person Yoongi met during his first year of medical school. One would think he was conceited seeing how popular he was with the females, but in reality, he was easy going and at times, hilarious. He was Yoongi’s senior by a year and often helped him with some of the more difficult subjects.  

There was another knock on the door. The door pushed open and Namjoon teetered in, the doorknob lying in his hand. Seokjin sighed.

“How you manage to break everything in your sight is beyond me,” Seokjin commented with a nonchalant laugh.

Namjoon placed the doorknob on the long table with a defeated shrug and pulled out his books. Yoongi acknowledged his presence with a nod and murmured the page number he was on.

Namjoon, despite being clumsy, was practically a genius—he could grasp even the hardest concepts with ease and was fluent in several languages. But like everyone else, he needed to put in the work to get the results he desired. So today, like yesterday and tomorrow, he would be studying all day with Yoongi in preparation for next week.

Minutes after they had settled in, Yoongi’s phone rang, shattering the silent atmosphere. It was an international number calling. A sense of dread filled him as he picked up the call.

“Is this Min Yoongi?”

“Yes, this is him.”

"I'm calling from the North Seoul Hospital about Ms. Kim..." The sound of his own heart beating flooded his ears, drowning out the rest of the sentence.

--

The walls of the hospital room were a haunting pristine white, far too bright for the sadness that ached inside. The ten-year-old sat by her mother’s bedside, holding onto her weak hand. She sobbed relentlessly, fresh new tears emerging with every daunting thought that approached. She couldn’t lose her mother now. Not now, not ever. If she left, she would be utterly alone. She would no longer have a hand reach out and lift her off her feet when she fell.

“Mom…” she cried repeatedly. “Don’t leave me. Don’t go. D-Don’t go, mom.”

“Don’t cry…”

The door opened and Yoongi ran in, his eyes wide with fear. Tears sprang to his eyes as he took in the scene—his greatest fear had been confirmed. Hyerin lay on the bed, numerous machines hooked up to her frail, weak body. She managed to turn her head to face Yoongi as he rushed to her side. She raised a hand and caressed the boy’s face with a sad smile.  

“Yoongi,” she spoke, her voice barely above a whisper. 

He squeezed her hand and began to sob. In that very moment, he had returned to the seven-year-old orphan who had known nothing but loneliness. Memories flashed before his eyes, each memory a fresh wound upon his heart. He remembered his first day of school and how thrilled he had been. He remembered how she had scolded the bullies who had for being an orphan. His first official birthday party. The nights she stayed up comforting him as he cried. She had always been there for him with open arms and a heartwarming smile. And now, it was time for the angel to return to the heavens.

“Y-Yoongi,” she repeated.

“Y-yes. It’s me. I’m here,” he whimpered.

She smiled. “I’m glad… I get to see you one last time.”

“Please,” he pleaded, bowing his head in despair as the hot tears continued to fall. “Please don’t go.”

She couldn't leave him hanging like this. He still had so many words left unsaid.

“Can you… promise me one thing?”

He nodded briskly. “Anything. A-Anything for you.” The words tumbled out of his mouth with each muffled sob.

“Watch over Chaerin… Make sure she smiles more than she cries… Make sure she lives a long and happy life…”

And then her hand went limp in his hand and the daunting sound of the monitor flatlining bled into the room. Yoongi stifled a scream of despair as he slumped to the floor, absolutely devastated.

--

Yoongi awoke from his dream and rose to his feet groggily. Yoongi had no need to dream, for he was a reaper by the law of debt—he had retained all of his past memories, unlike those who became one by the law of sin. He didn’t know why he had allowed himself to slip away into a slumber. Perhaps it was because he had wanted to revert to the past, where things had been much more simple… much more normal. Normal. God, he missed that word.