Kihyun growls, defiantly reaching into his jacket pocket for a spare blade. He heaves in air, this wretched mortal body making it essential. His lungs burn at being ignored, seeming to in the oxygen gratefully. The angel pulls free his blade, gripping it tightly in his right hand, and he casts a suspicious glare at the shadows at the end of the alley.

“You need to learn to breathe, Kihyunnie,” his opponent sneers, stepping into the light. Minhyuk, his age-old enemy, smirks at him with a knowing light. Charisma dangerously drips from his handsome features, his black hair styled effortlessly into a windswept effect and his dark eyes glittering with a fatal attraction that could swoon any mortal.

“And you need to learn to just move on,” Kihyun fires back, pushing himself off the molding brick wall. “This town is protected from your heinous influence, Minhyuk-ah. There’s no more damage you can do here.” He slowly steps forward as he speaks, tossing his blade from hand to hand. He can feel his blood rushing to his torso, as if eager to escape through the slash Minhyuk had been so kind to give him there. He doesn’t even have to glance down to know his shirt is becoming soaked in a crimson red. He has to get out of here soon to heal this body, but he can’t very well retreat. He won’t give Minhyuk the satisfaction.

Minhyuk lifts a shoulder in a half-shrug, reaching behind him to pull his knife out of the waistband of his jeans. He waggles a brow, clicks his tongue in mock disapproval. He, of course, is no worse for wear, as he doesn’t have to be dragged down by a mortal form.

“You really sure you should continue?” Minhyuk asks tauntingly, stalking towards him. “You don’t seem to be doing too well…” Kihyun rolls his eyes, though he has to shake his head to clear his own blurring sight. Damn mortal body, having ty stamina and needs for things like air and food… It’s so tedious. Kihyun doesn’t say anything though, merely lunges forward in a last-stitch effort to land a hit. Minhyuk easily dodges, shaking his head in disappointment.

“You’re no fun when you’re like this,” Minhyuk somewhat-whines, sheathing his blade again. “I’ll just leave you to get cleaned up and call on you in a few days, okay~?” Kihyun lunges at him again, though this time Minhyuk catches him. He grips hard onto the shorter’s wrist and twirls him about, pulling him close so Kihyun’s back is pressed flush against his chest. “You’re so testy today~” Minhyuk comments, his voice sickeningly sweet as he runs a fingertip along Kihyun’s jawline. Kihyun’s skin burns at the contact, steam rising up from his flesh, and it’s all he has in him not to scream.

“Get all nice and healed up for me, baby,” Minhyuk tells him, pressing a loud, taunting smack of a kiss against Kihyun’s cheek. Kihyun can’t help but cry out in pain, his knees going weak as the excruciating sear shoots throughout his entire body. Minhyuk chuckles darkly and releases his hold, and Kihyun crumples to the ground, hugging himself round the middle as his vision grows dark. Dammit, not again. It’s so much work to get another human form…

Kihyun can hear Minhyuk’s sardonic laugh, can feel the shift in the air, and then the emptiness behind him as the demon shifts out of this plain. Kihyun groans weakly in outrage, sweat dripping from his temple. His breaths come out in weak, ragged gulps, and he has trouble keeping his eyes open. He can’t die, not again. He’d never hear the end of it from Hyunwoo and Hoseok about him letting Minhyuk get the best of him again if he dies now.

He rolls onto his back, the cool, cracked pavement a welcome relief against his feverish skin. His vision wavers and fades, and it seems as if the sky above is more like the sea. He shuts his eyes and heaves out a heavy breath, accepting his fate. There’s no time to get this body healed now. It’s too close to death. He’ll just have to get a new one when he gets back home…

Jooheon hums as he walks down the street, clutching his bag tightly against his side. He’s just finished up his classes for the day, and now he has to get to work before his brother texts him in a frantic rage at him being late for the third time this week. As if he can help his classes running late or something. It isn’t as if their boss cares, anyway.

He pulls his phone free from his pocket to check the time, smiling proudly at—for once—being right on time… even if the device is only on three percent. If he hurries, he may even be early. What a surprise that’d be for Changkyun!

Just as he’s about to hurry up a bit, a pained groan of a noise stops him in his tracks. Jooheon frowns, his brow stitching together as he glances around at his surroundings. His mind tells him to just ignore it, that in this town it’s best to keep to himself and that’s that. It’s probably just some poor animal, anyway. Drivers around here couldn’t care less about pedestrians or canines crossing the road, just so long as whichever they hit doesn’t dent their precious car.

However, his curiosity soon wins out, and he finds himself veering off-path to find the source of the noise. He comes to an alleyway, dark and grimy and filled with garbage and rotting foods. Jooheon pouts in dismay, wrinkling his nose at the stench filling it. The sound of a car whizzing by on the street now behind him echoes around him, and he has to squint his small eyes to peer through the shadows.

Near the end of the alley, a pink-haired man lies on the pavement, a pool of red surrounding him. Jooheon in a gasp and rushes forward, kneeling beside the stranger. He takes in the damage, but it’s impossible to tell just where the blood ends and where it begins. The man coughs, tremors wracking his body with the force of it as blood drips from his pink lips.

“Don’t worry,” Jooheon softly assures the stranger, sliding his arms underneath the man’s small frame. The man shakes his head adamantly, obviously trying to focus his sight on Jooheon despite how murky his eyes are.

“N-No,” the man struggles to say, his voice much too faint. “Just leave me. I’ll be okay.” Jooheon raises a brow disbelievingly, cradling the man close as he stands. The man groans in pain, a wretched sound that makes Jooheon’s heart skip a beat.

“You need help,” Jooheon says bluntly. The man shakes his head again, his breaths becoming more ragged. The man’s eyes drift closed, and Jooheon does his best not to panic. He hurries from the alley as fast as he can without alarming the stranger, as he doesn’t want to send him into a state of shock, and heads towards his apartment. It’s much closer than the hospital, and much more reliable.

He just hopes he can make it there in time.