Minseok doesn't exactly know when or how it happened. He'd just woken up one day and between the bleary fuzziness in his mind and the first rays of light crawling into his room through the tightly drawn curtains, he realised that he wouldn't mind dying.

It wasn't so much that he wished he was dead. That sounded rather… melancholic and reeked of a bone-deep sadness that he didn't think he had the right to possess. It was that he had nothing to live for - nothing in this quiet, backwater town, large enough that he didn't know everybody but small enough that he at least knew there was nothing here for him.

Minseok wouldn't say that he was experiencing a mid-life crisis because as far as others were concerned, he was in the prime of his youth and should be looking to settle down with a nice girl or guy. Company wasn't something he craved, nor sought out. Between his job at the library and running errands after work and on weekends to keep himself sustained, he had a handful of people he could call friends, their presence being something he actually enjoyed. Case in point, Minseok would go through his day in quiet monotony with thoughts of wanting to disappear forever knocking around in his mind. And that's how two days later, he'd awoken to a sharp knock at his door.

"You're really annoying, you know." The stranger blurts as soon as he gathers himself and swings it open with a barely concealed scowl. It's Sunday morning for goodness sakes. He should be able to sleep in a little.

"I'm sorry, who are you?" Minseok retorts, arms crossed over his chest defensively. He’s never seen this person before. A face like that is definitely unforgettable.

"Death." The man replies in a tone that implied duh, you idiot. Minseok is not an idiot. "But informally, I'm Kim Jongdae."

This isn't what Minseok envisioned the phrase death would come knocking at your door to mean. In fact, this is a physical manifestation of Death. Not death (adj.) but Death (n). And even so, why does Death look like the very embodiment of pureness? Where are the sunken in eyes and sallow cheeks? No, this Death carries almond-shaped eyes, irises bright and smokey grey much like Junmyeon's, the sweet blind guy that works in Mister Bae's bakery. His cheeks aren't rotted or pulled tight but his cheekbones are sharp and high, jaw angular and sitting prettily just beneath his very undecomposed nose are a pair of thin, pink lips that curl at the corners in an almost cat-like way. Death- no, Kim Jongdae, is pretty and alive which contradicts everything he's supposed to represent. Still, Minseok finds himself opening the door wider and stepping aside to let the other into his small but well-kept apartment.

"You called me annoying." He finally speaks when Jongdae takes a seat on the couch, looking around curiously.

"Yes, I did. Though troublesome should be a better way to describe you. Do you know how difficult it is to do my job when there's some guy be his existence and wishing for me to take his life?" Jongdae scoffs, running a hand through his jet-black hair. It falls in soft tufts over his forehead once more, obstructing rather expressive eyebrows.

"Excuse me?" Minseok snorts. He takes a seat on the opposite couch. It isn't weird that this is the first time someone's been to his apartment in years which bothers him a little. Just like it wasn't weird to not care about it existing but found it unsettling that he had no concern for living on. "I don't remember praying to the mighty Death to take my soul."

"You don't have to. But I am Death after all, so naturally, these things call out to me." Jongdae crosses one leg over the next and rests his palms on his knee delicately.

"Are you really Death?" Minseok squints. "I find this incredibly difficult to believe."

Jongdae rolls his eyes like he'd expected such and shrugs nonchalantly. "I'm not here to prove my prowess to you, human. I'm here to tell you to shut up and enjoy what's left of your life."

Minseok scoffs. There's nothing left to enjoy. But of course, Jongdae already knows that.

Junmyeon turns to the doorway with a bright grin as soon as Minseok walks in. It never fails to amaze him how the younger's lack of sight has made him sharper in his hearing to the point that he's able to discern different footsteps. "Hello Minseokie." He greets, voice warm and soft and Minseok finds himself grinning even if Junmyeon can't see it. Maybe in another life he'd have asked Junmyeon out. In this life though, he knows he can't provide the care and love Junmyeon would need, but most importantly, Junmyeon's too beautiful and gentle to hurt over someone like him when he dies.

"Hello, Junmyeon." He returns amicably. "Can I have six chocolate-filled croissants, please?" Junmyeon always teases him for asking rather than stating his order but he does it out of politeness and also because he enjoys the way Junmyeon's lips quirk mischievously. He slides open the pastry case with practised ease, reaching for the tongs and locating the croissants immediately. As he’s shuffling them into a doggy bag, Joohyun comes from the back of the shop and smiles softly at Junmyeon before grinning at Minseok.

"Hi Minseok! The usual?" She asks as she takes his money and rings up the order. Minseok nods and accepts the change with a note of thanks. Joohyun's the third reason why Minseok wouldn't consider dating Junmyeon. The bakery owner's daughter is infallibly in love with their shop-front employee and it's obvious in the way her eyes sparkle every time she sees him and her cheeks soften with fondness. They're a sweet and subtle couple and Minseok's heart swells with adoration every time he sees them together.

"Here," Junmyeon calls, holding out the bag in Minseok's direction. "Mister Bae tried a new recipe today and they taste really good. You'll give me your opinion the next time you come back." He winks and Minseok's eyes widen as he dips his hand into his pocket once more.

"Don't you dare pull out your wallet." Joohyun warns sternly, lips twitching to hide her smile. "Go on now. I expect to hear a great review."

"Thanks guys." Minseok smiles gratefully and exits the store feeling light.

"Where did you disappear to?" Minseok asks when Jongdae winds up at his door the second time. He's dressed casually again, a pair of tanned trousers fitting comfortably on his legs and a white shirt tucked into it.

"I have a job, you know." Jongdae sighs. He goes straight to the couch and sits with a groan, eyes closing as he makes himself comfortable. Minseok watches the shadows that his long lashes cast across his cheekbones. Its eerily beautiful and he finds himself voicing one of the countless questions that's been floating around his head since their first encounter a week ago.

"Why don't you look like-" he trails off, waving his hands helplessly. "-death?"

"That's racist." Jongdae cracks an eye open, pearly grey focusing on Minseok though his lips are quirked faintly. "You humans have such wild imaginations. Thinking that we're supposed to look like bones in an ugly black cloak with a scythe. Rude."

Minseok cringes; Jongdae's right. Humans have never painted the supernatural as anything other than ugly, especially in Jongdae's case. He supposes that's because for many, death is an ugly, sad thing. "If we look hideous, people wouldn't want to give up their souls to us."

"People willingly give up their souls to you? Even the bad guys? And what do you mean by us?"

"Are we really doing this?" Jongdae whines. When Minseok continues staring expectantly, he whines some more before giving in. "Of course they come to us willingly. We're not monsters. People know when they're going to die. Sometimes it's an inkling, other times it's a sure feeling. But death is death. It's a crucial part in the circle of life and when people come to terms with it, they let go easily because they just know their time is up and another part of their cycle is going to begin. And yes, us." I'm not a great being. I can't manifest any and everywhere all the time. Do you know how many people die every minute? There are many of us all over the world. It makes things easier."

Well, when Jongdae puts it that way, it makes a heck of a lot of sense. "So am I going to die? I get the feeling that people only see Death when they're about to die."

"No, you're not." Jongdae rolls his eyes. "You're just stupid enough to want to die."

"I'm not stupid." Minseok defends. It's not like he fully understands why he feels this way. There are reasons, obviously, as to why he isn't happy. But wanting to die? Wishing he could just be done with this life? He can't explain it or why it feels so natural to want this. "Why can I see you then?" He quickly changes the topic.

Jongdae's eyebrows raise adorably like he's telling Minseok he knows he's diverting the conversation away from himself but accepts it anyway. "Because I let you see me. I had to know what all the fuss was about. I will admit, I was a bit underwhelmed but you're an interesting enough human and it's been a bit boring for some time now. I don't mind having some company to pass my time."

"I'm flattered." Minseok deadpans. "And what about your wings? Do you have?"

Jongdae's eyes widen for a fraction before he composes himself. "Yes. But you can't see them." It's unspoken but Minseok knows, the day he sees Jongdae with wings, it'll be the end of his time.

That night he dreams of massive black wings that span the entire length of his village, vantablack feathers neatly arranged, each one representing a life taken. The wings block out the sky, so huge they are that just the barest rustle of them causes the wind to kick up along the village's main street. And nestled between the monstrous appendages is a small, beautiful man with bright grey eyes and a cat-like smile.

Minseok's conversation with Jongdae sticks with him while he dusts the shelves and rearranges books. Working at the library is a privilege, he thinks. He has an unlimited supply of narrative entertainment in a quiet and comfortable environment, and the people that frequent the library are all polite and well-mannered, meaning that he doesn't have to clean up after them or worry that they'll vandalise the town's property. Never being interested in the happenings of the town, Minseok had long stopped reading the daily newspaper that was delivered to the establishment every day. But today, he's thinking about Jongdae's job. He hasn't seen him in three days. He takes the paper off the stand and carefully opens it to the obituary section. Minseok often relies on word-of-mouth for these things and other current affairs. Maybe he should amend that.

There, at the bottom of the page are two death announcements - one of a young boy with wide eyes and thick lips and the other, of a middle-aged woman, pretty but frail-looking. Minseok's heart aches and without reading their names or the text beneath their black and white photos, he shuts the paper, pushing it away. His gut twists. There’s no excuse, not even the goddamn circle of life, that’s good enough to justify what he just saw. That boy was too young to die.

This time, Jongdae's in his house, sitting like the couch belongs to him. Minseok doesn't even bat a lash at the audacity of this soul stealer. He's still reeling from the boy's wide eyes in the obituary. "Don't you feel anything?" He hisses. He’d tried to reason with himself. Acting out against Jongdae would be futile and uncalled for. This is Jongdae's job after all. But how can he just look someone in the eye and take their soul? Someone who had so much to live for?

Jongdae stops petting the cat on his chest. Minseok blinks slowly, finally registering the furry creature in his apartment. What the hell is a cat doing here? Is it Jongdae's? Said man frowns as he sits up. The cat makes a noise of protest but lazily blinks his eyes open, stretching elegantly before hopping onto the floor and strutting over to the sunspot where the evening's rays are pouring in from the open window. Why is his window open? "Of course not." Jongdae replies slowly.

"How? How can you look a young boy in the eye and take his life?" Minseok presses, his frustration boiling over.

"Because that's how it is. It's the cir-"

"Circle of life. Blah blah. Yeah, I get it." He snaps.

Jongdae sighs and looks down, eyelashes fanning over his cheeks. "This is about Kyungsoo, isn't it?" Minseok never bothered to learn the boy's name. It feels even more personal now that he knows. "You don't know what his life could have been like. He could have grown up to have a tortured existence."

"But he could have grown up to have a great one." Minseok argues.

Jongdae shakes his head. "It was his time, Minseok." He sounds genuinely saddened by his words. "And he accepted me and his fate. It can't be undone."

The silence that hangs between them is thick. Minseok feels like he's suffocating, harsh emotions pushing and pulling each other within his chest. Attachment is such a finicky and painful thing. Yet here he is, mourning the loss of someone he's only known today through a blasted obituary photograph. Eventually, he exhales heavily and looks up when the mist from his eyes finally clear. "Is that your cat?" He glances over at the tiny ball of grey and white fluff curled up on the floor.

Jongdae smiles softly, eyes