Nam Joon found Yoongi three weeks later.

At a bus stop five blocks away from the hospital he left Jimin. Yoongi had walked down the stairs, out the front entrance, and kept walking until his bones felt like lead. And then he sat.

He couldn’t leave.

His limbs wouldn’t move. His muscles didn’t have the strength to get him upright and standing.

So there he stayed.

Three weeks and Yoongi was still at that bus stop. Agents of death were timeless, but for all the exhaustion Yoongi felt, he wished he could slip away into blissful sleep.  Maybe then his bones will stop aching. For those three weeks, people walked in and out of the bus stop, took shelter from the rain, tapped their shoes impatiently as they waited. No one spoke to Yoongi. No one sat on him either. Even when the bus stop was crowded, they didn’t fill up the space Yoongi was in. But when Yoongi cried for help, no one answered. He stopped trying after a four days.

That’s where Nam Joon found him. It was raining, of course it was raining, and while the pedestrians boots splashed in the puddles spread on the sidewalk, Nam Joon’s steps were silent. The water distilled, but didn’t make a sound.

“This was an easy assignment,” he said in a heavy tone.

Yoongi shrugged.

“All you had to do was take him and leave,” he spoke again.

“He was a kid,” Yoongi managed to say.

“He was in pain!” Nam Joon’s eyes turned red.

“Not anymore, he’s healthy now.”

“He was broken. The truck was speeding through a pedestrian zone!”

“I FIXED HIM!” Yoongi leaned forward to shout at Nam Joon. He winced at the stab of pain that shot through his spine.

Nam Joon stared at him incredulously, his eyes returned to their eerie amber color. He shook his head, “That’s not possible.”

“Well it worked,” Yoongi spat, “twice.”

“Twice?”

Yoongi nodded. He couldn’t speak anymore, his tongue felt limp in his mouth. Everything hurt. He bent over, clutched his knees.

Nam Joon stood just out of the reach of the bus shelter. Even in the pouring rain, his blazer stayed dry. “How did you do that?” he asked.

Yoongi didn’t answer.

Nam Joon pulled Yoongi’s arm over his shoulder. He didn’t say anything as he led them to a Buddhist temple, where a body was being prepared for burial, where the border between the land of the dead and the land of the living was weakest.

~~

Yoongi soaked in a hot spring until the pain receded from his body. As he toweled off the water, he noticed that his black wings felt noticeably lighter, and that his skin was more pale.

He made his way to his room. Bare white walls, simple bed. It reminded him of the hospital room he found Jimin in, he grimaced at the memory.

A knock on his door.

It was Nam Joon, a frown on his lips. Yoongi braced himself for a scolding.

Instead, Nam Joon sighed and, “I checked his clock, the dent is gone,” he leaned against the wall, “What did you do?”

“I told you I fixed him,” Yoongi couldn’t meet his gaze.

“You got too attached,” Nam Joon said.

“He was eight,” Yoongi snapped.

Nam Joon rubbed his temple, “Obviously you can’t take kids. I’ll have to find something else for you to do.”

Yoongi held up his trenchcoat, the one with all the buckles, and smiled when he heard them clash together. He caught Nam Joon’s expression, the pained look on his face.

“Do I have to stay?” Yoongi asked.

“Yes,” Nam Joon answered, his expression apologetic.

Yoongi had expected that answer, why else would he be kept from the afterlife?

“I’ll find something for you, don’t worry about it,” and with one final wave, Nam Joon left.

Yoongi put his jacket on, the belts crashed together, immediately adding sound to a silent world. He smiled at his reflection.

~~

A thousand moments pass before Nam Joon returned to Yoongi’s room.

He didn’t look any less frustrated. A frown on his lips, his grey wings flustered behind him.

“I don’t know how your… power works,” Nam Joon motioned vaguely, “but you have to be careful when you go into the human world. Your touch will kill them.”

“It didn’t happen before,” Yoong sat on his bed.

“You were in training before,” Nam Joon explained “You’ve completed your inaugural assignment- well, you were supposed to….”

Yoongi cringed at the dissapoinment in his tone.

Nam Joon coughed, “But you have to be careful in the world of the living now.”

Yoongi smoothed down his jacket, “Any touch will kill them?”

“Only skin to skin contact,” Nam Joon pulled a pair of leather gloves from his pocket, “You’re going to want these.”

Yoongi took them, “Thanks,” he mumbled.

He slid them on, a perfect fit. Not for the first time, Yoongi was awed by Nam Joon’s attention to detail.

Or maybe not. On the inside of the right glove the letters “M.Y.” were sewn inside.

~~

Yoongi’s second assignment was a convict, sentenced to capital punishment. The man had and decapitated thirteen women and eight men by the time the cops arrested him. They only found eight of the victims. Yoongi watched as the man laughed in the face of his audience, the family of his victims, when they strapped him to the electric chair.

Yoongi felt nothing as he dragged the convict by his hair down to the flames of hell.

~~

Nam Joon glared.

Yoongi stared at the white wall, trying his hardest not to tremble under Nam Joon’s gaze.

Finally, Nam Joon broke the silence, “You’re supposed to be indifferent toward your assignments.”

“The bastard deserved it,” Yoongi spat.

Nam Joon rubbed his temple, “It doesn’t matter if he did it. You’re supposed to peacefully walk them to their death.”

Yoongi’s gaze dropped to the floor.

“I knew you would feel better when collecting convicts, but this is ridiculous,” Nam Joon sat down next to him.

Yoongi didn’t answer. For one assignment he was too emotional, for another he had too few emotions. There was no way to please him. But this wasn’t fair to Nam Joon. He continued to do his job while finding one for Yoongi. He was a good mentor, and Yoongi found himself feeling guilty when he thought about how much stress he was putting on Nam Joon.

Yoongi sighed, “I’m sorry. I’ll do better in the next assignment.”

“You better,” Nam Joon said. Yoongi met his gaze, Nam Joon’s expression softened. He Yoongi’s hair, “I know this is hard for you, but you’re here. You might as well make the most of it.”

Yoongi nodded, he leaned against Nam Joon. For all his infinite wisdom, Yoongi had yet to meet him. Even Nam Joon doesn’t know what he looks like, Death kept his secrecy.

Nam Joon rubbed Yoongi’s back reassuringly. Yoongi half smiled. Nam Joon pulled his cold smile. Yoongi wondered if it could ever be warm, but a cold smile was more reassuring than a frown.

~~

Yoongi was too eager for his next assignment, he found himself lingering in a hotel for three days. He didn’t understand why this one was on the list, she seemed perfectly healthy. She spent hours in the morning styling her long dark hair, napped by the poolside in the afternoon, and ordered room service at night. Maybe she had pancreatic cancer, or bad cholesterol. Yoongi didn’t care, all he had to do was wait.

It was night now. He sat on the edge of the pool. His foot made the water ripple, and he reveled in the sounding splashes from the water. The sound didn’t come from him, it came from the splash water hitting the pool’s surface but he pretended it was caused by him. And he knew that he was the one breaking the reflection of the dark night sky on the pool’s surface.

He heard a door behind him open and is briefly jealous of the loud footsteps the person makes. It was a kid, a familiar short boy with chubby cheeks and thick hair. Yoongi recognizes him instantly. Jimin, the boy who was supposed to be his first assignment. Something warm surges in Yoongi, only for a moment, and he smiles fondly. “Well Jiminnie is still alive,” he says aloud, “That’s good. I was worried that someone else got you.”

Jimin fidgeted, he pulled on his rocket ship pajama pants and asked, “Are you the one who fixed me in the hospital?”

Yoongi blinked once, then twice, then abruptly stood up. In his haste he slipped on the edge of the pool and fell, back first, into the water.

He pulled himself out, with some difficulty drenched wings are heavier than dry ones, and shouted “You’re not supposed to see me! You can’t see death unless you’re the one who’s about to die!”

“Am I dying?” Jimin asked. He handed Yoongi a towel. Yoongi took it, careful not to touch Jimin’s small hand. “No, I spent too much energy healing you to kill you now.” Yoongi started toweling his hair, only for appearance.

A smile broke out across the kid’s face, “Thank you Yoongi.”

“You remembered my name?” Yoongi asked in surprise.

The kid nodded enthusiastically, his hair flipped all over the place.

Yoongi hid his face under the towel, “You’re welcome.”

He moved away when Jimin pressed small fingers against the towel on his head, “Shouldn’t you be asleep kid?” he snapped.

“I wasn’t tired,” Jimin sat down next to Yoongi, “Why are you up?”

“I don’t sleep.”

“Why?”

“I don’t need to,” Yoongi covered Jimin’s face with the towel, “You have too many questions.”

“Mrs. Kwon says that’s a good thing,” Jimin pulled the towel off, “It means I’m paying attention, and curious. And being curious is a good thing, right?” he looked up at Yoongi.

“Kid, don’t you know that curiosity killed the cat.”

Jimin tilted his head, “Is that what killed you?”

Yoongi paused, he ran a hand through his hair, “I’m not sure. I don’t know how I died.”

They watched the reflection of the city lights dance across the pool water.

“Sometimes good people die,” Jimin spoke, “It’s not because they did something bad, God just needed them sooner.”

Yoongi smiled, “You think God needed me?”

Jimin nodded his head in affirmation.

“Why?”

“To look after me!” Jimin smiled, “You’re my guardian angel, right?”

Yoongi rolled his eyes, he playfully punched Jimin’s sleeved arm, “Ya selfish brat. I’m here for someone else.”

“Really?” Jimin pouted.

Yoongi bit back a laugh. “Really,” he answered.

“Who?” Jimin asked.

The lights of the hotel flickered. Yoongi felt something ominous curl in his spine. He swallowed, “I have to go.”

Jimin’s pout transformed from mocking to sad, “So soon?”

Yoongi sighed.  “Yeah sorry it was so short,” Yoongi stood up, “I hope I don’t see you for a long time Jiminnie.” With that he disappeared in a flash of smoke.

He reappeared in a hotel room he had become familiar with over the past week.  Her body was lying on the floor, an empty orange pill bottle was clutched in her hand. Her soul sat on the bed, staring down at her body. “I did this,” her voice barely above a whisper.

Yoongi sighed, “Yeah, you did.”

Later he asked Nam Joon to never again give him one of Sojin’s assignments.

~~

Nam Joon sat in the room of souls, his fingers tapped against a grandfather clock. After what he felt was long enough, he phased through the rusted wall clock.

He stared down at the assignment, a man with wrinkled brows and bones clearly outlined by skin. Needles pierced his flesh, connected him to several different machines and an oxygen mask covered half of his face.

Yoongi was at the foot of the heart monitor, his legs curled up and face buried in his arms.

Nam Joon sighed.

“I couldn’t do it,” Yoongi said in a hushed tone.

Nam Joon ran a hand through his white hair, “I was hoping his age would make it easy for you,”

“No not that,” Yoongi rubbed at his eyes with the palm of his hand, “I couldn’t heal him.”

Nam Joon’s brows furrowed in confusion.

Yoongi sniffed, “I tried and I tried but his soul kept slipping through. I don’t know to make it stop.”

Nam Joon bent down to be eye level with Yoongi, “He has lung cancer. He’s been in pain for eighteen years,” he explained, “It’s time for him to go.”

Yoongi couldn’t meet his gaze.

“You can’t save everybody.” Nam Joon pulled Yoongi with him when he stood up.

Yoongi watched Nam Joon take the man’s hand, watched the man’s soul leave the body with a smile, healthy in its spiritual form. He was practically skipping as they took him to the afterlife.

~~

Yoongi lay down on his bed, looking up at the white ceiling. He had two belts from his jacket in his hands, and clashed the buckles together.

Nam Joon knocked on his door. Before he could say anything, Yoongi asked, “How do humans feel?”

Nam Joon furrowed his eyebrows, “With their hands, I assume?”

“No what do they feel like,” Yoongi rubbed his arm with his hand, “how does human skin feel when you touch it? Our skin is too smooth, we lose our imperfections when we die. What if I had a burn on my arm when I was alive? Did that scar feel different than the rest of my body?”

Nam Joon shrugged, “I don’t know what a burn feels like, but I do know living skin feels different from ours.”

Yoongi turned to him, stared him down. When Nam Joon didn’t waver, he asked “How so?”

Nam Joon smiled wistfully, “It’s warmer. Humans create their own body heat, but I guess you need a heart for that,” Nam Joon paced as he spoke, “You’re right about the imperfections, scars do feel different. So do young people and the old. And the ones who have worked all of their lives, and the ones who had an easy life.”

Yoongi stopped rubbing his arm, “How do you know all of this?”

Nam Joon paused. He ran a hand through his grey hair and sighed. “There is an exception to the rule, besides your whole ‘healing people’ anomaly. If you knew the person when you were still alive, you can touch them without killing them,” Nam Joon couldn’t meet his gaze, he scratched the back of his head, “He created this rule near the beginning of time, when one of our Agents recovered all of his memories, and sought his family only to have them die in his arms. He implemented that rule so that we wouldn’t have a repeat of that event.”

Yoongi blinked at Nam Joon. He paused, absorbed all the information.

Abruptly, Yoongi sat upright, “You don’t have your living memories.”

“No.” Nam Joon agreed.

“But you found someone you once knew!”

“Yes, and he can’t see me. The universe is ed up like that,” Nam Joon spat.

“But you can touch him!”

“What good is it to touch someone, to be the ghost brushing against their arm when they can’t see you?”

Yoongi didn’t answer.

“You’re just wind to them,” Nam Joon said bitterly.

~~

Yoongi was reassigned to animals. He didn’t like them, but he didn’t dislike them, and that’s exactly what Nam Joon wanted.

His first assignment was a cat eaten by wild dogs. The actual body was mutilated beyond compare, but the soul was sweet, and purred against Yoongi’s leg. Yoongi smiled down at the cat as it strutted next to him up to heaven.

A bird perched on his shoulder.

A snake curled around his arm.

A deer nuzzling his back as it walks behind him.

These animals were more caring than he expected. He grew to love his job, had a newfound appreciation for beings that could communicate without words. But young deaths were still hard to swallow.

The black and brown puppy Yoongi’s palm. His body lied sideways on the sidewalk. But his soul jumped to try and Yoongi’s face. Yoongi laughed, “Calm down.”

“Yoongi?”

Yoongi looked up to find Jimin standing over him. He had grown. He was almost Yoongi’s height, though he still had the familiar chubby cheeks. Yoongi smiled, “Hey kid, good to see that you’re still alive.”

“You’re here,” Jimin smiled, “You’re a terrible guardian angel, I hardly see you.”

Yoongi rolled his eye, “How many times do I have to tell you? I’m not your guardian angel.”

“You have wings, that makes you an angel,” Jimin smiled as he sat on the sidewalk, across from Yoongi.

“Technically,” Yoongi shrugged,” but I’m not your angel.”

“If you’re not here for me then why are-” his expression quickly turned to one of confusion. His shoulders slumped, “That time at the hotel, they found a girl dead in her room. It was all over the news...”

Yoongi looked down at the sidewalk. Jimin followed his gaze to the puppy’s body lying on the sidewalk. Jimin swallowed.

“Was he yours?” Yoongi asked, tone apologetic.

“No. He was, um, my neighbor’s, the kid was so excited he walked him around the apartment building,” Jimin ran a hand through his hair, “He’s going to cry when he sees this.”

“Sorry,” it was hard to keep Yoongi’s somber expression when the puppy’s soul was his fingers.

Jimin sat back. Yoongi felt a familiar pang of guilt when he saw Jimin’s sad expression. “So this is what you do?” Jimin asked, “You… kill things?”

“No, I just collect the souls of the dying,” Yoongi explained.

Jimin nodded, he chewed on his bottom lip, “the first time I saw you… was I dying?”

Yoongi nodded, “You were my first assignment.”

“But I’m alive?”

Yoongi broke eye contact, “There was a mix up on the list, someone warned me before I could actually take you.”

“Oh,” naïve Jimin’s lips pulled into a smile. He reached out for Yoongi’s hand, Yoongi pulled away. “You’re not going to live long if you do that!” he shouted.

Jimin pouted, “It’s not like I’ll die if I touch you.”

“Yes it is!” Yoongi picked up the puppy’s soul, “I have to go, can you…” Yoongi waved vaguely at the puppy’s body on the ground.

“Sure,” Jimin smiled, Yoongi felt that odd warmth.

Jimin asked, “Will I see you again?”

Yoongi hesitated, “Maybe.”

Then he left.

~~

For Yoongi, it felt like no time at all until he was facing Jimin again, but it was enough for Jimin to grow tall enough that he was almost at eye level with Yoongi.

He was sitting on the roof, with a limp wild dove in his lap.

It’s neck was broken.

AN: Umm, I don't really have anything to say? I'm supposed to be packing but I'm procrastinating in the most productive way possible. Speaking of packing I probably won't update anything in a while. School's about to start, that's pretty important