Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Sometimes, Taehyung couldn’t breathe. It wasn’t because of sickness, or lack of air, or even as dramatic as murder. It was just because he didn’t want to. Because he didn’t need to. He was a being that had no need for circulation, a being that didn’t even exist in the mind of many humans. Hell, for many of his own kind, he himself existed only as a bad memory, a villain beaten and slain. Unbeknownst to them he lingered in the depths of Heaven, not exiled and not killed, rather alone and estranged from his species. Since turning to live at the very end of his realm, he had been forced to watch over the lives of humans. It was a punishment and a reward all at once.

The clouds on which he was perched on were always warm in an unpleasant way, being dangerously close to where Hell began. See, Heaven and Hell were not far from each other, not like humans wanted them to be. They were always at the brink of mixing, but they could not, because for both sides of good and bad to mix so intensely would simply create another Earth. This was why Taehyung was special. The angels in Heaven were ignorant, pretentious, and devoid of emotion. The demons in Hell were malicious, selfish, terrifying, but nobody could deny that they were happy. And Taehyung, Taehyung was a little bit of both, far more real in his own mind than either side, far more human. At least, that was what he told himself as he spread out his large, black and molting wings and looked down in the water before him.

Humans always wanted to be on one side or the other. They hated living in the middle, they hated trying to embrace their world in its entirety. Instead they begged for the void that was Heaven or the destruction that was Hell. They hated flaws and tried to be perfect, tried to be what an angel was in their minds, without realizing that not even angels were perfect. And none of them considered the robotic society that would form from the same morality floating among each and every one of its individuals. While Taehyung understood why they feared their dark world, he could not understand why anybody would want to live in Heaven.

There were some, devoid of morality and living as they wished, who were not good nor bad in the eyes of others, but perhaps a little strange. Those were the ones, strangely self-observant and intelligent, finding solace in learning about exactly how the flames curled before them. They had no religion, were often unconcerned with morality, and for some reason they tended to love music. Not listening to it, perhaps, but creating it. Playing it. They were painters, authors, their lives wrapped in thought and expression. Taehyung loved those individuals.

More accurately, Taehyung had loved one of those individuals. He folds his wings slowly, wishing for the feel of wind against his skin but no such thing exists in Heaven. “Minho,” He doesn’t turn to look at the approaching Fallen. A part of him couldn’t stand to see them- even if he was one of them, he hadn’t finished losing his wings yet. They were still, while dying upon his back, almost completely covered in feathers, even if the feathers had turned black. The Fallen, rare but existing, were groups of angels who had broken the rules. They were sent away, or like Taehyung, had escaped from a worse fate for a temporary time.

While normal angels were immortal, the Fallen could die, and they would die of age much like a human after their wings completely wilted away. It was one of the reasons he couldn’t bare to look at someone like Minho, no matter how close he was to them, because he knew that they would soon be erased from the universe. Angels didn’t have souls. They didn’t need them. The only evidence that Minho was even an angel now was the wounds upon his back where his wings used to sit.

“Are you watching them again, Taetae?” The male sits behind Taehyung, making no sound, because the only noise in heaven was the voices of angels. Taehyung stares into his reflection. He had dark skin and blonde hair that fell in his eyes, which shimmered with gold. His jaw was strong and he had a certain ethereal beauty, even with his wings in their sorry state. Somehow he himself was enraptured with the contrast. The mirrored pool ripples away to reveal a scene of humans, a group of seven, but completely still, as the seven were captured in a photograph on somebody’s desk. “No,” Taehyung sighs airily, “But I wish that I could, Minho.”

He hears the other draw in a breath, “Can you tell me again what music is like, Taehyung?” The man continues with a sad tone, “I know I’m going to die soon, Tae. I wish I could die hearing it.” Taehyung stares into the water and listens to the silence, wondering why angels couldn’t go insane. His remaining life would be much easier if he could lose consciousness of himself. Blankly, he murmurs, “It’s like every emotion you have ever felt. Every law you’ve ever broken. Every word you cannot say.”

Taehyung turns, looking Minho in the man’s eyes, the other’s glow dulled as he grew closer to death. “Music is freedom, Minho.” He whispers, “That’s why it’s illegal to sing. Because angels cannot be free.”

“Will you sing to me, Taehyung?” The blonde looks away, back into the pool, and feels a feather fall from his wings. After a moment of silence, Taehyung began to hum. He hummed quietly, beautifully, his voice echoing, because if the humans got anything right, it was that angels sounded like everything wonderful in the world. He sang the only tune he knew, the one forever etched into his mind. After a long time, he turned around.

And Minho was gone, replaced with crystal ashes, twinkling as they disappeared. Forever.

Chapter Text

His fingers drummed silently against the white wood of his desk, glowing eyes trained on them. He was sitting in a classroom, one decorated with a single color, the only contrast from the angels’ skintones. They were all different colors, save for their clothing, and moved about silently, their eyes shimmering with ice, nature, or treasure. Taehyung had heard a rumor a long time ago that humans thought someone was different depending on their skin color, but he couldn’t see why. In Heaven, an angel was the same as the other angel, even if they were opposite colors. A part of him wondered what it would be like to be truly different, to have something so simple create individuality. But he knew better than to think like that.

It wasn’t normal. It wasn’t accepted, and Taehyung was exactly like every other angel. His wings were large, white, and full. His emotions weren’t strong, for to feel anything strongly was to be like a demon. That was what his instructor, a dull and dark man with shiny green eyes, had told him. He often wondered if he was broken, for he looked around the classroom of unemotional faces, unfriendly, unhappy, and he felt something was wrong.

After class, he approaches a pale woman, her maroon hair tied in a tight bun and her eyes glowing blue. The clouds are stiff under him, much like everything else in Heaven.  He brushes this thought away,  scolding himself internally. “Is there something you need, Taehyung?” She speaks in a smooth, uninterested voice, and he straightens. “Only if you want to-” He breaks off awkwardly,  taking in the way she raises her brow in question. “I uh,”

“Angels do not get awkward, Taehyung. Be careful.” She spits dully, and the words sting, despite Taehyung telling them not to. “Have you heard anything new about Earth?” He gathers himself, keeping his voice monotonous and his head high, like he should. She doesn’t seem to buy into his act and her face tightens. “Are you messing with them again? You’re going to get yourself in trouble. You know better than to have interest in mortals. They are flawed.” Taehyung can tell that the woman is becoming angry.

Was that all an angel could be? Nothing or defied? Dull interest? Taehyung wanted to feel fire. He wanted to burn, wanted to feel pain, understand joy, he wanted to feel more than being blank. He wanted. He wanted so badly, and yet he knew he could not want something like that. He knew he should not care. He does not wince, staring at the woman evenly. “I’m done with my work for today.” He argues, voice steady, “And I find them…bemusing. Droll.”

The woman’s eyes flash sharply, “ Are you done, Taehyung?” She weaves venomously, “I will have to report you lying, if you aren’t. You shouldn’t be capable of such a sin.” She takes a glance at his wings, and he doesn’t make any movement. His expression remains the same. “I am not lying.” He answers coldly, “I was just interested. If you do not want to answer, you could have said no. It isn’t very angelic of you to drag this out.” Taehyung smiles sweetly and turns away, walking away and into a white fog.

He was walking for a while. He wondered what it felt like to be cold. To be warm. To be uncomfortable, or to be hurt badly. He wondered if the high would make him fear all of that. He wanted to know what it was to hate himself, to hate others. He wondered what it was like to have friends, to love. It seemed to him that the other angels didn’t know better than to think they were above petty emotion, not that they didn’t want to as well.

He wondered if he could teach them. Taehyung pauses, stretching out his wings and pushing down hard, easily launching into the air and soaring high. As he floated easily about the empty space that was Heaven, he thought about how useless an angel’s wings were now. Rumor had it, and just rumor, that angels had them because long ago, before they had them, a rebel started a war. And he went into Hell, a place with wind and fire and sensation. He met a man on Earth, as well, a man with a mark. A man with black wings, wings that kept him from malice, warned others that they could not kill him. The angel stole that man’s wings. And God, unhappy with that power imbalance, gave all his angels white wings.

But he was punished, ultimately. The first angel with wings was also the first Fallen. People say that he, too, could not die, even if given that fate. He had the original wings, the thing that had kept that man from murder, and no matter how it was looked at, his status was akin to murder for an angel. Thus, it was a common thing to hear about how, instead of death, he was simply doomed to Hell. Nobody except for God knew what really happened to him.

None of the angels really cared, but Taehyung couldn’t ignore the possibility that their wings had come from sin. From murder. They were once used to hunt down that man, to fly on Earth and invade Hell, as strong shields. But now they were nothing but decoration, an extension of an angel’s health and strength, but Heaven had no wind and no war. They were useless. He rises and lands on a small cloud, floating high above the “ground.”

He crosses his legs and folds his wings, staring down at the slow-moving society. He turns, suddenly aware of a presence behind him. “Hm? Who is there?” He looks over his shoulder, voice emotionless, as it should be. He blinks at the little shimmer he sees before him, the being staring into his eyes with shock. “U-Um.” It stutters, “I’m Jimin. I’m a human. I’ve been watching you all for a while.”

“A human?” Taehyung echoes flatly, raising a brow and looking over the figure as it climbs over the side of the cloud and straightens. He’s almost transparent, but Taehyung can see his features rather well. He has grey hair, pale skin, and is dressed almost entirely in black. He can’t help but stare at the assortment of strange colors. The man also has weird accessories, but Taehyung didn’t know what they were called. “Yeah! Ah- I’m a witch?” Jimin tugs on his sleeves awkwardly, “I like watching angels and sometimes demons, but I’ve never spoken to one before. Are you, uh, angry?”

Taehyung blinks at Jimin, “Angry?” He repeats, face blank. “If you are, I’m sorry. You’re all just so interesting!” Jimin sighs, and Taehyung raises both his eyebrows, feeling muted surprise. “No. I’m not.” He responds curtly, and Jimin giggles with excitement. Taehyung has never heard that sound before. “Great! So, does that mean we can talk?” The boy rushes closer, politely avoiding the angel’s wings, and sits next to him, cupping his own face. Taehyung stares, perplexed. “If you want to.” He moves his blonde hair out of his eyes and Jimin squeals with excitement. “Oh, this is so cool! You’re so handsome, too! I’ve never even seen one up close…” Jimin looks down at himself with purpose, as if he were looking for something, but then pauses. “Right. No point in writing anything down.”

“Ah! So! How old are you? Er- What’s your name?” The grey-haired boy smiles cutely. Taehyung taps his knee, “My name is Taehyung. I’m…” He trails off, thinking, “Around 2,000 years old, I think.” At that, Jimin widens his eyes, “Really? How long do angels live, then?” He blabs with enthusiasm, and Taehyung shrugs slowly. “We’re immortal. We can be killed or erased by God, but otherwise we live forever. Or… well, if you break a law, you can die on a time limit like a human.” Taehyung looks down at his white suit and rolls his lips inward. “They’re called Fallen.”

Jimin taps Taehyung’s shoulder quickly, “Like, fallen or dark angels?” He chirps, “Those are so cool! They’re really popular on Earth in writing and cosplay and character design and art and stuff! My band, we’ve recently written a story to portray through our music videos about them!” The boy sighs happily, leaning back and collapsing on the cloud. “These are really soft! And it’s so warm here, it’s lovely.” At this, Taehyung tilts his head, eyes glittering. “Soft? Warm?” He puts a hand on Jimin’s lower arm, “You can feel those things? Even here?” He keeps his voice steady, but he knows he’s doing a poor job. He has no idea the word for the dull emotion he feels.

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I?” Jimin meets the angel’s eyes curiously, not moving his arm. Absently, he murmurs, “Wow. I can’t even feel your hand.” The angel blinks at him, “None of the angels, and nobody who lives here, can feel anything. I can’t feel your skin. I can’t feel this cloud. Heaven could be warm, cold as your arctic, or on fire, and I wouldn’t notice. Why do you want to be in a place like that? Why are you here, Jimin?” He doesn’t know why his voice shrinks as he finishes speaking. The other boy gapes at him in surprise. “On Earth, Heaven is seen as an end goal. It’s where every human wants to go. We all want to be angels, warm, happy, in paradise.” He sits up, looking the angel over. Taehyung shakes his head, “Paradise?” He spits. He doesn’t know why he feels a new, pulsating anger. It’s stronger than anything he’s ever felt. “What paradise?”

“Taehyung! Get away from that human.” A new voice shocks him out of his anger, and he turns his head swiftly to look at the woman from before. She was hovering, glaring at Jimin, two other angels behind her, holding weapons. The woman speaks directly to Jimin, her voice loud, but still monotonous. “Leave, human. Your kind is not welcome here!” She raises her volume, hovering closer, and Taehyung feels a sudden bolt of something new. It twists in his stomach. He moves in front of Jimin, eyes bright and fiery. “Hey! Leave him alone, he was just visiting! What’s wrong with that?! Nothing new ever happens here anyway!” He screams. “It’s worse than we thought.” The woman brushes his words away easily and returns to the human. Taehyung reaches out to grab her, but before he can, he faintly feels a prick on his shoulder. And suddenly, he’s asleep.

“Are you awake yet, Taehyung?” The first thing he heard when he woke up was the woman, her voice steady as always. He looks at her and sits up, frowning. “Where is the human?” He ventures, sounding as normal once more. “We forced him to go home. That is all. We are not cruel, Taehyung. We are angels. The example.”  Taehyung nods, “Right.” He furrows his brow, trying to summon up the emotion he had felt before blacking out. All that he feels is a barely-there ache. “What was that? Why was… why did I feel so strongly?” He looks up at the woman. She narrows her eyes at him. “When a human is around an angel in Heaven, they are often there because they have broken the barrier. Their high capacity for emotion transfers over to an angel if the two touch, some wicked form of empathy, and you’re very lucky you did not break a rule in that state.”

The blonde says nothing, flexing his hands. “His name was Jimin.” He murmurs, “He had grey hair. He was in a-a band. I don’t know what a band is. And he was so happy. He was excited. Why can’t we be happy? What’s wrong with being happy?” Taehyung gazes at her pleadingly, but she is, as expected, unmoved. “Happiness often comes from sin, Taehyung. You would not want to be happy if you realized that.”

“Then what’s wrong with sin? If something good comes from it, aren’t we created from it too?” He stands strongly, watching the woman with hard eyes, emotion fading from them quickly. “No. We are the absence of sin. Why else would we be perfect?” She rolls her eyes. “Well,” Taehyung spreads his wings, preparing to escape. He had felt emotion. He had felt it as clearly as day, and he wanted to feel it again. So he launches into the air. Determined to find a way to humanity again. “Maybe we’re not perfect.”

Chapter Text

Taehyung fled then, flying as fast as he could as far as he could. He heard the red angel calling for him, a frustrated tone in her voice, but he ignored it. He dove, passing easily through the first layer of cloud. A part of him wondered why he was acting so recklessly when such things should not matter to him, but instead of slowing, he only moved faster. He had felt fire. He had felt. He wanted to feel more, to experience, not to float around aimlessly in a white void for the rest of his immortal life.

“Taehyung?” A loud, snarky voice interrupts him, forcing him to halt and causing him to turn around curiously. He felt a strange creeping sensation at the bottom of his ribs, felt a fiery warmth spreading throughout his arms. He felt uncertain, somewhat apprehensive as if he were about to do something horrible. Before he can think more about it, he feels himself be dragged downwards, towards the ground, as it met face-to-face with a grinning demon, its eyes crinkling deviously. “Yes, it’s you.” The figure snarls, reaching out to dig its long black claws into Taehyung’s shoulder. He can’t feel more than a pinch, but it still makes him raise a brow in discomfort. The demon’s black eyes widen and shrink with intrigue. “So you’re the angel Luci wanted me to go after? You don’t look like you’d be fun to play with…” It giggles sweetly, trailing its sentence with a disappointed tone.

Taehyung stares blankly at the demon, arguing with himself internally. “You see!” The demon releases the angel and paces around him, its hoofs leaving burn marks in the clouds, which Taehyung didn’t think was possible- but then, he supposes that the clouds aren’t actually real. No atmosphere. “Our boss, the infamous Lucifer, got a call for  help by a little witch. The thing had crept its way into Hell somehow, and thought Lucifer would help! Ah, that small naive boy, but- now I am here to offer you a deal!” The demon giggles. “Tell me your name.” Taehyung demands monotonously, and the demon’s expression drops.

“Hey, no. Only if we make a deal can I tell you my name, you know the rules, angel-bean.” It pauses, looking contemplative, “How about this, I give you a soul wandering aimlessly, without purpose in the Summerland. No person attached, it’s yours.” The demon taps Taehyung’s shoulder, sending hot flashes through him. The blonde winces, nervous with the situation. Demons were the embodiment of passionate emotion, the embodiment of sin, and for a demon to touch an angel was to curse that angel somehow. He supposed this curse was pain and emotion, for he knew before answering what his answer would be. It dragged on his stomach awfully. “And what use do I have for a soul?” He murmurs, voice rough, and the demon just snickers. “What use? Why, angel-bean, pure amusement. But if that’s not enough, the only beings with souls are the ones on Earth. So, angel-bean, don’t you want to be human?”

Taehyung widens his eyes, stepping back, wings folded tightly. “I would be a Fallen.” He whispers, but the demon shakes its head wickedly, “No, you’d be a human. And last time I checked, angels don’t bother those. How can you be punished if you’re not even an angel?”  The demon flicks its long, hairy red tail and returns to pacing, watching Taehyung as it licks its lips. “I don’t know much about being human. I couldn’t-” The demon pounces maliciously, “That’s why you should do it! Isn’t it all you want? Emotion, mortality, friends, maybe even love? Think about how much you could learn. And if it helps, angel-bean, be optimistic like you angels always disgustingly are! Maybe you return to Heaven somehow, get help from that witch friend,” It laughs coldly, “And reinvent society. You’d be, well, an angel, angel-bean.”

The angel stares blankly at the demon, but the argument had been won a long time ago. “Let me make my conditions, first.” The demon snarls irritably, but lets the blonde continue, grey skin tightening. “You must tell me your name. I will not use it against you. You know mine, and you will not use mine against me. I suppose even as a human I will retain some angelic quality, yes? I do not trust demons in hold of my name.” The demon rolls its eyes and nods excitably, “Yes, yes! I agree! Now, just say yes, Taehyung.” It dances in the hesitation the angel holds, giggling louder and louder as the seconds past.

“Yes.”

“Great! Name’s Ximikkorev, but you can call me Jackson! I guess since you have my name I have to watch you pretty closely… Damn humans.” The angel narrows his eyes for a second, but they quickly return to normal. He did suppose he was soon to be human. A part of him was fully aware he had just fucked up, majorly so, but another was proud that he could defy the angels so forwardly. He felt empowered, though it was likely the demon’s effect that brought the emotion. The demon taps its chin thoughtfully, “I suppose I could drop you where that little witch lived… So, Seoul it is. Have fun, angel-bean.”

The demon looks up at him sharply. And that’s all Taehyung can remember before he blacks out for the second time and feels, for the first time, the violent and icy sensation of wind- as he was suddenly falling, world spinning and dark, to the winter ground of Seoul, South Korea.

Chapter Text

Taehyung’s body slowed as he came closer to the ground, the wind having turned his skin contrasting shades of pink and red. He slammed into the snow and breaks into a coughing fit, shaking from the force of each cough. His entire body is tight with pain, icy flames lapping up and curling into his skin. The flame refused to shrink and simmer, burning Taehyung unbearably.  He hadn’t opened his eyes. They were screwed shut, his face scrunched. Desperately, he tries to roll over and push himself up with his hands.

His hand slides forward and he collapses, face first, into the snow. He yelps as needles shoot through his skin and scrambles to stand up. Once he’s balanced on his feet, hair matted to his forehead, he rubs at his eyes with freezing hands and forces them open. He’s standing in a small layer of shiny snow, the sky grey with looming storm clouds. He was standing in the large middle between two large dull brown buildings with a lot of glass windows. Some had ratty curtains, others had weird white things. He noted that some of those white things were higher on the window than others for some reason.

A loud bang scares him out of his observation. He swings his head around, eyes flitting around for the source. “Hey! Dumbass!” He flinches, seeing a large, terrifying machine approach him, little crystals spitting out from its back end. He screeches in panic and darts over to the building, grabbing the wall and pressing his body to it. “Stay out of the road, you fuckin’ retard!” Taehyung winces with each word. He glances down at the middle part he had just been standing in. Road. Don’t stand in dark grey area between buildings. He could do this.

The blonde shivers, crawling along the side of the building and stalking up the steps with caution. He presses a hand to the glass door. The warmth from within sends goosebumps up his arm. Curious, he pulls on the handle and is blasted with a gust of heat. He widens his eyes and steps into the building with almost comical excitement. The inside is just as run down as the outside, the ugly yellow wallpaper rolling off the walls, the carpet short, brown, and scratchy on his bare feet. There’s a large brown thing on the wall that resembles a picture frame with nothing on it, except there are thin white papers with writing on it glued down half of it, and flyers pinned to the other half. A long snore draws his attention and he notices a thin, pale, but intimidating, man leaning back in his chair, feet on the counter in front of him and his head bent down. He wore a stale blue shirt and black tie, his slacks dark blue and his hat matching his trousers.

Taehyung decides to ignore the sleeping snake and he approaches the brown frame, silently grateful as he felt his body warm up. The air was stale and crisp and perhaps a little too hot, but Taehyung was grateful to be out of the cold. He looks over the little papers. They’re full of symbols he hadn’t seen before, but for some reason, they made sense to him. “Choi Youngjae,” He whispers, “Im Jaebum, Jung Hoseok, Kim Namjoon, Kim Seokjin, Park…” Taehyung leans in and narrows his eyes at the paper. “Jimin? Jimin is here?” He looks at the stairwell curiously, but then grimaces when he sees that the railing is made of chipped, light brown and unpolished wood and the carpet poorly follows the floor upstairs. He glances at the sleeping man.

Awkwardly, he pokes at the man’s shoulder. When nothing happens, he pokes again. The man slaps his hand away tiredly, grunting. “Excuse me?” Taehyung pokes him again, surprised when his voice naturally sounds monotonous. He supposes old habits die hard. The man looks up at him pointedly, “Eh, what do you need? Autograph? And why’re you dressed like that?” Taehyung quickly looks down. He’s still wearing his white suit, but it feels to him like it isn’t there. He pokes at the clothing curiously. He can’t feel it under his finger, and all he feels is his own skin. “Wait, what do you think I’m wearing?”

“Uh, well, you’re dressed like you’re too rich to be in here. White suit? Come on, man.” The man raises an eyebrow when Taehyung nods, slightly relieved. At least people don’t see him barely dressed. “Okay.” He murmurs, tone blank, “Park Jimin’s name is on that paper on the brown thing, does that mean he’s here?” The man raises both his eyebrows and puffs out a breath, taking off his hat to reveal slicked back black hair. He looks exasperated. “You mean the name tags on the bulletin board? Jesus. Yeah, he’s here. Why are you looking for him though? You got business with my boyfriend?”

Taehyung tilts his head, “Boyfriend?” He deadpans, “Does that mean that he’s a male friend? Or are you, um, what’s that word? Married?” The man rolls his eyes, “No, kid, it means we’re in love and like to fuck. You foreign or something? Now, what do you want with Jimin?” Taehyung blinks at him in confusion. “I met him yesterday.” He answers, “He offered to see me later! So I’m here.” Taehyung glances at the stairwell. The man rolls his eyes, “Well. You do seem like the opposite of dangerous, so go ahead. I don’t care. The apartment is A-3.”

“A-3?”
“First floor, second on the left.”

Taehyung nods at him. He walks towards the stairs and pauses, “Um! What’s your name?” He looks back at the man, who grunts irritably at the question, rocking forward in his chair to set all legs on the ground. “Min Yoongi. You?” He crosses his arms, and Taehyung flashes a smile, testing it out. “Taehyung. Er-” He pauses. The bulletin had mostly Kims on it. “Um, Kim. Kim Taehyung.” Yoongi gives him an undecipherable look but says nothing, so Taehyung continues on up the stairs.

He stops on the first floor and stares down the hallway. The building’s condition is the same throughout, it seems. The carpet is more worn out here but the walls are a little more kempt. The doors have words in several different languages scratched into them, wood chipped and gross, just like the railing. The hall is dim from only being lit by two yellow-colored lights on the ceiling, one of which was flickering every few seconds. Taehyung cautiously approaches what he thinks is the right door.

After a moment of consideration, he attempts to turn the painted-gold knob. It refuses to turn. He tries again, but all that comes of it is some of the paint chipping off into his hand. The blonde blinks in confusion. How was he supposed to get to Jimin if he was behind a door that wouldn’t open? “Jimin?” He calls, “Are you in there?”

To his surprise, the knob turns beneath his hand and the door swings inwards, revealing a tired-looking, grey-haired man. “Wait.” The man straightens instantly. His room is dark behind him, so Taehyung can’t see any details about the room, but Jimin is wearing baggy, soft-looking clothing. His hair is messy and a little greasy as if unwashed. “Wait!” Jimin’s eyes widen in shock, “Taehyung?!” He looks the blonde over with fast eyes before pulling him by the cuff of his suit into his apartment. Taehyung hears a small flit and the room bursts with light. Surprised, he glances up at the glass dome on the ceiling it had appeared from. It matched the flickering one in the hall.

Jimin pushes him over and sits him on one of the two brown leather couches in the room. He sits on the one opposite to Taehyung’s, a polished wood coffee table sitting between them. Taehyung curls his fingers in the soft rug and looks around, ignoring the perplexed stare Jimin is giving him. The walls are better kempt here, painted red, and the floor was shiny brown wood. He supposes Jimin cared a lot about upkeep, while the landlord themselves couldn’t care less about what happened to their building as long as it made money. He brings his eyes over the many dark-wood bookcases pressed against the wall, all of them filled to the brim except for one, which was halfway full. “You have a lot of books,” Taehyung murmurs admiringly.

“Oh- most of it is from Yoongi, that’s who I live with. Um, I live with my boyfriend. I can’t introduce you to him though; the man works too much and he’s probably asleep on the job. He’s really respected in the apartment, y’know, being one of the most lax security guards and also being pretty serious. He’s also a part of my band, the one I mentioned before. You see, he and Namjoon- who also lives in this apartment- were two of the first members. I was the last. Though, I was actually one of the first to be considered in joining. I was always interested and fascinated by the idea of joining a band! But at the time I abandoned it, so. Ah! Sorry, I’m rambling! I’m just really surprised.” Jimin goes over and lights the furnace in the corner of the room. “So, you have some explaining to do.” He puts the blue and black thing he had used to light the fire down on a bookshelf and returns to the couch, crossing his legs when he gets there.

Taehyung sucks in a breath, watching the fire roar and curl in the white dome fireplace. The building had been too hot downstairs but he had felt a biting chill upon walking up, as though the hot air had a hard time travelling throughout the rooms. He glances down at the sofas. “I’m getting water on it.” He shifts on the cushion. “That’s fine. What happened?” Jimin leans forward, propping his elbows on his knees and resting his chin on two fists. “After the angels got rid of you and I woke up back in Heaven, I decided that I wanted to be close to humanity again.” Taehyung rubs his arm. To Jimin it looks like he’s rubbing the fabric, but all Taehyung can feel is his skin. He’s surprised to note that it is warm and a little fuzzy because of his arm hair.

“I dunno. She said that when an angel is touched by a human, the empathy a normal human has causes an angel to have more intense emotions. I guess I liked that? But as I was flying, I met a demon. Jackson.” At this, Jimin snorts, “That’s funny. Nice name for a demon.” Taehyung nods, suppressing a small giggle. “Well, obviously it isn’t his real name. But I think Jackson fits him anyway.” He wiggles his toes enthusiastically, liking the soft red rug. “Well, anyway,” Taehyung notices his voice beginning to drip with tone. It sounded foreign to him. “Jackson said that Lucifer had sent for me. I don’t know who Lucifer is but I assume it is probably another fake name.”

Jimin gapes at him in disbelief. “You’re an angel and you don’t know who Lucifer is?” He practically shouts this. Vaguely, Taehyung hears an angry yelp resembling the words “shut up” from somewhere in the building, but he dismisses it. “No. Why would I?” Jimin lets out a small gasp, looking him up and down as if he had sprouted wings. Or, no, maybe that wouldn’t actually surprise Jimin. More accurately, he looked at him as if he had turned into a mutant. “ Everyone knows who Lucifer is. Even nonreligious people. He’s a Fallen. The story for most people tends to be the same. He got jealous, fell from glory, his followers became demons, blah. But.” Jimin glances at his bookshelves, and Taehyung follows the shift.

“I read a book a long time ago that had their own opinions. An angel, powerful and strong, who became jealous of humanity. ” Taehyung straightens with intrigue, “He became so envious that it was all he could feel, and he escaped from Heaven, which brought upon him God’s wrath. He had fled to Earth as an angel and stole the mark of Cain from Cain himself, killing the man in the process and blaming the death on a collapsed house. That was how he became known as Satan, as his being was then corrupted by murder, envy, wrath. And the mark doomed him to vengeance six times over.” Jimin hums thoughtfully, “So God, angry with Lucifer, gave his angels beautiful white wings to make them all better than him. They went after him but he was an expert manipulator. The angels that did come across him often ended up supporting him, his tales of grandeur and happiness very persuasive. So he easily escaped into Hell and God, afraid he would lose more angels, left Lucifer alone. But not before dubbing him as Satan to humanity, casting a fear in any one of our hearts, that he might come and destroy us. He didn’t originally want to hurt anyone after that, but the hatred humanity had for him drove his corruption further. Now he is the beast and suffers every moment of his life.”

Taehyung stares, wide-eyed, at Jimin. “ That’s him?” He rubs the back of his neck. “I’m only around 2,000 years old. We’re not told anything about Lucifer, just that he deserved his punishment, and most of us assume that he died off. I mean, some of us theorize that he hadn’t been able to die and was sentenced to Hell as a result, but I didn’t think…” Taehyung sighs angrily, sliding sideways on the couch and stretching his legs. Jimin chuckles at him quietly. “Do you want a change of clothes, by the way? Your suit is nice and all, but since it is from Heaven, I’m slightly scared it’ll just disappear any moment. I read angels don’t have genitals and I really don’t want to find out.”

“...We have genitals, Jimin. Plus, I’m human.”

“Rigght, well as magnificent as your junk probably is, being an angel and all, I still don’t want to see it.” Taehyung snorts at that and shakes his head, “Humans are weird.” Despite his words, he nods at Jimin, watching him as he jumps up and runs away to find a clothes that might fit him.

Chapter Text

“Where are you taking me?” Taehyung stares at his friend. Jimin was dragging him down an icy dull brown path he had called a sidewalk by the hand, interlocking their fingers. The grey-haired man looks back at him, an enthusiastic glitter in his eyes.

“I have rehearsal! I’m taking you so that you can get out and make friends. I’m sure you’ll get along with them.” The man pulls Taehyung around a corner. He had stuffed Taehyung into a large blue coat and black leather pants because they were the only thing that fit him. Beneath the coat, he had a long white shirt that had been ripped at the bottom just above the hem. He was wearing sandals. In other words, he looked a mess. Jimin had promised to take him shopping later.

Jimin whisks him into a large brown building and up to an elevator. Taehyung shifts awkwardly in the too-small sandals. “Who are your friends?” He questions, fidgeting nervously. He had been bombarded with a lot of things in the last few days. He had apparently landed in Seoul, South Korea, on December 30th of 2016. Jimin decided that the day would become his new birthday, just in case anybody asked or he stuck around long enough to celebrate next year. Yoongi, while begrudgingly, had allowed him to stay and sleep on the couch with a brief begging from Jimin. He didn’t know who Taehyung was or where he was from really, but Jimin had lied and said he was from Daegu. The lie got Yoongi to like him significantly more at least.

For now, Jimin had been forcing him to read random articles and books to help get him acquainted with the human world a bit more. He hadn’t gotten a chance to take Taehyung out anywhere until then, so he had spent a week alone in Jimin and Yoongi’s apartment. “Kim Namjoon- I mentioned him before. Kim Seokjin, Jung Hoseok, and Jeon Jungkook. Yoongi should already be there. Oh- and Jae Eun! You’ll love all them, trust me! Just, not too much, please? I don’t think it would be good if you fell in love, being an angel and all that. But if you do, woohoo anyway!” Jimin shoves Taehyung into a studio.

He’s met with six pairs of similarly colored eyes. He raises a hand, chuckling awkwardly and flitting his gaze around with uncertainty. “Hi.” He coughs. Jimin grins excitedly behind him and steps over to Yoongi, who had been playing the piano before they interrupted him.

“Meet my new friend! His name is Taehyung, I brought him to meet you guys and watch us rehearse.”

“We only have one song.” Yoongi grimaces at Jimin.

“Nice to meet you!” The tallest man in the room, a handsome faced and blonde haired person wearing the very definition of awful fashion, smiles brightly at Taehyung and bows at him respectfully. Taehyung tilts his head. Jimin coughs at him, making him snap up in alert and quickly bow back.

“You too!” He smiles, looking between the others. Everyone had a microphone but only a few had instruments. The second tallest, a muscular man with a baby face, brunette hair, and a little bit of make-up hidden acne that made him look cute and young, had stopped staring at Taehyung and had returned to messing around with the drum set he sat behind. A broad-shouldered, pretty male with pink hair was tuning a guitar next to him.

An orange-haired man was jamming excitedly to a beat that Taehyung could hear even though he was wearing headphones, and a strawberry blonde, scrawny and feminine looking male was tapping at his phone as he played with the microphone in front of him. “So, Taehyung! This is Namjoon.” Jimin puts a hand on the tallest in the room, “And this is Hoseok,” He points at the orange-haired man.

“This is Seokjin,” He ruffles the pretty man’s pink hair, “Jae Eun,” Jimin glances at the strawberry blonde. The small boy scoffs and shoves his phone in his pocket. “And last but not least, our youngest, Jungkook!”

Jungkook looks up from his drums for a second, meeting Taehyung’s eyes. He quickly looks back down. For some reason, Taehyung doesn’t like him much, him and Jae Eun reek of unfriendliness. Jungkook had a cynical air to him while Jae Eun was wrapped in the flames of pretentiousness. Living with angels for 2,000 plus years had made such things very easy to spot. “What’s your band called, Jimin?” Taehyung rubs his arm, stepping over to the corner of the room awkwardly.

“BTS! Er, Bulletproof Boys. And it isn’t actually my band. Namjoon hyung is the leader.”

“Oh. Well, awesome! I’ve never heard music before.”

That gets the group to look at him in confusion. Taehyung tightens his lips before awkwardly punching out a few laughs. Jimin quickly jumps in to save him, “He probably means the type of music we play. He spent most of his time isolated on a farm, so he didn’t have much wifi and didn’t go out much.”

“He sounds like a fuckin’ alien to me.” Jae Eun snaps, stepping back a little so that he can lean on the wall. Taehyung sinks into himself. He had never been directly insulted and had it hurt before. Sure, Yoongi had made sarcastic comments against him, but other than that he had been nice. A part of him had got used to the niceness humans had.

Jimin shoots Jae Eun a glare, “He’s not an alien!” He mutters defensively, using a forceful voice. The strawberry blonde rolls his eyes.

“What type of fucking alien has never heard hip hop before? And why’d he just word it like that?”

It’s Jungkook who defends Taehyung this time, much to the platinum blonde’s surprise. “Jae Eun, shut up. Nobody cares except for you.” The brunette tightens what Taehyung thinks is called a knob on one of the pieces of his drumset, “Plus, unlike you, the new guy is kind of cute.”

“Oh, thank you!” Taehyung grins, his mouth forming a joyful box-shape and his eyes crinkling. Jungkook’s eyes widen for a moment before he quickly looks away in silence. Jae Eun scoffs for the millionth time, eyes furrowing so he would glare at nothing in particular. Taehyung’s face drops. He sinks into the corner, but only for a second, because Hoseok has finally pulled his earplugs out and was walking over to him with an excited glimmer in his eyes.

And then Hoseok screams. And jumps up and down. Taehyung is taken so far aback that he is completely stiff for a second before the mood infects him and he is laughing, grinning just as brightly as the other. He had never seen someone as happy as Hoseok before, and for some reason, it made his heart swell. He still wasn’t exactly used to feeling. His emotions became high highs and low lows, nothing in between, and Jimin excused it by saying he didn’t know what a medium was yet. He supposed it was true. After so long feeling nothing, everything now felt like he was being hit with a train, even when they were close to what he felt in Heaven. “I like him!” Hoseok throws his arm around Taehyung, getting a small laugh out of him.

“Whatever. Let’s just practice.” Jae Eun wraps his hands around the microphone, looking between the band members expectantly. Taehyung notices Namjoon flash a glare in the strawberry blonde’s direction, but the leader eventually just sighs and nods. Jimin rushes to the microphone next to Jae Eun. Jungkook spins his drumsticks and Yoongi places his fingers. Seokjin’s hands fit onto the strings of his guitar and Hoseok rushes to a spot next to Namjoon.

When the music starts, Taehyung isn’t sure what to expect. He doesn’t know how to react, but the tune becomes engraved in his head. For some reason, he feels like moving. So he taps his finger with Jungkook’s drum, unsure of what else to do. Suddenly, Jungkook’s voice fills the room on top of the music. The platinum blonde’s body tenses, a strange emotion bubbling and rolling through him. His eyes train on the boy’s face. He could see so much in just the other’s eyes. It was such a polar difference from angels that he found himself entranced, and he ended up staring at Jungkook for the rest of the song.

“So did you like it?” Namjoon’s voice pokes at him. He blinks a few times in confusion, finally ripping his eyes away from the youngest with reluctance.

Taehyung nods slowly, “It was beautiful.”

“Hah! The song or Jungkook?” Jimin teases, a toothy smirk creeping up his face as Taehyung flushed. The blonde’s face burned and he wasn’t exactly sure why, but he felt intensely embarrassed.

“The, um, the song!” Taehyung stammers out his response, his eyes flickering back to Jungkook. The youngest is playing with his hair and staring down at the drumset with a particular focus.

“I for one, thought it sounded stupid. We’ve been working on this song forever and sugar over there hasn’t even made another one. Not that this one was any good anyway.” Jae Eun crosses his arms. Yoongi’s eyes flash and the next thing Taehyung knows, the room’s atmosphere has become freezing and fiery at the same time.

“Do you not know how hard Yoongi works on songs?” Seokjin growls, putting his guitar on the ground next to him.

“Not hard enough, we sound like trash.”

“Maybe it wouldn’t if you didn’t have the voice of a dying cat.” Yoongi stands up and steps away from the piano, stalking closer to Jae Eun with a dangerous aura. Taehyung stalks over to Jimin for protection as the tension threatened to choke everyone in the room.

“At least I’m not a fucking faggot.”

Seokjin gets up at the speed of lightning. He draws his arm back and Taehyung winces as the pink-haired man brings his hand down upon the strawberry blonde’s cheek. The taller leans in, a deadly look on his face, “Get the fuck out of this studio, Jae Eun.” Seokjin threatens. Jae Eun glances at Namjoon, but the tallest just looks the other way.

“You’re out of the band.” Namjoon murmurs.

“What?! You’re all fucking faggots anyway! Fuck you!”

“Get slammed on the way out.” Yoongi returns to his piano, quickly calming and easily playing a pretty-sounding song. Jimin walks over to him and presses his lips to his cheek in an attempt to comfort him.