jikook for life

The way he kissed you felt like he was hungry. Jungkook wasn’t hesitant or gentle, the way he kissed was something dangerously close to desperation.

And what shocked you most was that you kissed him back, you matched his pace instinctively.

And you enjoyed every second of it. 

It was a demanding and consuming kiss, like Jungkook had been deprived of something for far too long. Your hands gripped his shoulders, holding on as if you might fall otherwise.

The kiss deepened, slower for a few seconds before it turned greedier, as if something inside Jungkook that has been locked away for centuries, is now finally free.

And now that it is, there was no stopping it.

♡━━━ Start of NSFW ━━━♡

The world turned even more blurry as Jungkook’s hands roamed around your body. His touch felt electric and possessive. The making out session alone felt out of this world, and now his touch practically sent you to heaven.

You were not unaware of what is potentially going to happen and you did not mind it. It has been awhile for you too and you’re assuming it’s the same for him, since he’s been here for hundreds of years.

You did second guess yourself, were you really going to fuck a demon?

The rational answer would be no and that this was a being from another completely different realm that you spent months being terrified of.

So yeah, the obvious and rational answer was: absolutely not. 

But then Jungkook’s lips moved against yours and your brain, which have been making pretty reasonable points, just went completely offline. It just shuts itself down. 

You did wonder for a few seconds whether demons just have that sensual aura within them that makes it so hard for other beings to resist them.

You weren’t expecting anything, but it was not this. It was not the way Jungkook is kissing you like he has been starving for this. 

Whatever you were about to decide, whatever the rational conclusion was going to be, it became immediately and completely irrelevant the moment you registered what was actually happening. 

The way he kissed you was not the way anyone, any human, has ever kissed you. It was not comparable to anything in your past relationships and experiences. 

It was…. thorough, that was the only word that came to mind, which was a ridiculous word to use to describe a kiss, but was also the only accurate one you could think of. 

It was like Jungkoook identified exactly what you wanted, what you needed, and what you have been dreaming of in a kiss, and he obeyed and listened to all of it, and delivered it perfectly.

It was no wonder that angels go to demons for sex, even by the way Jungkook is kissing you, you knew this was going to be the best sex of your life.

You could feel Jungkook moving his hand down to the waistband of your pants. With a sound of pent-up need, he yanked them down, exposing your skin to the cool temperature. But you weren’t sure if it was just cold outside, or if it was his body radiating the cold.

His fingers were wasting no time in playing with your pussy. His fingertips softly touched your sensitive clit, making your cheeks flushed red. You gasped against his mouth, your pussy was already wet and needy from the heat between the two of you.

Jungkook rubbed your pussy from the outside before you could feel his long fingers circling your clit and putting two fingers inside you. 

“Oh, Jungkook,” you moaned, “that feels so fucking good!" you moaned as your hips started moving itself, taking his long fingers deep inside you. 

The sensation was overwhelming, and a rush of pleasure made you drop your head against his shoulders.

Jungkook shoved his fingers deeper into your wet pussy, making you moan loud enough that you instinctively placed a hand against your mouth because Taehyung was home, and the last thing you would want is for him to rush upstairs to check on you.

Your nails scratched against his wings out of pleasure, while his fingers pumped in and out of you.

At this point, you could feel Jungkook’s cock against his pants, and you just knew the size of it would literally take you out. 

It was torment for Jungkook, especially after seeing how completely red your face was. He couldn’t help but smile in satisfaction.

He wanted to fuck you right here and now, but he needed to make you even more wet than you are now, as his cock would only be hurting you if he didn’t. 

Jungkook also knew that him being a Demon would have driven your body to want him, even without you realising it.

Still, Jungkook was proud of himself for thinking this way, it meant that lust hasn’t completely taken over him. If it did, he would be fucking you without even thinking about how you would feel. 

For now, Jungkook focused on you.

As Jungkook’s fingers went deeper into your wet and throbbing pussy, your moans grew louder, there were different waves of pleasure that you felt with each thrust of his fingers. After a few more thrusts, Jungkook yanked his fingers out, leaving you panting, before crushing his mouth against yours in a rough kiss. 

You want him.

You want him so bad, your hands started fumbling at his waistband. You struggled with it for a few seconds, before finally freeing his big cock from the weight of his hundreds of years of torment.

Your legs wrapped tighter around his waist as Jungkook pinned you more firmly against the wall. Jungkook positioned himself at the entrance of your pussy, the tip of his cock teasing your swollen pussy, leaving his tip now wet with your juices. 

With his brows furrowed, Jungkook thrusted his dick into you with dominant force, burying himself deep inside your tight human pussy. Though it wasn’t your first time, the pain and pleasure was so great that you couldn’t breathe for a few seconds. 

Not in a million years did Jungkook ever think he would be fucking a human. 

He couldn’t help but be disgusted by the thought of humans, but looking at the way you are needy for him, for his cock, he pounded into you with even more force. 

You cried out, a blend of shock and ecstasy, as he filled you completely, his size stretching you in ways that combined pain and pleasure into one overwhelming sensation. Each powerful stroke drove the both of you towards the edge, and all this time he was thrusting in you, his eyes locked on yours, revealing to you the depth of his yearning and hunger. 

“You’re so fucking tight,” Jungkook moaned against your ear, making you throw your head back. It was so hot to hear what he felt while his cock was inside you.

As your bodies slammed together fast and hard, Jungkook grabbed your breasts through your shirt and ripped your shirt open. Your hard nipples popped out and Jungkook wasted no second to pinch and twist them. He fondled your breasts with one hand, before lowering his head to leave hickeys around your breasts. 

Jungkook started sucking your nipples after leaving hickeys all around your chests, and you moaned against his ear which made him thrust his cock even deeper into your wet and dripping cunt. 

With every thrust, Jungkook drove you towards pleasure you have never imagined, it was literally out of this world pleasure. His massive cock filled you so completely that your inner walls clung to him, every inch of him hitting your spots sent shockwaves of pleasure radiating through your whole body. 

You arched your back, and your breasts were bouncing freely, begging for more as his hands gripped your waist, pulling you down to meet his thrusts. The way Jungkook moved so aggressively turned your moans into breathless whimpers.

When you were about to cum, Jungkook slowed down just enough to press his mouth against yours. You melted into him, your fingers threading through his hair, pulling him closer as your lips locked fiercely, Jungkook’s teeth played with your lower lip before sucking it gently, drawing out another moan from you. 

As the kiss broke, Jungkook sped up his thrusts, slamming his throbbing cock deeper into your dripping wet pussy. Sensing your orgasm coming, Jungkook continued thrusting his cock in and out of you.

It was all too much, you couldn’t and were not willing to hold your cum. You cried out as your pussy clenched his cock, and you whimpered into his ear as you cum all over his cock. 

But Jungkook was far from done. He started moving again, slowly grinding his hips and thrusting his cock against your pussy. 

It wasn’t until after you have cum for the third time that Jungkook yanked his cock out of your pussy.

He grabbed a fistful of your hair and pushed you down onto your knees, letting you drop from his embrace to the floor. His big cock, coated in your cum, was now just inches from your face. 

“Open your mouth,” Jungkook said and you obeyed. 

He shoved his cock in, stretching your jaw and hitting the back of your throat in one ruthless thrust. You couldn’t help but gagged, and you could feel your eyes watering as he gripped your head with both of his hands and fucked your mouth the way he fucked your pussy.

Jungkook’s groans turned deeper as he was about to cum. He buried his cock inside your mouth, while holding your chin up to look at him as he shot his cum down your throat, forcing you to swallow each and every single one of it.

♡━━━ End of NSFW ━━━♡

You fell asleep right away, you didn’t even know when or what was exactly happening when you fell asleep. But you were knocked out, it was like a light switch.

You didn’t have time to overthink your life decisions before falling asleep, you just fell asleep. 

It’s understandable though, you came three times in a row, with no quick breaks in-between and any human would’ve reacted the same way.

So, one moment you were aware of the surroundings, of the studio, Jungkook, and everything else around you. 

And the next, you felt your body touching the smooth bed sheet you owned. 

Jungkook had to carry you to bed, because you passed out in his arms. 

That was the Demonic trait in him, even angels can’t resist a fucking good sex with Demons. Jungkook was proud of it, he could now feel his lust being more controllable and he knew that he would master it again in no time. 

♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡

While you were asleep, Jungkook was wide awake.

He sat on the couch with his back against it, and he watched the ceiling and thought about nothing for a long time.

You were asleep in bed, and Jungkook could hear your breathing, slow and even, you were truly unconscious. He chuckled, proud of himself for knocking you out, giving you the best fuck of your life.

It’s a given, because Demons were made to be an expert in bed, any creature who’s ever had sex with a Demon, always ends up coming back for more. 

He was observing you before Jungkook noticed something. 

Something very strange. 

It was a subtle feeling at first. He felt a change in the air, but he thought he might have imagined it for a few minutes. 

Jungkook realised that he finally stopped hearing a sound that has been present for so long that it wasn’t bothering him anymore, and with a blink of an eye, the sound was just suddenly, simply, out of nowhere, no longer there.

Jungkook went very still.

He pressed his awareness outward, to scan the surroundings the way he learned to do in Kratos when something or someone was charging at him. 

Jungkook felt the room first, it felt the same yet different. He didn’t feel the usual boundary pressing back at him.  

Then he sees past the house, the streets, and the neighbourhood, and even the city beyond. He kept going and nothing stopped him.

And then Jungkook’s awareness was at the school, the one he assumed you worked in. Jungkook could see the kids filling the classes, Namjoon and Hoseok teaching in the school. 

Jungkook could see that far.  

Which meant the boundary was gone.

It is not weakened or cracked, the boundary is completely gone.

Gone, completely. 

Jungkook couldn’t believe what he was experiencing. He has been waiting for hundreds of years for this exact moment. For him to be able to go back to Kratos. 

He was completely taken aback by how easy it was for the curse to break. 

Then Jungkook stood up from where he was sitting.

He moved to the window, the one he stood near it for centuries, and looked out at the street below. The neighbourhood was quiet, he could see a few cars passing by and he could hear someone's dog barking two streets over.

Jungkook can leave this house.

The idea came to him with less surprise and excitement than he anticipated.

Hundreds of years, countless efforts and failures, he tried and failed multiple times to just walk out the door and now... Now he could actually go back to Kratos.

Behind him, you rolled over in your bed, covering yourself with the blanket all the way to your shoulders, and Jungkook heard you mumbling in your sleep before silence hit the room again. Jungkook looked out the window and did not think about anything for a long time.

Jungkook couldn’t pinpoint exactly when the curse broke.

That was what kept coming back to haunt him, like how he always tried to solve tactical problems from every angle, looking for the flaw in the plan.

The curse’s condition was affection from a human, a genuine feeling towards him from a human who was not terrified. 

Which meant that you are now no longer terrified of him. 

Jungkook couldn’t help but chuckle. He remembered when you first came in, when you first brought up the priest and shaman, like they could be of any help for you. But he was amazed, taken aback, surprised, everything, that you, a mere human, are now no longer afraid of him.

Had it been any of his silly little plans of moving your things around? Did you become used to it and it somehow helped you be less scared of him? Was it what happened tonight? Was it the conversation, all those hours of you asking questions he answered genuinely? Or was it the sex?

Jungkook didn't know, the curse didn't exactly leave a footnote for him to understand what broke it. 

And it frankly doesn’t matter anymore.

Jungkook is now a free Demon. He can go back to Kratos and deal with his brother.

All he had to do now was find a way back across the boundary between realms, which required either the ancient ritual that requires a certain ancient fluid, or he could get help from an entity that could cross freely, and the most reliable of those was Jophiel.

To reach Jophiel meant Jungkook still needed you. 

Not that you could communicate with Jophiel, but an acquaintance of yours, Father Gabriel, could help Jungkook. 

He looked at you, who were still asleep, not realising what just happened. Not aware of what just shifted.

♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡

Jungkook sighed before turning his head towards the door that leads to the first floor of the house.

The door that for hundreds of years had been the one thing Jungkook could never cross. 

Jungkook didn’t think twice before walking across the studio towards the door, he put his hand on the door handle and felt the cool handle under his hand. 

He stepped onto the stairs, and kept walking, half-bracing himself for the familiar smoke-and-snap he’s back into the studio.

He was expecting the humiliation of finding himself back at the centre of the studio like nothing happened. 

It didn’t come.

Nothing happened.

He was in the middle of the staircase, then the bottom of it.

Then he took the last step and his foot met the ground floor, and he was standing in the hallway of a small human house he had only ever heard from above.

♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡

The ground floor of the house felt like a different world.

Jungkook knew it existed, obviously, he heard it for hundreds of years. Every conversation, every door, every laugh from Jimin and every quiet movement from Yoongi and every youtube video Taehyung watched in the kitchen while he cooked. 

Jungkook walked around and stood in the living room of a human house and looked at photographs and felt, precisely and without drama, the weight of hundreds of years of not being able to do this.

He walked to the kitchen. And the kitchen smelled like whatever Taehyung cooked the night before. There was a stack of cookbooks beside the refrigerator, one of them open to a page with a handwritten note.

Jungkook walked towards the back door leading to the backyard and opened it.

A chair was left out in the backyard and had gone slightly weathered, there was a potted plant that needed water, and the fence that separated the house from the neighbour’s house behind it.

He stood in the backyard with his wings fully spread because there was finally room for them, and he looked up at the earth sky.

It was gray, not red and no smoke. There was no heat from the ground reminding him of where he came from.

He stood there for a long time, but Jungkook will soon be in Kratos again.

♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡

Taehyung is a light sleeper.

Always has been, which was why he chose the room furthest from the street when he first moved in, and why he kept white noise on low through a speaker on his bedside table.

So when he heard movement downstairs at an hour he knew Yoongi and Jimin would still be at the office, he was sitting up in bed before he fully decided to be.

He sat still for a moment, listening.

You were home, he knew that much. You told the group chat you were sick, and Taehyung passed Namjoon in the hallway on his way out after visiting you, and even talked for a little bit with him. 

But you were sick and are probably upstairs, and yet he could hear that someone was moving around in his kitchen.

He got up, pulled on a hoodie, and walked quietly through the hallway and towards the kitchen.

He was expecting you, or maybe Yoongi or Jimin coming home earlier than usual.

But no, it wasn't either of them.

There was something, someone standing in the kitchen.

And that someone was not you, or Jimin or Yoongi.

He was tall, with broad shoulders, and was standing facing away from him, which was the only reason why Taehyung didn't immediately make a sound.

Something about the stillness of the figure, the way it wasn't moving, made him stop in his steps instead of doing anything sensible like reaching for his phone to call 911.

Taehyung squinted his eyes.

The back was bare and broad with muscle. 

The back of whoever or whatever was standing in the kitchen was built by violence and had the record of violence written all over into the skin.

Because there were scars everywhere.

The scars were long diagonal slashes that ran from the left shoulder all the way down across the spine, to Taehyung it looked like the kind of scars that only came from something with enough force behind it to mean it.

Other scars crossed over them, going the other way. Some shorter, some curved in a way that made Taehyung's stomach turn slightly because he couldn't figure out the angle or size of the thing that would have caused a scar like that.

And on top of it all, it had wings.

The wings were darker than black, which Taehyung thought wasn’t possible. 

He stood in the other side of the kitchen for what was probably ten seconds even though it felt considerably longer.

And then the figure turned around.

Taehyung saw his face and the horns.

Horns. It had fucking horns.

Taehyung never imagined in a million years that he would see a thing.. something.. or maybe a ghost.. in his house.

So Taehyung screamed, hoping someone would rescue him from this nightmare.

♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡

You woke up from your nap because of a scream.

You immediately sat up, taken aback by the way you were woken up. The studio was usually quiet even with Jungkook around, so you knew the scream came from downstairs. 

You looked around the studio; the desk, the couch, the kitchen, then, the window, it was empty. The studio was empty and you were alone.

Which should have been fine and is completely fine because sometimes Jungkook just decides to make himself invisible or pulls his presence in so tightly that the air doesn't react to him. 

You knew this because you’ve lived with him for months, and the absence of him didn't mean he was gone.

But… it just felt weird. You sat still on your bed for a few seconds and felt the atmosphere in the room, the studio felt warm.. warmer.

Not the warmth from the lamp, blanket, or your own body heat, but warmth the way a room is warm when it has a heater on. 

You’ve lived in this studio for months and you had not once, not for a single morning, woken up to the room that felt like this. 

But now the room is warm.

You put your feet on the floor and the floor was just floor, not the “slightly-colder-than-it-should-be” floor you’ve been stepping onto every day for months.

You were confused, trying to figure out what happened, why the floor was warm, and the studio felt empty. And the first thing that came to mind made you gasp.

Is Jungkook gone?

Then before you could even analyse further, you remembered you were woken up by a scream. 

Someone screamed from downstairs and you’ve been so disoriented by the warmth in the room and the empty studio that you almost forgot that someone might have an emergency.

You grabbed the first thing within reach, which was Jungkook's shirt that was on the floor, which you put on without thinking about it because the alternative was running downstairs in considerably less.

So you ran downstairs.

♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡

Your instinct told you to go to the kitchen, and you knew it was right.

You registered the scene in pieces: Taehyung on the floor, he was not hurt. But he was sitting on the floor, back against the wall, hands pressed over his mouth, his eyes wide and fixed on the other side of the kitchen.

Taehyung definitely looked like his understanding of the world has been revised very rapidly and without him asking for it.

And you also saw.. Jungkook.

Yes, you saw Jungkook in the kitchen..? you were so confused you kept looking at Jungkook while shaking your head at him.

Jungkook was standing next to the kitchen counter. With no shirt on, his wings and horns visible, and his expression just looked very unbothered by the scene happening in front of him.

He looked different.

You have seen Jungkook a hundred of times, and you saw him even more closely today. You couldn't help but blush at the thought of looking at him more closely.

But this was different, something in Jungkook has changed. 

Jungkook looked terrifying, scarily terrifying, and some part of you agreed with your fear and without any argument. Yet underneath the terror was something else, something that might have been awe.

"Jungkook," you said, shaking your head from thinking about Jungkook and awe in one sentence.

He looked at you, still looking unbothered.

"Did the curse break?"

The corner of his mouth formed into a smirk, "It did," he replied.

You eyes got bigger as you processed what you just heard.

The curse is broken, and Jungkook is free. 

Which meant Jungkook could go back to Kratos, to the citadel, to the red sky and the north tower. 

Jungkook won't be needing you anymore.

The thought arrived quietly and settled somewhere in your chest with a weight you did not prepare for.

You looked at him standing in Taehyung's kitchen, he was enormous, unhidden, and completely free, and you tried to figure out what your face was doing and whether you had any control over it.

Apparently you did not have enough control of your expression, because Jungkook was watching you with that particular attention of his and his expression shifted slightly.

"Why are you terrified?" he asked, and then, because he was Jungkook, the demon prince, and the curse was broken which meant he apparently has nothing left to lose, he added, "you just came on my cock three times and swallowed my cum and you’re terrified of me?"

From the floor, Taehyung made a loud gasp.

You couldn’t look at Taehyung after what Jungkook just shared without your consent.

"I wasn't expecting it to happen so fast," you said, which was true, "and I need you to change the way you look, put a shirt on, hide the wings and horns. Taehyung is…." you glanced at Taehyung briefly, "Taehyung is on the floor."

Jungkook looked at Taehyung on the floor, then back at you.

For a moment you thought he was going to refuse, because he is free now and has no particular reason to do anything you asked.

He didn’t need you anymore and you didn’t know why you felt sad..? you questioned your own thoughts and feelings.

Then you heard Jungkook sighed. It was just one short exhale, he definitely found you asking him to do something mildly irritating, but the air around him shifted the way it does when he is choosing how much of himself to show.

The wings folded and disappeared, the horns were gone. 

Now Jungkook looked like a very large and unreasonably attractive human male with no shirt on, which was its own problem but a significantly more manageable one.

Then a shirt appeared, and you have stopped being surprised by all of this months ago. But it was all new to Taehyung and, from the floor, Taehyung said: "What the actual fuck!"

"I know," you said. "What?" Taehyung asked again. "I know."

"That's a..” he stopped, looked at Jungkook for one second before fear took over Taehyung again, then he looked back at you, "What the fuck is that?"

"It’s a demon," you said.

"You’re funny," Taehyung said, laughing nervously at you.

"I am a Demon," Jungkook said, which Taehyung ignored out of fear. You sighed, “I know it’s hard to believe but he is a demon, Taehyung.”

"A demon… with no shirt on.." Taehyung laughed at himself and whatever the fuck he saw today. Was this all still a dream? It would make total sense because Taehyung was asleep before all of this happened.

"He has a shirt on now," you replied.

"He didn't thirty seconds ago," Taehyung argued, still laughing nervously.

"Taehyung," you called his name to calm him down. "Why," Taehyung said, very carefully with a shaky voice, "is there a demon in my kitchen ____?"

You looked at Jungkook, who was leaning against the counter with his arms folded and the expression of someone, somedemon, who found human fear mildly entertaining.

"We should sit down," you said.

♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡

Taehyung, it turned out, was significantly more composed once he had five minutes to think and five minutes of silence, and a glass of water.

He sat at the kitchen table, you sat across from him, and Jungkook stood near the counter because Taehyung did not want Jungkook to be near him, which was very understandable.

"Okay," Taehyung said. He had both hands around his glass of water and his eyes were directly looking at yours rather than at Jungkook, which again, was very understandable, "Okay, start from the beginning."

You took a breath, before starting to explain to Taehyung why there is a demon in the kitchen, "You know how the studio has always been cold," you said.

"Yes."

"And a lot of your tenants left."

"Yes," Taehyung said, more quietly.

"That was him or his doing," you said, "he has been in the studio since before you bought the house. Since before anyone you know was born, probably. He's from…" you paused, "he's from Kratos, which is a specific part of Hell that's structured differently from what you'd imagine when you think of hell. It's basically where the powerful demons live."

"Right," Taehyung said, shaking his head, not really believing anything coming out of your mouth.

"He was cursed here," you continued,  “bound to the studio specifically and he couldn't leave the second floor. That's why the tenants before me always felt watched but nothing ever happened outside the studio, he literally couldn't go anywhere else."

Taehyung took a few minutes of silence to process this, "So he has been in this house," he said slowly, "for how long?"

"Longer than the house has existed," Jungkook said, from the counter.

Taehyung flinched at the sound of Jungkook's voice then composed himself, or at least tried to, "Right," Taehyung said again.

"The curse had a condition," you said, deciding that some details were probably not necessary at this specific moment, "and tonight the condition was met, which means the curse broke. Which is why he is..” you gestured at the kitchen, "down here."

"He can go anywhere now," Taehyung said.

"Yes."

"Is he going to hurt us?" Taehyung asked quietly. 

"No," Jungkook said, "because you are not worth the effort.”

"Okay," Taehyung said, nodding fastly, still looking at you and still holding his glass of water, "okay, so, there is a demon who has been living in the studio upstairs for…. longer than this house and you knew about this."

"Since about week two," you stated.

"And you stayed?" Taehyung asked, his mind blown by your life choices.

"The commute is very good," you defended yourself.

Taehyung stared at you, still mind blown,“The commute?"

"And the rent," you said, "and you're a good landlord and Jimin and Yoongi are nice."

"You stayed in a haunted studio because the rent was cheap," Taehyung said.

"And the commute."

Taehyung looked at you like he has just discovered an entirely new category of stupidity.

“You’re insane,” he said.

“I’m practical and logical.”

“You are living with a demon.”

“Was,” Jungkook corrected from the counter.

Taehyung opened his mouth to say something else, but Jungkook stopped moving so suddenly that you turned to look at him. His expression changed first, the irritation he felt towards Taehyung slipping away from his face as his eyes shifted past you, not towards the hallway, not towards the stairs, but towards the empty space beside your shoulder.

Then Jungkook’s voice dropped lower, if that was even possible, when he muttered, “Seokjin.”

You didn’t have time to register what he said or what he meant, you also didn’t have the time to turn around or deflect, before something cold touched the side of your neck. 

It was not a hand grabbing you, not an attack you could react to, it felt like two fingers pressing lightly against your skin, almost gentle, and then something wet and freezing spread beneath them.

Jungkook moved immediately. 

One second he was near the counter, saying ‘Seokjin’, and the next he was behind you, he was so fast, the force of his movement sent things in the kitchen clattering off the counter.

Jungkook moved so fast, he even took Taehyung by surprise and made him fall from the chair. 

His hand reached for your arm, but Seokjin was just faster, and he came with a vial already emptied out against your skin.

That was the problem.

The ancient liquid touched you right before Jungkook could stop what was happening. It moved under your skin like ink dropped into water, spreading from your neck down your chest, through your veins, cold enough to make your knees weaken. 

Jungkook’s hand closed around your wrist, but his grip suddenly felt distant, like your body was already being pulled somewhere his strength could not reach.

Seokjin smirked at his younger brother, “Too late,” he said.

Jungkook’s eyes dropped to the silver-black stain crawling across your skin, and for the first time since the curse broke, you saw panic on his face. 

Real panic. 

Not anger, not arrogance, but you could see something raw across Jungkook's face as he pulled you back against his chest and locked his arm around your waist like he could physically keep you in the world if he held on tightly enough.

But the room was already starting to get even more blurry and distant for you.

The kitchen lights stretched into thin white lines. Taehyung’s voice seemed so far away like he was somewhere distant. The floor disappeared beneath your feet even though Jungkook was still holding you, and that was when you understood why he looked so terrified. 

Seokjin did not come to fight him. He did not come to overpower Jungkook, he only needed three seconds with the one thing Jungkook did not have: a way through.

Jungkook’s wings tore out of his back so violently that glass shattered somewhere behind him. His grip tightened around you, almost painful now, but you clung to him anyway, fingers twisting into his shirt because he told you to hold on without even saying it. 

For half a second, you thought it might work. You thought Jungkook’s strength, his rage, and his desperation would be enough to keep you there.

Then Seokjin leaned closer, his smile brushing the side of your face, “Sadly, he does not have the key to go to Kratos.”

Then in one second, Jungkook’s hand was ripped from yours all at once. One moment his body was behind you. And the next, there was nothing. 

No kitchen. 

No Taehyung. 

No Jungkook. 

Just Seokjin’s hand on your neck and the horrible silence of wherever this place is.

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Back in the kitchen, Jungkook stood frozen with his fingers curled around empty air. The space where you were was empty. 

Taehyung was still on the floor, breathing rapidly, staring at the empty space where you disappeared, “What the fuck just happened?! Where is ____?!” he asked, his voice shaking.

Jungkook did not answer. 

Jungkook lowered his arm slowly, his expression made Taehyung, wisely, choose not to look at Jungkook directly again.

The curse was broken and Jungkook could leave the house. 

Jungkook could walk through doors, cross streets, and stand beneath the Earth sky. But he still could not cross realms, not without the ancient liquid, not without Jophiel.

Not without you.

You couldn’t lie that the weekend you spent being sick at home with Jungkook changed everything between the two of you.

There was nothing dramatic, not really.

You weren’t exactly best of friends, but now the distance between you and Jungkook feels like a different kind of distance. 

It was the Monday after the rough weekend and you were still not well enough to go to work.

Thankfully, Namjoon already handled everything for you. He texted you the night before saying he has already spoken to the principal, and even she was insisting you to stay home until Tuesday, and that someone else would be covering your class until then.

Namjoon📘: don't even think about arguing, just rest. You: thank you.. I’ll rest up and come back on Wednesday Namjoon📘: good, enjoy your long weekend! 

So you did your best to enjoy resting at home, or at least you tried to. 

The problem with resting when you were feeling 70% better was that your brain has already recovered faster than your body and now it has opinions and approximately 40 unnecessary things it wanted to think about. 

So, you laid in bed until around 9, stared at the ceiling, scrolled on your phone, and moved around on the bed, before you eventually gave up and sat up on your bed.

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Jungkook was just chilling near the window in front of the bathroom. 

"You're restless," Jungkook said, without turning around to look at you.

"I'm bored," you corrected, "there's a difference."

"Is there?"

"Yes, restless means something is wrong and I’m just bored, which means I have run out of things to do," you pulled your knees up to your chest, "I feel like I've watched everything on Netflix I want to watch, I've read three chapters of a book and I feel like I don’t remember any of it, and I'm also not sick enough to just lie here doing nothing but I'm not well enough to do anything useful."

Jungkook turned around from the window to look at you.

"Then talk," he said.

You blinked, "To you?"

"There is no one else here," Jungkook bluntly stated.

"I'm aware, I just.." you gestured vaguely, “you usually don't invite conversation."

"I'm starting one now," he replied as if it was normal for him to do so.

For Jungkook, this was a great opportunity. He decided last night that he would let you ask any questions, and he would answer it honestly and genuinely. Jungkook thought this would be a faster way for you to develop affection towards him.

He remembered hearing one of his tenants saying: “if you don’t know someone, you can’t really love them.” 

And he thought to fasten the process of you developing affection for him, what better way than to show you that he is an open book? That you know him more than any other human does?

Making you feel special would surely be helpful to him. 

"Okay," you finally replied, "then tell me something."

Jungkook raised his eyebrows, "Well, what do you want to know?"

"Hmm..” you thought about it for a while before asking, “about Kratos, maybe? about you or something I don't know about you?" 

You settled back against the headboard of your bedframe, "you've been in this room for hundreds of years watching humans, it's a Monday and neither of us has anywhere to be, just tell me something, anything."

He was quiet for long enough that you thought he was going to redirect the conversation or deflect entirely, but then, to your surprise, Jungkook said: "Kratos has no sunlight."

"There is no darkness either," Jungkook continued, "I’m not sure if you would be able to imagine it, but the sky in Kratos is red and it’s not the colour of a sunset you are probably imagining. It’s a red deeper than the colour of the sky you usually see on earth," he paused before continuing, "when I first arrived here, the sky outside the window was gray, then it turned blue. I didn't understand how humans could function under it."

"Did it bother you?"

"It was disorienting to say the least," Jungkook said.

You smiled at his reply, "What else can you tell me about Kratos?"

Again, Jungkook took some time before answering the question. You wondered whether there was a line you should not be crossing or certain questions that would trigger him. But before you could say ‘you don’t have to answer, if you don’t want to’, Jungkook started answering your question. 

"The citadel of Jeon sits at the highest point of North Kratos. The ground slopes down from it in every direction. On some days, you can see the boundaries of the North from the upper towers," something shifted in his expression when he mentioned the upper towers, "I used to spend time there if I needed some silence."

"Why there?"

"Because it was the only place in the citadel that was quiet," he said, "Kratos doesn't have your concept of peaceful silence. In Kratos, things are always moving, you could even hear the lesser, your kind, screaming and begging for forgiveness. But in the highest tower, at least before the courts assembled and the soldiers began training, the citadel was as close to quiet as it ever got," he looked at the window, "I would just stand there and look at the territory and think about nothing."

You were silent for a moment, weren’t sure if you’d survive a day in Kratos with all the noise and way of living Jungkook described, "That sounds lonely. Did you at least have anyone? In Kratos. Someone you.. I don't know, talk to?"

"Of course, my disciples, followers, mistresses, Woojin," he continued as if having mistresses, plural, is a normal thing, “he has been with the Jeon citadel since before I could walk, he has served my father for a very long time."

"He seems fond of you," you replied, “in his own way."

"He's loyal," Jungkook said, which you were beginning to understand was his version of yes, he cares about me, and I am not going to be more specific than that.

"What about your father?"

He tilted his head and stared at you, and for a moment you forgot what you just asked him because looking at him directly still did something strange to your thoughts. You still didn't have a word for the colour of his horns, it was not black exactly, something darker than black if that was even possible. 

His eyes were on yours and then you remembered, briefly and sharply, that you were asking personal questions of the demon prince in your studio on a Monday morning, and that four months ago this sentence would not have made any sense.

"What about him?" Jungkook asked back. 

"What is he like?" you asked boldly. You weren’t sure if he would answer a question this private, but you had to test it. You wanted to see where his boundaries ended.

"Precise," he said finally after one long minute, "every decision he makes has been considered from hundreds of different angles before he acts on it. He has ruled the North Citadel for longer than most Demons can count. He is.." he stopped, "he is not someone who wastes a word or a movement, everything he does means something."

"Do you respect him?" "Yes." "Do you like him?"

The pause before he answered this one was different, "That's a human question," he said.

"I know," you said, insisting, "do you like him?"

Jungkook looked at you, still with confusion on his face, but tried to answer your human question anyway, "He let the curse happen. He could see what was coming and chose not to intervene, so," and he let the sentence sit there unfinished.

"So you're angry at him?" you asked curiously.

"I understand his reasoning," Jungkook said, "understanding it and agreeing with it are two different things."

You nodded. It seemed to you like Jungkook really does respect his father, or fear, you couldn’t really tell the difference. 

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"Can I ask you another human question?" you asked.

"Most of your questions have been human related," he chuckled.

You chuckled, before asking, "Do you miss Kratos?" 

"I miss the certainty of it," he replied, "everything in Kratos has clear rules. You know exactly where you stand because the hierarchy tells you where you stand. There's no," he paused, searching for the right word, "ambiguity."

You pulled your blanket up around your shoulders, "Tell me more about how you govern Kratos,” you said carefully, "I don’t really understand the full picture."

Something changed in his expression, Jungkook was weighing how much you should exactly know about him and Kratos. 

But, the moment you develop affection towards him, the knowledge he has given you would not matter, because by then, the two of you would never cross paths again. 

Whatever you learned about Kratos, about him and his father, about the founding energy and the courts and the red sky over the north citadel, it would stay here when he left. None of it would matter, you wouldn’t be able to share it with anyone else because no human would believe you. 

You could know everything about Kratos and it would change nothing.

Jungkook would go back to Kratos and you would go back to your 13 minute commute and none of this would follow either of you into whatever came next.

So it wouldn't matter how much he told you.

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"There are four families," Jungkook started, "who have ruled Kratos since the beginning of existence. Jeon in the North, which is where my family comes from. Kim in the East, Lee in the South, and Min in the West. Each holds its own territory, laws, and army."

Jungkook walked towards the desk to sit on the chair, "the balance between them is what keeps Kratos functioning. No single citadel is strong enough to take all four territories simultaneously, so the families exist in a permanent state of cold competition."

"Like politics?" you questioned. "Like war that hasn't started yet," he corrected.

"Are the other families.. what are they like? Compared to Jeon or your family?" you asked, looking at how calm Jungkook was even though he was basically being interrogated by you.

"Kim is a dangerous family to underestimate," he said, “they know things about you before you walk into the room, their intelligence network reaches every corner of Kratos, nothing happens without the Kim knowing about it eventually," he paused. 

"Min is the most dangerous family to fight directly, they have never lost a conflict in recorded history. Not one,” he continued. 

His jaw tightened, just slightly when he started talking about the Lee citadel, "The Lee is aggressive. They've always been the most likely to test boundaries. The South has the largest army in Kratos and they know it, and every generation of Lee Demons has pushed at the territories a little further." 

“So, who's the strongest?" you asked with a smile on your face, “objectively, if you had to rank them."

Jungkook looked at you and he chuckled before answering, "There is no honest ranking that doesn't put Jeon first."

“Aren’t you just biased?” You asked.

“No, I would admit to you if I see another citadel stronger than mine,” Jungkook stated.

“Okay, then explain, what exactly makes your citadel stronger?” you asked, hesitantly.

"When Kratos was first formed," he said, "four beings claimed its four territories and became the founding rulers. These weren't ordinary Demons, they were something older. The first of what Kratos would become and each of them left something behind in their bloodline and in their territory. Think of it like their energy soaked into the ground they claimed and into every Demon that came after them. The original Jeon, my grandfather, deliberately chose the hardest territory in Kratos. Our citadel sits on the highest ground, coldest conditions, and the most hostile environment, and now every generation of Jeon blood inherits the shape of it."

"Okay," you answered, still, if not more confused about it, "and the demons who aren't of Jeon bloodline but live in the North, are they as strong or only the bloodline of Jeon is strong?" 

"The energy radiates," Jungkook explained, "the territory itself has been soaked in Jeon founding energy for thousands of years. A Demon born and raised in North Kratos absorbs some of that just by being there. They won’t receive the energy fully as that only comes through blood, but they receive more than enough to make them stronger than a Demon with the same natural ability born anywhere else in Kratos."

You frowned slightly, trying to work it out, "So it's like the territory has like a side effect for any demon being born there?"

He looked at you, "Yes, to put it simply, people receive the energy as a side effect of being born in North Kratos.”

"So North-born demons are stronger than demons from other territories even without the bloodline," you said, "and Jeon blood demons are stronger than everyone including other North-born demons."

"Correct," he said. "Which is why every Demon in Kratos wants to be born in the North even if they can't be born of the Jeon blood, because even the 'side effect' of that territory is worth more than being high-born anywhere else."

"And you specifically," you continued, "I overheard when Woojin was here.. that you're stronger than Seokjin even though, I assume, that you have the same parents. How does that work?"

"My mother was from the Min bloodline. Direct descent from the original Min, my grandfather, who still sits on the Min throne."

You stared at him in shock, "Your grandfather is the original ruler of the West?"

"Yes."

"So you are.."

"The son of the North and the grandson of the West," he said non-chalantly, "yes."

You sat with this new information for a while before asking, "So do you guys go to war with each other?"

"Never. The marriage was both political and because they were lusting for each other," he paused, Jungkook didn't mind talking about his parents, their connection is a well-known history, but it was weird to talk about it to a mere human.

He sighed before continuing, "and there is an unspoken agreement between the two citadels that predates me and will likely outlast me. And because both my father and my grandfather are old enough and powerful enough to understand that a war between Jeon and Min would be catastrophic for both sides. It is the only alliance in Kratos that has been held without a formal treaty."

"It still doesn’t answer why you are stronger than Seokjin.." you tread around carefully when asking this question, you still didn’t know if bringing up his brother would trigger him to do something. But you wanted to try anyway. 

"Because the bloodline is only the materials given to you," he said, “what you do with it is still a choice.” 

"So the bloodline gave you both the same starting point," you said, "and you just did more with it."

"Seokjin would say I had an unfair advantage," Jungkook stated, "that some Demons are simply built to hold more than others regardless of effort."

"What would you say?"

"I would say," he said, "that he had the same materials I did but he chose to not work on it."

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You thought about what he said for a few seconds, but you had approximately 40 more questions and zero intention of stopping.

And Jungkook was being open, which in your experience was as rare as a solar eclipse, so you wanted to take advantage of this moment.

"So if the North is where a demon can become powerful, why doesn't every demon just go to the North and have their children there? If being born there is enough to get the side effect, why isn't everyone trying to move in?"

Jungkook looked at you, finding your question both reasonable and faintly amusing, "They are trying to move in," he said, "but we kill them because we don't accept newcomers."

You gasped at him, "You kill them?"

"Yes," he said so nonchalantly. 

"Just for trying to migrate to the North?"

"Yes," he confirmed with a nod.

"That's…" you stopped, "that's extremely brutal."

"It’s extremely efficient," Jungkook corrected, "the North does not negotiate its borders. You are born there or you are not, there is no third option."

"How many demons are we talking about?" you asked, "who tries to migrate into the North?"

“Hundreds per generation," Jungkook said, "some come alone and some come in groups thinking numbers will make a difference. It never works because the soldiers guarding the North are strong and the founding energy itself actually responds to unauthorised presence at the border. It is not comfortable for a Demon who does not belong in a territory to approach without permission, and it gets significantly less comfortable the closer they get to the border."

"What does that mean exactly?" you asked curiously.

"It means the founding energy is not passive," he said, "it does not just radiate, it recognises what belongs to it, what belongs in it, and what does not. A Demon of the North blood approaching the border feels the energy radiating and welcoming them, while a Demon with no connection to the North approaching the same border feels" he paused, choosing the right word to explain it, "the opposite of that."

"Like being rejected?" you asked.

"Like being warned," he corrected, "and then, if they continue, like being torn apart."

"So the territory itself kills them," you gasped, finally grasping what Kratos is. 

"The territory makes it very clear they should leave," Jungkook continued, "the soldiers handle the ones who don't listen."

"How many demons live in the North?" you asked.

"Over four hundred thousand," he said, "soldiers, court members, ancient servants of the citadel, and their families. We are enough, we have always been enough. The North does not need to recruit, grow, or accept anyone new. Every Demon within its borders is exactly where they should be."

"And everyone outside knows they're not welcome," you said.

"Everyone outside knows exactly what happens when they force their way in," he corrected.

You thought about that for a second, "Aren't you worried about running out though?" you asked, “even humans reproduce to keep the population going. Four hundred thousand sounds like a lot but if you're killing demons who try to enter and the ones inside aren't.. I mean, how often do demons even have children?"

Jungkook looked at you, amused at how intrigued you are, "You're asking if we're going to run out of Demons," he stated.

"I'm wondering if the math works out," you said, “yes."

"Demons do not die of age," he added.

"Right," you said, "but you still die in conflict." "Yes." "So the population does go down?” you asked unconfidently, second guessing if maybe the way the population works in Kratos is just way different. 

"It does," he said, "but slowly and over very long periods of time. Demons reproduce infrequently. It is not comparable to humans, you reproduce constantly because you die constantly. Your species replaces itself out of necessity to survive longer, while Demons do not have that urgency. A Demon choosing to have a child is a significant decision which is not taken lightly and not taken often."

"How infrequently are we talking?" you said.

"My father," he said, "is one of the oldest and most powerful Demons currently alive in Kratos. He has been ruling the North for longer than most Demons can remember. In all of that time he produced two children. And two is considered, by Kratos standards, a reasonably sized family."

You stared at him in shock, the math was not making sense to you, so you couldn’t help but question him, "Two children in thousands of years is a reasonably sized family?"

"A large one by some standards," Jungkook replied.

"That's insane," you said.

"It is efficient," he said, "you don't need hundreds of children if the ones you have don't die of old age. Our calculation is completely different from yours."

"But they do die in conflict," you pressed, "you said the Lee army is the largest in Kratos. How does Lee maintain a large army if demons barely reproduce?"

Jungkook tilted his head slightly, "Lee reproduces more frequently than most," he said, "it is a deliberate strategy. They prioritise numbers over individual strength. The more Demons they have, the more soldiers they own, the more territory pressure they give. It is why the other citadels consider them somewhat.." Jungkook couldn’t find the word to finish his sentence.

"Desperate?" you offered to help him.

"I was going to say unrefined," he said, “but yes. The North's position has always been that quality is better than quantity. We do not need more Demons, we need better ones."

"And the four hundred thousand demons you have are enough to hold the most powerful territory in Kratos?"

"Have been for as long as the North has existed," he said, "the number fluctuates, as you assumed, Demons die in conflicts and in wars, rarely in other ways. And new ones are born, which holds the balance. We have never had a population crisis and have never been close to one."

You shook your head slowly, "I cannot wrap my head around that.. like I can understand it logically. But the idea of just existing indefinitely, watching everything around you change, and watching humans come and go for centuries.." you stopped, "in one way I can see it can be beautiful, watching the world change. But at the same time, it sounds deeply sad.”

"Most things are both,” Jungkook said in agreement. 

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You truly didn’t want the conversation to stop. Jungkook has activated the curiosity in you, and you truly never know when else you’ll be able to ask Jungkook so many questions about himself and Kratos, and today might be your one and only chance. 

"So how old are you exactly?" you asked, stretching your legs on the bed.

"I never counted," he flatly replied.

You stared at him, questioning him again, "You never counted?"

"No."

"How do you not know how old you are?" you thought it was the most absurd thing for a living being to not know its age.

"How do you know how old you are?" Jungkook questioned back.

"Because people told me," you said, "because there are records of the day I was born."

"Kratos does not have birthdays," he said, "time there is not measured in years the way yours is," Jungkook paused, "I know what era I was born in, I know what came before it and what came after. I don’t know the number."

"Okay but roughly," you said, “you are at least thousands of years old?"

Jungkook looked as if he was adding up everything that could help him calculate his age in his head, "Maybe," he replied.

"Maybe thousands of years." "Yes," he responded.

"That's.. you can't just maybe be thousands of years old," you questioned, “that's an enormous range. That's like me saying I'm maybe somewhere between late 20s and several thousand years old."

"Is it a problem?" he asked.

"It's just very strange," you said.

"I have been in this room for hundreds of years," he said, "watching humans count every single day of their lives like each one might be the last. I found it exhausting to observe.”

"So you genuinely don't know," you wondered.

"I genuinely don't know," he confirmed, "I’m still considered young enough by Kratos standards that my father still sees me as," he paused, "a relatively new Demon, or equivalent to a human being in their late 20s."

You stared at him, "Your father considers you relatively young."

"He has been alive significantly longer," Jungkook said.

"How long?"

He looked at you, "Longer," he simply replied, but his tone clearly sounded like he was telling you to stop pushing on the topic. 

You sat back against the wall, "Okay," you said, "so you are maybe thousands of years old, your father is older than that, and your grandfather on the Min side is also…"

"Old," Jungkook said, cutting you off, "very old," he said, “older than most things currently existing in Kratos."

"And none of you know the actual number."

"We know the eras," Jungkook said, "the age or numbers were never the point."

You shook your head slowly, "I have been alive for twenty something years," you said, "and I know my exact age down to the day."

"Yes," he said, "and does knowing the number change who you are?"

"No," you admitted.

"Then perhaps," he said, "the number was never the point for you either."

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At some point, you got up to make tea. You needed to move after sitting on your bed for so long, talking to Jungkook who appeared to be more open with you today.

You didn’t question why he is the way he is today, because if you questioned it, he will be more than likely to shut himself down. 

You stood near the kitchen counter while waiting for the kettle to boil, while Jungkook was now sitting on the couch.

"Are all demons bad?" you asked as you poured your tea into your favorite mug. 

Jungkook, who staring at the TV, turned his head to take a good look at you. His face looked like he was asking if he heard the right question coming from you. 

"I'm serious," you said, "Father Gabriel said demons from Kratos are aligned to destruction and corruption. Eunbi said something similar. I just want to know what you, as a demon prince, actually think of it,” you shrugged. 

"What humans understand about Demons comes from what they've been told by angels. And angels have a particular interest in how that story is told."

"Meaning angels can be biased," you affirmed.

"Meaning every account of Demons in human history has been filtered through a perspective that benefits from Demons being the villain," Jungkook explained, "heaven and Kratos have been in opposition since before humans existed. The narrative that Demons are evil is useful to heaven. It keeps humans aligned to angels rather than to us, keeps the boundary between realms supported by human belief as much as by law."

"So Demons aren't evil," you said slowly.

"I didn't say that," Jungkook couldn't help but chuckle, "the story is more complicated."

"Then tell me the complicated version. I have all day and all night,” you smiled at him, practically begging for his story time. 

Jungkook sighed.

He didn’t want to go into this one, but seeing that you seem to be very different ever since he gave you information about himself and Kratos, Jungkook couldn’t help but think he might be out of this shitty earth soon.

humans are so gullible and easy to manipulate, Jungkook thought to himself.

"Demons are built from seven traits or what you humans call the seven deadly sins. And what that means is that every Demon has the capacity for all seven: lust, wrath, greed, envy, pride, sloth, and gluttony. These are not moral failures, but what we are made of."

"But humans have those too," you said, “and we're not all evil."

"Correct. The difference is that in humans, those traits exist alongside other things like love, compassion, guilt, and conscience. Demons are not built with those counterweights, we have the seven traits, power, and hierarchy."

"So without compassion, you just act on whatever the traits want," you stated.

"Weak Demons do," Jungkook corrected, "Demons who cannot master the seven become consumed by them. A Demon consumed by wrath acts on it without restraint, a Demon consumed by lust takes what it wants from whoever. Without conscience as a counterweight, the only thing keeping a Demon from destruction is the discipline of the self."

"And you mastered all seven?" you asked.

"Yes,” Jungkook lied.

Well he did not completely lie to you. 

He did master all seven. But ever since that small physical contact with you, it’s been hard for him to master his lust, and being stuck on earth for hundreds of years without any physical contact affected it too.

The only thing Jungkook needed to master it again is to somehow find a Demon woman and fuck her, which has a 0% chance of happening seeing he was still stuck on earth. 

"The most powerful Demons in Kratos are not powerful because they feel nothing. They're powerful because they feel everything and choose not to do anything on a whim."

"So a demon with full mastery could choose not to destroy?" you asked, "could choose to, in human terms, not be evil."

"Evil is a human word," he said, "it implies a moral framework that Kratos doesn't share, but in human terms, yes. A Demon who has mastered the seven could choose almost anything. Their traits don't dictate their choice."

"What about angels? What are they like?"

"Angels," Jungkook said, taking a small single breath before continuing, "are not inherently good, they are inherently ordered. There is a big difference."

"Please explain,” you said, shaking your head in confusion.

"Angels are built to serve and follow a structure. heaven has a hierarchy as rigid as Kratos, possibly more so. Angels don't have the seven traits, they have their own architecture like devotion or righteousness, they have the drive towards divine order. An angel who serves heaven's order serves it absolutely, that looks like goodness from the outside. But it is not chosen by them, it is just what they are built to do."

"So angels don't choose to be good any more than a weak demon chooses to be destructive," you said.

"Correct. A Demon who masters the seven and chooses not to destroy, has done something an angel cannot do, because the angel never had to choose."

You stared at him, "What you’re saying implies that a demon who chooses not to harm is doing something more meaningful than an angel who just follows its nature."

"Yes," he said, "that is what it implies."

You turned your mug in your hands, "When Father Gabriel was here, he mentioned he had help from the angel Jophiel. Can you tell me about him?”

Jungkook hated talking about angels and heavens and everything related to them. But he had to, just this once to help accelerate your affection towards him.

So he forced himself to answer, "Jophiel belongs to a class of angels older than the current arrangement between Heaven and Kratos," Jungkook said, "he already existed when the boundary between realms was different. When Demons and angels used to be side by side rather than opposite."

"What does that mean?" you asked, taken aback by what Jungkook just said.

"It means there was a time, before human history, when the realms were not at war. When Demons and angels existed in the same spaces. But heaven decided that there was a problem, hence the separation was imposed. The narrative that followed, Demons seen as evil and angels seen as good, came after the separation, not before."

You were quiet, "So the whole good versus evil thing is.."

"Just very old politics," he said.

"That is genuinely the most unsettling thing you've ever told me," you sighed, feeling like your whole world has been turned upside down. But you weren’t about to back down, “Next question. Is there a God?"

Jungkook took a few moments of being silent, just looking at you with confusion across his face, "Define god."

"A creator that made all of this, Kratos, Heaven, Earth, everything."

"There are the Ancient Ones," he said, "beings that predate Kratos and Heaven both. Older than the separation and the arrangement between realms, they exist and that is the extent of it."

"Are they good or evil?"

"Neither," he said, "they simply are. The closest thing to a god in any framework I know of is something so old it has moved beyond the seven traits and beyond the angelic drives entirely. Something that has existed long enough that it no longer has an agenda."

"That's either very comforting or very terrifying," you said.

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You wrapped your hands around the warm cup of tea and made your way to the couch, sitting right next to the empty space beside Jungkook.

"How do demons.. how does reproduction work? Is it like.. is it biological the way it is for humans?" you asked before sipping your tea.

Jungkook looked at you with an amused expression, "Why do you want to know that?"

"Because I'm curious," you shrugged, "and also because Woojin suggested you sleep with me to accelerate “affection” and I've been wondering what exactly the mechanics of that would look like."

"It is not different from humans," he chuckled, “the physicality of it is the same, but the difference is in what it means. For humans, physical intimacy carries emotional weight. For most Demons, it does not. It is sensation, power, and strategy. The emotional component is not part of it."

"Most demons," you repeated. "Yes, most." "So there are ones who give it meaning?"

"A Demon who has mastered lust completely and then chooses to direct it," Jungkook paused, "it becomes something different, more intentional and dangerous."

"Dangerous how? How can that be dangerous?"

"Because intent, for a Demon, is everything. A Demon who has decided to want something, who has chosen it with full awareness of the seven traits, that is a different thing entirely."

You looked at him for a second, you just couldn’t help being curious, "What about angels and demons," you said, "did you guys ever.. you know?”

"Yes," he said simply. "Until now?" "Yeah, though it’s not something both sides talk about," he said, "what happens between Jophiel and certain Demons is.." Jungkook's mouth formed into a small smirk, "considered a personal matter that even heaven prefers not to examine closely."

You let out a short laugh, "Jophiel? Jophiel the Angel?" "I said what I said." "Does he-"

"I will not elaborate on Jophiel's personal arrangements," Jungkook said, cutting you off from any question about Jophiel.

If Jungkook ever came across Jophiel, the revelation he’d pull from this conversation would send him spiraling. A human knowing that an angel is occasionally fucking Demons is not exactly a good look. And Jungkook did not want to deal with a spiraling Jophiel.

"Okay okay, fine. Anyway, for what it's worth," you said, "you're the nicest demon I've ever met."

"I'm the only Demon you've ever met," he said.

"I met Woojin."

"Woojin doesn't count," he said.

♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡

You'd been quiet for a few minutes, just processing all of the information Jungkook has shared with you.

But there is still one thing you really wanted to ask, or see, and you finally built up the courage to ask him after knowing that there seemed to not be a barrier between the two of you today.

"Can I see your wings? Like up close?" you asked, knowing fully well he will probably not allow you to.

Jungkook looked at you, he was clearly startled by the question you just asked. It was as if he never expected this coming from you.

"You always have them folded or half-spread," you said, "I've never actually..  I've never looked at them properly," you met his gaze, “you obviously can say no."

He was quiet for long enough that you genuinely thought he might.

"In Kratos," Jungkook said in a voice so low you thought you've angered him, "a Demon's wings are the closest thing to a vulnerability we have. Our wings can be damaged and used against us," he paused, "allowing someone close to them is not something that happens casually."

"I didn’t kno- know," you stuttered, "that's why I asked. Anyway, it’s fine!"

He looked at you for a few seconds longer, his eyes piercing right through you.

It was unsettling, still, having his dark eyes on you. but then, without speaking, he shifted on the couch, to sit with his back, or wings, facing you, and let them spread widely.

You've seen them before, of course you had, but always under the context of fear, bad lighting, or both. Now, under a bright light, with nowhere to be and no reason to be afraid, you could actually look at it.

They were enormous. 

Even at what was clearly a controlled, reduced spread, they filled the space behind him completely.

The feathers, if that was even the right word, were black, a colour so dark you started questioning if black is even the darkest colour.

Up close you could see the way it was formed, the way each one layered precisely over the next, and the structure of the joint where they connected to his back.

"Can I touch it?" you said.

"Yes," Jungkook muttered, stiffening his body.

You could realise he was now on alert. So you moved closer to him on the couch, and you had to move very slowly, before finally reaching out. 

The feathers felt cool under your palm. Not cold the way his skin was cold. His wings felt smooth going one direction and slightly rougher when you went the opposite direction. The structure beneath was solid with weight and density that didn't belong to anything you’ve touched before.

You ran your fingers along the edge slowly, following the line where the feathers layered.

Jungkook went very still. 

You had no idea, how sensual it is for a demon's wings to be touched the way you've been touching it.

Jungkook was trying his best not to react, not to let lust take over, but his hands had gone completely motionless on his knees. 

You were playing a dangerous game, and Jungkook was trying his best not to lose.

You didn't notice at first. 

You were too absorbed in his wings itself, in the way the light revealed depth and the colour of the wings that weren’t really visible from a distance.

"It's beautiful," you muttered, mostly to yourself.

You leaned in slightly, trying to see the structure of it closer, but when you looked up, Jungkook has turned his head towards you.

You were close, much much closer than you realised. 

Close enough to see his jawline, and close enough to feel the cold radiating from his body. 

And his eyes.

You've seen his eyes before, but not this close or not in full daylight. Without fear to filter it through, Jungkook’s eyes were entirely something else.

His black eyes looked like the kind of black that shouldn't exist in something living and threaded through them were veins of dark and deep red.

They were the most inhuman thing about him. More than the wings, more than the horns curving back from his temples. His face could be mistaken for a human, but his eyes never could.

You realised you’ve stopped breathing.

"Aren't you," Jungkook said, very quietly and breathlessly, "a little too close, little teacher?"

You were frozen in place, looking at Jungkook just a few inches away from your face.

His voice sounded lower and deeper than usual, "Does this scare you, little human?"

Jungkook watched your face with unnerving focus, but it wasn’t just your face he was observing. It was the small hitch in your breath when he leaned closer, the way your heart was beating, and the way your eyes moved across his face. 

He could read all of it, all of you.

"For a demon prince," you said, your voice coming out steadier than you expected it to, "you don't scare me anymore."

Jungkook smirked at you, “No?” he murmured, “then why are you trembling?”

Jungkook’s hand rose slowly, allowing you all the time in the world to move away, and his fingers held your chin just enough to tilt your face up towards his.

You remained perfectly still and silent.

Jungkook’s face was now close enough for you to feel the cold radiating from his face. 

Close enough to see the individual feathers of his enormous wings in your peripheral vision, which were still spread behind him.

"Does this," he whispered, almost too quietly to hear, "scare you?"

You looked at him straight in his eyes, "No," you said, shaking your head.

Neither of you moved and the silence inside the studio seemed deafening. You could hear the faint creak of the house and the distant sound of Taehyung's music one floor down. But that was all, it was as if time had come to a dead stop at this exact moment. 

Jungkook’s thumb caressed your jawline and his gaze dropped to your lips, before it looked back up to your eyes.

And your heart did something catastrophic.

He felt it, of course, Jungkook felt it. 

He could read your heartbeat from across the room and this was not across the room, this was close enough that he could hear everything your body was doing, every embarrassing and involuntary thing, and the red veins in his eyes was somehow brighter now.

And there was a tension in him like something pulled him to his absolute limit.

And then Jungkook's limit broke.

Battles that could not kill him, armies that could not rattle him, and centuries of solitude that could not break him. 

All of it, every single thing, every single layer of control that he has built, controlled, and maintained, was stripped away by the sound of your heart beating and your face just inches away from his. 

Lust simply took over him, the way it took the wheels of Demons who have never learned to control it.

And at that very moment, Jungkook understood exactly what it felt like to be consumed.

The hunger, the lust, that surged through his body felt consuming, it felt raw in a way he has never allowed himself to feel.

It was his Demonic instinct taking over.

He didn't fight it.

No, Jungkook did not make any effort to stop himself from being this close to a mere human.

A self-controlled Jungkook would never even be this close to a human.

This was just lust taking over him.

Jungkook’s fingers slid from your jaw to wrap themselves around the back of your neck, not enough to hurt, but enough to claim you and hold you exactly where he needed you.

In one single motion, Jungkook was standing, lifting you effortlessly, like you weighed nothing at all. 

You never even noticed him picking you up. One second you were on the couch, the next the world tilted, it all happened too fast and too sudden. 

Before you could even process what was going on, you found your back against the wall and the impact of it knocked the breath out of you.

Then the next thing you knew, Jungkook’s lips crashed into yours. 

The way he kissed you felt like he was hungry. Jungkook wasn’t hesitant or gentle, the way he kissed was something dangerously close to desperation.

And what shocked you most was that you kissed him back, you matched his pace instinctively.

And you enjoyed every second of it. 

It was a demanding and consuming kiss, like Jungkook had been deprived of something for far too long. Your hands gripped his shoulders, holding on as if you might fall otherwise.

The kiss deepened, slower for a few seconds before it turned greedier, as if something inside Jungkook that has been locked away for centuries, is now finally free.

You woke up feeling like your eyes were drowning in warm water and your bones haven’t been used for moving in years.

For a few seconds you just laid on your bed, blinking at the ceiling, trying to convince yourself it was just a bad night sleep.

You have been tired and stressed out lately, and this was all this was. 

Then you tried to sit up and your whole body said absolutely not.

You fell back against the pillow, your head was pounding so hard you could feel your own heartbeat in your temples. 

The studio was bright with the natural morning light, which meant it was late, which meant you have slept through your alarm, which meant absolutely nothing because thankfully it was Saturday and you had nowhere to be.

That was the only good news.

You turned your head carefully, but even that movement was too hard for you, and you checked your phone. It showed 9:47 AM. 

There were three unread messages from the group chat of the house and Taehyung was confirming the standup comedy tickets, Jimin sent crying emojis, and Yoongi responded with a single thumbs up which was, for Yoongi, basically screaming with excitement.

They were going out today, which meant the whole house would be empty.

You put your phone down and stared at the ceiling and thought to yourself; okay, fine.

You could handle one sick day alone in your studio. You’ll just make some tea, take some paracetamol, sleep it off, and be fine by Sunday.

Except when you tried to get up to find the paracetamol, you made it approximately one step off the bed before the room tilted sideways and you had to grab the bedframe with both hands and just breathe until it stopped.

Okay.

Maybe this was more than you feeling "tired".

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You made it back onto the bed and sat there for a moment, your hands were slightly shaking, and your skin felt like it had been turned inside out. You felt hot everywhere, but also freezing at the same time.

"You look terrible,” Jungkook said to you.

"Good morning to you too," you muttered without looking up.

Jungkook was standing near the window with his arms folded, watching you, he did not seem detached but he wasn’t exactly concerned.  

"You were breathing wrong in your sleep," he said.

"People don't breathe wrong, there’s no such thing as breathing wrong," you muttered quietly. 

"You were," he replied, "your breathing was too shallow, too fast for a normal human.”

You pressed the back of your hand to your own forehead, which told you nothing useful because your hand also felt like it was on fire. 

"I think I have a fever," you said, "can you check if there's paracetamol in the cabinet above the kitchen sink?"

He didn’t reply nor move from his spot. 

"That's not something I do," Jungkook replied.

You looked up at him, "I'm asking you to open a cabinet and help me get my medicine."

"Didn’t you hear I’m a Demon prince from Kratos."

"Great, sir, the cabinet is right there," you said pointing towards it.

He didn't move.

You exhaled through your nose, which hurt a little, "Jungkook. I have a fever, my head feels like it's being squeezed and it’s about to blow up, and I genuinely cannot stand up without the room spinning. I am asking you, begging you, to check if I have paracetamol. Please."

The please and begging did something. 

He didn't show it on his face but something in the air shifted, and a moment later he was at the kitchen, opening the cabinet above the sink and looked inside for a few seconds.

"There's nothing in here," he said, "except a box of teabags and something called Metamucil."

You closed your eyes, "Fuck, okay."

"What is Metamucil?" Jungkook proceeded to ask.

"Not relevant right now,” you pulled the blanket up around yourself, and your teeth were starting to chatter, which was deeply unwelcome, "I don't have paracetamol."

"Evidently."

"I need to go to the pharmacy." "You cannot stand up," Jungkook said, stating the obvious. "I'm aware," you sighed.

You were shivering now, the blanket bunched up around your shoulders.

"I can't go," he said, "I cannot leave this floor."

"I know," you pressed your lips together, "I know, it's fine. I'll just…" you stopped, because you genuinely didn't know how that sentence should finish. 

You would just suffer the whole day and night, was the right answer. You would just sweat it out under a pile of blankets and hope your immune system remembered what it was supposed to be doing.

"What do you need?" Jungkook asked.

You blinked up at him.

"To be less cold," you said, after a moment, "I keep shivering. Can you.. is there any way you could just pile things on top of me? There are extra blankets in the wardrobe, and there's a hoodie on the back of the desk chair, and I think there's a coat somewhere."

"You want me to put things on top of you," Jungkook repeated confusedly. 

"It sounds weird when you say it like that. It's just, when you have a fever you get cold before you get hot and the shivering is making my head hurt worse."

"Fine," he said.

He walked to the wardrobe, pulled it open, and stood there for a moment looking at your clothes, "Both blankets?" he asked.

"Both blankets," you confirmed.

He pulled them out and dropped them slowly over you, Jungkook then took the hoodie from the chair, then disappeared briefly and came back with your winter coat from the hook by the door, and laid that on top of you too.

You were now buried under approximately five kilograms of fabric.

It helped, actually, a little. 

The shivering didn't stop but it slowed, and you sank deeper into the pillow and just breathed. Jungkook stood at the end of the bed looking at the pile that was you.

"Better?" he asked.

"A little," you said.

He sat down in the desk chair, which he never did, he usually just stand somewhere or sit on the couch.

"You should drink water," he said. "I know." "Are you going to?" "In a minute."

"Your body loses fluid when the temperature rises," he said, "even I know that."

"How do you know that?"

"I've watched humans die of fever," he said plainly.

"That's somehow both helpful and deeply unsettling," you replied, thinking of the humans who lived here in the past and passed due to high fever.

"Most things about me are."

Despite everything, the corner of your mouth curved with a small smile. You reached one arm out from under the pile and fumbled for the water glass on the bedside table, managed to drink half of it while sitting up, then laid down under the blankets again.

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The day passed slowly after that.

You drifted in and out of something that wasn't quite like sleeping but you were also not awake. 

At some point you heard Taehyung's voice downstairs, then Jimin's laugh, then the front door being closed, and then the house went quiet.

Just you and the demon prince who couldn't leave.

Jungkook, to his considerable credit and your complete surprise, was helpful.

He was just there, and didn't try to annoy you. 

You even knew he refilled your water glass without being asked, which you only knew because you woke up at some point and it was full when it had been half empty. 

When you asked him to turn the lamp off because the light was hurting your eyes, he did it.

When you asked him to turn it back on twenty minutes later because it was too dark, he did that too.

He didn't comment on any of it. He just did it and went back to wherever he was, be it the near window, the chair, the couch, and then he just waited.

♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡

By early afternoon you were genuinely miserable.

The fever was not dropping, but it’s no wonder since you're just laying there waiting for your body to sort itself out. Your head was pounding, your joints were aching, and your skin was burning you. 

You woke up from a shallow sleep to find Jungkook standing near the bed.

"You've been quiet for two hours," he said.

"I've been sleeping," you mumbled.

"You haven't," he replied, "you've been lying still and making small sounds every few minutes, that's not sleeping."

You didn't have the energy to argue with how accurately he described your experience, "The fever's getting worse," you admitted, "I really need paracetamol or at least cold fever patches."

"What are cold fever patches?" Jungkook questioned.

"They're.." you paused to think how to best explain a cold fever patch to a demon who probably never gets sick, "they're like sticky cooling strips. You put them on your forehead, and they help bring the temperature down. You can get them at any pharmacy."

Jungkook was quiet for a moment, "I cannot go to a pharmacy."

"I know," you nodded.

"I cannot cross the boundary of this floor." "Jungkook, I know, I'm not asking you to go to a pharmacy."

"What do they, the patches, feel like?" he asked.

You blinked, struggling to follow the question when you’re literally raw-dogging the headache, "They're cold, like, consistently cold which is the point. You put something cold against your skin and it helps regulate the temperature."

Jungkook said nothing for a good one minute.

Then out of nowhere, Jungkook said, "My body is cold."

You processed that information. You processed it again.

"No," you said.

"It would work on the same principle that you explained to me," he said.  "Jungkook," you sighed.

"You said cold regulates the fever," he continued, "my body temperature is significantly way lower than humans. You noticed this yourself when you grabbed my wrist."

You stared up at him from under your pile of blankets and coats and your head was pounding. And Jeon Jungkook, the demon prince of North Kratos, cursed to an attic studio, was standing at the end of your bed suggesting he get in it with you for the purposes of fever regulation.

"This is insane," you said. "You need the coldness," Jungkook replied. "There are other options." "Name one," he said.

You thought of ice cubes, but you remembered you haven’t been drinking iced tea or iced coffee for awhile and you probably didn’t have any ice cubes. 

Your brain, currently running at approximately 20% capacity due to the fever, could not, in fact, name another option. 

You couldn't go out, you couldn't call anyone without explaining why you needed them to come over on a Saturday, and you weren’t really in the mood of having someone to come over, especially when there is a demon hanging out, living, in your studio. 

"Fine," you said, "fine, but you stay on top of the covers." "That defeats the purpose." "On top of the covers," you repeated, "or not at all."

Jungkook laid down on top of the covers, as agreed, and you were under them, and the pile of blankets and your winter coat separated you, and it was fine, this was fine, this was a practical medical decision made by two entities who had a purely transactional cohabitation arrangement.

And suddenly you felt it.

You felt the cold coming off his body hitting you through the blankets. 

"Oh," you said, surprised. 

There was fabric between the two of you and still, you could feel how cold he was. Jungkook was cold in a way no human body should be.

That was when it hit you, he really is literally out of this world.

Jungkook said nothing back to you.

The shivering slowed down, not all at once but gradually, you exhaled slowly in relief.

"Better?" he asked. 

"Yeah," you admitted, “a little."

Neither of you spoke for a moment.

"You can move closer," he said, "if you need to."

"I'm fine here."

"Your temperature is still too high."

"I'm fine."

He didn't push it, and the cold radiated from his body to you through the blanket layers, and it was helping, you couldn't deny that it was helping, and you really, genuinely hated that it was helping because it made it very hard to maintain any form of annoyance about the situation.

And without realising it, you fell asleep properly for the first time all day.

♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡

Jungkook did not sleep.

Demons don’t really care about sleep. Sometimes they do, sometimes they don’t. It wouldn’t change anything in their lives if they go years without sleeping.

He laid still and listened to your heartbeat, and felt your body heat radiating through the layers between you, and thought about nothing at all.

Jungkook was good at this. He spent centuries being good at this, patience was not difficult for him and control was also not difficult for him.

But your warmth was different from every other warmth he had felt in this studio.

The previous tenants generated heat, like all human bodies do, but he has never been this close. He has never shared a bed with a human until now.

When your hand grabbed his wrist in the dark, his body reacted like it has been struck by a thunder.

He pressed his jaw together, looked away from you, and stared at the ceiling. 

This is useful, he told himself. Jungkook was here because it is helping you, and when you wake up, you would think about how nice he has been, and eventually develop affection towards him.

That is why Jungkook is here, lying next to you. 

The problem is that his body has spent hundreds of years in isolation, and being alone has a way of making a simple touch, even from a mere human, feels different. 

You shifted in your sleep, turning slightly, and your knee pressed against his leg through the blanket layers, and Jungkook stopped breathing for a full four seconds.

Stop.

Stop.

Jungkook is a highly feared Demon. He was made from seven traits and lust was one of them but it was not the only one, and it was not the one in charge.

He survived so many battles and wars.

He could survive this.

Your knee was still against his leg.

He could survive this.

You made a small sound in your sleep and something in his chest did something he chose to ignore.

He turned his head and looked back at you.

You were still flushed with fever, your hair was pushed back from your forehead, your lips were slightly parted. 

You were too close, said some part of Jungkook that has apparently developed opinions about appropriate distances between himself and the humans he was meant to be manipulating into affection. 

Your face was now three inches away from his shoulder.

Jungkook clicked his tongue silently at himself and went back to staring at the ceiling.

♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡

The moment you woke up, you turned your head and registered that there was a winged demon lying next to you.

Right.

Right, that happened.

"How long was I asleep for?" you asked. "Four hours," Jungkook replied.

"Four hours?" you tried to sit up and found it less painful to do than this morning, though your head was still hurting, "is my fever down?"

"Your face is less red," he said, which was not a medical assessment but was probably the best you were going to get.

You pressed the back of your hand to your own forehead and you were definitely still feverish. 

"You worked," you said, before you could think of a better way to say it.

Jungkook said nothing to that.

"Thank you," you added, which felt strange yet necessary at the same time.

He sat up from your bed and you could see his wings finally spreading as if he was stretching it. 

It was a beautiful sight, this was the closest you’ve ever been to his wings and you’ve never noticed how magnificent his wings looked. 

"You should eat something," he said.

"There's not much in the studio kitchen."

"There is soup," he said, “it’s a soup inside of a can, it's in the second cabinet."

You stared at him, amazed, "How do you know what's in my cabinets?"

"I spend a significant amount of time in this room," he said matter-of-factly. 

"You've been going through my cabinets."

"I've been observing the contents of it, yes," he replied.

"That is the same thing," but you didn't have the energy to be properly annoyed about it, and also he wasn't wrong, there was canned soup, "I don't know if I can stand long enough to heat it."

"I can heat it," he said. 

Jungkook thought this, you being sick, might be the perfect chance for him to help you which would turn into you developing affection towards him.

You looked at him, surprised at what he just said, "You," you said slowly, "want to heat my soup? For me?"

"I didn't say I wanted to."

"You offered," you argued.

"I stated that I could."

He walked towards the kitchen and you watched him open the cabinet, locate the can of soup, and then stand there for a good one minute.

Then you realised he has probably never done this before and you would need to direct his every movement for him.

"There's a tin opener in the drawer to the left of the sink," you called.

Jungkook found it in two seconds, you were glad he at least took the right tool right away. You couldn’t imagine trying to describe what a tin opener looks like to the demon. 

He opened the can, located a small pot, transferred the soup from the can to the pot, and turned on the stove. 

You couldn’t help but smile, you realised he must have picked up this cooking habit by observing you or the previous tenants.

It was cute to you that the demon is picking up human habits. 

Jungkook stood over it while it heated, not stirring it. He was quite literally just staring at the soup in the pot. 

"You need to stir it," you said, "otherwise it sticks to the pan. Pick up the spoon."

He picked up the spoon and stirred it, once.

"Keep going," you giggled.

Jungkook was wondering why he, a Demon, who had once made armies fall, is now stirring a canned soup in a studio apartment on a Saturday because a human with a fever asked him to.

You then directed him to pour the soup in a bowl, which took a while because the only bowl you owned was dirty and he had to clean it for you first.

Jungkook then brought you the soup which he set on the bedside table and then he went back to the desk chair and sat in it.

"The other tenants," you said, between spoonfuls, "Taehyung said they would be back late. The show goes until eleven."

"I'm aware of that."

"So it's just us until then."

"It has been just us for several months," he said, "with occasional exceptions."

Fair point. But you were running on 40% of your brain capacity, so it was also fair that your brain was stating dumb things.

"I'm just saying you're stuck with me today," you replied.

"I'm always stuck with you," he replied, which felt like a complaint and a statement of fact and possibly something else entirely, though you were feverish and probably reading into things.

You finished the soup, set the bowl down on your bedside table, and laid back against the pillows.

"Jungkook," you said.

"Yes."

"Can you do it again? You know.. the cold," you added quietly, "the fever's still there. I can feel it and you actually helped."

He was quiet for long enough that you started to think he would say no.

Then he walked back to the bed, and laid down on top of the covers again, and the coldness from his body began radiating immediately, and your body moved towards it without asking your brain first.

"Closer," you said, which was an absolutely unhinged thing to say and you blamed the fever completely.

Jungkook did as he was told. The cold radiated through the blankets and you exhaled slowly and closed your eyes. And you thought, distantly, that you were going to have to think about this later when you were well enough to.

"Don't say anything," you muttered.

"I wasn't going to," Jungkook said.

"I mean about this, tomorrow, don't make it weird."

"Define weird," Jungkook responded.

"You know what I mean. Anyway, thank you," you said again.

♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡

The second time, it was worse.

Jungkook had thought that the first time would prepare him for this, that having already survived the warmth radiating through the blanket layers once, the second time would simply be a repetition of something he already experienced.

Jungkook is wrong.

Because you were closer this time. Jungkook complied because refusing would have required him to explain why he was refusing. Your warm body was generating heat and was pressing against him and his skin was doing the thing it had been doing since the wrist incident, which was to say it was paying attention to you in a way that was going to become extremely inconvenient very quickly.

The last thing Jungkook, and you, would want is for him to get turned on.

A lusty Demon who has been craving for sex in hundreds of years is not going to be your friend right now.

And Jungkook needed his relationship to be good with you in order for him to leave this place. 

He thought about Kratos. 

About the citadel, the cold stone corridors, the smell of ash and iron that was just the smell of home, the silence of his rooms in the north tower before Seokjin made this particularly annoying decision.

You shifted in your sleep and your shoulder pressed against his arm through the blanket and Jungkook closed his eyes and tried his hardest to not think about that.

He thought about the battlefields instead. 

The plains east of the second citadel, the bridge mission, and the siege of the smaller territories of other citadels. He stood on all of those battlefields and felt nothing except the clarity of being good at war.

Your hair fell across the pillow between you.

He was not going to look at that.

He was a Demon that had been feared across the entirety of North Kratos. He had walked into rooms and had every creature in them go still. 

He had never, in any of those rooms, in any of those encounters, experienced anything like the disaster of lying next to a sick human while she slept with her shoulder against his arm and her heat radiating into his side. 

And all of this had to happen while his lust side has been neglected for hundreds of years.

Seokjin had been very, very thorough.

Your knee pressed against his leg again.

Jungkook pressed the back of his head into the pillow and breathed through his nose and stared at the ceiling so hard he might have burned a hole in it.

You are not allowed to want anything, he told himself, you have survived thousands of years, you can survive one afternoon.

He was going to murder Seokjin when he got back to Kratos. He has never been more committed to any decision in his entire existence.

You stirred in your sleep, not fully awake, and turned slightly toward him, towards the cold, which he understood intellectually, your body seeking the temperature it needed, and your forehead came to rest against his shoulder through the barrier of the blanket.

He did not move.

Jungkook did not breathe.

Then he went back to looking at the ceiling and waited.

♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡

You woke up to the sound of the front door and Jimin's voice somewhere downstairs, laughing about something.

The room was now dark, you blinked at the ceiling for a moment, trying to wake yourself up.

You could still feel your fever, but it felt more manageable. You looked around the room in search of Jungkook and he was standing near the window. 

He has crossed back there at some point while you slept, putting the distance between you again. Jungkook was standing up with his back to you and his wings folded, he was just watching the dark street below.

"The fever's down," you said.

"Yes," he said, without turning around, "I know."

"How do you know?"

"Your breathing changed."

You sat up slowly, "Jungkook," you called out. "Yes.” "I'm not going to talk about today again." "I know."

"I'm not going to pretend it didn't happen either," you continued, "I'm just not going to talk about it."

"That's fine," he said. "Good, you should eat something else," he said, “you've only had soup." "I know," you nodded, even though he couldn’t see you doing it.

"There are crackers in the cabinet next to the sink." "You really have memorised my entire kitchen,” you couldn’t help but giggle at him.

"I live here," he stated.

"You haunt here," you corrected, which was technically accurate.

You stood up from your bed, got your crackers, and went back to sleep.

♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡

You woke up the next day still feeling sick.

Not as bad as yesterday, but bad enough. The fever dropped overnight and then crept back up by morning, you were foolish enough to think you've beaten it without medication.

Your throat hurts now too, which was new and unwelcomed.

Tomorrow is Monday.

You have first graders who needed someone to show up and teach them and stop them from putting things in each other's ears, and that someone was you, and you could not do that if you were still sick.

You needed paracetamol, badly.

"Morning," you said to the demon who was sitting on your couch.

"You're still feverish," he replied.

"I know,” you pushed yourself upright, "I need to reach Namjoon, he'll bring paracetamol if I ask him."

"Your phone is on the desk."

You looked at the distance between the bed and the desk, which was not far by any reasonable measurement but felt significant when your limbs were still operating at reduced capacity.

"Can you bring it to me?" you asked.

Jungkook picked up the phone and held it out to you. You took it, unlocked it, and immediately winced because the screen brightness was doing your head no favours.

"I need to message Namjoon," you said, squinting at the screen, "but my eyes hate me right now. Can you just…" you held the phone out toward him "can you type it for me? I'll tell you what to say."

"You want me to send a message on your behalf?" he asked confusedly.

"I want you to type six words while I keep my eyes closed, yes,” you held the phone out further, "please."

There was a few seconds of silence, which made you realise that Jungkook has never owned a phone before.

"You need to open the messages app," you said, "it's the green one with a white square in the middle."

"I can see that."

"Then you-"

"I know how to use a phone," he said, "I have been in this room for a long time. I have watched humans use these devices extensively."

"Okay, sorry,” you closed your eyes then, "Namjoon's contact is saved as Namjoon with a book emoji."

Another brief silence before he said, "The last message he sent you."

And something in his voice made you open your eyes. 

Jungkook was looking at the phone with an expression that said he found something interesting and was choosing to be very interested in it.

"What?" you said.

He turned the screen towards you. The last message in your conversation with Namjoon, from three days ago, read: 

Namjoon📘: you looked really cute today btw, just saying.

You had, apparently, forgot to respond to that. You closed your eyes again, "Just ignore that one," you said, "that’s… that's just Namjoon being Namjoon."

"Is it?" "Yes." "He sends you messages like that often?"

"Occasionally," You kept your eyes closed, “can you just message him and ask him to bring paracetamol? Tell him I'm sick."

"Are you and Namjoon a thing?" Jungkook said, ignoring what you just asked him to do.

It wasn't a question with a particular purpose behind it, he asked it the way he asked you about most things, like he was simply gathering information and had no feelings whatsoever about what that information might be.

You opened your eyes, "No." "He wants to be," Jungkook stated. "I know." Jungkook looked at you before asking, "And you?"

You rubbed your face with both hands, which made your head pound slightly, "I don't know. He's.. Namjoon is great. He's kind and smart and everyone, including Hoseok, has been trying to get us together for about a year. I just… I'm not sure he's the one for me. I don't know if what I feel for him is that kind of thing or just the kind of thing where you care about someone a lot and people keep telling you that means something more and eventually you start wondering if they're right."

"You could just use him for sex," Jungkook said, unprompted.

You stared at him, "That's what you would do in Kratos," you replied.

"It's efficient," Jungkook shrugged. 

"I don't use people," you said, "I'm not a demon."

"No," he agreed, amused at you, "you're not."

"Just message him," you said, "tell him I'm sick and ask if he can bring paracetamol. Tell him I'll explain later. And, Jungkook, be normal about it."

"I'm always normal," Jungkook said.

"You are genuinely never normal," you replied, "just type it, please."

Jungkook was typing what you asked him to. 

You watched him do it out of the corner of your eye, before handing the phone back.

You read what he typed: 

You: hey, I’m not feeling great, I have a fever. Any chance you could swing by with paracetamol today? will explain later. thanks.

You read it, "That's actually fine," you said, surprised at Jungkook’s writing skills.

"I told you I was capable."

"I never doubted your literacy, I doubted your ability to sound like a normal human person."

"And?"

"And you sounded like a normal human person," you admitted, "well done."

He scoffed sat back down on the couch.

Namjoon replied in two minutes, which said everything about Namjoon.

Namjoon: omw. you okay? need anything else?

♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡

Namjoon arrived 30 minutes later.

You heard his voice downstairs, he must have run into Taehyung, and then footsteps on the stairs, then a knock at the door, and then the door opened.

He pulled the desk chair over to the bedside, sat down, and looked at you.

"You look rough," he said, which from Namjoon was an expression of concern.

"I feel rough," you confirmed.

He opened the paracetamol and handed them to you with the electrolyte drink he brought already opened.

"Okay," he said, settling back, “tell me everything."

"There's not much to tell," you said, "it started yesterday morning. By afternoon it was worse. I slept most of the day."

"You were alone?"

You paused for just a second, "Uh.. mostly."

Namjoon glanced around the room, which was when you realised he has not been looking at the window since he walked in because the obvious demon was there.

He met Jungkook once, technically, in the dark in the middle of the night, and Jungkook had told him not to be scared of the said demon before disappearing. So Namjoon knew what was in this room, and he chose to ignore his fear and not look at Jungkook, which was, in your opinion, a completely reasonable approach.

"How did you manage yesterday?" he asked, still looking at you, "without meds, you must have been miserable."

"I was," you said honestly, "But it was.. well, I got through it."

"Did you eat?" "Yep, I ate soup and crackers."

"Good," Namjoon nodded in satisfaction, "you need to keep eating even when you don't feel like it," he glanced at the electrolyte drink, "and drink all of that. It's not optional."

"Are you going to mother me through this entire visit?" "Yes," he said, without apology, "you live alone-" he stopped talking for a second before continuing, "you live in a studio alone, someone has to take care of you."

"I don't live alone," you said immediately, before you could stop yourself from saying it.

"She managed just fine," Jungkook said, inviting himself to a conversation that was between you and Namjoon.

Namjoon's shoulders went very stiff.

You could see Namjoon’s hands shaking.

You knew that fear. You had been where Namjoon was once, there had been a time when every movement Jungkook made scared the shit out of you.

But somewhere along the way, you have grown used to him.

Not completely. Sometimes, you still fear him, but lately, it came less often and when it did, it no longer stayed as long.

Namjoon bravely turned his head towards the window. This was, you noted, the first time he looked directly at Jungkook since walking in.

Because that damn demon didn’t even try to hide, you knew he could control what and how he wanted to show himself to humans. You didn’t understand why he just didn’t make himself disappear for your guest.

"Right," Namjoon said, after a moment, his voice shaking out of fear, "Good."

He turned back to look at you.

"How did you manage the fever specifically?" he asked, "without patches or medication, a high fever overnight is tough."

"I cuddled her," Jungkook replied before you could.

The room went extremely quiet.

Namjoon turned around slowly this time, like he wanted to make sure he heard correctly.

"You," Namjoon said, "cuddled her."

"Yes," Jungkook said, tilting his head like what he said should have been understood by Namjoon the moment it left his mouth.

"He didn't-" you started.

"Yeah I cuddled her," Jungkook said, interrupting you.

"Jungkook!" you pressed your hand to your forehead, "Namjoon. His body temperature is extremely low. I needed something cold like the patches against the fever. So his body was essentially the same as a cooling patch, it was a medical decision, I was barely conscious."

"You were entirely conscious," Jungkook chuckled, "you asked me to move closer to you."

The silence that followed was deafening. 

"It was a fever," you said, comforting Namjoon, "I was not in my right mind."

"You were coherent enough to ask me to move closer," Jungkook said, and you could not see his face from here but you were fairly certain he was smirking and having the best time of his life.

"Jungkook," you warned.

"Yes?" He teased you playfully.

"Please stop talking."

"You asked me to be normal," he said defending himself.

"This is not normal." "You said I was never normal," Jungkook pointed out, “so technically any behavior from me could be considered my version of normal."

Namjoon had been watching this exchange with confusion. He never thought you would be so fearless to be arguing with the demon, he never knew this living situation has actually gotten… so much better for you. You did not seem to fear Jungkook. If anything, the bantering happening seemed like the two of you are… friends. And the demon cuddling you was something he felt very angry and jealous of, but he decided not to bring it up when you were obviously sick. 

Jungkook felt everything Namjoon was feeling, because Namjoon was a human and humans broadcast their emotions like signals and fear in particular was something Jungkook could read so easily. 

"Drink the electrolyte thing," Namjoon said, ignoring the elephant, or demon, in the room.

You picked up the electrolyte drink and took a long sip, "Thank you for coming," you said. 

"Of course I did," Namjoon said, like it was obvious.

Namjoon stayed for another hour, talked to you about school, about a situation with a parent in his class that had been ongoing for weeks, about a book he found at a secondhand shop that he thought you'd like and left in his car to give you later, about Hoseok's ongoing war with the photocopier in the teachers' lounge. 

Jungkook watched Namjoon do all of it. The way Namjoon brought the electrolyte drink without being asked, and the way his voice pitched slightly differently when he was talking to you. 

You were laughing at something Namjoon said and Namjoon was looking at you with a certain look in his eyes.

And Jungkook felt something shift in his chest, which he classified immediately as irrelevant and moved on.

♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡

Namjoon stood up to leave around noon, "Text me tonight," he said, "let me know how the fever's doing, you can rely on me."

"I will," you said, "thank you, genuinely"

He smiled, picked up his jacket, looked at you for a few seconds, like he was deciding whether to say something, then decided against it before heading for the door. Namjoon nodded once and left.

Now you and Jungkook were alone again.

"You didn't have to mention that," you said, "the cuddling thing to Namjoon."

"It was the truth," Jungkook replied.

"It is and you said it specifically because you knew it would make him feel a certain type of way and you were curious what would happen."

"That's also accurate," Jungkook agreed.

"You were trying to make him jealous," you said.

"I was simply stating a fact of what happened yesterday," Jungkook responded.

"Jungkook.”

"Namjoon is in love with you," he said, “you know that, I know that, he knows that. I simply gave him some information to give him something to think about."

"That's manipulative." "It's information," Jungkook argued. "You literally specialise in manipulation,” you sighed.

"I told you I wasn't going to use Namjoon," you said. "I know." "So whatever you were trying to do-"

Jungkook interrupted you, "I wasn't trying to do anything," he said, "I was telling him the truth about what happened yesterday, that's all."

“I didn’t know demons cared so much about telling the truth,” you replied.

Jungkook didn’t respond and only chuckled at what you said. 

"Just get some sleep," he finally said.

You didn’t argue with him, and decided to rest. You fell asleep within minutes of laying on your bed. 

And on the other side of the room, Jungkook thought about the way Namjoon's face looked when he mentioned you asking for him to move closer, and about the way something shifted in the air between them.

And Jungkook thought of the fact that he said it not because it was useful to the plan of you developing affection for him and not because it served any particular outcome but simply because he wanted Namjoon to know.

That was new.

That was a very new and extremely inconvenient development.

Jungkook has not lost control of a trait in thousands of years.

He would like to keep that record.

His lust was ignited by proximity and warmth, which happened because it has been hundreds of years for Jungkook to exist without touch.

In Kratos, the seven sins humans know of aren't sins. They were traits, and all Demons are built with them.

The strongest Demons could walk through all seven traits simultaneously and show nothing. Power wasn't about which traits you owned, as every Demon had all seven. Power was how long a Demon could stand in the worst of them without being consumed.

Because when a Demon gets consumed by a trait, they become something else entirely. They become a Demon that is easy to manipulate and kill. It was how most weak Demons in Kratos died, other than in battlefields.

Every assassination in Kratos history that Jungkook knew of had started the same way. 

Find the weak trait, feed it, and wait.

Seokjin knew that when he designed the curse, kudos to him for actually being clever for once.

Jungkook was considered one of the finest examples of that mastery of the seven that the North Citadel has produced in several generations.

And then your hand was just too warm and too close.

And it has been hundreds of years for Jungkook.

That was all it took.

One touch from a human, and lust ignited, and now it was bleeding at the edges, which woke up jealousy, which led to possessiveness making decisions without his permission. 

Jungkook has been controlling this for thousands of years.

As the air began to wrap around Woojin, edges of his form started to blur, he glanced towards you one last time, “You’re still alive,” he said lightly, “that’s already impressive.”

“Don’t come back,” you snapped, “you prick.”

Woojin laughed so hard, you thought he must’ve been a psychopath, “I hope you’re wrong,” he said.

Then the space he had occupied folded inward, leaving the studio abruptly empty. The silence that followed was different than before, the room was no longer strained by too many demonic presences. 

Now there were only two of you.

You felt it immediately. The shift in the air and the way the room shaped itself around Jungkook alone, as if the world has decided he was the dominant force again.

You turned towards him.

Jungkook hasn’t moved from where he was standing, he was near the window, with his wings folded behind him.

“I don’t fear you anymore,” you said, “I despise you.”

♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡

You didn't mean to start a confrontation, but the words have been building since his conversation with Woojin.

You thought of what he said to his fellow demon, “the curse only lifts when a human develops affection toward me.”

"The curse only lifts when a human develops affection towards you," you confronted him, "isn't it?"

You took a small breath before continuing, "And you're expecting that eventually I'll develop affection towards you. I could never and I will never. Remember, I'm only here because the rent is cheap."

Jungkook didn’t look surprised, he was in fact not surprised.

He has been waiting for this reaction since Woojin left. He could feel the anger that has been building inside your tiny human body the whole time. 

He could feel it the way he could feel a storm in Kratos coming from miles away. 

"You're just angry," he said, "you don't mean whatever you just said."

"Oh, I do mean it," you replied, "you think if you stand there long enough, if you make yourself less threatening and more present, I'll adjust to you. You think the routine in this studio will do the heavy work for you and that I'll eventually stop reacting and I'll start tolerating you, hell, even developing feelings for you."

You let out a humorless laugh, then pressed a hand over your mouth and let out a puking sound because the thought itself made you sick, "Hell, maybe you even think I’ll develop feelings for you.”

His gaze stayed steady on you, "Tolerance is not the same as affection."

"It's the doorway to it," you replied, "you've said so yourself, proximity produces comfort and comfort lowers resistance."

Correct, Jungkook thought to himself.

It was satisfying to him that you were paying attention to what he says and does, which would either be useful or inconvenient to him, Jungkook hasn’t decided which yet.

Silence stretched between the two of you. 

Jungkook folded his wings, deliberately making himself smaller. Jungkook has learned centuries ago that making yourself smaller in the room was not the same as being weak, it was just a more effective option. 

Threats make humans run away, while restraint will push them to stay and try to figure out what is happening, you were already trying to figure out what he was.

Good, Jungkook thought to himself again.

He stood on battlefields before, yet now Jungkook was counting your small steps into developing affection towards him as a progress. It was always funny to him how the world works and how he ended up here.

"You say you could never," he said after a moment, "but humans never stick to their words."

"Not this one," you answered, "you are not a slow-burn romance waiting to happen. You're just a demon who happened to be attached to a lease agreement."

You hesitated only for a second before continuing, "And let's make something else clear. I will never sleep with you. Not by accident, not because of tension, not because you want me to develop affection towards you, and not because of empathy towards you, it will never happen."

Something changed in Jungkook's expression, he seemed taken aback. Not because sex was something he had never imagined as a topic coming from you as you were probably affected by what Woojin said. You were probably affected by it enough to bring it up to him.

It was also interesting to Jungkook the way you said it. It was like you had already imagined it happening, that was interesting to him. 

"You assume that is my objective," he said quietly.

"You're a demon bound by affection, you know physical intimacy usually leads to it. You would be foolish not to consider it a variable."

"I do not require your body," he replied, voice somehow colder now, "affection is not a biological reflex."

He took one step away from the window, not towards you, just away from the wall.

It was the smallest possible change in the room, yet enough to make the air shift. Enough to remind you, without any aggression required, that he was the largest and strongest thing in the space or maybe on earth, for all you knew. Though after what you had just learned since you've lived here, Earth no longer felt like a safe place. Not when there were other beings out there.

You can't even be sure that Jungkook's kind is not even the worst of them.

You didn't step back.

Jungkook took notes of that too. To him, you not stepping back meant you were learning to be around him.

The first weeks, you would have stumbled over your own feet if you caught a glimpse of his shadow. Now you stood your ground on legs that were still shaking.

That was not bravery. That was conditioning, his conditioning. You have been well-trained by him, whether you noticed it or not.

"You believe creating a distance will ensure your safety," he said, his voice quieter now, "very well, keep your distance. I have no intention of forcing you."

He let his gaze move over your face, your eyes, your nose, your mouth, then back up to your eyes. And he watched and felt your pulse jump in your throat.

You kept your expression very still.

Clever, Jungkook thought, but your body disagreed with your face. 

"Well if you’re keeping your distance," he said at last, "then my presence should not concern you."

"It does not and it never did," you replied.

That was the most dishonest thing you have said to him since moving in. He could feel the lie in the air the same way he could feel the shift in your beating heart.

Jungkook just nodded his head, giving you an acknowledgment of the terms just laid out between the two of you. 

The line you have drawn between you seems clear now. You believed you’ve finally conquered the demon, you believed it was your achievement to celebrate.

That was fine, that was exactly what Jungkook needed you to believe.

♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡

You didn't sleep well after that.

Jungkook felt it. 

He could hear your breathing from across the room, the shaky breaths of someone lying still and thinking too hard. 

You were replaying the conversation in your head, and Jungkook didn't need to do anything or ask you to know that. He just had to listen to the way your heart is beating.

He sat by the window and waited.

In Kratos, patience was not a virtue, it is a weapon. 

You wait until your enemy exhausted themselves, until they make the first move out of desperation, until their uncertainty and their own impatience outpaces their discipline. Jungkook is not always the first to move on a battlefield, sometimes he let others come to him.

They always do, and Jungkook knew that you would too.

He clicked his tongue in the dark. 

Jungkook is feared across the whole of Kratos and now he was sitting in a human attic waiting for a school teacher to develop feelings for him. 

Seokjin knew exactly what he was doing.

♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡

You woke up before your alarm even rang, your neck felt stiff but you couldn't just take the day off.

You saw Jungkook who was standing near the farthest wall from you. He was partially visible, not hiding, but just simply waiting for you to decide what kind of morning you wanted this to be.

"I know you're here," you said flatly, reaching for your phone, "I'm going to get ready and go to work."

He said nothing.

So you went to the bathroom.

Jungkook listened to the shower run and moved through the room while you were occupied. He has done this thousands of times since he’s been bound to this room. The difference was that this room has changed since you moved in.

It had a character now.

He could analyse what kind of person you were by the books you own and by the way your desk is organised with the lesson plans and notes of observations about each of your students. 

You cared more than you let people see. You noted everything down, and remembered it all so well. 

The shower turned off, and Jungkook moved back to the farthest wall from where you would be standing.

When you came out you walked through the studio, moving from the kitchen to your desk, to standing near your bed, giving yourself tasks so your mind had somewhere else to be and not the demon in the room. 

You leaned against the kitchen counter, preparing the first coffee of the day.

"Your coffee is going to be too strong," Jungkook said.

"I like it strong," you replied without turning around to look at him.

"You put in three spoonfuls."

"That's how I make it."

"That explains why you're always moving too fast."

"Are you criticizing my caffeine intake?" you asked.

"I'm observing"

"I don’t care for your opinions," you muttered back, "and I'd rather have this conversation after I've actually had the coffee you're criticizing."

You stood at the counter with both hands around the mug, not looking at him, and he stayed near the wall, not speaking, and the silence between you now was different from the silence of the first weeks.

You were now less afraid of him.

When you set the mug down and reached for your bag, you glanced towards him, "Last night," you began to talk then stopped. You picked up your keys and decided to not even bother talking to him, "Nothing, nevermind."

You stood there a second longer than you meant to, and he noticed the tension of your shoulders disappearing slowly.

"Bye," you said, before closing the door to leave for work.

♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡

He spent the hours you were gone the way he spent the past years he’s been here, just being present in the room with nothing but his thoughts. 

Previously the absence of tenants had been unremarkable, but even if he didn’t like to admit it, without you the room felt different.

You came home around 6 PM, a little later than usual.

He heard your footsteps before you even reached the gate of the house. You were walking slowly on purpose and Jungkook knew it was because of him.

He heard the gate open, then the front door, then your voice in the hallway below, talking to the other tenants downstairs before you finally walked upstairs with your guard already up.

You opened the door to the studio and closed it behind you, and you just stood there in the middle of the room, still in your coat and your bag still on your shoulder.

The next few minutes, you were just standing in the middle of the studio with your coat still buttoned and your eyes fixed on nothing, like you have just forgotten what you were supposed to do next.

Your bag slid off your shoulder and hit the floor.

Then you sat on the edge of the bed, your fingers playing with the fabric of your coat.

"Hyunwoo drew a picture today," you said out of nowhere, “he's one of my students, he is six years old. He drew his whole family and left this big empty space in the middle, because his mum isn't there anymore."

Jungkook said nothing.

"He talked about it like it was just…  a thing that had happened," you pressed your palms flat against your thighs, "like she went somewhere, and sometimes he sees her, and that's just how it is. Hyunwoo wasn't upset, he just accepted it, the way kids accept whatever an adult gives them. I don't know why it hit me the way it did. I've heard worse from my kids."

"I think I was just already tired before that," you whispered quietly.

"Did the child seem distressed?" Jungkook asked. 

You looked up to where he was standing, you were surprised that he even responded to your rant that he probably couldn't understand.

"No," you replied, “that was the part that got me. He just... moved on. Finished the drawing and asked me if I liked his dog."

"Children adapt faster than people expect," his voice was almost comforting, "they haven't learned yet that they're supposed to fight what they can't change."

You looked at him for a moment before replying, "That almost sounded like something a person would say."

"I've been watching your kind for a long time, I know how your feelings work and it's getting boring now."

"Is that supposed to be an insult?"

The corner of his mouth moved, it wasn't quite a smile, more like a smirk and you hated that he looked so damn good. 

Are all demons just born good looking? You saw another one that wasn’t hideous as well, if anything his friend looked better than most humans, and by most you meant 98%.

You thought demons were supposed to be hideous, with horns, wings, and crocodile skin like the trolls in the Lord of The Rings. 

You looked down at your hands again to stop yourself from being amazed by a demon, "Can I ask you something?"

"You may."

"The people who lived here before me," you said slowly, like you were walking your way across thin ice, "the ones who stayed the longest, what were they like?"

Jungkook was considering how much information he should give you.

It shouldn’t be too much that you stopped being curious and approaching him, he ought to keep you wanting for more knowledge. But it shouldn’t be too little that you stopped asking altogether. 

"Different from you," he said.

"How?" you asked curiously. 

"Their fear moved in one direction, it built up stronger and stronger until it was too heavy for them to carry and then they just left after it gets too much."

You nodded slowly, "Did any of them ever talk to you?"

"One," he said, "she stayed three months, she used to talk to the room, to whatever was in here, and ask it to leave her alone. She was very polite actually," Jungkook couldn’t help but chuckle.

"What happened to her?"

"She got a job somewhere else, she left of her own accord."

"Did you make it harder for her to go?"

The question was direct, and he knew you wanted to understand the degree of what you were dealing with.

"No," he said.

"Why not?"

"She wasn't going to be interesting," he said simply, "there was nowhere for it to go."

"Jungkook," you muttered.

"Yes," he said, still looking at you.

"The curse, I'm not asking you to explain all of it, I just want to know what it costs you."

He let the silence linger for a moment before he answered, "Everything I was before it." 

"That must have not been easy," you said.

"No," he agreed, and his voice came out quieter than he intended, "it's not."

You stood up and walked towards the kitchen, you didn't want this conversation to go even deeper than it already was, "I'm going to heat up whatever Taehyung just gave me," you said, "and then watch something on the Telly."

"Probably something idiotic," Jungkook muttered.

"Very probably," you nodded your head at him.

"I’ll already know the ending, it’s so easy to predict," Jungkook said.

"Jungkook," you glared at him.

"It's obvious from the setup," he shrugged. 

"I know, but if you say it out loud, I will turn it off and go to bed," you said as you walked to the kitchen and you saw Jungkook smile.

Like a full on smile across his face, which you have never seen him do. 

Jungkook watched what his smile did to you, the way your chin moved up, the way you suddenly found something very interesting in him.

You might have been fond of him already, Jungkook thought to himself.

It wasn’t easy though for the Demon to smile. It took everything in him not to puke, but a Demon’s gotta do what he needs to do to escape this Heaven hole. 

"Go get your food," he muttered, looking away from you.

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You came back with a bowl of food and Jungkook was already sitting on the couch with his legs stretched out perfectly comfortably, like he has always been there. Which, technically, he had, he’s been here even longer than you. 

You didn’t know if you wanted to sit next to him, or just sit somewhere else. But the couch was yours as much as anything in this room was, and if you took the desk chair, you were giving something up that was yours.

You sat down on the other end of the sofa with your food on your lap, and there was a distance between the two of you.

You scrolled on Netflix and landed on Master Chef and immediately started playing and explaining it to Jungkook, "This show is basically people cooking food and trying not to cry, because they’re asked to cook it under time pressure,” you said.

"If humans cry because of time pressure during cooking, you guys have so much to be thankful for," he muttered.

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes at that, “the time pressure costs them being number one, being a winner."

"Doesn’t matter, you guys are just fragile in so many ways," he chuckled as he noticed the way you rolled your eyes at him again.

In Kratos, you would have died if you even talked back to someone as powerful as Jungkook.

"We contain multitudes," you said, and ate a bite of whatever Taehyung cooked as you laid back on the sofa.

As the episode continued playing, Jungkook watched it with half of his attention, one on the TV and one on you. The way the tension gradually left your body, the way you stopped pretending you weren’t relaxed.

Around twenty minutes in you tucked your feet underneath you, shifted your weight, and when you moved your legs, your knee was now closer to his side than before.

The two of you noticed the smaller gap, but proceeded not to care about it. Jungkook kept his eyes on the screen and just let the gap sit there between you, close enough to be warm and far enough to have plausible deniability.

The episode ended, and another one started automatically. 

About ten minutes into the second episode, your breathing slowed down and your head tilted toward his end of the couch. Jungkook looked at you for a few seconds, his eyes drifting from your neck, to the small furrow completely being gone from your forehead.

He couldn’t help but chuckle knowing that you just fell asleep so soundly and so immediately, on the couch too. If that’s not a sign of you slowly trusting him, you must be a very good actor, Jungkook thought. 

Jungkook reached over and pulled the blanket from the armrest over you. He did it before he finished thinking about it, and he stood there a second longer than he needed to.

Jungkook learned that acting caring towards you is useful, the small things like this is what makes humans.. love.

That was the sole and only reason he placed that blanket over you.

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You woke up on the wrong side of the sofa.

Yes, you fell asleep on the fucking sofa, and the first thing you did when you noticed wasn’t to look for Jungkook, but you were looking at the blanket first, then the silence, then the fact that the TV is off and the room is dark and you definitely did not mean to fall asleep here.

You stood up too quickly and tripped over the tangled blanket that had slipped to the floor.

Like any normal person, you reached out to find the edge of the couch, but you somehow couldn’t find it. And as you were falling, you tried to grab whatever furniture you thought would be near you, and you finally grabbed something that was not the couch.

But it wasn’t the couch or any other furniture for all that matters.

Instead, you felt a cold skin, a bone, and a wrist. 

Your fingers had already wrapped around it before your brain fully caught up, and the moment they did, Jungkook went completely still. 

It was like he was frozen in time and you were the only one in this house alive. It felt like to you that Jungkook was holding himself back. 

You blinked, and looked up at him.

Somehow even though your room was dark that you literally almost fell, the moment you looked at him, the moon started shining so brightly you could see his face so clearly.

Jungkook was right there in front of you.

You could see the line of his jaw, his eyes, and the way he was looking at you which was completely different from the way he would look at you normally. You didn't know what that look was, you just knew it was different.

God, he really is one handsome demon, you thought to yourself.

Neither of you said anything, even though his wrist was still in your hand. 

Jungkook hasn't moved it, hasn't moved at all to be exact. 

And your half asleep brain kept going back to how he could be across the room before you finished a sentence, and he was still here, right next to you, not moving.

Your heart was doing something fucking embarrassing.

Then his jaw tightened, just a little, and his wrist slipped out of your hand.

He walked, more like dashed, to the window on the other side of the studio, and stood there with his back to you.

You stayed near the couch with your hand still curved around nothing, just staring at it.

This was the first time the two of you have touched or been physically in contact with each other. And he is COLD, his body was so cold, as cold as a corpse.

And that took you by surprise, you assumed demons would have body heat especially seeing that they live in Hell. 

Hell, fire, all of that. 

And somehow, his body being cold made you sympathise with him, just a little.

♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡

Don't.

Don't.

Don’t, motherfucker, Jungkook thought, referring to himself.

Hundreds of years. 

He hasn’t let anyone touch him in the hundreds of years he has been stuck in this studio. Jungkook had made sure of it, he kept just enough distance in every room and every encounter so that no one ever reached for him. 

Because the body remembers what the mind decides to forget. Jungkook has missed the touch of another, he has been missing all the mistresses he had. 

Your hand had been warm, and it somehow turned him on even more. He has never had sex with a warm body. 

Jungkook knew lust. He is a Demon, he was built partly from it, it is one of seven traits he was made of, and he spent hundreds of years learning in this studio to let it pass through him without wanting it.

Behind him, you cleared your throat.

"I'm-,”

"Go to sleep," he said, cutting you off.

"Okay," you responded quietly.

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He could hear you walk slowly to your bed and lie down. And he could even hear you pulling the blanket on your body. 

Jungkook hated humans.

He hated their noise, their softness, and their endless wanting for love and affection. He hated the way they filled rooms with their loud breath, like every part of their fragile body was begging the world to notice how weak they are.

He has never imagined sharing a bed with one.

The thought alone should have disgusted him. 

But your warmth had ruined something in him.

The moment your hand touched him, his whole body reacted. It was like his skin had been asleep for centuries and woke up all at once.

He wanted to tear himself away from it.

But he also wanted to kiss you.

Woojin exhaled, something between frustration and relief, “We could not reach you, no Demon could,” his voice lowered, “I was not sent by The King, I came here on my own will. Jophiel came to the border while I was on guard and he told me everything.” 

Jungkook’s gaze somehow shifted almost involuntarily toward the bed.

Woojin noticed.

“I wanted to keep you company,” Woojin said, “but now that I’m here,” he hesitated, then added, “I am not certain you even needed it.”

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Jungkook took a few seconds to reply to Woojin, letting the weight of it all settle, then he spoke without turning to look at his used-to-be right hand man.

“She just happened to live here,” Jungkook stated.

Woojin did not respond immediately, he rose from his kneel at last.

The ceiling was too low for his wings to stretch properly, forcing them to remain folded against his back, “While you’ve been gone,” Woojin continued, “things have shifted, it’s been even more restless,” Woojin paused, it seemed as if he was trying to decide how much he could pour out to his leader at once, “Seokjin has been gathering influence. It’s not enough to force the King’s hand to put him on the throne. But enough that even the lower courts are beginning to notice.”

Jungkook turned to look at Woojin, “His influence will not guarantee a throne.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” Woojin said, agreeing with Jungkook, “but it is the start of the journey, his journey, to the throne.”

Jungkook leaned back against the wall, brushing the back of his neck with his left hand before asking, “Father still refuses Seokjin taking the throne?”

“Yes,” Woojin added, “your father stands by his choice. He has not named an heir, but everyone knows what that means,” Woojin said as he adjusted his stance, “and the refusal is starting to look like a challenge to Seokjin.”

Jungkook laughed once, it was short, sarcastic, and humorless, “Everything looks like a challenge to Seokjin, but he has the right to challenge Father as under Kratos law, a Demon can challenge any Demon, even the ruler of the citadel.”

“Yes,” Woojin said carefully, “but other Demons, even those outside the North Citadel, know he is not the strongest heir, and Demons in the North exaggerate his power because it protects them from harm.”

Jungkook’s eyes flicked towards his friend, “In this situation,” Jungkook said, his gaze moving briefly across the room he is bound to, “he precisely is the strongest.” 

“And yet,” Woojin said, lowering his voice, “you do nothing, you’re just letting him be the strongest, when North Kratos has you.”

“I have no desire to fight my brother for a chair carved from bones,” Jungkook stated.

“That chair rules the North Citadel,” Woojin reemphasized, it was as if he thought Jungkook had forgotten what it meant to be the ruler of one fourth of Kratos. To be one of the four most powerful Demons in the whole Kratos is something every Demon desires.  

“For now,” Jungkook confidently replied.

He did not forget about what it meant to be a ruler. He knows it all too well, it’s what Father has taught him and Seokjin all along. But Jungkook just never has the desire to rule the North citadel. 

“They think you’ll still return,” Woojin admitted quietly, “that you’ll challenge Seokjin or the King.”

Jungkook gave a small shrug, “Demons always think many things.”

“You really have no desire for the throne?” Woojin asked again for confirmation. 

“No,” Jungkook replied.

Woojin studied him, “Be careful. Demons might question whether you’re truly Demonic at all. It’s strange to see a Demon more powerful than his brother refuse to take what he could take.”

“I don’t want it,” Jungkook repeated, “I never did.”

Woojin bowed his head, both in submission and in respect.

He has always thought of Jungkook as an intellectual Demon. Surely he has a plan of what to do with the citadel, “You’ve always been strange, my master.”

“I am simply unmotivated,” Jungkook replied.

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“Is it true,” Woojin asked slowly to fill the silence that fell into the room, “that Seokjin placed the ancient curse on you?”

Jungkook did not react when he admitted it, “Yes, did Jophiel tell you?”

“He did,” Woojin admitted, “but he did not tell me what needs to be done to lift it.”

Jungkook chuckled, “Figures,” he muttered.

“Jophiel said Heaven would rather not intervene,” Woojin continued, “they fear-”

“They fear war,” Jungkook cut Woojin before he could finish the sentence, “Demons would consider their interference a provocation. Heaven prefers to keep its hands clean when blood would be the consequence. They are scared Demons would take Heaven's interference as a way to touch the humans.”

Woojin frowned, “So they’ll just leave you here.”

“It’s convenient, and it’s not like I can harm humans other than the ones living in this room. It’s a cheap price to pay, one human for billions,” Jungkook shrugged.

“Then how,” Woojin asked carefully, “do we get you out of here?”

Jungkook’s expression didn’t change as he answered, “The curse only lifts when a human develops affection towards me.”

Woojin stared, not believing what he heard, “I’m sorry,” he said after a good minute, “what?”

“Yes,” Jungkook replied flatly, “that was my reaction as well.”

Woojin let out a sharp laugh, he was in complete disbelief, “You’re telling me Seokjin bound you with a condition reliant on a human emotion?”

“Affection,” Jungkook corrected.

Woojin dragged a hand down his face, “That’s absurd and hard to break. Even humans in the lesser could not stand the sight of us.”

“It’s done deliberately,” Jungkook added, "and smart of Seokjin too. As most humans do not last a week.”

“And this one?” Woojin’s gaze flicked briefly towards the bed.

“Longer than the others, the longest one to be exact,” Jungkook replied.

Woojin followed his line of sight more openly now, studying the unmoving shape beneath the blanket.

“Ah,” he said, “it is fearless.”

In Kratos, humans were not subjects, so their names were never seen as important. They were often referred to as it as names implied relevance, and relevance in Hell is only earned through power.

So when Jungkook and Woojin started speaking about you, the language used in Kratos followed naturally.

“Yes, it has to weigh in financial and convenient aspects, hence it is still here,” Jungkook added, “it is also critical, annoyingly so.”

“Mere humans grow affectionate easily,” Woojin said dismissively, “attachment is their weakness.”

“Not this one,” Jungkook disagreed. 

Woojin glanced back at Jungkook, “Then accelerate it.”

Jungkook tilted his head and raised his eyebrows at Woojin who was smiling from ear to ear. He must have found a smart way to lift the curse, Jungkook thought.

“Take it to bed,” Woojin said, “we Demons excel there, even angels rely on us for distraction and out of this world pleasure.”

Jungkook stared at him, “A human?” he repeated flatly, “with me?”

“Yes?” Woojin said, confused by Jungkook’s tone.

“I would rather go to Heaven.”

Woojin laughed too loudly at that.

Woojin studied Jungkook again, “You’ve killed hundreds of armies, and this,” Woojin gestured vaguely towards the bed, “is where you draw the line?”

“It is inefficient,” Jungkook said, “It would become messy and unnecessary.”

Woojin exhaled slowly, “This curse is cruel.”

“Yes,” Jungkook agreed, “Seokjin is especially thorough on this one.”

“If the human grows affectionate,” Woojin said, “what then?”

“The boundary dissolves, and the curse will be lifted,” Jungkook replied, “then I’ll be able to return to Kratos.”

Woojin looked at you sleeping on the other side of the room once more, confusion across his face, “Strange,” he muttered.

“What is?” Jungkook asked.

“That Seokjin chose something so small.”

“Small things are easier to overlook,” Jungkook said.

♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡

You weren’t asleep, not even close.

Sleep doesn’t come easily, especially not when you feel a sensation of the air around your room tightening as if something inhaled all the oxygen to themselves.

How could you have fallen asleep when you felt your room becoming too small for your lungs?

One moment you were lying still, listening to the familiar noises of the city through the walls of the house, and the next it felt as if something bigger than you had stepped into the apartment.

Your chest felt tight.

Every breath was hard to inhale, like the air was thicker than it should be.

For one scary second, your thoughts went blank, and you actually thought you were dying.

Then you heard a voice that wasn’t Jungkook’s.

Fuck.

No. 

No, no, no.

No. 

You forced yourself to stay still, even when your heart was slamming against your ribs as panic went up from your feet to your head in just a mere three seconds.

You kept your breathing shallow, controlled, and kept your body rigid beneath the blanket as you listened closely to what was happening.

It was another demon. 

There was no mistaking it. 

The pressure in the room changed as if the apartment was straining itself to accommodate something it was not meant to hold. 

You couldn’t see the demon, but you felt them, the way you felt Jungkook when he let his presence be known.

You caught fragments of the scene happening from the noise, you could hear the way his body dropped to kneel, and when he called Jungkook as his master.

Your stomach dropped. 

Whatever Jungkook was to you, to this other being he was something far worse and greater. When Jungkook replied, his voice sounded calm and controlled, he was asserting a hierarchy.

They spoke of angels like they were annoying and inconvenient neighbors, then Jungkook said, “It just happened to live here.”

They talked about Kratos then, and though you didn’t understand it fully, the way they spoke told you everything you needed to know. A throne was mentioned, a King who is Jungkook’s father which made Jungkook a demon prince, and you also learned he has a brother named Seokjin who apparently, a lot of demons do not like.

You listened, unwillingly fascinated, as Woojin pressed him even more. He questioned why Jungkook had not yet taken the throne, challenged his brother, or seized something that inevitably should have been Jungkook’s.

You found yourself agreeing with the other demon kneeling in your living room. 

It was strange. 

Everything about Jungkook radiated dominance and control, and yet here he is, bound to a studio apartment on Earth, and openly uninterested in ruling Hell.

“I am simply unmotivated.”

That answer stuck with you.

Unmotivated. 

Jungkook is just uninterested to be a ruler?

You couldn’t help the thought that followed, that if the deadly sins were applied to analyze Jungkook, the sloth might outweigh the other sins in his body.

Then the conversation changed, they started talking about the curse. Something you wanted to know about ever since your first encounter with the demon living rent-free in your studio. 

Your focus sharpened immediately. You learned that Seokjin, his own brother, did this to him.

You found it amusing that even demons have toxic family relationships. 

Wait, maybe they were the ones to invent being toxic to a family member. You almost chuckled at the thought, but stopped yourself because you wanted to hear more of what they had to say.

This is the time for you to find out more about the curse.

Jungkook wasn’t here by accident. He was here because someone powerful, but less powerful than him, wanted him contained somewhere far away. So far that Jungkook would never be able to rule the North Citadel, wherever that is.

And then you heard them talking about what interested you most, how to lift the curse. Or how you could finally be free of this demon living with you. 

“The curse can only be lifted when a human develops affection towards me.”

Your stomach dropped so hard and your head was spinning, it felt like you had vertigo.

You clenched your jaw until it started to hurt. 

It becomes even more annoying when Woojin refers to you as it. 

You knew you meant nothing to them in the grand structure of their world, but hearing yourself stripped of even a pronoun sent anger flaring through you, it felt humiliating to be referred to as ‘it’.

Then Woojin made his suggestion for Jungkook to sleep with you to accelerate the affection.

Your hands curled into fists beneath the blanket as rage surged up your throat. You wanted to sit up, scream, and remind them you were a person and not a lever to be pulled so a demon could go home.

And then Jungkook reacted.

“A human? With me? I would rather go to Heaven.”

The reaction unsettled you more than the suggestion itself. 

You laid there long after the conversation quieted down, your eyes open in the dark, and you were furious.

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Your heart nearly stopped when Jungkook called your name.

“We know you’re awake, ____,” he said calmly, “we can feel humans' negative emotions and intent.”

For a fraction of a second, you considered the possibility that he was an imagination, that maybe, your body did fall asleep and in your dreams, Jungkook caught you awake. You clung to that hope with everything you had, lying perfectly still beneath the blanket, your eyes now shut tight.

How were you supposed to know demons could feel things like that?

You stayed motionless, ignoring them, and pretending to sleep, because acknowledging him felt like jumping off a cliff. 

And if you didn’t respond, maybe he would let it go. Maybe he wouldn’t care enough to do anything about it.

“It is pretending to be asleep,” the other demon said.

You never spoke to him once, never even saw him properly, and yet he kept calling you it.

Something in you snapped.

That demon pushed you to snap.

“Stop fucking calling me it,” you said, your rage surpassing fear before you could stop yourself, “I’m not a fucking thing.”

You sat up as you spoke, adrenaline overriding your rational mind. You reached blindly for the bedside lamp. 

The light clicked on and you immediately regretted it.

Only a few feet from the end of the bed stood the other demon.

He was nothing like Jungkook.

Four horns curved from his head, thicker and more jagged than Jungkook’s, their shapes were uneven. A long, muscular tail curled behind him, and he genuinely looked terrifying and inhumane. Jungkook looked more like a mixture of a human and demon, while this one was just demonic. 

And his eyes, there was no white part in them. They were just endlessly black.

Your breath stopped, and a panicked shriek escaped from your throat. You scrambled backward instinctively, the blanket tangling around your legs as your hands flew up to form a useless shield.

“I’m, I’m sorry,” you blurted out, “I didn’t, I didn’t know. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it. Don’t kill me.”

Your heart was beating so fast you thought you might pass out.

Woojin blinked in confusion, while Jungkook sighed.

“You see?” Jungkook said flatly to Woojin, not looking at you. 

Woojin’s gaze stayed on you, unblinking, “It speaks,” Woojin said.

“Yes,” Jungkook replied dryly, “they speak a lot when they are awake.”

Your fingers dug into the mattress, “I can hear you, you know.”

Jungkook finally looked at you then, “I am aware,” he said.

Woojin tilted his head slightly at you, still observing your every move, “It is angry.”

“I have every right to be,” you snapped, then immediately flinched, bracing yourself for consequences like being murdered by a demon.

The demon didn’t move or say anything, but instead, Jungkook spoke up again, “You overheard everything.”

You swallowed hard, getting rid of that nervous lump on your throat, “You weren’t exactly whispering.”

“That does not mean you were given permission to listen to our conversation,” Woojin said.

You shot him a glare before fear could stop you, “First of all it is my room, and second, you were talking about me like I wasn’t even here.”

“You weren’t,” Woojin replied simply.

Your mouth opened, then closed again. You could feel rage burning hot behind your eyes, your emotions were tangled with humiliation and fear. 

“I’m a person,” you said, “Not an it.”

Woojin studied you for a long moment, then, almost thoughtfully, he said, “It has defiance.” The word it came out of his mouth as if he wanted to see a reaction out of you. 

Jungkook’s mouth twitched, he almost defended you, almost.

“Congratulations,” Jungkook told Woojin, “you’ve identified my problem.”

The pressure and weight you felt in the room shifted subtly, it was as if Jungkook has drawn something back into himself. You realized that the crushing pressure you felt earlier has eased, just slightly.

Woojin took a few steps back, “You should not have listened to our conversation and just drift to sleep,” he said to you.

“You shouldn’t have discussed my life like I wasn’t real,” you shot back, your voice was shaking, you weren’t sure if it was because you were furious or terrified.

Jungkook turned towards you, “You are not in danger, you don’t need to be shaking in fear,” he finally said.

You let out a sarcastic laugh, “You need to tell me again what danger means.”

Woojin looked between the two of you, “It is louder than expected.”

“Stop,” you snapped again, “stop. calling. me. it.”

Woojin looked at you, tilted his head in amusement before saying, “Very well,” he added, “human.”

At this point in time, you felt very, very awake, sitting on your bed, surrounded by things that shouldn’t exist or you didn’t know existed until you moved in.

You just learned that your negative emotions weren’t private, your fear wasn’t silent, and your presence was a hindrance.

And somehow, impossibly, neither of them had killed you.

Not yet, at least.

And that thought alone was enough to make your hands start shaking again.

♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡

Your gaze found Jungkook’s before you could stop it.

You didn’t want to look at him. 

You really didn’t, but the room seemed to centre around where he stood, like everything else was secondary, furniture, walls, even the other demon. 

Woojin was terrifying in the obvious way: horns, tail, and fully black eyes. Jungkook looks much different, he somehow looks more human than this other demon. 

Your heart was still hammering, your throat felt tight but the words came out anyway, “I’ll never develop affection for a fucking demon,” you said, “so good luck staying here for another billion years.”

The moment the sentence left your mouth, regret followed close behind.

Of course you said it, anyone would have. Falling in love with a demon? No one in a billion years would do that. 

You didn’t feel weak for lashing out, you were defending yourself. Still, a part of your mind scrambled for ways to get away from this situations. 

You could move out. 

You should move out.

But the thought fizzled just as fast.

Living here has been convenient, safe, affordable. Why should you be the one to leave? Why should you change your life when you could just ignore Jungkook?

For a long moment, nothing happened.

Jungkook didn’t move, he didn’t react. If anything, he does not look surprised. It was like your response was something he already expected.

But Woojin reacted before him, “You humans should be careful with your tone when addressing my master,” he said, you could feel the anger in his voice which sent a shiver up your spine, then, almost amused, he added, “it has teeth, I see why it has lasted this long.”

Jungkook didn’t look at him. His eyes stayed steady on you, “You misunderstood our conversation,” Jungkook said calmly.

You laughed out loud, you were disgusted by how Jungkook still tries to cover himself, “Oh, I don’t think I do,” you glared at him, “I just don’t understand why you’re even bothering. If you don’t want the throne, if you don’t care about any of that, why not just rot here?”

Woojin’s attention sharpened, watching you even more closely now, while Jungkook took his time before answering, “Because,” Jungkook said at last, “I’m here against my will, I prefer to go back to where I belong.”

Woojin scoffed lightly at you, then he looked back at Jungkook, “Don’t worry about it, master. I know humans. Their affection will grow with proximity. It’s inefficient for you, but it’s affection will inevitably grow.”

Jungkook’s gaze sharpened, “This one resists.”

Woojin smirked, “When they resist, it only makes things more interesting.”

That did it. You shoved the blanket off your legs and placed your feet on the floor. Your hands were shaking, but you clenched them into fists anyway, “Listen to me,” you said, “I don’t care how long you’ve been alive, or how many empires you’ve burned, or how many other demons you’ve murdered. I will not fall in love with you. I will not even like you for a tiny weeny little bit.”

The room went silent the moment you finished speaking your thoughts, and to respond, Jungkook nodded once, and said “Good.”

The word hits you harder than anger ever could.

Woojin blinked at his master, “Good?”

“Yes,” Jungkook replied flatly, “there’s a fine line between love and hate. Strong emotions tend to blur between the lines, you can hate me all you want but you’ll eventually develop affection for me.”

Your stomach dropped, you couldn’t believe what you were hearing from Jungkook, “I’ll move out.”

Jungkook didn’t even hesitate when he said, “I know you won’t.”

You stared at him, your arms crossed against your chest, “You don’t know anything about me.”

“I know humans, and I know you enough,” Jungkook stated, after a pause that felt deliberate, he added, “Or rather, I know what you’ve shown me. So I know you’ll stay,” he said, “you will pretend I’m not here and you will tell yourself that indifference is control.”

You hated him.

Not in the way you hated inconveniences, or when unexpected things happening to you when you least expect it, or when the coffee shop give you a completely wrong and different order.

No, you despised him in the way you despise someone who got to know you for a little bit and then spoke as if that entitled them to classifying you as a certain kind of person. You despised him in the way you despise someone who believed their observation of you is the same thing as understanding you as a person.

Your hands were still shaking, though you didn’t know when they started doing so. Anger has a way of being disguised until it surfaced in places you couldn’t control; your fingers, your jaw, and the burning feeling behind your eyes. 

You focused on keeping your breathing even, you did not want to give him the satisfaction of seeing anything unravel. You wanted to laugh, you wanted to scream. 

Mostly, you wanted to throw something heavy and hoped it would hit him where it hurts.

“You don’t know me,” you said, “you heard me talk, you’ve seen me do this and that. And  that’s not the same thing.”

He didn’t interrupt you, and somehow that almost made it worse, so continued to talk, “You don’t get to sit there, trapped in my apartment, in my bed, in my space, and act like you’ve cracked some universal truth just because I didn’t feel like changing my entire life on a whim.”

“And for the record,” you added, “staying doesn’t mean I surrender. It means I chose the least disruptive option.”

You despised him for sounding so sure about what you would do. For being right about some things and wrong about the rest. 

You met his gaze, and this time you didn’t look away, “So don’t flatter yourself,” you said, “If I stay, it sure as hell won’t be because of you.”

You hated him, and you hated, just as fiercely, that a part of you was already planning how to live around him, instead of how to get rid of him.

♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡

Woojin broke the silence first, he laughed.

It wasn’t loud, and it wasn’t mocking. It was a low and rough sound. Amusement flickered across his face as his tail swayed lazily behind him.

“Well,” he said, eyes looking between you and Jungkook, “that was refreshing.”

Your head snapped towards him.

“Do not encourage her,” Jungkook said.

“I can still hear you,” you snapped.

“Yes,” Woojin replied cheerfully, “and you’re doing wonderfully.”

Jungkook shot him a warning look but Woojin waved it off.

“I’ve watched war councils crumble with less tension than this room,” Woojin said, “and yet here you are, furious and still standing and shooting glares at us.” He glanced at Jungkook again, his grin widening, “you weren’t wrong. It resists.”

“As I said, that part of her is not a good asset in my situation,” Jungkook replied.

“Debatable,” Woojin disagreed, “resistance keeps things interesting. you know,” Woojin added casually, “Seokjin would have loved this.”

Jungkook’s jaw tightened.

“A human who doesn’t fold so easily,” Woojin continued, stepping closer to you, clearly enjoying himself, “who looks at you like that and tells you no. A condition tied to affection, and yet the one thing standing between you and freedom actively despises you,” Woojin chuckled again, “It’s cruel yet somehow feels elegant.”

You crossed your arms again, refusing to step back, “You seem to be enjoying this.”

“Immensely,” Woojin admitted without shame, “believe me, it’s been a long time since I’ve seen my master this inconvenienced by something that isn’t a battlefield.”

Jungkook didn’t respond. His attention had shifted back to you, assessing your reactions.

Woojin leaned closer to him, “Tell me,” he said softly, “how long do you think hatred lasts before it turns into something else?”

“Hard to say,” Jungkook said.

Woojin smiled, completely satisfied with this whole situation, “That’s what everyone says but I’m betting two months and you’ll be out of this heaven hole and you’ll be back in Kratos, master.”

Woojin’s gaze flicked to you one last time, he has now changed into being amused rather than hostile towards you, “Rest well, little human,” he said, smiling ear to ear while his tail was visibly moving around in happiness, “you’ve made tonight far more entertaining than I expected.”

The air shifted before Woojin spoke, it wasn’t dramatic and there was no flare of light or rupture in space. Woojin felt it immediately and his amusement was replaced by something like disappointment across his face, “Hmm,” he murmured, “that would be my cue, I think Jophiel wants me back.”

Jungkook didn’t ask what he meant, he already knew.

“Jophiel has been generous,” Woojin continued, glancing briefly upward, as if Heaven existed somewhere above the cracked ceiling, “but generosity has limits, time included, I guess.”

He straightened his posture, rolling his shoulders once as though preparing for departure, “I’ll return,” Woojin said to Jungkook, “I’ll find ways, or make a deal with Jophiel. I’ll give you updates of any movements in Kratos and Seokjin’s progress. You won’t be as blind as they think.”

Jungkook nodded once to show his gratitude. 

As the air began to wrap around Woojin, edges of his form started to blur, he glanced towards you one last time, “You’re still alive,” he said lightly, “that’s already impressive.”

“Don’t come back,” you snapped, “you prick.”

Woojin laughed so hard, you thought he must’ve been a psychopath, “I hope you’re wrong,” he said.

Then the space he had occupied folded inward, leaving the studio abruptly empty. The silence that followed was different than before, the room was no longer strained by too many demonic presences. 

Now there were only two of you.

You felt it immediately. The shift in the air and the way the room shaped itself around Jungkook alone, as if the world has decided he was the dominant force again.

You turned towards him.

Jungkook hasn’t moved from where he was standing, he was near the window, with his wings folded behind him.

The next morning felt different. 

You could feel the sunlight shining on your face through the thin curtains. It felt warm enough that you moved towards the sunlight without thinking, and your face has now turned towards the window.

For a moment, you didn’t remember where you were. You looked up at the ceiling, it was white and faintly cracked, and the memory settled back into place. The studio, your new home.

You laid there longer than usual, listening for something, or someone to be exact. There was the sound of the refrigerator from the kitchen. Somewhere downstairs, a door opened and closed softly, you guessed it was probably Taehyung who just finished his morning run. You could hear a car passing outside too. It was all ordinary sounds, mundane enough that your chest loosened.

Nothing felt wrong.

That was what startled you.

You woke up half expecting something, anything, to feel off. But the room just felt empty like a space meant for one person and currently occupied by only you and nothing else.

You sat up fully, the blankets slipping down to your waist. And still nothing. It didn’t feel chilly. And there was no presence and no sense of Jungkook in the air.

Your heart stuttered, just once. Still, as you swung your legs off the bed and stood, you hesitated. The floors creaked beneath your feet in the quiet room. You waited instinctively for something, someone to answer the sound of you waking up.

Nothing did.

You exhaled slowly.

Maybe, just maybe, the curse had broken. You still don’t know to this day how or what exactly the curse is, so maybe something happened in the other world and now the curse has been lifted.

Maybe whatever had lingered here for decades or centuries, has finally moved on. Maybe last night was the end of it.

You walked into the kitchen, started the kettle, as the kettle heated, you leaned against the counter and let yourself take another look around again. The studio looked lived in now. Your books lined the shelves, and your coat hung from the hook near the door. 

It felt like yours.

You didn’t realise how tense you have been until that tension began to drain.

Maybe Jungkook left.

Maybe whatever haunted this place has finally grown bored.

The kettle clicked off.

You flinched, then laughed quietly at yourself, shaking your head as you poured the water. You sipped your coffee and checked the time, you thankfully still have plenty of it. And for the first time since moving in, you weren’t rushing.

You ate your breakfast slowly, scrolling through messages from Hoseok complaining about a parent email and Namjoon reminding you about an upcoming staff meeting. You replied with half hearted jokes, feeling lighter than you have felt in days.

If this was what living here would be like, quiet mornings, the sunlight shining at the right corners, no fear curling in your stomach, then maybe you were worried for nothing.

You stood up to pack your lunch, singing under your breath.

♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡

Behind you, unseen, Jungkook watched.

He stood near the window, arms folded loosely across his chest, his presence pulled inward so tightly that even the air in the room did not react to him. 

Jungkook learned how to do this long ago.

In Kratos, stillness was power. 

He watched you move through the room, the way you paused to reread a message on your phone, the slight furrow of your brow as you checked your bag, and the way you pushed hair out of your face, only for it to fall back seconds later.

Jungkook felt no push to reveal himself, no irritation strong enough to spark his presence into something tangible. And today, he just didn’t want to be noticed.

In Kratos, he never needed to decide. No one dared to intrude on Jungkook’s space unless summoned. Even other Demons tread carefully near his door, aware that crossing his space uninvited was an invitation to die.

There, silence has always been his by right.

On earth, Jungkook had to earn it.

Jungkook turned his gaze towards the window, the pale blue sky stretching beyond it. He remembered the skies of Kratos, heavy with smoke and ash. He remembered standing on the balcony of the Jeon citadel, looking down at the city below, feeling the weight of thousands of eyes on him without ever seeing them.

They have always known when Jungkook was present, even when he did nothing at all.

Jungkook’s name alone bent the air.

And yet here, you felt nothing.

Jungkook watched you pack your lunch, seal the container, and put it neatly into your bag. You did not look over your shoulder once.

For a brief moment, Jungkook wondered what it would be like to remain like this always. To exist without exerting himself. To be a shadow among shadows, unnoticed and unfeared.

The thought made him remember his room in Kratos.

The one place where even power did not intrude unless invited where the walls were thick enough to muffle the screams from below and the heat from the ground reminding him of where he belonged.

No one had dared disturb Jungkook there.

Not his brother, not the court, not even his father, unless the matter was dire.

Jungkook couldn’t believe his fate here, trapped in a room smaller than the bathing chambers of the citadel, watching a human woman debate whether she had imagined him at all.

You frowned slightly at your reflection in the mirror, then shrugged, adjusting your jacket. You reached for your keys and stopped as your hand hovered near the door. For half a second, your gaze drifted, not to him, but to the space near the window, your lips parted as if you were about to say something, then it closed again.

You shook your head softly, “Get it together,” you muttered to yourself.

Jungkook watched you leave as the door closed with an almost silent click, and the room settled back into a different kind of quietness, only then did Jungkook let himself breathe.

He was alone again.

He moved to the center of the room and looked around, seeing it as it was now altered by you. The room he’s caged in has been marked by a human life, by you who has lasted for weeks. This place was no longer just a cell for Jungkook. 

The afternoon felt different without you in it, as if the space itself has lost its sense of direction. Jungkook allowed himself to fully exist again once the door closed behind you, his presence was no longer restrained. 

This room has always adapted to him quickly, even before you, and now it adjusted once more, remembering what it was to be occupied by something that did not belong to the human world.

He moved through the space slowly, out of habit, the same way he once walked the corridors of the Jeon citadel, unhurried and unchallenged. There was no need to hurry when nothing could question his presence. 

Jungkook’s attention was drawn first to the small bookshelf you’ve set up in the studio, he examined the spines without touching them. These were not books collected for status or appearance. Many of them had been read more than once, and Jungkook could imagine you returning to the same stories because you sought comfort in them.

In Kratos, knowledge was power. Books weren’t something you could get so easily, it was always guarded and only certain Demons could get their hands on it. Jungkook read books too, but for completely different reasons. 

In this room you left your knowledge open, stacked neatly on shelves, inviting anyone who stepped into the room to see exactly what shaped you. Jungkook picked up one of the thinner books, turning it over slowly, noting the way the spine loosened easily as he turned the pages over. Jungkook could tell that you have read this book often. When he set it back, he placed it exactly where it was, unwilling to disturb the order you’ve built purposefully.

Your desk told Jungkook more about you than the bookshelf ever could. Pens were grouped by how often they were used, sticky notes on the edges of notebooks and when he opened one of the notebooks, he found lesson plans with observations of your students. You noted who struggled quietly, who needed reassurance, who needed a push in socializing.

Jungkook turned his attention to the photographs on the wall, studying them with the same focus he had for political gatherings and court assemblies. In the image of you and your acquaintances, there was no tension in your posture, you smiled openly, trusting the people beside you in a way that would have been considered recklessness in Kratos. Trust there was always conditional and always paid for eventually. 

Jungkook stood near the window again, looking out over the street, comparing the life unfolding below to the one he left behind. 

In Kratos, existence was defined by dominance, survival was measured by how many others feared you enough to kneel. Silence there was earned through violence, privacy was only granted to those powerful enough to enforce it. 

When Jungkook returned to the center of the studio and sat against the wall, it was not boredom that filled his thoughts. 

It was curiosity. 

Fear was what sustained him here, but you did not offer him fear. You offered him your voice and your willingness to remain. And in that, Jungkook understood something unsettling: if affection was to be earned, then you, who chose not to run, were already within his reach. 

You are Jungkook’s way out of this wretched place. 

♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡

You came home around 6 PM, right after the meeting finished. It had been a long fucking day, but thankfully, Namjoon agreed to drop you off. 

You greeted your housemates, talked with them for a little bit before finally going up to your studio. By the time you reached the top of the stairs, you were so tired you pushed open the door to the studio without thinking.

You were so tired you forgot you have a demon as a roommate. 

For a fraction of a second, your brain refused to process what your eyes were seeing. The lights were off, the room was lit by the fading daylight slipping through the window, and there, on the small sofa, someone was sitting.

Jungkook occupied the sofa as if it was his. His long legs stretched out, one arm resting along the back of the sofa close enough for you to finally notice his tattooed sleeve, and his dark hair falling loose around a face you recognized immediately despite having only seen it clearly a few times. 

Jungkook’s presence filled the room in a way that made the air feel heavier and colder. Your body reacted before your mind could catch up, you could feel your heart beating against your ribs as your grip tightened around the strap of your bag.

Jungkook finally looked at you and something about his expression shifted. 

His lips curved upward slowly, and god it was a strange smile. Calling his smile unsettling wouldn’t even describe it.

But you now know that Jungkook has decided on something, and whether it would be good or bad for you, will not be in your control. 

“So,” he said calmly, “teach me about your kind, teach me about humans.”

The words hit you harder than his appearance ever could have.

You stared at him, your thoughts were scattered as you searched his face for something, hostility, mockery, or boredom, but found none of it. 

“What?” you finally replied, the word coming out quieter than you intended as you shifted your bag off your shoulder, “What is happening? This morning, you weren’t here. I didn’t feel anything. I thought maybe you left, or that whatever this is, whatever you are, ended. And now you’re sitting on my sofa asking me to teach you about humans?”

You let out a breath that sounded almost like a laugh before asking him, “Why do you suddenly want to know?”

Jungkook didn’t interrupt you, didn’t move as you continued to speak, “And haven’t you been here for hundreds of years?” you added, “You’ve watched people come and go, you’ve scared them out of this room, and you’ve seen how humans react to you. Don’t you already know us by now?”

You stood there, your heart was still racing, whatever you expected from him, this wasn’t it. 

Jungkook tilted his head slightly at that, “I never left, I was here all along. I just chose to not be seen by you, and I know how humans fear,” he said after a moment, “I know how they run, how they pray, and how to break them into pieces. I have known that for a very long time.”

He leaned forward slightly, his forearms resting against his thighs, “What I have seen for centuries is not the same as understanding,” Jungkook said, “and you are different from the others, you’re still here.”

“So,” he repeated, “teach me.”

You stayed standing for a moment longer, not because you were afraid to move, but because your body hasn't quite caught up with the direction the conversation has taken. Of all the things you imagined he might say like threats or warnings, asking you to teach him about humans never even crossed your mind. 

“Okay,” you said slowly, you glanced at the sofa, then at him, hesitating before saying, “but you’re sitting in my spot.”

Jungkook blinked, genuinely caught off guard. His gaze dropped briefly to the sofa beneath him, as if the idea that space could be owned has never occurred to him. After a few seconds, he shifted, moving to the far end and leaving you more room than necessary. You couldn’t help but notice how slightly awkward his gesture was. 

You watched him for a second, then shook your head. You couldn’t believe you’re about to be sitting on your sofa, next to a demon from Kratos, wherever that is. 

Was this conversation part of his plan to make sure you don’t fear him? You couldn’t help but wonder why he wanted this to happen, but this is your chance to get to know more of him, or his curse, to be precise. 

“Right. This is already strange,” you murmured, walking over and sitting down anyway, leaving a distance between you and the demon, “So, humans.”

You leaned back, folding your arms against your chest, looking at the TV in front of you and not the demon next to you, “I don’t know what you expect me to say. We’re not one thing. We’re messy, full of contradictions. We do things that don’t make sense even to ourselves most of the time.”

“That is already apparent,” Jungkook replied, his eyes following the movement of your shaky hands as you spoke.

You huffed, not knowing where this sudden bravery to speak up against a demon came from, “See? That tone right there, that’s not helping,” you quickly glanced at him before turning your head back to the TV, “you said you know how humans fear. Fear is easy to understand, it’s obvious. But that’s not what most of life is made of. Our lives are full of routines. We wake up, complain about being tired, drink too much coffee, and still do the things we’re supposed to do even when we don’t want to because if we don’t, everything falls apart a little bit.”

Jungkook listened without interrupting, you could feel his eyes on you which made you strangely self-conscious, like you were explaining something deeply personal.

“And we care,” you continued, “about small things, like people who might not even notice the effort we put in,” you glanced at him again, “and yes, caring doesn’t give you power but it makes life worth living.”

“Power is derived from fear,” Jungkook responded.

You smiled faintly, “Yeah. For you. For us, fear just makes everything smaller,” you tapped your fingers against your knee, “we build our lives around what makes us feel safe to exist without constantly looking over our shoulders. We get anxious, we overthink. We pretend things are fine when they aren’t. Sometimes we run, sometimes we stay. And staying doesn’t always mean we’re fearless, sometimes it just means leaving would cost us more.”

That seemed to catch his attention. His posture shifted subtly, “You stayed,” he stated.

“I did,” you agreed, “And no, before you ask, it’s not because I’m secretly fearless or special,” you couldn’t help but roll your eyes at the thought of being special, “It’s because the rent was cheap, the commute was short, and I was tired of my life feeling like it was on hold. Humans make decisions like that all the time.”

His lips twitched, “You chose inconvenience over fear.”

You paused, then tilted your head slightly to take a quick glance at him, “Can I ask you something?”

Jungkook nodded once in return.

“You said you’ve watched humans for centuries. What did you think of us before you were here?”

“Fragile,” Jungkook replied without even taking a second to think about the answer. 

You winced, “Ouch.” 

“It was simply based on what I saw,” he added as if he wanted you to know he wasn’t trying to insult you.

You shrugged before replying, “Fair. But you were only watching us at our worst. You don’t see humans when they’re comfortable or trying to decide what to eat for dinner for 45 minutes and getting annoyed at themselves about it.”

His eyes flicked back to you, “That happens?”

“All the time,” you laughed, “we argue with ourselves over the dumbest things, we procrastinate even when we know it’ll make us more stressed later, we hold grudges longer than we should, and we fall in love with people who are terrible for us and stay because leaving feels like failure. We are so much more complicated than just fear and being fragile.”

You glanced around the room again, then back at Jungkook who was still staring at you, “Humans aren’t built for eternity. Everything we do has an expiration date, and I think that’s why we’re so attached to things, people, and memories.”

Jungkook leaned back slightly, his wings shifting just enough to remind you they were there, even if they weren’t touching anything, “You have an inefficient life,” he said slowly.

You laughed out loud this time, the sound surprising both of you, “Yeah,” you agreed, quickly shutting up before somehow offending the freaking demon, “It really is.”

“Continue,” he demanded quietly.

You looked at him and realized that this might be the first time in centuries anyone has spoken to him like this.

“Well,” you said, settling more comfortably into the sofa, acknowledging that your fear has somehow lessened, “lesson one is done, now lesson two involves snacks.”

He raised his eyebrows, “Snacks?”

“Trust me,” you responded, “this is important.”

You watched him for a second after declaring the importance of snacks, waiting for the inevitable confusion to set in. It didn’t disappoint you. Jungkook’s gaze was flicking from your face to the kitchen, to you again, as if expecting something to move on its own.

“Have you ever eaten? Do you eat?” you asked him cautiously.

He stared back at you, clearly surprised by it, “I do not experience hunger on this planet,” he replied, “my form here is always maintained.”

“Ahh,” you mouthed while nodding, “okay, but that doesn’t mean you can’t eat,” you reasoned, “just that you don’t need to, right?”

“Correct,” he replied.

You returned a moment later from the kitchen, holding a packet of Oreos, “This,” you announced, “is an Oreo, it’s a very original human experience.”

His eyes narrowed at the package, suspicion written plainly across his face, “It appears to be artificially constructed.”

“Wow, okay, rude,” you said, though you were smiling as you twisted the packet open, “just try it. Worst case scenario, you hate it. Best case, you discover one of humanity’s greatest achievements.”

You handed him one cookie carefully, half expecting it to pass straight through his fingers. It didn’t. He held it between two fingers, turning it slowly, examining the edges, the stamped pattern, and the visible cream layer in the middle.

“There are two parts,” Jungkook observed.

“Yes. Debate exists about whether you should twist it apart or eat it whole,” you said seriously, “this debate has ended friendships.”

That earned you a skeptical look, but he followed your lead, twisting the cookie. He stared at the cream, then at the plain cookie half. 

“This is excessive,” Jungkook said.

“Just eat it,” you laughed.

He hesitated, then took a careful bite of one half. The reaction was immediate, his expression went blank, then subtly displeased, his jaw munching the oreo slowly as he processed the taste, “It’s sweet,” he said, “and dry.”

“That’s fair. Now, eat the cream part with the other half,” you instructed, like this was a sacred Earth knowledge.

He did, more reluctantly this time, chewing slowly again. You watched his face closely, biting back a grin as his expression shifted, “This is strange,” he admitted, “but not unpleasant.”

You beamed in excitement, “He likes it.”

“I did not say that,” he corrected, but he took another bite anyway, this time without hesitation.

You leaned back on the couch, satisfied with yourself, “See? Humans make weird things, but sometimes weird is good. You are welcome to eat the stuff in my kitchen. I wouldn’t mind,” you said while eating another oreo. 

He didn’t respond but finished the cookie in silence. After a brief hesitation, he reached out and took another Oreo from the packet himself. You pretended not to notice the victory.

“Can I ask something else?” you asked.

He tilted his head before answering, “You may.”

“Are there really humans in Hell?”

You watched him quietly for a moment, sensing the shift that the conversation was getting too close to topics he didn’t fully want to talk about. So you softened your tone, gently circling back to your curiosity, “are there humans in Hell at all?”

Jungkook’s fingers paused against the third Oreo before simply answering, “There are two places. Kratos, and the below.”

You nodded, this was what Father Gabriel briefly told you. 

“Kratos is for Demons,” he continued, “the below is where the humans exist.”

“So humans don’t live in Kratos?” you asked him.

“No,” Jungkook replied without hesitation, “humans wouldn’t survive there long enough. Kratos belongs to Demons.”

You nodded slowly, absorbing that information, but curiosity tugged at you again, “So does Kratos have someone governing it?” you asked.

Jungkook stiffened almost immediately. His gaze shifted away from you, and the air around him was tightening just enough for you to notice, “This is meant to be lessons about humans,” he said after a moment.

You blinked, then smiled faintly, “Okay, but think of it like this,” you said, trying to convince him, “a knowledge for a knowledge, bartering or trading. Very human of me, actually.”

He tilted his head slowly, dark eyes lifting to meet yours, for half a second, your instinct screamed at you to look away. But before you could, he finally opened his mouth. 

“Yes,” Jungkook said, “Kratos is divided into four territories, each ruled by its own citadel,” he paused, then added, “I come from the Jeon citadel in the north.”

You nodded, careful not to ask anything else, even though your mind immediately filled with questions you knew better than to ask. Whatever Kratos truly was to him, it wasn’t something he was ready to unpack here, on your sofa, between Oreos and unfinished lessons about humans.

Still, one question lingered, “Why do humans end up in Hell?” you asked quietly.

This time, he didn’t hesitate, “Most often,” Jungkook said, “humans who kill others.”

Your stomach dipped, “So how about lying?” you asked, “does that get you sent there?”

He scoffed softly, almost amused at your question, “If lying alone condemned a soul, the below would be overflowing.”

“You enter Hell when you have harmed others,” he continued, “emotionally or physically, and how long you remain there depends on the weight of your sin.”

You frowned slightly, “So it’s not permanent?”

“No,” he said, “punishment is measured, especially in Hell.”

“Well,” you said lightly after a moment, “that’s comforting in a deeply unsettling way.”

“And now,” he said, glancing at you again, “you still owe me the rest of my lesson.”

You smiled, shaking your head, “Fine. Next topic: why humans talk too much when they’re nervous.”

His eyebrows lifted as he bit another piece of oreo, “You are doing that now.”

“Rude,” you responded, but you were smiling anyway.

“Humans talk,” you began, “because silence makes us uncomfortable. When there’s silence, we start filling it with thoughts, and thoughts usually lead to overthinking. So we talk to distract ourselves, or to connect, or sometimes just to hear another voice so we don’t feel alone.”

“You speak to avoid being alone,” Jungkook concluded.

“Yeah,” you admitted, “even when we’re surrounded by people, we still do it. Humans are social creatures. Isolation messes with us.”

“That is inefficient," he said again. 

“Very,” you agreed, “but it’s how we survive.”

“And what about love?” he asked.

The question caught you off guard.

You blinked, then laughed softly, not because it was funny, but because it was so unexpected coming from him, “That’s a big jump.”

You leaned back against the arm of the sofa, eyes drifting to the ceiling. Teaching Jungkook about humans felt strangely formal, like you were presenting a lecture to someone who already read the theory but never witnessed the experiment.

“Okay,” you said slowly, “you already know what love is, right? At least the idea of it.”

Jungkook nodded once, “Attachment, loyalty, obsession, and vulnerability,” he paused, then added, “in Hell, love is a liability.”

“Yeah,” you sighed, “that tracks.”

You shifted, turning towards him, “In the human world, love isn’t just one thing. It’s not a single emotion. It’s a combination of habits, expectations, and choices people keep making every day, even when it’s inconvenient.”

You could feel Jungkook’s gaze on you.

“Humans don’t love constantly,” you continued, “we get tired, or annoyed. Sometimes we even stop liking the person we love for a little bit. Love isn’t about always feeling something strong, it’s about continuing to care even when the feeling dips.”

“That sounds unstable,” he said.

“It is,” you replied without hesitation, “well, humans are unstable. Love here shows up in really small stupid ways. Remembering how someone takes their coffee, texting them when you get home safe, sitting next to them in silence without feeling the need to fill it, and choosing not to hurt them even when you’re angry.”

Jungkook tilted his head before saying, “So it is restraint.”

“I guess,” you nodded, “but more like effort? Humans don’t just fall in love and stay there. We have to maintain it, we mess up constantly, say the wrong things, and misunderstand each other. Love survives when both people keep trying anyway.”

He leaned forward slightly, resting his forearms on his knees, “And affection?”

“That’s the visible part of love,” you said, “affection is how humans reassure each other that love is still there, like hugs or holding hands. It’s proof. Humans need proof because we’re insecure.”

“Insecure,” Jungkook repeated thoughtfully.

“Extremely,” you confirmed, “we doubt ourselves, doubt others, and assume the worst. Affection tells us we are wanted, and that we matter.”

Jungkook’s gaze flickered away briefly, towards the window, before returning to you, “And how does one earn it?”

You stayed silent for a few seconds before replying, “You don’t earn love by being powerful or impressive, you earn it by being safe.”

He looked at you again, with a confused look across his face, “Safe?”

“Yeah. Someone who won’t hurt you on purpose, someone predictable in a good way, someone who listens when you talk instead of waiting for their turn to speak, and someone who doesn’t make you feel small.”

“In Hell,” Jungkook said slowly, “making others feel small is how hierarchy is maintained.”

“I figured,” you replied quietly, “that’s why humans and demons don’t work the same way.”

You shifted again, tucking your feet beneath you, “Love also isn’t permanent here. People fall out of it. Sometimes gently, sometimes violently. That’s why humans are afraid of it, but we keep choosing it anyway, because even though it is temporary, love is better than none.”

Jungkook was silent for a long time which made you wonder how all of this works in Kratos.

“So humans accept suffering as part of affection,” he said.

“Yes,” you answered, “but not intentionally. If love only hurts, it’s not love anymore, it’s something else.”

He nodded before asking, “And fear?”

You smiled, you felt like you were giving a lesson to one of your children in class, “Fear can exist alongside love, but it kills it over time. You can’t love someone you’re constantly afraid of. You might obey them or even stay, but you won’t love them.”

He didn’t respond right away and you hesitated for a moment before asking the next question. It felt intrusive in a way, but curiosity nudged at you anyway.

“So,” you said carefully, “are there relationships in Kratos?”

Jungkook barely reacted. His shoulders lifted in a lazy shrug, like the answer didn’t require much thought, “Not in the way you mean,” he replied, “there is no structure built around it, no expectation of permanence. What exists there is want, not attachment.”

You frowned slightly, “Want?”

“Lust,” he clarified easily, “possession or even boredom,” Jungkook’s tone remained flat, almost bored of this topic, “Demons take what they desire, others allow it if the balance of power permits. If it does not, force is not uncommon.”

Your stomach tightened, “That sounds violent.”

“It is efficient,” he said, “in Kratos, bodies are tools like anything else. Strength is proven in many ways.”

You shifted on the sofa, suddenly aware of how small and human the room felt compared to what he was describing, “So no one stays together? No partners?”

“Some remain in proximity,” Jungkook said, “usually for convenience, mutual benefit, and sometimes to consolidate influence, but affection is not part of the exchange.”

“And jealousy?” you asked, “or commitment?”

He tilted his head slightly, as if the concepts were faintly amusing, “Jealousy exists only when ownership is threatened and commitment exists only as long as it remains useful.”

You let out a quiet breath, “So sex doesn’t mean anything there.”

“No,” he replied, “it is physical, it relieves tension and distracts from violence. Sometimes it is used as a reward or punishment.”

You looked down at your hands, processing all of this horrifying information of an unfamiliar place, “Then why do it at all?”

“Because Demons are not immune to sensation,” Jungkook said, “and because desire is another form of power. To be wanted is to be elevated.”

You glanced back up at him, “And love never comes into it?”

Jungkook’s expression shifted just slightly, something colder passed through his eyes, “Love complicates hierarchy,” he responded, “it weakens judgment. In Kratos, anything that weakens you is exploited.”

“So when you look at humans,” you said slowly, “doesn’t it seem messy?”

“Yes,” Jungkook answered without hesitation. Then, after a pause, “flawed, loud, and inefficient.”

You let out a small laugh, “We know.”

His gaze lingered on you a second longer than necessary, “Humans,” Jungkook said, “attach meaning where none is required.”

You tilted your head, “Or maybe the meaning is the point and that,” you realized quietly, “is probably why you demons in Kratos don’t understand us.”

And why, for the first time in centuries, Jungkook was trying to.

♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡

The conversation didn’t stop there. It stretches into something oddly domestic.

Jungkook remained where he was with his attention drifting between you and the space around you.

“Do you ever get bored?” you asked eventually.

“Yes,” he replied without hesitation.

That made you snort softly, “I don’t know why that surprises me.”

You stood up to rinse your glass, moving across the open space. You could feel his attention follow you. It was unsettling how natural it has started to feel.

“When you watch the humans that came in,” you asked, “what do you notice first?”

“Their habits,” he replied, “they reveal more than fear ever does.”

You hummed thoughtfully, “That sounds like something a teacher would say.”

Jungkook’s mouth curved up slightly, “Observation keeps you alive.”

You returned to the sofa, settling back into your spot, “You know,” you said lightly, “you’ve been quieter today.”

“Yes.”

“Any reason?”

“I did not wish to be noticed,” Jungkook said, “old habits.”

You nodded, understanding more than you expected to, “I get that.”

The clock was ticking softly on the wall, the sound oddly loud in the silence between you and Jungkook. You glanced at it and sighed, “I should sleep.”

You stood up from the sofa, stretching, as you walked towards the bed tucked into the corner of the studio. You hesitated before finally looking back at him, “You’re not going to rearrange things while I’m asleep, are you?”

Jungkook’s dark gaze lifted to yours, “I already know where everything belongs.”

That wasn’t reassuring.

You laid down anyway, pulling the blanket up as you faced away from him. Your breathing slowly evened out, exhaustion doing its job. Finally falling asleep without difficulty. 

♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡

Behind you, Jungkook remained sitting on the sofa.

He studied the studio again, the objects you touched often, and the faint warmth left behind where you were just sitting. This room has been empty for a long time, even when humans lived in it.

But it wasn’t empty anymore.

Something subtle shifted in the air, something noticeable to only Jungkook and he felt it immediately.

It was not a threat.

Jungkook knows this because he could read intent from any creature. And this one did not have any murderous intent.

But this presence didn't belong to you.

Or to him.

Jungkook didn’t move at first. He didn’t need to, whatever shifted in the air carried a weight he has not felt in centuries, something dense and familiar. 

This sudden energy wasn’t human fear. This was an energy of something powerful enough to kill humans.

But mere Demons could not cross into the human world. The boundary between Hell and Earth has been sealed long before cities were built, before humans learned to name things.

Crossing it required authority, sacrifice, or rituals only the ruling families dared touch. No soldier, no warrior, no matter how respected, could simply step through.

And yet the presence sharpened, condensing near the far side of the studio, close to the window on the other side of the studio. The air warped with pressure, like something large is folding itself into a shape.

Jungkook rose slowly to his feet.

The figure emerged with restraint. Smoke curled inward and pulled tight around a form that solidified piece by piece. 

Jungkook now noticed the broad shoulders. A familiar posture, he noticed the horns swept back rather than curved forward, a Warrior’s mark. The scent of iron and ash followed him. 

It was unmistakable.

Another Demon has appeared in this studio.

When the Demon fully materialized, he dropped immediately to one knee, “Master Jungkook,” he said, head bowed low, voice rough with disbelief, “Is it really you, my master?”

For the first time since arriving in this world, Jungkook felt something dangerously close to shock.

“Woojin,” he replied, his voice was controlled, though his wings flexed to show his power hierarchy, “how did you get here?”

Woojin lifted his head just enough for Jungkook to see his face. 

He looked older and sharpened like someone who has survived too many battles without rest. 

“I did not cross alone,” Woojin replied, “Jophiel helped me.”

Jungkook scoffed and his expression darkened.

It was always funny to him how Angels could easily go back and forth from Earth and Heaven while Demons couldn’t. 

And Jophiel should have no reason to interfere with Hell’s internal affairs, let alone assist one of its warriors.

“You should not be here,” Jungkook said quietly, “no Demon should.”

Woojin’s jaw tightened, “Neither should you.”

Silence followed. 

The studio felt smaller now, strained under the weight of two beings it was never meant to contain. Somewhere behind Jungkook, you shifted in your sleep, unaware of how close the world had come to breaking open above you.

“The citadels are restless,” Woojin continued, “North Kratos is changing, your absence has not gone unnoticed.”

Jungkook’s wings folded in slowly, “Then they should have filled it,” he said, “not send you here.”

Woojin exhaled, something between frustration and relief. “We could not reach you, no Demon could,” his voice lowered, “I was not sent by The King, I came here on my own will. Jophiel came to the border while I was on guard and he told me everything.” 

Jungkook’s gaze somehow shifted almost involuntarily toward the bed.

Woojin noticed.

You woke up to the sunlight shining across your face.

For a second, you couldn’t remember where you were. Then your eyes finally fully opened and the memory of what happened the days before hits you all at once, horns, wings, demons, and his voice in the dark telling you to sleep.

You rubbed your eyes as your whole body stretches, and you sit up too fast, almost knocking your pillow and a plushy off the bed. 

The studio felt too quiet. You didn’t even hear a wind blowing outside, or sounds of cars driving by. It was too quiet for your liking. 

Your gaze snapped to the couch which was empty.

You somehow were kind of expecting something, or some thing to be there, but nothing was. There was no dent on the couch, no signs of someone sitting on it.

For fuck’s sakes, you thought to yourself. What are you expecting, really?  

Your chest loosened just barely.

You checked the corners, the mirror, and the shadow near the door. He isn’t standing anywhere. He isn’t sitting anywhere. 

He is nowhere you can see. But you can still feel him.

Not as sharply as last night, it didn't feel as suffocating as last night.

You swung your legs off the bed, testing the floor like it might react or creak to your movement, but it doesn’t.

You stood up, brushed your teeth, washed your face, and made coffee. You left the mug on the kitchen top, trying to see if it would move by itself, but the mug stayed still.

It didn’t move, it didn’t shift, and for a brief moment, you let yourself think, maybe he left.

“Don’t delude yourself.”

You froze the moment you heard the voice. The voice wasn’t loud, it didn’t feel close too, you heard it coming from across the room.

You turned slowly towards where the voice came from. Jungkook was leaning there, arms crossed, and his wings drawn tight along his back. 

“You- you didn’t make any sound,” you breathed out.

He raised his brows, “You’re the one with ears. Not my problem if you don’t use them properly.”

You clenched your jaw, “Do you always appear like that?”

“Do you always assume I leave?” Jungkook’s gaze drops to your shaking hand around the mug, “you tremble just as much in the morning.”

You set the mug down before he could make another comment.

“I thought you said you wouldn’t disturb me.”

“I didn’t,” he gestures lazily around the room, “you woke up and did you forget I’m always here?”

You moved towards your desk, desperate to do something normal. You went through worksheets, straightened pens that were scattered on the desk, and moved through papers that didn’t need you to flip it.

You could feel Jungkook watching you. You could feel it on your skin.

“Are you going to keep staring at me?” you snapped under your breath.

“Yes.”

You slowly turned your head towards him, “Well, can you not?”

He gave you a small shrug, “If I don’t watch you, I’ll miss the part where you start shaking again. It’s entertaining.”

“Glad I’m providing you quality content.” “That’s not what I said.” “Close enough.” "It does get annoying seeing your fear so loudly expressed," he said as he pushes himself off the wall and takes two steps closer, not too close, but enough that your pulse jumps in your throat.

“Last night was the first time you didn’t wake up screaming.” “I’ve never screamed,” you muttered.

He hummed, “Not yet.” Your jaws tightened, “Do you want me gone?”

“No,” he replied immediately and without hesitation.

You blinked in surprise, “What? Really?”

His eyes narrowed like he’s annoyed that you didn’t follow his logic, “You’re the only tenant so far who hasn’t run within 48 hours, that makes you useful to me.”

You crossed your arms at him, “Useful for what?”

Jungkook didn't answer, and you looked away, feeling your throat tightening, “I didn’t ask to be part of your curse,” you commented.

“And I didn’t ask to be trapped with a human who talks back,” he fired back at you, “but here we are.”

The air between you sharpened. Then he shifts his gaze, Jungkook’s expression flattening into something unreadable.

“What time do you leave?” he asked suddenly.

You blinked, “Leave?”

“For work,” he replied like it was obvious, “you humans are so loud when you are getting ready, and you are also late, more than you think you are”

You were taken aback but it made you glance at the clock.

7:46 AM.

Your stomach dropped, “Shit!”

You scrambled for your shoes, snatched your keys, nearly spilled your coffee in the process. Jungkook watched the chaos unfold without offering help, without moving an inch.

“Do you always run around like a startled rabbit?” Jungkook curiously asked.

“I’m employed,” you out of the blue snapped at him, “some of us have schedules.”

You didn’t know where you found this courage to even snap back at a demon, but you did.

“Hm,” he murmured, “fascinating.”

“Are you done insulting me?”

“For now.”

You put your bag over your shoulder, your hand found the doorknob, and you exhaled while trying to steady the tremble in your fingers.

Behind you, his voice cuts again, almost bored, “Be back before sunset.”

You froze, wondering why he is giving you commands and also wondering why you were even curious to listen to what he wanted to say, “Why?”

He didn’t hesitate, “You’re worse when it’s dark.”

“Worse?”

“More terrified,” he clarified, “as much as it is entertaining to see you like a scared tiny rabbit, it is also irritating.”

You swallowed, trying not to let the humiliation show on your face, “Bye, Jungkook.”

You turned the knob and stepped outside before he could even reply to you, because if you stayed another second, you were sure you were going to pass out.

You didn’t realize you were holding your breath until you were outside of the house. 

It was crazy to you how much energy that fucking demon takes off you. You were exhausted just by that small interaction. 

Upstairs, behind the closed door, Jungkook didn’t move for a long time. He just watches the space where you were standing on your two small and thin legs, eyes narrowing slightly.

The studio is empty of you now, but the air still carries your fear, irritation, and your stubborn refusal to bend.

He hates all of it. 

Jungkook clicks his tongue, “Pathetic,” he muttered.

He’s not sure if he’s talking about you or the fact that he’s still watching the door long after you’re gone.

♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡

The students in your class pours in with their loud voices and chaotic movements, which was exactly what you needed to stop yourself from overthinking about demons or a certain one.

Kids tug at your sleeves, showing you drawings, stickers, and a toy someone smuggled in their backpack. You took in their attendance with the attendance sheets.

No one here knows that you slept in a room with a demon in the corner. No one here knows the fear you feel every waking moment. 

But their noise, chatter, and endless questions helped fill every inch of your brain until there’s no space left for wings, horns, or eyes so black you start to wonder if the color black you’ve always known was ever really black at all, until you saw his.

For a few hours, you feel normal again.

At one point, Minseo, a child in your class, tugs on your sleeve, “Teacher?”

“Yes?”

“You look tired.”

You forced a soft smile, “It’s been a long night, that’s all.”

She nodded, “My mom says when she’s tired, it’s because there’s a bad spirit in the house.”

Your hand freezes around the worksheet in your grip.

“Oh,” was all you managed to reply.

“But then she burns oranges,” Minseo said proudly, “and it goes away.”

“Thank you, Minseo,” you said. 

You wished burning oranges would work, but this strategy wouldn’t work on a demon, nothing does apparently. 

“I’ll bring oranges tomorrow,” she said, making you nearly choke on nothing.

♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡

During lunch break, you sat in the teachers’ lounge with your coworkers trying very hard to pay attention as Hoseok vents about a parent email written entirely in capital letters.

“You okay?” he asked suddenly.

You looked up from your untouched sandwich, “I’m fine.”

Namjoon snorted softly at your reply, “That sentence has never once been true when someone says it like that.”

You glared at him, “I slept and that’s more than I expected.”

They look relieved, but the truth is more complicated.

You slept because Jungkook didn’t move, whisper, or do anything. You slept because he simply sat on the couch and stared at you like you bore him too much to bother.

After a moment, Hoseok reached across the table and squeezed your hand, “If it gets worse, or even weird again, just call us, okay? We’ll come over.”

You nodded, “I know.”

“And don’t forget,” Namjoon added, chewing his lunch, “you can still move out.”

You exhaled, “I’m not leaving yet.”

“You should,” he replied gently.

♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡

At the end of the school day, the parents were waiting for their kids at the gates, while the kids ran into their arms, with their backpacks bouncing and shouting goodbyes at you.

You waved and smiled at them. And by the time the last child leaves, your legs ache, your head hurts, but your heart raced faster than when you were working. 

You realized you would have to go back into the studio, and face him.

You packed your things slowly, as if stalling will change anything. Namjoon passed by your desk on his way out, “Text me when you get home.”

You nodded at him. Hoseok popped his head in behind him, “Don’t die.”

“I’m not going to die,” you muttered.

You stood in your classroom for another ten minutes, trying to somehow find reasons to stay at school but you were too hungry to stay another minute here, so you clutched your bag and left the school. 

You walked slower than usual. You turn the corner, pass the bakery, the small park, the houses, and coffee shops, until you reach the end of your block.

And when your house comes into view, your steps slow even more.

When you reached the front gate, you stopped for a moment, the upstairs curtains were still half drawn, there was nothing unusual, nothing out of place.

And yet your stomach twisted.

You forced yourself to take a step forward. It wasn’t like you had any other choice, you live here.

Inside, you could see Taehyung’s shoes by the door, you heard the soft sounds of him cooking in the kitchen, and you could smell the faint jasmine candle someone, probably Taehyung, lit earlier.

You slipped your shoes off quietly, as if any sound might carry upstairs. You told yourself you’re being dramatic, paranoid, and maybe sleep deprived.

You inhaled then exhaled, just like what the school psychologist told you to do whenever you’re in distress. 

You climbed the stairs as they creaked like they sometimes do. You tried not to imagine wings curled somewhere above you in the dark.

At the studio door, you hesitate as your hand shakes when you turn the knob, and when you finally open the door, the room looks untouched.

Your stuff is where you left it, the blanket was still wrinkled from this morning, and your mug was still on the sink exactly where you placed it last.

You felt relief on your chest and shoulders so suddenly it turned into a long sigh.

You stepped inside, closing the door gently behind you. “See?” you whispered, “you’re fine.”

“Talking to yourself already?”

You froze because you could hear his voice, but Jungkook was not visible, there was no silhouette by the window, no shape near the couch, and no outline in the corner.

But Jungkook is here.

You can feel him, you heard him.

“Where,” your voice cracked, still terrified of this demon you still barely know, “where are you?”

“Close.”

The answer gives you shivers all over your body.

You turned around even though you know you won’t see anything. Goosebumps rise along your arms, and you gripped the strap of your bag until your knuckles turned white.

It might sound crazy how you know what this demon looks like and yet you’re still so scared of him. Maybe it's the weight of him, and the sheer amount of energy he carries, that might always be terrifying to you.

“You said,” your voice comes out too high than it usually sounds, “you said, not showing up unannounced and no breathing in my ear.”

“I’m not showing up unannounced,” he said, “and that wasn’t me breathing.”

“Then who?” “Maybe it's you,” he said shrugging his shoulders.

You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to steady your breath, “Can you, can you not? Just don't talk without notice when I come home?”

You opened your eyes slowly. But he was still not visible, nowhere to be found, yet his voice can be heard so clearly.

“I live here,” Jungkook replied.

You flinched.

“So do I,” you whispered back. “Yes, which is inconvenient for both of us.”

You didn't know what to say to that.

You stand in the middle of your own room, fighting the urge to run downstairs and never come back up, fighting the instinct to cry, fighting the ridiculous need to negotiate with something that shouldn’t exist here.

“You’re loud by the way,” he muttered.  “What?” you replied with confusion. “I heard your footsteps halfway down the street.”

Your heart stopped for a second. He could hear you coming from down the street? Is this one of his many powers? Just being able to sense what’s coming his way?

You keep your eyes on the floor, forcing yourself to breathe steadily, “Stop listening to me,” you whispered.

“I can’t,” he said, in a tone so calm, “you live in my boundary.”

Boundary.

It was as if he owns this place and you’re just something that walked into it. It’s kind of funny actually, because you're the one paying the rent. 

You swallowed again, “I hate this.” “I agree,” Jungkook agreed in response. 

You squeezed your hands into fists, “I want peace.” “That,” he replied, low and almost amused, “depends on you.”

Your breath stuttered, “Me?”

“Yes,” Jungkook simply responded before adding, “you.”

You took a shaky step backward.

“Get used to me, little teacher,” his voice murmured from somewhere you can’t find, “this is only the beginning.”

♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡

You tried to act normal.

You tried very, very hard.

You changed into your pajamas with the bathroom door locked, even though you already know a lock means nothing to something like him.

You brushed your teeth, made tea, and set the mug down carefully.

You flicked on the TV, scrolling through Netflix because silence feels like a threat now. You settled on a random comfort comedy show, something that’s predictable and makes you feel like a person living a normal and not haunted life.

You curled up on the sofa with your blanket wrapped around your legs.

And then you felt him, you could feel the shift in the air and Jungkook’s presence.

You told yourself not to look back, but you did anyway and you found Jungkook standing behind the couch with his wings half folded.

He’s not pretending to hide, Jungkook was just there watching the screen from behind the couch. 

You clutched your blanket tighter, “You’re standing too close.”

“I’m not touching you.” “That’s not the point I was trying to make,” you responded.

Jungkook almost sounds bored when he answers, “Your noise device is loud.”

“It’s a TV.”

“The person is yelling for no reason.” “That’s comedy.”

He tilted his head, eyes following the characters on screen, two people arguing in a cafe over something stupid.

He scoffed. Jungkook, the demon living in your studio just scoffed at a comedy show.

“Humans,” he muttered, “fighting over something not worth fighting about.”

“That’s because this show is a sitcom,” you answered

“It’s idiotic,” Jungkook responded.

“Then don’t watch.” “I’m not watching,” he snapped back immediately.

He is absolutely watching.

You lifted your eyebrows, “You’ve been staring at the screen for the last five minutes.”

“I’m studying your species.”

“My species?” “Yes,” he answered, shifting slightly, “I need to understand why you enjoy this.”

You took a sip of your tea, trying to hide the way your hands still tremble, “It’s entertainment.”

“Entertainment,” Jungkook repeated, as if the word itself offends him, “you sit for hours watching fictional humans suffer then laugh when they do something foolish.”

“That’s the point.” “Your species is strange.”

You rolled your eyes, an instinctive, stupid reaction you regret instantly, because you’re rolling your eyes at a demon with wings and horns and a curse.

Then, without warning, Jungkook who still had his eyes on the TV said, “This one,” nodding toward the TV, “is going to betray the other.”

“What? No, this is a friendship arc,” you responded, and you knew this because you have watched this show hundreds of times. 

“He is lying,” Jungkook simply answered, “look at his posture.”

You squinted at the screen, “And that doesn’t mean betrayal.” “It does.” “He loves his friend.” “No,” Jungkook said, “He loves himself.”

You stared at Jungkook who was still staring at the screen, “Are you.. analyzing the characters?”

“I’m pointing out the flaws,” he answered coldly, “there are many.”

You almost laughed, but you put your hand over your mouth because laughing in front of him feels suicidal.

Jungkook noticed it anyway, as you could see his dark eyes narrowing sharply at you, “You think this is funny?”

“No,” you responded too quickly, “no, not at all, not even a little.”

“Good,” he muttered, “humans laugh at everything.”

“That’s called having a sense of humor.”

“It’s undignified.” You hugged your blanket, “Do demons laugh?”

He went still for a few seconds before answering, “Not like this.”

You nodded, even though you were still unsure what that meant.

Another minute passes. You tried to focus on the show, but it’s impossible with a cursed demon standing two feet behind you like some hell-sent critique partner.

Then, abruptly Jungkook said, “You’re less annoying when you’re quiet.”

You snorted before you could stop it, “Thanks.”

“That wasn’t a compliment.” “Of course not,” you said nodding at him.

He shifted again, “Your heartbeat is too loud now.”

“I’m sorry?” you half heartedly said.  “It’s distracting me.”

You freeze, “Do you want me to turn the TV off?” “No.”

“Then what do you want?”

He didn’t respond to your question, and you turned your gaze back to the TV. And as the episode ends, you hear Jungkook murmuring low, almost like it was only for himself to hear, “Humans enjoy the strangest things.”

You let out a long breath, “Welcome to Netflix.” 

♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡

Instead of continuing the next episode, you decide to scroll past the thumbnails without really seeing them. Your finger hesitated, then stopped on a familiar title: The Notebook.

You snorted quietly to yourself, “That’s a terrible idea.”

Jungkook’s voice comes from behind you, uninterested yet somehow curious as he asked, “Why?”

“Because it’s sad.”

“Then why would you choose it?”

You didn’t answer his question and just pressed play on the romantic movie Jungkook probably has never seen before. You were somewhat excited to be the one to introduce him to The Notebook. 

Jungkook’s gaze sharpened, drawn to the screen despite him not really wanting to. It wasn’t like he had any other options, he’s been bored for years. He might as well try to understand what keeps humans entertained. 

He didn’t comment at first. He just watched with his wings still half folded, and his eyes tracking the movement of the characters on the TV with focus.

Minutes pass before Jungkook finally broke the silence with, “Why is he staring at her like that?”

You blinked and stated the obvious, “Because he loves her.” “No,” Jungkook said flatly, “he wants her.”

“That’s not the same thing.”

He scoffs, “It always is.”

You shook your head, “You don’t know that.”

“I know desire,” he snapped, “I know obsession, I know possession, it all comes back to lust.” “That’s not what they are.”

On screen, Noah and Allie were laughing together, they were young, stupid, and in love.

Jungkook’s jaw tightened, “They haven’t suffered yet,” he commented, “it shows.”

You glanced back at him, “Oh, you could tell huh?” “They move carelessly,” he replied, “like they think time is endless.” You hugged your blanket tighter, “Maybe they’re just hopeful.”

“Hope is ignorance," Jungkook stated.

The movie continues, the time passes, years blur, they were separated and letters were unanswered and you could feel Jungkook stiffened.

“He writes to her,” you murmured, whispering to yourself, but Jungkook heard it anyway. “Yes,” he answered slowly, “and she never responds.”

“That’s not her fault.” “That doesn’t change the outcome.”

You frowned, “You sound so annoyed.” “I’m observing the inefficiencies.”

“He loves her.” “There it is again,” Jungkook snapped, “that word.”

“What’s wrong with it?” “It implies attachment without control,” he answered coldly.  “Love isn’t about control.”

He laughed short and humorless, “Everything is about control.”

You turned your gaze back to the screen, knowing this is not the time to argue with a demon about love.

You sniffed quietly, already emotional while watching the movie. 

Jungkook noticed immediately, “Are you leaking?” he asked.

You wipe your cheek angrily and amused at the same time at the fact that he calls crying, "leaking", “It’s called crying,” you corrected him. 

“Because of this?” He gestures at the screen, “you’re reacting to fiction.”

“It’s not just fiction,” you argued, “It’s about choosing someone, over and over, even when it is difficult and even when it hurts.”

He goes quiet, and the silence stretches long enough that you risk a glance over your shoulder.

He was still watching the movie, “They wasted years,” he finally said, “why wait?”

“Because life gets in the way.” “Excuses.” “Circumstances,” you corrected. “They are weak.” You couldn’t help but roll your eyes, “They are human.”

“That is what I said,” he said matter of factly.

Jungkook leans forward slightly without realizing it when the part of Allie finally chooses Noah again.

“She came back,” he muttered. “Of course she did,” you said matter of factly. “Why would she do that?” Jungkook asked unamused and seemingly a little confused. “Because she never stopped loving him.”

You could see from the shadows that his wings twitched the moment you finished your sentence.

“That makes no sense to me,” Jungkook answered.

“You don’t just stop loving someone,” you responded quietly, “especially if it’s the one or the right person for you.”

Jungkook turned his head towards you slowly before stating, “You would wait.”

The statement hits harder than it should, “Yes, I would,” you admitted, “I mean, I think so? If they are worth waiting for.”

“For someone who caused you pain?” “For someone I choose,” you corrected.

His eyes searched your face like he’s trying to peel the answer out of you layer by layer, “That kind of loyalty,” he stated, with a deep voice that sent shivers down your spine, “gets you killed.”

“Or it makes life worth living,” you said looking at Jungkook, before turning your head back to the TV.

The final scenes were playing and you’re openly crying (or leaking as Jungkook said) now, tears slipping down your cheeks no matter how much you tried to stop them.

Jungkook watched you instead of the screen, “Your breathing is uneven,” he observed.

“You should shut up,” you said while pointing a finger at him. 

“They died together?” he asked, glancing back at the TV, “that’s the ending?” “Yes.” “That’s not a victory.” “It is,” you whispered, “they didn’t die alone.”

He stared at the screen as the credits rolled, “Humans,” he muttered, “you call love devotion yet you weep over it.”

You wiped your face, too emotionally exhausted to argue with Jungkook about what love is. You don’t think a demon would understand anyway, “And yet you watched the whole thing.”

“I endured it.” “You hated it?” “Yes.” “But you didn’t leave and watched the whole thing,” you said teasing him.

He didn’t answer, but instead, he turned away, his wings rustling, moving back towards the shadows near the wall.

As he disappears into the dark, his voice carries one last time, low and controlled, still unsettling even though you’ve heard him talk numerous times now.

“If that is love,” Jungkook said, “then your species is doomed.”

♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡

After the movie ended, and Jungkook disappeared into thin air, you decided to get ready for bed.

You were reaching for the lamp on your bedside table when the air in the room shifted, and your hand froze mid air. 

You could tell that he came back, as in he decided to show up again.  

“You’re too loud,” Jungkook said.

You turned sharply and there he was, standing near the dining table, closer than he had been earlier. You could feel your heart kicking hard against your ribs.

“Don’t do that,” you snapped at him, yet still stuttering as you sternly tried to get your words across, “you can’t just show up unannounced!”

“I announced myself.”

“That’s not the point,” your voice wavered despite your effort to stay calm, “you still scared me.”

“I know.”

The calm certainty of his answer made your jaw tighten, “You said you wouldn’t, you promised.”

“I said I wouldn’t interrupt your sleep,” he cut in, “you’re still awake.”

“No that’s not what you promised,” you stated, but you quickly closed your mouth when he took a step closer. 

“You react is an overreaction,” he continued, “your fear is too loud for my liking, I feed on fear, but you really should tone it down if we're about to live in the same room.”

“Stop talking about me like I’m broken and need to be fixed.” “You are too loud. Your fear is too loud,” he corrected, “and your body gives itself away, you’re vulnerable.”

Anger sparked through the fear, “So what, you’re going to fix me?”

“Yes.”

Before you could respond, he gestured toward the dining table, “Sit.”

“No.”

“Sit,” he demanded, something in his voice, made your legs move before your thoughts caught up to your muscles. 

You sat on the nearest dining chair and Jungkook sat across from you, folding his wings in just enough to fit, his elbows resting casually on the table. You realized a few seconds in that this was the closest you’ve ever been to Jungkook.

“Look me in the eyes and do not look away,” he said.

“What is this?” you asked confusedly. “Do not look away,” he said. “What is this?” you asked again, still confused.

“Conditioning. Look me in the eyes.”

Your breathing turned uneven, you have never been this close to Jungkook before, and never stared directly into his demonic eyes for this long.

“You’re shaking,” he observed.

“Stop looking at me,” you said, breaking eye contact. “No. Look at me.”

“This is ridiculous,” you muttered, forcing yourself to meet his gaze again.

“Just breathe normally,” he instructed. “I am breathing normally,” you snapped. “Poorly,” Jungkook corrected.

Your chest felt tight, like your lungs refused to expand properly. The longer he stared, the faster your heartbeat became.

You shifted in your seat, “This isn’t helping.”

“It will.”

You swallowed, “You don’t get to decide that.”

“I already did.”

You hated how exposed you felt, how every reaction seemed visible to him, then, out of nowhere Jungkook said, “Your eyes are pretty.”

The word didn’t land correctly with you, it felt empty of softness or genuinity. It sounded detached, like a saying made in passing rather than something meant to be felt. 

Your breath stopped, you felt heat building up across your face in a way that made you feel embarrassed, and you turned away as if looking at him any longer would expose too much, “Don’t,” you muttered, “don’t say things like that.”

“There,” Jungkook said, “you broke eye contact,” he continued, “but your pulse slowed by a little bit, the compliment was effective.”

You clenched your fists, “You did that on purpose.”

“Yes.” “That’s manipulative.” “It was smart, humans respond to affirmation,” he added, “praise grounds you and helps you alter your focus, you enjoy being seen.”

“I do not,” you snapped, “stop treating me like an experiment.”

“You are one,” he said nonchalantly. 

The words hit harder than you expected, your heart beats faster, not just with fear, but with irritation, “Enough,” you snapped, “just stop.”

He didn’t move, his gaze was still on yours. The difference was his gaze was unwavering while yours were all over the place. You hated this, hated the control, hated that your body obeyed him before your mind could catch up, “Please,” you begged.

The word slipped out before you could stop it.

There was silence for a few moments before you saw Jungkook leaning back slightly against his chair. The pressure lifted instantly, like the room exhaled with you. It was as if Jungkook was the one controlling the way the air shifts in the room, “Better?” he asked.

You sucked in a small breath, “You could’ve stopped sooner.” “Yes.” “Then why didn’t you?” “I wanted you to ask for it.”

You slid off your chair slowly, legs unsteady, before muttering, “I hate this.”

He stood up after you, “You can sleep now.”

You hesitated, “Was that staring contest supposed to help?” “Yes.” “With what?” “Regulating your fear,” he paused near the wall across the room, “tomorrow,” he added, “you will react to me less loudly.”

“And if I don’t?”

“Then we’ll repeat this again.”

Your stomach twisted, “You’re enjoying this.”

“No,” Jungkook replied calmly, “I’m just correcting your response.”

The room settled as he disappeared again into thin air. But you know he will always be here because of the curse which you will try to ask about next time, whenever that next time is.  

Even with Jungkook’s figure being gone from the room, his oppressive energy eased a little but did not disappear entirely. 

You moved to the bed slowly, and every muscle loosened little by little, you didn’t feel as tense as you used to be.

As you laid down, you pulled your blanket tight around you. You could feel your heart is beating steadier for longer than it usually did ever since moving here.

You realized now, that whatever that staring contest he came up with will help you get used to living with him. 

When Father Gabriel left, you thought you would be facing the anger of the Kratos demon, you were suspicious of how the night would end and of everything you do. 

You didn’t really have the mood to cook or even heat up the pre-made meals, so you poured cereal on a bowl and added milk afterwards. After finishing your dinner, you washed the bowl and left it to dry. For a few good seconds, you observed whether the bowl would move into a different spot, trying to see if the demon is going to try anything weird tonight.

You kept the lights in your room on while you were in the shower because you didn’t want to get out of the bathroom and see it again. 

And when you finished showering, there was nothing in your room. 

You could still feel the presence of it, but nothing has happened so far.

You even tested the room and whether it will still pull tricks on you. You set your mug on the desk and watched it for over 10 minutes. Then you placed your keys on the hook and left it there while checking it every two to three minutes. You even placed your phone on the nightstand to check if it will push the phone off and move it somewhere else.

And of course, nothing moved. Not the mug, key, or your phone.

To check one more time, you turned the lamps in your room off for one second then turned them on again, expecting something or someone, to sit on the couch or stand somewhere near your bed. But nothing happened. 

No one showed up. 

You exhaled in relief then decided to lay down on the bed.

Downstairs, you could hear the door shut, a laugh probably Jimin or Taehyung, the sound of cars passing by in your block. While inside your room, you heard nothing other than the sound of your own breath. 

You closed your eyes and opened them again, expecting the shape of it by the window or sitting on the couch. 

Thankfully, there was nothing. 

So you whispered into the empty room, “If you’re here, just don’t show up or don’t move things around, please,” you begged whoever was listening. 

You felt embarrassed that you were doing all of these, but if this is all it takes for a peaceful night's sleep, then you would do it every single night.

The last thing you remembered before finally falling asleep was the blinking red dot on your charger.

♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡

When you woke up the next morning, it was still quiet. 

Somehow it’s almost unnerving how quiet it was.

You woke up slowly, blinking against the sunlight shining through the thin curtains in your room. For a moment, you were disoriented as you checked your surroundings, you were half expecting something to happen last night.

But you could spot the key, you could see where your phone and mug were. There was nothing out of the ordinary. And of course, there was no shadow or creature sitting or standing somewhere in your room.

Although you could still feel its presence, at the very last you didn’t have to deal with its actions or shadows. 

You exhaled out of relief as if your lungs have been holding your breath all night. Maybe the prayers worked a little, you thought to yourself. Maybe Father Gabriel’s visit unsettled whatever it was, enough to calm it down.

But still, you don’t feel safe.

You didn’t have to get ready for work again today, as it was still a public holiday. But you have something planned for the day. By the time the clock hits 9 AM, you were scrolling through your phone again. You stared at Namjoon’s contact name on your phone, your thumb hovering before you finally typed out a quick message:

You: do you still have the number of that shaman your cousin used?

Namjoon: Yeah. Her name’s Eunbi. She’s legit, according to my mom lol. Do you want me to send it?

You: please.

Namjoon gave you Eunbi’s phone number, and without giving it a second thought, you were already waiting for Eunbi to pick up your phone call.

When she finally picked up, her voice was surprisingly cheerful, it was not at all what you expected. She listened to you as you explained everything that has happened in this studio, she asked you to pause only once, which was when she asked what Father Gabriel said.

You told her everything during yesterday’s meeting with Father Gabriel as well. From the blessing, the warning he gave you, and the word Kratos.

There was a brief silence before she answered, “I’ll come by this afternoon.”

♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡

Eunbi arrived at exactly 2 PM, carrying a small bag slung across her shoulder. She looked younger than you expected, her hair was tied loosely and she was wearing a normal white t-shirt and jeans, again not the stereotyped shaman you were expecting.

But her gaze gave away the years she has probably spent being a shaman, doing this as a living to help others.

And today you expect to be part of the statistics, part of the many people Eunbi has helped (according to Namjoon’s mom).

“Thank you so much for coming,” you said, greeting her.

Eunbi gave you a small smile, “Of course. You said you live upstairs?”

You nodded at her, “Yes, in the studio upstairs. It is an attic, but I have my own kitchen and bathroom.”

She looked up and the moment her gaze glanced towards the windows, her expression changed. You noticed her jaw tightening as well, as if she was looking at something your normal eyesight couldn’t.

After a few seconds, she murmured, almost whispering, “Father Gabriel was right,” her eyes remained fixed on the window as she continued, “there’s no use for rituals here, this is no ghost.”

The way she said it so confidently made your skin shiver in fear.

You hesitated, “Can you talk to him? Like Father Gabriel did?”

She turned back to you, sighing before answering, “No, Father Gabriel had help from Jophiel, the Angel of Enlightenment and that’s why he could draw insight from something this strong.”

“And you?” you asked, curiously and kind of hoping for her to answer that she can somehow talk to it or help you talk to it.

Her lips twitched slightly, giving you a small smile, “I only have the help of ghosts, you know the ordinary ones. But even they have fled this neighborhood because of him. They can’t stand his presence, it smothers them. And he could easily make them his slaves or bring them to hell with him.”

You glanced up at the window again, you kind of hoped there was somehow a way to interact with him. You just wanted him to leave you alone, that is all you want from him. Nothing else. 

Eunbi shifted her bag higher on her shoulder, it was as if she knew what you were thinking about, “But,” Eunji said carefully, “you can talk to him. He hears and sees everything that happens in that room, and in this house really though he seems to not be able to escape that second floor.”

You swallowed, even without showing himself you were already in fear, “Should we go up then?”

Eunji nodded once in agreement. 

♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡

The both of you climbed the stairs, walked inside your studio, and stood near your bed as you started talking, “Well, I just want you to know that you scare me. But please, let’s be civil. That is all I want, because I also want to live here. Just please try not to scare me.”

For a few seconds, there was no response. You looked outside the window and you could hear the wind outside, the leaves, and the faint sound of a car passing down the street.

Then you noticed Eunbi, who was standing next to you, her posture changed. She seemed anxious and scared.

And her gaze lowered, but not at you, but behind you.

You froze.

“What, what’s wrong Eunbi?” you whispered as you slowly turned your head, following Eunbi’s gaze.

And there it, he, was.

Standing just beyond the doorframe of the studio.

He wasn’t flickering, or it wasn’t just the outline of him. No, no, he was fully formed as though he stepped out of the shadow and decided to fully show himself. 

A man, if you can even call him that, taller than the doorway itself, his broad shoulders and his wings, though not fully spread, were impossible to miss.

This was the same person you saw before. Your heart stopped for a few seconds.

And you somehow couldn’t look away. 

His horns curve back from his temples, it was the darkest of black, if that was even possible. His eyes were black with veins of red and his eyes were locked onto yours.

And still, beneath the absolute terror clawing up your body, something completely insane sparks in your mind. 

He was handsome, strikingly handsome.

You shook the thought away instantly, horrified by it, because it made no sense to think something that could kill you looks attractive.

Was this his power? Turning fear into admiration? Or even worse, lust? To reel his victims in? You really should stop reading romance and fantasy. 

Eunbi’s lips part in silent horror. Her gaze flicked between you and the creature in front of her.

Jungkook calmly watches you both. His expression is unreadable, though the corner of his mouth curves upward, he almost smiled.

Then he chuckled, a deep sound that vibrated through the walls.

“Listen to the priest,” he said, “and this shaman. You can’t get rid of me so easily, little teacher.”

Eunbi stumbled back, clutching the strap of her bag, “We’re sorry,” she said quickly, her voice trembling, “Please, don’t hurt us.”

He tilted his head, studying her. For a second he almost looked human, if you just ignore his horns, eyes, and wings, “You are not worth my effort to kill.”

The words hit you like a slap.

You should run, you should be screaming, running down the stairs, calling someone. anyone. But your feet didn’t, or couldn’t move.

Your voice came out quieter than you expected it to, “Let’s just be civilized.”

He laughed softly, but you could tell he was just being sarcastic, “Why should we?”

“Because,” you whispered, forcing yourself to look down, “I’ll be living here too.”

Jungkook took a step forward, “But, little teacher, I have lived here way longer.”

You swallowed,  “I’ll do whatever you please,” you managed, “I just need to stay here.”

Jungkook’s eyes narrowed at the small human in front of him, “Don’t beg,” he said, “you humans look pathetic when you do.”

The words sting, it was humiliating. But before you could stop yourself, you said the most reckless statement you could have ever said in this moment, “I heard your situation is more pathetic.”

The shaman’s hand snaps against your back before you finish the last syllable. You jolted out of surprise, and your eyes widening, realizing what you have just said in front of the demon from Kratos.

Eunbi’s face was drained of color.

Jungkook blinked once. For a good one minute, he didn’t move.

Then, against all reason, Jungkook just laughed, “You should be careful what you say to me,” he finally said, “I can make your life a living hell.”

You looked down, bowing, before saying, “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean what I said.”

But he could feel it, the clash in you. Between terror and defiance, the pulse of adrenaline that wasn’t entirely out of fear. He could feel and see you trembling, yes, but also your refusal to break down entirely.

Something shifted in his expression. Jungkook’s smirk faded into something a smile.

For centuries, he has been met only with screams, prayers, and pleas from the humans living with him. The moment their eyes land on him, these mortals would crumble, they would run, faint, and frantically sob.

No one has ever talked back to Jungkook.

Until now.

He tilted his head slightly, studying you, as though you’ve just done something neither of you fully understand. 

Maybe you are the one he’s been waiting for, Jungkook thought to himself. Maybe you are the one who could end this. The one who could end his misery. 

Not because you were brave, as you were still trembling. But because even in your fear, you refuse to kneel.

Jungkook didn’t answer you right away.

And the room was silent except for your breathing and the faint rustle of Eunbi shifting her weight, torn between running away and collapsing on the spot.

Jungkook just stared at you.

You’ve gone pale, your hands are still shaking, and your eyes keep flicking to his horns, his wings, his eyes, then darting away again like you’re afraid you would turn to stone if you look too long.

And yet you talked back.

You’re terrified. He can feel it, fear is practically pouring off you. But underneath it, there’s something else.

You don’t like him. You don’t want him here. But you’re not collapsing on the floor begging to be spared, either.

Interesting, Jungkook thought. 

Eunbi finally spoke up again, despite her fear, “We- we’re so sorry,” she stammered again, eyes still glued to the floor even now, “we meant no disrespect, we will take our leave, and we won’t bother you again, I promise.”

Jungkook barely glanced at her, “You’re already beneath my notice,” he said, bored at this performance in front of him, “stop repeating yourself.”

She flinched like he slapped her.

You, idiot that you are, walked slightly to be in front of her. Not much, just enough that you end up between him and the shaman, like your mortal body would do anything against something like him.

Jungkook noticed your brave act, “You’re staying?” he asked, his gaze moving back to you.

“I told you,” you replied quietly, “I can’t just move out.”

“You can,” he corrected, “you just don’t want the consequences.”

“Yes, I don’t want it. I don’t want to pay more for rent and I don’t want to lose the short commute from this place to my work,” you replied, somehow finding your voice despite the fear in you.

Eunbi’s hand pressed harder against your back, a silent, “stop talking.”

But Jungkook laughed in response, “You’re lecturing a Demon from Kratos about consequences.”

He took another step forward, the distance between you and Jungkook was now getting smaller. 

The closer he gets to you, the heavier the air feels like the atmosphere itself thickens around his presence. His wings don’t fully spread, but they were a subtle reminder of how much space he could take if he wanted to.

“Say I let you stay,” he said, “Then what?”

You swallowed, forcing yourself not to take a step back, “Then we coexist,” you responded, your voice stammered, but you got the words out, “you do whatever you do up here and I go to work, I sleep, I pay rent, and we pretend each other doesn’t exist.”

He tilted his head, amused at you, “You want me to pretend you don’t exist, and you want to pretend I don’t exist even when I’m standing in your room?”

“Yes,” you replied.

That made him smile again, “You’re shaking.”

“I know,” you snapped, then immediately regretted the tone, “I’m sorry. I’m scared, obviously. But I don’t have anywhere else to go.”

Eunbi finally speaks up again, whispering to you, “Maybe we should go downstairs,” she said, “and then we can talk there.”

He ignored Eunbi. Jungkook was still watching you.

He doesn’t want your affection even the very idea tastes wrong to Jungkook. But this was what the curse wanted. It was built on that condition alone, only when fear becomes affection will the darkness find its freedom.

Jungkook just needs you to feel for him, not fear, but some form of affection. 

Jungkook has tried to break it by force, he tried to crush it with fury and power. But the old curse was built to withstand everything other than the terms spoken to break it. It will never bend unless it is affection. 

Fear, he has in abundance from any other creature. Affection, he has never had.

Not even with the female Demons in Kratos. It was mostly just lust for them, affection does not and has not existed between Jungkook and another creature. 

And then there’s you, who is terrified, angry, not afraid to insult him to his face, and you who are refusing to run.

You are Insane.

Yet Jungkook now knows that you will be useful to him.

“Fine,” he said at last.

Both you and Eunbi flinched at the word.

You licked your lips, “Fine, what, what do you mean by it?”

“You can stay,” Jungkook said, “for now.”

You blinked, stunned, and Eunbi gripped your arm like she’s not sure if she’s supposed to drag you out or clap a hand over your mouth to stop you from saying any other word.

“But there are rules,” he added.

Of course there are. 

Even cursed, he’s still Jeon Jungkook, born into a world of structure, power, and rules drawn and signed in blood.

“What rules?” you asked him cautiously.

Jungkook raises a hand and starts ticking them off, because apparently, humans like lists. He has learned this from the previous tenants in this attic. 

“One,” he continued, “You don’t bring any more holy men, women, or amateurs in here. No priests, no shamans, and definitely no exorcists. They’re useless and they irritate me.”

Eunbi took a sharp inhale, but wisely, unlike you who insulted the demon, she didn't object.

“Two. You don’t try to cleanse me, bind me, or negotiate with me through anyone else. If you have something to say, you say it here and you say it to me directly.”

You flinched, “To you?”

The image of you negotiating with a demon didn’t sit right with you. If anything it scared you even more.

“Yes,” he simply responded, “You wanted to be ‘civil,’ didn’t you? Civilized creatures speak directly. Did you not learn this?”

Your eyes dropped to the floor, “Okay,” you whispered, “fine, I’ll talk to you directly.”

“Good. Since we’ll be around each other most of the time, you’ll have to learn to talk to me. And three,” he sighed before saying the third rule, “You do not have sex here.”

“I’m not going to! I mean, I wouldn’t,” you said immediately, “why would I do that when I know you’re up here?”

“Good,” he said, “keep it that way.”

Finally, Eunbi cleared her throat, “May we go now?” she asked, whispering with her gaze still focused to the floor, “I will not disturb you again, I swear it.”

Jungkook looked at her like he had forgotten she even existed at all, “Leave whenever you like,” he continued, “I’m not the one locking the door.”

You sucked in a breath, then nodded at Eunbi, “Let’s go downstairs.”

The moment you stepped outside the studio, the air felt lighter and different. You and Eunbi could finally take a proper breath, the both of you could finally breathe normally. 

You and Eunbi made it to the hallway on the first floor and neither of you dare to look back.

♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡

Jungkook watched the two humans retreat downstairs. He even saw your hand and white knuckles gripping on the railing as you walked down the stairs. The sound of your footsteps were quick and uneven while Eunbi’s, the shaman, were slower, as if she expected the stairs to open under her feet at any second and she would be transported to Hell.

Jungkook couldn’t believe the shaman was even more scared than you. If anything, in this situation you should have been the shaman.

Jungkook lets out a small sigh, “Pathetic,” he muttered, but the word doesn’t feel the way it used to. He used to call humans pathetic all the time, because they were.

But the truth is, you’re not, not in the same way he’s used to seeing other humans.

Affection.

He doesn’t know if you’re capable of that for something like him. 

Jungkook doesn’t know if he’s capable of earning it without breaking you in the process.

But for the first time since the ritual, the terms don’t feel completely out of this world, and the curse doesn’t feel like it’s impossible to break. 

“Fine,” he said to the empty room, “stay, little teacher.”

His gaze drifted to the spot where you stood, “Let’s see how long you last.”

♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡

The shaman left before sunset, bowing three times at the doorway and muttering apologies to you. She felt as if she failed in helping you. But you assured her that her presence helped you a lot in being brave. Even though she refused your payment, you still paid Eunbi anyway.

Eunbi’s hands trembled as she started her car, and you stood in the front yard watching the taillights fade down the street, wondering if she’ll ever take your calls again.

For a long time, you didn’t move and just stood there. You turned around, looked up at the second floor window and you didn’t see any movement or any figure standing there.

You sighed as you told yourself you can’t hide downstairs forever.

You still live here, you still pay rent, and you still have a bed up there and all the furniture you own. 

You can’t just run away, you were not born to give up so easily. 

You inhaled once, twice, deep enough that your chest aches, then pushed open the front door and climbed the stairs to the studio.

Each step somehow creaks louder than usual, or maybe you’re just hearing too much. 

When you reached the top, your hand paused on the doorknob and you whispered to yourself, “Okay. You can do this,” and turn the door knob before you lose courage.

The studio is silent as ever. 

And you can see him there.

Sitting on the couch like he belongs to it, like he owns it. His arm draped over the back, wings folded close but not hidden. 

And you could notice his eyes following you from the moment you step in.

Your heart was beating so loud and hard, it was beating painfully against your ribs.

Even after seeing him twice now, nothing prepared you for how real he looks. He is not in the form of smoke, illusion, or imagination. He is real and solid and is sitting in your studio. 

It’s not just terrifying, what you are feeling is beyond the vocabulary of fear. You thought about words like dread or terror, but even they don’t fit what you feel in his presence. 

You didn’t speak to him. You grabbed the mug from the sidetable, your hands trembling slightly, as you crossed the room to put the mug on the sink. 

You avoided looking directly at him, but his gaze followed you as you crossed the room.

When he finally spoke to you again, his voice was so deep, it made you jump a little, “You have rules for me, don’t you?”

You stopped halfway to the desk, “What?”

His mouth formed a smirk across his face, “I made rules earlier. I assume you have some for me, too.”

You turned slowly to face him, “Fine,” you replied, your voice unsteady and stammering, “no spying in the bathroom, no jumping out of the shadows, and no whispering my name at three in the morning.”

His smile deepened, he looked entertained, “Maybe.”

You glared at him before you could stop yourself, “Maybe isn’t a yes.”

He leaned back slightly, and it made you wonder what his wings would look like when spread out, “Neither is no.”

You let out a small sigh, in fear and frustration, “You think this is funny?”

“Yes, I think it is,” Jungkook simply answered, “you are trying to negotiate with something that could end you without standing up.”

“You said you wouldn’t kill me.”

“I said you’re not worth the effort,” he corrected you, “there’s a difference.”

The words hit you hard, but you stood your ground, or at least you tried to, “Please don’t make this harder than it has to be, I’ll stay out of your way and you can stay out of mine.”

For a few seconds, he just studies you, then, almost lazily, he nodded, “Fine.”

You blinked in surprise, “Fine?”

“For now.”

There’s that edge again, it sounded like he was both mocking and testing you, like he was waiting to see how much you will tolerate before breaking.

You didn’t answer him, you just moved to your desk, pretending to sort through papers you needed to give out to your students tomorrow, pretending not to feel his eyes on you.

But you can feel him watching, every second, and every movement you make. 

You lasted ten minutes before whispering under your breath, “Maybe I really am insane.”

From the couch, he answered, amused at you thinking he wouldn’t hear that, “That would make two of us.”

You shuffled papers you didn’t need to shuffle, and he watched you like he has all the time in the world.

“Do you have a name?” you asked, eyes on a blank worksheet, trying to make the room feel less awkward.

And frankly it’s better to talk to him than feel his eyes on you. It’s somehow less scary to know he speaks rather than him being quiet. 

“You first,” Jungkook answered.

“You already know mine.”

“I want to hear you say it.”

You grit your teeth in annoyance and fear, “_____.”

“Good,” your heart stopped at his ‘compliment’, “Jungkook.”

“If I say your name, will you appear? Is that how it works, kind of like a genie?” you didn’t mean to ramble, but your curiosity got the best of you. 

You wondered if this strength of yours will turn into weakness any time soon. Like they all say, curiosity kills the cat.

“I was here before you knew my name.”

“Right. Also don’t forget the rules, you’re not allowed to scare me at 3 AM or if I wake up in the middle of the night.”

“I didn’t do that.”

“Well, something did.”

He scoffed, “You humans jump at your own shadows, you probably scared yourself.”

“Gaslighting is universal, huh?” you asked as you stood up from your desk to lay down on the bed, still avoiding to look at him.  

You pulled your blanket to your chin, and turned to face the wall because Jungkook was still sitting on the couch. 

“Little teacher, my kind invented gaslighting.”

“That’s comforting,” you muttered before adding, “can you just promise you would follow the rules I gave you?”

“Tch,” Jungkook clicked his tongue sharply, “don’t make me say it twice.”

Despite the fear knotting in your stomach, you whispered, “Good night, Jungkook.”

You almost missed it as you were slowly falling to dreamyland.  But you could hear Jungkook say, “Sleep, little teacher.” 

From the couch, playing with a pen he took from your desk, Jungkook watches the rise and fall of your chest as you breathe. 

At first, your mind didn’t register the fear you felt. 

You were too drowsy, still halfway between dreaming and reality. 

You blinked again, trying to focus, but just like that, it was gone.

You sat up slowly, staring at the corner where the figure stood. 

You rubbed your eyes. Maybe you were dreaming, you were tired. And it wasn’t like the studio had the best lighting at night. 

You laid back down, pulling the blanket up to your chin, and finally falling asleep after doing the breathing method the school psychologist taught you.

For the first time since you moved in, you didn’t feel alone.

You just weren’t sure if that was a good thing.

♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡

You woke up the next morning convinced you imagined whatever you saw last night. 

You blame the stress of moving to a new place, the long day at school, and adjusting to the new space and housemates. You told yourself it was just your brain too tired to differentiate between dreams and reality, the way the school psychologist said it sometimes does when you’re someone is exhausted.

You were halfway through brushing your teeth, you’ve almost succeeded in convincing yourself.

But when you step back into the main living area, the mug you left on the desk last night is now sitting on your bedside table.

You stopped so suddenly the floor below you creaked.

The bed is made as it is the first thing you do when you wake up, the rug is a little crooked from where you sat on it yesterday, and your work bag is on the chair, right where you left it.

The room looks exactly the way you remember leaving it, lived in and slightly cluttered.

Except for that one fucking mug.

It sits perfectly centered on the bedside table, its handle turned neatly toward the bed.

Your heart was beating way too loud now, so loud that all you could hear was the sound of your own heart.

You stare at it for a few seconds, with a toothbrush still in your hand, and the toothpaste foaming in your mouth.

You try to replay what happened last night in your head. You dropped the bag on the chair, grabbed a cup of water from the kitchen, and placed it on your desk as you were drinking near it. 

You were a hundred percent sure that’s how it happened. 

You don’t remember moving it and you were certain you didn’t move it.

The hairs on your arms rose in fear and for a second, you thought you heard something, like the wind blowing against the window, but when you took a look outside, the trees and leaves weren’t even moving. 

You crossed the room to pick up the mug, wrapping your fingers around the cold ceramic. You looked at it, turning it to see if there was something on it, which there obviously wasn’t. So you put it back on the desk, right where you remember leaving it.

You didn’t say anything, didn’t react more than you did, and you didn’t let yourself overthink it. It maybe was just your memory being hazy, maybe you did leave it there.

You rinsed your mouth, washed your face, and kept your eyes firmly on the sink.

It’s too early to start freaking out, you thought to yourself.

♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡

It’s now been two weeks since you moved here, and less than a week since the figure in the corner and the cup incident. 

You fell into your new routines in this house faster than you thought you would.

You’d wake up, get ready, finish your coffee while putting on makeup, then walk thirteen minutes to school where you would usually stop by in the croissant place in the middle.

The world outside is so normal it almost convinced you that what happened that night was nothing more than exhaustion overriding your emotion.

Your students have been extra energetic, probably sensing your better mood after moving out and spending less time on commuting. 

At school, in between reading and writing practice, your students always keep you busy. So busy that you would forget about the mug or the figure in the corner. 

When you finally came back home from school, Taehyung was in the kitchen with his sleeves rolled up, eyes glued to some recipe video on his iPad. Jimin was lying on the couch, complaining loudly about his work to someone on his phone, between mouthfuls of chips. And from the hallway, you catch a glimpse of Yoongi standing by his door, greeting you, before disappearing back into his room. 

You smiled and greeted each of them before heading back upstairs. The sound of Jimin's laughter and Taehyung’s youtube video fade behind you until all that’s left is the faint creak of the staircase beneath your feet.

You reach the top of the stair and unlock your door, inhaling a small breath before stepping inside, and paused for just a moment.

You looked around the studio, glancing at all the things you own. The studio looks the same and everything seems to be in its place. Even the mug is still exactly where you left it this time.

You exhaled, relieved at the sight of everything being where it’s supposed to be.

The floor creaks behind you but you tell yourself it’s just the wood or maybe the strong wind against the roof. And honestly, all old houses creak.

And as of now nothing feels wrong.

Not yet.

♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡

The first noise you’ve ever heard was on a Wednesday.

You’re grading spelling tests at your desk, with a true crime podcast playing softly from your phone. The narrator’s voice is somewhat calm, soothing, and relaxing even though he was describing a crime scene. You lit a candle beside you, a cheap vanilla scent from the discount section. You lit it up in the hope it would make the place more cozy.

You glanced over to the clock showing that it’s past midnight. You should be sleeping. Your eyes are starting to sting, and your back aches from the awful chair that you still haven’t sold yet after all this time. 

You circled another misspelled word, wrote a small note in the margin, Great effort, just remember the double e! and that’s when you heard it.

The floor creaking behind you.

It didn’t sound like the casual sound of an old house doing its thing. No this sounded like a slow drag. As if someone, or something, shifted their weight from one board to the next.

You froze on your seat, with the pen hovering above the paper you were grading. 

Your back straightened, you didn’t move, breathe, or even blink. You were just frozen in time, when the sound repeated again. 

You didn’t turn around just yet, your logical brain told you not to turn around because there is nothing to see anyway. Because this is what happens when living in old houses, they make sounds even when a small wind blows against them. Or maybe an animal accidentally hit themselves against the roof of the house.

Except when you checked outside, it didn’t seem like it was windy. The trees were as still as they do on a hot summer night. 

Your mouth felt dry, you swallowed hard as you could feel eyes on the back of your neck.

“God damn it, this is what it feels like living in an old house,” you mumbled.

And then you heard it again, the sound of the floorboard creaking as if someone was walking on it. But this time, it’s closer than before.

You spun around so fast, your chair squeaks against the floor.

And you saw exactly what your logical brain told you. You saw nothing.

You sit there, heart pounding against your ribs fast enough your whole body started sweating as if you just did an hour workout. 

“Okay,” you whispered to no one, forcing out a weak laugh, “no more crime podcasts before bed.”

You close your notebook, climb into bed with your hoodie still on, and pulled the blanket up to your chin.

And tonight, you decided to sleep with the lights on, telling yourself it’s because you’re just too tired to turn it off, not wanting to admit that when the lights are off, the shadows came alive like they are watching you.

♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡

He watches you from the corner of the studio.

You can’t see him, not yet. Jungkook is the one controlling the energy in the room, and he will be the one deciding when you will be able to see him.

He has seen humans like you before, hundreds of them. Tenants who arrive with tired eyes, and small dreams. They would unpack, clean the place, light the candles, and tell themselves whatever they felt would just be temporary, they all thought they could outlast the uneasiness they felt.

He knows the pattern by heart.

He would play with the small things first. He’d make sounds, like a creak in the floor when no one’s moving, or control the air in the room by making it colder or flickering the candle without a wind blowing in the room, or placing the mug slightly out of place.

Jungkook didn’t mean to move your mug that morning. It was muscle memory, though his body has long since ceased to be human. His fingers brushed past it, and the object followed the pull of him.

You didn’t scream, but you frowned, muttered something under your breath, and moved the mug back like it was nothing.

Jungkook found that interesting. Very few humans managed to be indifferent in his presence.

Most would crumble quickly, even get loud, messy, desperate to leave. 

But you haven’t, so far, not yet.  

When the floor creaked that night, he hadn’t stepped forward. He only just looked at you and that was all it took, the energy in the room would always respond to his.

He could hear your breath stopping when you heard the sound. He could smell your pulse, and the taste of tremor in the air.

And yet, you stayed. You didn’t flee or even prayed to god. 

Something stirred in him then. Jungkook was curious.

How long would you endure it? How many nights before your rational mind began to lose, how many nights before you started whispering to the dark, praying to a god, the way the others did?

Would you fight him? Beg him? Or he wonders, would you learn to live with him?

For the first time in a century, Jungkook finds himself curious.

It’s been forever since a human’s fear amused him.

He wonders how long it will take before you break. How long before you pack your boxes, or before you run down those stairs and never look back.

Or maybe you’ll be the first to stay.

Jungkook was not sure which thought excites him more.

♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡

By Friday, the little things weren’t so little anymore.

This time, it started with your keys.

You were sure you left them on the hook by the door. You always do it out of habit, in the same spot, the same ring, the same tiny keychain one of your students gave you that says “#1 Teacher”. 

But when you reach for them that morning, your hand closes on empty air.

The hook was empty.

You frowned, and quickly checked the floor around where you were standing, and found nothing. You checked your bag, flipping through its pockets, and found nothing. You pat the jacket hanging on your chair, crouched and scanned under furniture, and found nothing.

Nothing.

“You’re kidding me,” you muttered.

You can’t afford this today. There’s a parent-teacher meeting at school and you’re already running late.

You pulled the cushions off the sofa, rifling through papers on your desk, checked the bathroom counter then the kitchen counter, checked under the bed, and even the bin in your room. 

You were panicking at this point, doing the breathing techniques again.

And then you see them on your pillow.

The keys are sitting perfectly in the center of your pillow, the “#1 Teacher” charm faces up, as if placed deliberately.

You stared at them, feeling your chest tightening at the sight of it.

Your brain started to rearrange itself, trying to build a sequence of things that you’ve done that would make sense. Did you put them there last night? Maybe you were exhausted? Maybe you dropped them and they landed there somehow? 

No, no you didn’t.

You didn’t even go near the bed after hanging your bag. You remember that clearly, because you always remember small things like that.

You crossed the room, quickly grabbed the keys, and put them into your bag. You left the house faster than you meant to, locking the door with trembling hands.

You almost wanted to tell Hoseok during lunch. The words were waiting to be spoken at the back of your throat while he ranted about a parent who emailed him at 3 AM. You wanted to interrupt, wanted to say, “Something’s wrong with my apartment.”

But it sounded ridiculous in your head, so you kept it to yourself.

♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡

Saturday night is when you really start to break.

You stayed in because you’re too tired to go out, and too lazy to cook anything heavy that requires more than boiling water because that would mean you’d have to cook downstairs. So you just ate instant noodles in your tiny living room, scrolled through your phone, and watched a YouTube video just to fill the silence.

Downstairs though, you could slightly hear Yoongi’s voice, Jimin’s laugh, and a door to what you imagine is Taehyung’s bedroom creaking shut. These voices from downstairs soothed you a little as it made you feel less alone.

Except you are not.

You washed your dishes, dried them, and stacked them neatly in the cupboard. Then you decided to shower, feeling the water running hot against your back, letting the steam fogging the mirror. 

When you wiped it clean, for the briefest second, it looked like someone was standing behind you.

You blinked again to make sure you were seeing right, and you were. Nothing was there. You convinced yourself that you imagined it.

You tied your hair up, and laid on your bed with a movie playing on your TV. Halfway through the movie, you paused it for a snack.

You left your phone on the bed, walked six steps to the kitchen, opened the cupboard, grabbed a bag of chips, turned around…. 

And your phone is not on the bed anymore. It’s face down on the floor, by the window.

The bed is two full steps from that window. Your phone wasn’t near the edge. There’s no way it slid that far. You didn’t toss it and you sure as hell didn’t move it.

“Okay,” you said out loud, “nope, we are not doing this.”

You walked over, picked up the phone, and you whispered, “It’s probably gravity, it slipped off and bounced or something.”

You pressed play on the movie again, pretending to be busy. When the credits roll, you realize you haven’t heard a single word of dialogue in the past twenty minutes.

You were so terrified, you didn’t realize the movie in front of you was still playing.

You turned the TV off, climbed into bed, pulling the blanket to your chin, and just stared at the ceiling.

You tried to calm yourself down, again with the same breathing method. Breathe in. Breathe out. In. Out. In. Out. In. Out.

The rhythm of your breathing starts to soothe you to fall asleep, until you hear another breath.

Not yours.

Something, someone, exhaled their breath right beside your face.

Your pulse spikes so fast you feel dizzy.

Then it happens again. An inhale this time. A steady breath that matches yours perfectly, as if whoever it is is lying right next to you.

The hairs on the back of your neck rise. 

Your mind scrambles for a logical reasoning behind this, the pipes, wind, anything. But it doesn’t sound mechanical, the breath sounds alive.

You turned your head slowly, terrified of what you’ll see.

But you saw nothing.

Just your pillow and the faint indentation where you lay your head. 

But you noticed the shadows on the wall stretching like something trying to crawl closer. You sit up so fast your vision blurred for a second and your breath comes in short and shallow bursts.

“Okay,” you whispered, “I heard that. I definitely heard and saw that.”

You grabbed your phone, fingers trembling so badly you almost dropped it. You called the only person you can think of.

Namjoon answered on the second ring, “Hello?”

“Joonie,” you whispered.

“Why do you sound like you’re hiding in a closet?”

“I think my apartment might be haunted,” you muttered.

There was silence at the end of the line, before Namjoon finally answering, “Okay, say more.”

You told him about the mu, the keys, the phone, and the breathing that just happened. He listened to you so attentively that you can hear the rustle of his sheets as he sits up.

“Old houses make weird noises sometimes,” Namjoon said, trying to calm you down, “Or maybe you’ve been tired because of work?”

“I know what being tired feels like,” you cut him off, “this isn’t that.”

“Do you want to stay with me or Hoseok?”

You looked around at your studio, the books lined neatly on the shelf, the soft lamp glow, the plants, and the little life you’ve built here. You thought about your rent, your savings, and your commute, and how badly you wanted this place to work.

“No,” you whispered, “it’s fine, I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, but if anything moves, if your bed starts floating or if you see a Victorian child, I’m driving over and burning that place down.”

You laughed at his comment and said, “Deal,” before saying good night and hanging up. 

You laid back down on your bed, closed your eyes, with your heart still pounding against your chest.

You seriously couldn’t tell if you’re just imagining it anymore. 

♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡

Jungkook watches you talk to a glowing piece of glass and wonders why humans always choose the wrong people to confide in.

That Namjoon guy who helped you move in clearly wants to be more than just friends, yet your stupid small brain doesn’t think otherwise. If you chose to go to his house, Hell knows what he would try to do. 

Your voice trembled as you whispered into the phone, your fingers clutching the device like it could save you from the fear you felt. 

Jungkook sits near the window, his wings half spread, as he listens to your phone call.

Humans talk to each other as if words can shield them from what haunts them, as if naming the fear makes the feeling shrink.

He leans forward, shadows bending around him.

“Old houses make weird noises sometimes,” your friend said. Jungkook tilted his head, and the corner of his mouth twitched after hearing that.

If only he knew.

♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡

The next day, you woke up to your alarm blaring inches from your ear, the sound was loud enough to make your heart jump. Your hand reaches for your phone until the noise dies, and then you just lie there, flat on your back, and staring at the ceiling that feels a little too close today.

You sit up and remember you are going out today to meet a friend. The floorboards creak beneath you because you kept moving on your bed. But still, your shoulders tense. 

You force yourself to stand up and get ready.

You move through it all like if you keep going fast enough you can outrun the thought clawing at the back of your skull.

After you showered, you poured coffee into your mug and set it on the counter.

You stare at the mug.

Ten seconds. Fifteen. And he mug doesn’t move.

“See?” you muttered to yourself, “totally fine.”

Once you finished your coffee, you grabbed your bag, keys, and jacket. 

The air on the other side of the door feels lighter and somehow normal. You closed the door behind you and waited on top of the stairs for that creeping chill, that sense of being watched, but you couldn’t feel it.

“See?” you whispered again, forcing a small smile, “all normal.”

♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡

You got home just after five. You climbed the stairs slowly, your bag now felt heavier on your shoulder, the fear taking over every inch of you.

You unlocked the door and pushed it open.

And the world just stopped.

There’s someone in your room.

No, something.

It stood by the window, with wings so wide they nearly touched both walls. The feathers are deep and dark black. And those eyes, those eyes were of red and black, watching you like he’s been waiting.

You tried to move but you couldn’t. You couldn’t even breathe.  

Your heart was pounding so hard against your ribs that it hurts. The air feels thick, like the whole room is underwater. 

It shifts slightly, its head tilting, and wings flexing. 

And the key in your hand fell to the floor.

Every instinct you have is screaming run.

But you couldn’t. 

You just stood there frozen in the doorway, lowering your gaze slowly from him, to the floor.

For one second, you swore you heard him breathing. And that was it, your freeze or flight system finally chose flight as you slammed the door.

The noise echoed down the narrow staircase. Your feet barely hit each step before the next one, your hand sliding along the wall to keep yourself upright.

When you reach the bottom, your legs nearly give out. You gripped the railing until your knuckles go white, then push yourself toward the living room.

Taehyung’s voice drifts faintly from the kitchen, asking if everything was okay. He must have heard the door slamming hard behind you. 

You sat on the couch, shaking so violently your teeth knocked together.

You bend forward, placing your elbows on your knees, and your hands still trembling as you press them against your mouth to keep you from making a sound. 

Tears spilled before you even realised you were crying. 

The image of it won’t leave your mind. 

Taehyung’s footsteps rushed in from the kitchen, “Hey, hey, what happened?” 

You couldn’t answer him. You swore you were going into a panic attack. You felt as if your lungs had forgotten how to breathe.

“There, there’s.. someone upstairs,” you said, your voice cracking as you couldn’t stop shaking.

For a moment, Taehyung just stared at you. On the way you’re shaking on the couch, your face drained of color, he thought to himself that this was not something you could fake. Not unless you were a horror movie actress. 

“Upstairs?” he asked as his eyes flicked toward the staircase, then back to you, “you mean in your studio?”

You nodded.

He exhaled slowly, “Did you actually see someone?”

You nodded again. 

“Fuck,” he muttered.

You pressed your fists against your knees, trying to stop your body from trembling, “You believe me.” It was more of a statement, you could tell by his face that he wasn’t so surprised. 

Taehyung hesitated to answer at first, “You’re not the first one to say something like that.”

You stared at Taehyung, but his eyes flicked up towards the ceiling again, “But,” he continued, “you’re the first to say you saw someone.”

Taehyung looked at you again, “Do you want me to sleep downstairs with you tonight? Just in case?”

You shook your head quickly, wiping your face with your sleeve, “No, no, it’s okay. I’ll call Namjoon and Hoseok. Maybe they can stay with me tonight in the studio. If that’s okay with you.”

He nodded immediately, “Of course. Whatever makes you feel safer.”

You grabbed your phone with unsteady fingers, scrolling to their names. 

When Hoseok answers, the moment he hears your trembling voice, he stops whatever he’s doing. And Namjoon was already on the call within a minute.

You told them everything that happened and they didn’t try to rationalize it with their brain, they just said, “We’re coming.”

By the time you hung up, you were finally more calm than you were before. Taehyung hasn’t moved from where he’s standing, but there’s something in his eyes, something like guilt.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly.

You looked up, frowning, “You knew, didn’t you?”

He exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck, “I knew it was haunted. People said they heard noises and saw things move, but no one ever saw anything.”

Your stomach twisted into a knot, “So you rented it out anyway.”

His shoulders tense, “I didn’t think it would ever get this bad. Most people just left after a week, and said they felt watched. I thought,” he stopped himself for a few seconds before continuing, “I thought maybe it was over.”

You swallowed, “What did you think it was?”

He hesitated, glancing toward the ceiling again before answering, “Something that’s been here longer than me.”

You sat there, hands still trembling slightly, “What did you think I saw?”

He shook his head before saying, “Tell me what you saw.”

“It, or he, was tall and he had wings and red and black eyes. And it wasn’t just how he looked, it was how he felt. When I saw him, the air somehow felt alive, like it was pressing down on me from all angles.”

Taehyung’s expression falters, he looks genuinely as afraid as you, “I’m so so sorry,” he said again.

“It’s okay,” you gave him a little smile, though it isn’t because you feel cheated, you felt stupid for thinking this place was perfect.

“I’ll give you your full bond back,” he said, “even if you want to move out tonight.”

You shook your head, “I don’t know yet. I have to think about it. The place is so convenient, the commute, the price, and everyone here has been so kind.”

He nodded slowly, guilt still written across his face, “Whatever you decide, I’ll help you.”

♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡

When Hoseok and Namjoon finally arrived, Taehyung greeted them at the door, muttered something to them, then excused himself quietly, leaving the three of you alone.

The moment the door closed, Hoseok sat on the couch next to you, “Okay. Tell us everything, right now.”

So you did.

Hoseok kept rubbing his face like he’s trying to wake up from a dream. Namjoon listened in silence, his eyes darting occasionally toward the ceiling, like he half expected to hear something move.

By the time you finished, they decided to check upstairs together. 

So the three of you climbed up the stairs together, Hoseok kept glancing back over his shoulder every few steps, as if expecting something to follow, while Namjoon walked ahead of you.

When you unlocked the door, the air hit all three of you at once.

“Jesus,” Hoseok muttered, rubbing his arms, “why is it so cold? Did you leave the window open?”

You shook your head. “No, I didn’t open it.”

Namjoon took a few steps inside, scanning the corners, “I don’t believe in ghosts,” he said, “But the air up here feels different.” He moved closer to the window, then turned back to you, “You can feel it, right? It’s not just temperature.”

You sat down at the edge of your bed, hugging a pillow to your chest, “I was thinking, maybe I should just move out,” you said quietly. 

Hoseok immediately looks relieved, “That’s the smartest thing you’ve said all evening.”

But you shook your head before he could keep going, “No. But I mean, I don’t want to. Not yet. The commute is perfect, the rent’s cheap. And,” you glanced toward the door, “I can’t just run away because of this. The pros still outweigh the cons”

Namjoon studied you for a moment, then sat beside you, “Then what’s the plan?”

You took a deep breath, “I’ll call someone. A priest or a shaman ,or whoever deals with this kind of thing. Maybe it’s just the energy, maybe it can be cleansed.”

“Cleansed,” Hoseok repeated back at you, “Fine, but I’m not staying overnight again until it’s done.”

You nodded at him and gave him a small smile, though your hands now felt cold, “Then I’ll fix it,” you said, “somehow.”

♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡

Jungkook leaned against the wall, his wings folded tight behind him, as he watched you sit on the bed with your two male human companions. He could feel their fear of each and everyone of you. 

You talked about moving out, cleansing, and calling priests. Jungkook chuckled the moment you mentioned priests..

He listened to your voice, you were somehow stubborn in a way that drew his attention. 

He could see clearly that you were scared, but you were adamant to stay. You talked about fixing this, like the curse is some broken lock or leaking pipe. 

You still didn’t understand what you have stepped into.

And for the first time in a very very long while, Jungkook felt amusement stir in his chest.

A sound slipped out of his mouth before Jungkook could stop it, a low chuckle, breaking the still and silent air.

The effect was instant.

Hoseok froze mid sentence, Namjoon’s head snapped toward the sound, while you went completely still.

Hoseok swallowed, “Tell me that was you,” he pointed to Namjoon.

Namjoon shook his head slowly, eyes fixed on the corner where the sound came from, “No,” he said, “It wasn’t.”

You couldn’t see him, but Jungkook can see you perfectly, the way your pulse jumps in your throat, and your fingers gripping the edge of the blanket.

Jungkook now so badly wanted to see how far you would go before leaving. ♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡

Namjoon woke up sometime after three. 

The house was so silent except for Hoseok’s quiet breathing on the floor just beside your bed. You were asleep next to Namjoon, with your face half buried in the pillow. He moved carefully, trying not to wake you up. 

The floor felt cold under his feet as he crossed the small studio and headed to the bathroom. He left the door open as he did his business. 

When he came out, wiping his hands on his shirt, he almost missed it, but the faint shift of weight in the air was impossible to ignore.

Then he saw him, or it.

A man, or something like one, sitting on the small sofa against the wall.

For a second, Namjoon thought his eyes were playing tricks on him. Then the shape moved. The faint light from the street outside catches the outline of wings. 

The figure leaned forward slightly, placing his elbows on his knees. Namjoon freezes, he feels every muscle in his body locks.

Jungkook tilted his head, studying Namjoon the way a predator does, before opening his mouth to speak. 

“Tell your girlfriend,” Jungkook said, the corner of his mouth lifting slightly, “not to be so scared of me.”

Namjoon’s throat tightened. He wants to speak, shout, and wake you and Hoseok up, but no sound comes out. 

Jungkook stopped a few feet away from him, close enough that Namjoon could see the sharp curve of his horns, “Don’t be scared,” Jungkook said quietly.

Namjoon didn’t answer, he couldn’t. 

And then it disappeared. 

Namjoon stood frozen in place for a long time before moving again. 

He didn’t dare look towards the corner, and he didn’t breathe until he’s back under the blanket beside you with his heart still pounding loudly against his chest.

♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡

You woke up not remembering when you fell asleep. All you remembered was you laid on your bed with your eyes shut, listening to Hoseok snore softly from the mattress on the floor while Namjoon was still on his phone. 

At some point, exhaustion must have knocked you out, because the next thing you know, the sunlight was shining through the white curtains and your alarm was vibrating weakly under your pillow.

Thankfully, even though it was a Monday, there was no school since it’s a holiday.

And you should feel relieved but you don’t. 

Hoseok was the first to move. He groaned, stretched, and immediately made a face, “Why is it still freezing here? Seriously, this place has like emotional hypothermia.”

You let out a small laugh, though Namjoon didn’t, he just sat up slowly, and you noticed the dark circles under his eyes.

“Did you get to sleep?” you asked, poking his arm.

“I slept enough,” he responded.

Hoseok insisted on walking around the studio one last time, opening the bathroom door, checking the wardrobe, even peeking behind the curtains like something might jump out. 

By 10 AM, they had to leave. Hoseok has a family lunch and Namjoon promised to help his sister with something. They both hesitated at the door, looking back at you like they’re waiting for you to say, “Actually, I’m coming with you.”

But you didn’t. 

“I’ll call someone,” you told them, “A priest or something.”

“Call us if anything happens,” Namjoon said. While Hoseok pulls you into a tight hug and whispers, “If you see a Victorian child, jump out the window. I’ll catch you.”

You snorted, “You would die.”

“Worth it,” he muttered, then let you go.

You watched them disappear down the stairs, listened to their voices fade, and the front door shut. 

You stood there for a minute, alone in the middle of your studio, and your arms wrapped around yourself. 

“Okay,” you breathe, “let’s call the priest.”

You scrolled through your contacts, thumb hovering over a number you saved months ago for a school event: Father Gabriel (guest speaker for Religious Ed).

He visited your class once, sat in a tiny chair for six year olds, and patiently answered questions like “Do dogs go to heaven?” and “Does God like dinosaurs?” 

The kids loved him, he was so gentle, patient, and kind.

You prayed he would also be good with whatever this is.

Your fingers shake as you hit the call. The line rang twice before a warm voice answered, “Hello? This is Father Gabriel.”

“Hi, um, Father? This is ____. I’m a teacher at Newton Primary. You came to speak to the first graders a few months ago?”

There was a pause, then followed by a soft chuckle, “Ah, yes. The dinosaur debate. I remember. How can I help you?”

You don’t know how to say I think there’s a demon living in my attic, so you responded with, “I moved into a new place,” you said slowly, “and I’ve been experiencing things and last night, I saw something. I was wondering if you could come by? Maybe bless the place or just check?”

His tone shifted, turning serious, “Are you alone right now?”

“Yes.”

“Are you in the house?”

“Yes.”

“Can you step outside for a moment while we talk?”

You blinked, “Right now?”

“If you don’t mind,” he said gently, “just for a moment.”

You grabbed your keys and walked out with only your socks on. You stepped out, just right behind the fence with your phone still pressed to your ear.

“I can come by today,” Father Gabriel said, “I’m free in an hour. Text me the address.”

Relief rushes through you so fast, “Thank you. I, I really appreciate it.”

“Until I get there,” he added, “try not to engage with anything unusual. No talking to it, no provoking it, no challenging it. Just wait for me near the door, alright?”

You agreed quickly.

After you hang up, you text him the address, and then sit on the couch downstairs, near the doorway. 

You scrolled aimlessly on your phone while you waited. 

Twenty minutes later, you see Father Gabriel walking up the street, through the windows, he was wearing simple clothes, a dark shirt, black trousers, and a small silver cross at his neck. He carried a worn leather bag at his side, the strap cutting across his chest.

He’s smiling when he spots you through the window, but the closer he gets, the more that smile fades. His gaze drifted past you, up toward the second floor, the studio where you live.

Even from outside the fence, he’s staring at it like it’s staring back.

You stood up, and walked outside to greet him, “Father Gabriel. Thank you for coming.”

He tears his eyes away from the window and looks at you, “Of course.”

His gaze drifted back up, just for a second, and he frowned.

“You’re not,” he spoke slowly, “you’re not living in the attic, are you?”

Your stomach dropped, “I am.”

For a brief moment, something like unease flickers across his face, but it’s gone as quickly as you noticed it. He forced a smile when he said, “Alright. Let’s go have a look.”

You led him inside and at the top of the stairs, you unlocked the studio door and pushed it open.

Father Gabriel steps in behind you and freezes. His entire body goes still. His eyes sweep the room once, then again. His hand tightens around the strap of his bag.

You don’t feel anything different. It’s the same cold air, and the same feeling of being watched. But whatever he’s sensing, it’s more than that.

He then walks in, sets his bag on the table, pulls out a small metal container of water, and a rosary. He murmured something under his breath, while his hands moved around to bless the space.

You stood by the door, back pressed against it, watching everything happening in your room.

He started to pray in a language you don’t understand. You guessed that it probably was Latin. 

He sprinkled more holy water on the bed, on the walls, the window, and on the floor. 

Once, as he passed near the sofa, his step faltered just slightly. His head also tilted, as if someone brushed past him. 

You didn’t hear anything or see anything, but his face said enough.

He finished with a final blessing, and when he was done, he gathered his things, and puts everything neatly back into his bag.

He still hasn’t said a word to you.

“Father?” you asked him quietly, “Is it done?”

His eyes flicked around the room one last time, “Let’s talk downstairs,” he said and that alone tells you everything you don’t want to know.

♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡

In the kitchen, Father Gabriel set his bag on the table and exhaled. He looked more tired than he did when he came. 

You pulled out a chair, “Do you want some water? Tea?”

He shook his head, “No, thank you.” He sits across from you, folding his hands on the table. 

“Father,” you start, heart pounding against your chest, “is it gone?”

He looked at you for a long moment, searching your face like he’s deciding how honest he needs to be.

“My dear,” he said finally, “I don’t think it will work.”

“What do you mean it won’t work? You blessed it. You used holy water and prayed for it.”

“I did,” he replied gently, “and it will help with human spirits. But what’s in that room is not a ghost.”

“Then what is it?”

He hesitated, “Something stronger, and igger than any of us.”

You frowned, “What does that mean?”

He held your gaze for a few seconds, “It’s a demon.”

You stared at him. For a moment, the word doesn’t even make sense to you. Demon sounds like something from a movie or superstitions parents tell their children to not misbehave.

You let out a small laugh, “Okay, but isn’t that basically a ghost? Like an evil ghost?”

He shook his head, “No. A ghost is a human soul, someone who has died but remains attached to this world. They’re bound here by unfinished business, grief, trauma, or attachment. They are limited or small, in a sense. But what I felt up there is not small.”

You pressed your lips together, “So what is he, then?”

His eyes sharpen at your choice of word, he, but he lets it go, “He’s not just any demon,” Father Gabriel said, “he is from Kratos.”

You blinked, “Kratos?”

“Hell,” he clarified, “Not the version we know. It’s a more structured one with layers and order. Kratos is where the powerful ones live.”

A cold shiver crawls down your spine, “Okay, but aren’t all demons from hell?”

“Not like this,” he said, “There are lesser entities and they feed on scraps, they are closer to ghosts in a way. This is different.”

He leaned forward slightly, lowering his voice, “A demon from Kratos is, in spiritual hierarchy, something like the equivalent of an angel from Heaven,” he explained, “not in goodness, but in rank, power, and structure. They are not the restless dead, they were never human at all.”

The room felt smaller with every word he said.

“So he’s evil,” you re-stated.

“Demons from Kratos are aligned to destruction, corruption, lust, and feed off fear, that is their nature. But,” his brow furrowed, “that doesn’t mean every one of them comes here to claw out human throats. Most don’t care enough to bother.”

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding, “So, he won’t hurt me?”

“I didn’t feel intent to harm in the usual way,” he said at last, “No malicious intent on you specifically. But his presence,” he shook his head, “his presence alone draws the worst fear out of you, that is its own kind of harm.”

“Then why is he here?” you whispered, “you said he’s from Kratos. Why would something like that be in an attic?”

He looked at the table for a moment before answering, “It seems he’s cursed.”

You stared at him in disbelief, “Cursed?” you repeated, “demons can be cursed?”

“Yes,” he said simply, “by those stronger than them or by laws older than them.”

Your head spins with all of this information, “Did you talk to him? Is that how you know all of this?”

His reaction was immediate, he shook his head, “No. I did not speak to him. I dare not speak to him.”

The way he framed his sentence sends a new kind of fear through you, “Then how do you know?”

He took a deep breath before answering, “When I stepped into your room, I asked for insight.”

“Insight from who?”

“An angel,” he replied.

You sit back in your chair, “Oh.”

You didn’t know what to do with that information. 

There’s a demon upstairs and now there’s an angel involved and you’re just you. A tired primary school teacher who wanted a shorter commute.

“So the angel talked to him?” you asked, feeling ridiculous even as you said it.

He almost smiled at that, “Angels and demons do not usually talk to each other. Not peacefully, anyway.”

“Then how?”

“This one doesn’t need to,” he replied, “this angel can sense what happened in the past.”

“And what did he see?”

“Enough to know this demon is not here by his own choice,” Father Gabriel said, “He is anchored here, and the room you live in is not just a room to him, it’s a cage.”

You felt dizzy all of a sudden, hearing all of this on top of what he has already said, “So he’s locked here? With me,” you asked while pointing a finger to yourself.

He nodded, “You moved into a prison someone else built.”

Stupidly, what you asked next was, “So what do I do?”

“I would suggest moving out, my dear,” he said, “unless you wish to live in fear.”

Your throat tightened, “You just said he won’t harm me.”

“I said he doesn’t seem to be here to harm,” he corrected you, “not directly, but something like that changes you simply by existing. It will exhaust you. He is not like a ghost you can bargain with. Not a restless grandmother, a lost child, or a clingy spirit looking for closure. He is from Kratos. Whatever curse holds him here is older and heavier than anything my blessing can touch.”

“There’s really nothing you can do?”

He said nothing, other than nodding a few times.

“So you’re saying,” you summarized, “that there is a demon from actual hell in my studio and nobody can do anything.”

“For now,” he said.

The for now isn’t comforting, “So my options are: stay and be terrified, or move and be broke.”

He doesn’t try to sugarcoat it as he responded with, “Yes.”

You let out a sarcastic laugh, “Great.”

He hesitated, then reached across the table, resting his hand on your forearm, “He will not drag you to hell,” Father Gabriel said, “he will not possess you, break your bones or claw at your throat. If that were his intent, I would not be sitting here so calmly. Believe it or not, but living that close to something like him will test you. Fear is a powerful tool. It wears you down, makes you feel small, and makes you doubt your own mind.”

You’re already halfway there, you thought to yourself.

“So what would you do?” you asked.

“Again, as a priest,” he continued, “I’ll tell you to leave.”

“And as a friend?”

He hesitated, “As a friend, I’ll tell you the same. But I also know money, work, and life don’t bend around so easily.”

“I really like it here,” you admitted, “the commute, rent, and the people in this house. I finally felt like I wasn’t drowning.”

He nodded slowly, “Then think on it,” he said, “don’t decide today. But until you do, be careful. Don’t taunt him. Don’t invite him. Don’t ask for favors. Don’t speak his name, even if you somehow learn it. Just live as quietly as you can.”

“Can I talk to him at all?” you blurted out, then immediately regret asking.

His answer was instant, “I would strongly advise you not to.”

You nodded.

He stood up, picking up his bag. At the doorway, he turned to look at you, “If anything changes, if you feel him grow stronger, or closer, or different, call me. Even if it’s the middle of the night.”

You nodded again.

He stepped outside, then turned back one last time, “And one more thing,” he added.

“Yes?”

“He may not care about humans,” Father Gabriel said, gaze lifting briefly to the second floor window, “but demons from Kratos don’t end up cursed on Earth for no reason.”

“What does that mean?” you frowned.

“It means,” he said quietly, “someone with power wanted him out of the way, and things like that rarely stay simple.”

Then he leaves with the fence clicking shut behind him.

You stood in the doorway, you can’t see him from here, but you can feel him.

And now you know what he is.

♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡

Jungkook was sitting on the arm of the sofa, one wing half spread, and eyes fixed on the door you just closed. 

He sensed the priest long before you saw him. Jungkook is able to sense energy of almost everything in this town, so a priest coming his way wasn’t hard to detect.

Jungkook clicked his tongue, “Of course,” he muttered, “you called in help.”

He moved closer to the window, and when the priest reached the fence, the man looked up straight at where Jungkook was and froze. 

Jungkook’s lips twitched. The priest saw him, at least an outline of him. 

The priest stepped inside.

The temperature drops further, because now the room is holding two opposite things at once; a bound demon from Kratos, and a man radiating borrowed holiness.

Father Gabriel takes three steps in, his gaze sweeps the room once, then locks on the side of Jungkook’s face, where the energy feels to be the thickest.

He didn’t see Jungkook, but something else did.

The moment the priest called for insight, light entered. A light that made both the curse and Jungkook’s skin react at the same time.

An angel entered the studio. 

Jophiel, to be precise.

Jungkook hasn’t seen him in a long time, a gap of time he doesn’t bother counting.

Time in Kratos and time on Earth never match.

The angel looked around once, eyes narrowing at the density of the curse, then his gaze landed on Jungkook. His expression then changed.

“It’s Jeon Jungkook,” Jophiel murmured, more to himself than to anyone else, “I never thought I’d see you here.”

Jungkook’s jaw tightened, “Not my first choice either.”

Jophiel’s attention flicked downward, toward the priest, who’s completely oblivious to the being standing right next to him, then back to Jungkook, “He wants insight.”

“I figured,” Jungkook replied, “What did you expect him to ask for? Lottery numbers?”

Jophiel’s mouth twitched, “He can’t see me. But he can feel your Kratos imprint. That’s pretty rare for someone like him.”

The angel walked, if you can even call it that, to the middle of the room. His feet touched nothing, but his presence touched everything. 

“So,” Jophiel studied Jungkook openly, “What did you do?”

Jungkook’s eyes hardened, “You’re the one with ‘insight.’ Read it yourself.”

The angel doesn’t snap back or react, he just stared at Jungkook. 

Jungkook can feel him pulling at the threads of the past and present. 

A few seconds pass, or minutes. It’s really hard to tell.

Jophiel got what he wanted, letting out an “Ah.”

His eyes flicked briefly toward a spot on Jungkook’s chest, right where Seokjin’s last mark burned into him, “Your brother.”

Jungkook didn’t respond but his hands curled into fists. 

“Kratos politics again,” Jophiel murmured, “Always so dramatic, you could have refused to meet him, you know.”

“I didn’t know he was doing it until it was done,” Jungkook replied flatly, “next time I’ll ask him to send a formal invitation.”

A small, surprised laugh escapes Jophiel, “You’re calmer than I expected.”

“That’s because if I stop being calm,” Jungkook replied, “I will start breaking things and your little priest doesn’t have the ability to survive that.”

“You’ve been here a long time,” Jophiel stated. He could see the years Jungkook has spent here. The tenants who came and fled and the patterns of fear. 

Every human who ever stepped into the attic left an imprint.

“Long enough,” Jungkook muttered.

Jophiel tilted his head, studying him with an expression Jungkook isn’t used to seeing from angels directed at Demons. It was an expression of curiosity, “You’re not trying to possess him.”

“No.”

“You’re not trying to possess her either.”

Jungkook’s stare sharpened, “No.”

For a moment, neither of them speak. The priest continued praying, unaware that the room is hosting a conversation between entities that could tear him apart in just a second.

“You feel different, Jeon,” Jophiel said, still looking at the demon from North Kratos.

Jungkook snorted, “You feel exactly the same, still so self-righteous.”

“It isn’t just that,” Jophiel continued, ignoring the jab thrown at him, “most Kratos demons I’ve seen on assignment,”

“Assignment,” Jungkook interrupted, rolling his eyes at the choice of words.

“Come down to earth like a storm, trying to take as much as they can. But,” Jophiel continued, “you, you haunt like a human ghost.”

“Are you paying that much attention to my techniques?” Jungkook dryly replied, “should I be charging you money?”

“That priest is right to be afraid of what you are,” Jophiel said, ignoring him again, “but if I only looked at what you’re doing now,” he gave a faint chuckle, “You might as well be an angel.”

Jungkook stiffened,. “Don’t insult me.”

“It’s not meant as an insult,” Jophiel replied, “It’s confusing. You were feared in Kratos. You fed off the entire legions’ terror on the battlefield, and now you’re nudging mugs to pass time.”

Rage flashed behind Jungkook’s eyes, “You think this is my choice?”

“Nope,” Jophiel said calmly, “I think it’s your punishment.”

“And you can’t undo it,” Jungkook said, “so why are you here?”

“Because he asked, remember?” Jophiel nods toward the priest, “And because Heaven would want to know if a Kratos demon is anchored this hard on Earth.”

Jungkook’s jaw clenched, “Tell your boss I’m not here to recruit. I’m here because my brother is a coward and a potential king who doesn’t like his feared-by-many little brother who never even asked for the crown.”

“You know how rare that makes you?” Jophiel asked quietly, “Most of your kind would kill for a chance to rule North of Kratos, you were about to be handed it for free.”

“Nothing in Kratos is ‘for free,’” Jungkook snapped.

“The current tenant is not like the others,” Jophiel said, ignoring Jungkook trying to pick a fight again, and instead started a new topic entirely. 

“No,” Jungkook admitted, “she’s slower to break.”

“Is that what you’re doing?” Jophiel asked, “breaking her?”

“I’m not doing anything to her,” Jungkook growled, “the curse is.”

Jophiel studied him, and when he finally spoke again, he said it flatly, “The priest will ask me what is here and what you are. I’ll answer and I won’t lie.”

“I don’t care what you tell him,” Jungkook muttered, “he can’t do anything.”

“You’re right,” Jophiel agreed, “he can’t.”

Something bitter twisted in Jungkook’s chest at the confirmation. He wasn’t surprised, it was just the sting of being reminded he is truly, thoroughly stuck.

“Then get out,” Jungkook said, “you’ve seen enough.”

Jophiel hesitated, just for a second, “Jeon.”

Jungkook looked up at the angel in front of him, “What?”

“You can tell this doesn’t end with her leaving,” the angel said, “mortals are just variables, but the curse isn’t.”

“I know.”

“And you know Heaven won’t intervene,” Jophiel added, and there’s something almost apologetic there, “This is Kratos business.”

“Then why are you wasting both our time?” Jungkook snaps.

“But if something happens to a human,” Jophiel continued, “Heaven will intervene.”

“You and your obsession with weak humans,” Jungkook spat out.

Jophiel’s gaze softened, “And yet you’re still not tearing her apart,” he smiled at Jungkook, “You’re interesting.”

“Get out,” Jungkook ordered.

The angel nodded his head once, acknowledging the dismissal. At the last moment, before the light transports him back to Heaven, Jophiel looked back.

“You know she asked what you are,” Jophiel said, “and you’ll hear the answer.”

“I already know what I am,” Jungkook muttered.

“It’s not you I was talking about,” Jophiel responded before finally disappearing.

Then Jungkook was alone again.

The Hell Jungkook comes from does not burn with fire. 

There are two kinds of Hell, Kratos and the below.

Kratos is where Jungkook comes from, it’s where the powerful live. While the below is where the lowlives and humans, known as the lesser, are. the below burns with the hottest flames.

The air in Kratos is heavy and thick, and you can often hear the screams of the lesser passing by to the below. Unlike the below, the ground in Kratos isn’t covered in dirt, but covered with dark stone that glows faintly with red because of the heat that comes from underneath. 

Kratos is divided into four areas with each ruled by one of the great citadels: the Jeon in the north, the Kim in the east, the Lee in the south, and the Min in the west. 

Together they form Kratos, with each one holding its own laws, armies, and rituals.

And though the four families have ruled longer than memory, every Demon knows the truth: in Kratos, nothing is permanent. 

A citadel stands only as long as its ruler can defend it, and lineage means little here.

Every Demon born within a citadel, even those not of its blood, carries the right to challenge its rulers. If they are strong enough, if they can make others kneel and fear, they can take the citadel for themselves.

At the center of North Kratos, stands the citadel of Jeon with its dark and tall towers cutting through the mist.

The walls were cold as ice and the gates were built from the bones of the first creatuere that ever died there. 

It doesn’t look like a home, it stands tall more like a reminder that in Kratos, you don’t live unless you learn how to survive.

The Demons who ruled in Kratos weren’t born into power, they had to fight for it. 

Every stone in the citadel of Jeon was taken from someone else, every tower was built on the ruins of another’s fall.

From the moment he was born, everyone thought Jungkook was not meant to rule as he was the second son and was treated like such. 

But even in Hell, power gravitates toward those who can command without trying.

Jungkook came from the same mother as his brother, Seokjin. But while Seokjin speaks in riddles and enjoys threatening others with his words, Jungkook says nothing at all.

And that silence is more unnerving in Hell than any words could. 

After more than a thousand years of rule, the first crack in the Jeon empire began with its two sons.

Soon the others started watching Jungkook in training yards, and copying how he moved. 

Power in Kratos wasn’t passed down, it was drawn from fear. The more others feared you, the more the air bent around your name.

At first, people believed the next ruler would be Seokjin, but the strength of the citadels were built on the energy of fear, and when fear began to shift from Seokjin to Jungkook, the balance of Kratos tilted with it.

Seokjin noticed the change before anyone dared speak of it. The others began to look at his brother differently, with more fear and respect.

The first son understood what that meant. 

So he did what every future ruler would do when the balance starts to slip and before the energy of the citadel starts to turn towards his younger brother. 

Seokjin turned to and relied on the oldest ritual only the ruler families could recite. 

♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡

The brothers met as they always did every Wednesday, quietly and without guards.

Just the two of them, a bottle of wine between them, and the coldness coming from the fortress walls.

Jungkook took the first sip. It burned at first, as it usually does, then it softened into sweetness.

It’s the sensation of the best wine in Kratos. 

Before he could set the cup down, a strange warmth began to crawl up his throat. Jungkook felt his pulse slowing down, and the room started to tilt and blurred.

Across the table, Seokjin watched him. His brother was too still and calm. 

Jungkook now noticed that his brother hasn’t touched his own wine glass.

When Jungkook’s hands began to shake, Seokjin stood up and started to murmur words that took a moment too long for Jungkook to understand.

It was the ancient language of the Gods in Heaven. A language only the families of rulers in Kratos could learn.

His brother was reciting one of the oldest rituals to ever exist in this realm. Seokjin was about to send him to earth, which Jungkook knew by now.

Seokjin cut his palm open, letting blood drip to the floor as he traced marks around Jungkook, one after another.

When the last mark crossed Jungkook’s chest, Seokjin knelt beside him. Their faces were close, but when one brother twisted with pain, the other almost serene.

“Killing you would be too kind,” Seokjin whispered, “so I’ll give you a taste of eternity on earth instead.”

Then, he spoke of the curse that will bind his brother to earth:

“Only when fear becomes affection will the darkness find its freedom.”

The chamber walls were shaking as if the citadel has been struck by a storm. There were mists forming in the chamber, and Jungkook’s form began to distort.

When he opened his eyes again, the sky was no longer red but gray. Jungkook was lying on a cold floor made of wood, not stone. 

The room was small, with only a single bed, a broken mirror, and floorboards that creaked whenever he breathed.

The curse has bound Jungkook here, it has anchored him to this one decaying space on earth.

Where once his dark and wide wings could cover kingdoms, now brushed against peeling wallpaper.

Jungkook pushed himself to his feet and tried to break through the wall. Every time he reached beyond the walls, his body turned to smoke and snapped back, reforming at the center of the attic.

For the first time since his creation, he understood what it meant to be contained.

Jungkook went to the door and tried the handle, but his hand slipped through the wood. 

He tried again and again, and each attempt ended the same way.

He was trapped.

He tried to burn the room down with the little strength he had left. Fire sparked in his palms, yet it died before they could even burn anything.

The effort left him empty as if the curse was swallowing his will whole.

Eventually, Jungkook stopped trying.

♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡

Jungkook thought of his followers, but mere Demons couldn’t just step into the human world.

The line between Hell and Earth was sealed in both directions. To cross, they needed the ancient ritual done by the ruling families. There was no other access. 

And no ordinary Demons would dare request of such a thing from the ruling families. They would not be able to reach him. They would not be able to drag him back. 

In the citadel, the king, Jungkook’s father, did not interfere.

The king has always been careful with his sons, out of discipline. He did not play favorites in public, he did not correct or even cared about their rivalries. He did not step into their politics.

He ruled his citadel, not children, but he has always liked Jungkook better.

The thing is, the king could see the future.

He had seen what would happen if he stepped in, he had seen versions of reality where Jungkook never fell, and saw how all of them ended worse than this.

So he watched the curse unfold and did nothing.

No order was given to stop the ritual or to pull the second son back from whatever place it would send him. The king turned his face away from what was happening, and let fate take its role.

♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡

Seokjin knew exactly what he was doing.

As one of the most powerful Demons in Kratos, Jungkook was feared by thousands of creatures of every form, and don’t even mention the lowly humans. 

A single glimpse of him, his horns, his wings, and his eyes, was enough to drive humans to their knees, begging for their lives.

Seokjin knew what he was invoking when he recited fear into affection. 

It was a curse designed to fail.

Jungkook’s horns curved from his temples, his wings stretched wide and black, and his eyes were shades of red and black.

Even here, trapped in the attic, humans could sense him. The air thickened and somehow feels colder when they come closer. 

The first human to rent the attic arrived in the middle of a storm.

Jungkook felt him enter the building before he heard the key in the lock. Human energy was different, it was so soft and always close to breaking.

The man dragged a single trunk up the stairs, muttering about leaky roofs and cheap rent, he opened the door, stepped inside, and froze.

Jungkook stood by the window, he didn’t move, speak, or bother to appear more real. 

The man turned, squinting his eyes, as if trying to focus on something. His gaze looked over to Jungkook once, twice, then stopped close enough to feel him.

The fear hit fast. His breath stopped and the trunk he was holding fell. His hand fumbled for the doorknob and he just ran down the stairs, out into the rain and the storm.

By morning, the owner of the house put up a new sign in front of the house: 

Cheap room available.

And that became the pattern.

The humans come and go, the longest they have lasted was a month. They could feel the cold that lingered no matter how high they turned up the heater. They noticed doors that didn’t stay shut or objects that weren’t where they left them. 

Some felt a presence.

Some even saw him from their peripheral view.

All of them, eventually, reached to the point where the weight of their fear became too much.

One night, a woman laid on the bed, staring at the ceiling. Tears slipping into her hair, soaking the pillow she laid against. She held an envelope against her chest and kept whispering sorry, over and over again, to no one in particular. 

Jungkook couldn’t help but say, “Pathetic,” out loud, letting the human hear him.

She froze, turned her head, her eyes roamed the darkness in her room, and caught on the faint shape of him.

The moment she realized she wasn’t imagining it, when she felt him, terror rushed through her.

She left before the sun came up, still in her nightgown, and shoes clutched in one hand.

Her things stayed behind for a while. She has sent someone else to pack them up. The owners then muttered about bad luck, about the cursed attic, about how they should just seal it off, but they never did. 

There was always someone who needed cheap rent.

Outside, the world has slowly changed. Carts became cars. Neon signs painted the streets in colors he has never seen in Hell. The sounds changed too, there was less shouting, more engines, then music, and then something new entirely.

The room tried to keep up, then gave up. The owners and tenants kept on changing. The iron bed was replaced with a lighter frame. The old floral wallpaper was peeled off, and now covered with white paint. The mirror on the wall was swapped out a few times, each one more minimalistic  than the last.

Jungkook would take a look at himself in those mirrors. His horns curled from his head and his wings folded close. The contrast between his size and the cramped, ordinary human room made everything feel even smaller.

The more modern tenants kept coming. A musician who complained about “bad acoustics.” A student who hung string lights on the wall and joked to her friends over the phone about how “this place feels haunted but the rent is unbelievably cheap.”

He could tell, almost immediately, who would leave quickly and who would try to make this place a home. The ones who moved furniture in, who lit candles, and the ones who stuck photographs to the wall lasted a little longer. But in the end, the same pattern found them.

The cold, uneasiness, and the feeling of being watched.

Fear would find them again.

Jungkook no longer hopes to be rescued anymore. He knew the soldiers couldn’t reach him, and knew his father had seen this coming and chose not to interfere. 

He used to be feared by thousands, now he haunted a space smaller than his old bedroom closet. 

Jungkook found it funny now, in a bitter way. 

Looking at fear in humans and how they react was the only thing that helped him with boredom, so Jungkook started to play with it. 

When new tenants moved in, he would let them settle for a few days before making his presence known. A whisper when they were half asleep, showing a shadow of himself, making the floorboards creak when no one was walking, and moving their items from one place to another. Small, harmless things, but enough to twist the air and make their hearts race.

Sometimes he would knock a picture off the wall or rattle the window when the wind wasn’t strong enough to do it. Once, he traced words in the dust across the mirror, leave now, and laughed quietly when the woman screamed and ran. 

Jungkook felt pathetic.

He went from nearly ruling North Kratos to haunting a room no bigger than a cell in Kratos, scaring mortals who couldn’t even see him clearly.

There were nights when he didn’t bother to move at all. He would sit by the window, watching people move around, wondering if the curse could ever be broken. 

♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡

You’ve been working as an elementary school teacher for first graders for the past two years.

You love your job, the kids you teach, the coworkers who have become your closest friends, even the parents who bring you homemade brownies during parent-teacher meetings.

The only thing you absolutely despise is the commute.

Every morning you wake up two hours earlier than you should just to make it to school on time, and the exhaustion is starting to kill your enthusiasm. 

Some mornings, the idea of resigning doesn’t sound so bad.

“You can’t just quit because of the commute,” Hoseok groaned through the phone, “what about me and Namjoon? You’re just going to abandon your precious coworkers?”

You rolled your eyes, moving through the crowd on your way to your next destination, “I told you I’m literally on my way to see a house with a studio in their attic, which is walking distance, literally only fifteen minutes away from school. I’m trying, okay? For the both of you.”

“That’s what I wanted to hear!” he half yelled, his voice nearly bursting through your earphones.

Hoseok taught another first-grade class and joined the school the same year as you, while Namjoon handled the second graders. The three of you often spent lunch breaks in the teachers’ lounge together, sharing gossip about the parents you’ve heard from your students and complaining about lesson plans.

“I’m almost there,” you said, glancing at the address on your phone, “if it’s good news, I’ll call you later. If not, I’m resigning and moving to the countryside.”

“You are not!” Hoseok began, but you hung up before he could even finish his sentence. You sent him a middle finger emoji before putting your phone in your jeans pocket, and looking up at what you hoped would be your new home.

The Victorian-style house stood at the end of a quiet street, its white paint faintly yellowed with age. The front yard was small but tidy with a chipped white picket fence. It looked old, yes, but you preferred to see it as lived in. 

You spotted a middle-aged couple tending to their garden next door and waved politely.

“Hello!” you greeted them. “Oh, hello! Are you the new tenant?” the woman asked. “Just here for an inspection,” you said with a smile. “Taehyung should be inside,” her husband said, setting down his watering can, “we hope to see you around.”

You thanked them and made your way up the porch, knocking twice on the dark blue front door.

It opened to reveal a young man, probably around your age, maybe a little older, with dark hair and a smile across his face. He looked exactly like his profile picture from the listing.

“Hi, you must be ____. I’m Taehyung,” he greeted warmly. “Hi! Yeah, thanks for having me. I’m here to check out the studio upstairs?” “Of course. Come in, come in. How was the trip here? Was it easy to find?”

You stepped inside, slipping off your shoes near the entryway, “Yeah, it was super easy. The bus stop is like five minutes away, it’s perfect.”

“Good to hear,” Taehyung said, leading you through the shared living area, “this is the living room, a communal space, so feel free to hang out here anytime. We usually have movie nights on Fridays.”

You chuckled as your eyes scanned the room with warm lighting, mismatched furniture, and a pile of PlayStation games stacked beside the TV. 

He continued, guiding you towards the open plan kitchen and dining area, “Kitchen’s fully stocked, we have air fryer, coffee machine, matcha set, you name it. We just ask that everyone cleans up after themselves.”

He gestured towards the backyard which was visible through the sliding glass doors, “Not much out there yet, some people keep telling me to build a patio for parties, but I’m not really a party person.”

“It looks like a nice spot to read,” you said without thinking.

Taehyung’s smile widened, “That’s exactly what I do. Just grab a chair and a book.”

“Maybe we could add a little couch out there, it would be perfect for reading in the mornings.”

“Great idea,” he said, his eyes lighting up with approval before clapping his hands together, “alright, now for the part you actually came for. Let’s check out your potential studio.”

You followed him back towards the entryway where a narrow staircase curved upward. The steps creaked lightly under your weight as you walked up.

“The upstairs space used to be smaller, it was mostly an attic but apparently people rented it out as a bedroom since long ago as it’s big enough to be one,” Taehyung explained, “but we renovated it into a studio last year, the flooring and ceiling have been completely changed, the bathroom’s modern, and there’s good insulation, so you won’t freeze in winter.”

At the top of the stairs, he pushed open a white door and stepped aside for you to enter.

The space was surprisingly cozy, a single wide room, sunlight spilling through the windows. A kitchenette sat tucked in one corner, with a compact fridge and just enough counter space for one person. And the air smelled faintly of fresh paint and something else you couldn’t name.

You tried not to wrinkle your nose, probably the pipes, you told yourself.

“It’s nice,” you said, walking across the room to peek into the adjoining bathroom, "really nice, actually.”

Taehyung leaned against the doorframe, watching you with a grin, “I know the rent seems low for the area, but honestly, I just prefer good tenants over profit. We’ve had some people come and go.”

You raised an eyebrow, “Come and go?”

He laughed, waving his hand dismissively, “Nothing bad! Just people who moved for work or relationships. You know how it is.”

You nodded, but something about the way he said it made you look around the room again. The studio was bright enough, but the corner near the window felt oddly colder than the rest. 

Still, it was hard to deny the convenience or the price.

“I’ll take it,” you said finally, turning back to him with a small, excited smile.

Taehyung’s grin widened, “Perfect. Welcome to 306 Surry Street.”

For a split second, as he said it, you thought you saw something flicker in his expression.

And for the first time that day, you wondered if you just made a mistake.

♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡

You moved into 306 Surry St a week later, with Hoseok and Namjoon insisting on helping even though you told them repeatedly that you didn’t own much.

“That’s a lie,” Hoseok groaned dramatically, setting down another box beside your bed frame, “you have so many books. Who are these for? Your students or your next life?”

“They’re my emotional support books,” you replied, “some people go to therapy. I reread The Little Prince”

Namjoon, who has been assembling your IKEA desk on the floor, looked up with a chuckle, “Can’t believe you need help assembling an IKEA desk.”

“Yeah, because IKEA instructions are written by demons,” you shot back, pulling out a neatly folded pile of sweaters from a box, transferring it into the wardrobe near the bathroom door.

You started hanging up your work blouses first, then your coats. By the time you finished folding your jeans into the bottom drawer, Hoseok has already taken over unboxing your kitchen things.

“Okay, so you own three mugs, three plates, and exactly two forks and spoons," he said in disbelief.

“I live alone, Hoseok.”

He gasped, “Tragic. I’m buying you another set of cutleries.”

By early evening, the major unpacking was done, your bed was made, the bookshelves were filled, and your coffee corner was arranged neatly with instant packets. Namjoon found an outlet for your lamp, Hoseok managed to untangle all your charging cords, and together they carried the last of the flattened cardboard boxes downstairs.

When they came back up, Taehyung was waiting near the stairs with a smile, “Everything coming together okay?”

“Yeah,” you said, brushing dust off your hands, “It’s actually perfect. Thanks again, Taehyung.”

He nodded, “I’ll order takeout later, my treat for my new tenant.”

The three of you agreed immediately. While waiting for the food, you started arranging little things like sticking Polaroids on the wall with tape, stacking notebooks beside your bed, and sliding your rug a few inches to center it under the table.

“Now it looks lived in,” Hoseok said approvingly, sitting down on the rug and opening a can of soda, “we did good.”

Namjoon leaned against the wall, observing the room with a satisfied smile, “Could use a splash of color, though.”

You gave him a glare, “You sound like Hoseok.”

Hoseok threw a pillow at you in response, “I’m right here.”

♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡

Hoseok and Namjoon left just after dinner, you walked them out to the car, waving as they drove away before heading back upstairs.

The studio was quiet again. 

The sound of the fridge was the only sound filling the silence. You turned on a playlist, then began unpacking the smaller boxes you haven’t touched earlier, the stationeries, journals, and a few framed photos. 

You placed one photo on your desk, a picture of you, Hoseok, and Namjoon smiling outside the school gates.

After a long day, you finally sat down on the edge of your bed, looking around at the almost finished room. It wasn’t perfect, but it still felt like yours.

As you reached for your mug to drink the water you poured for yourself, you paused, because somehow, it was sitting perfectly centered on the table with the handle turned neatly towards you.

You blinked at it for a moment, then sighed, too tired to think much of it, “You’re just exhausted,” you muttered to yourself.

You changed into your pajamas, turned off the light, and climbed into bed. 

And as you drifted to sleep, you thought to yourself, tomorrow, it will really feel like home.

♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡

By late Sunday afternoon, you finally met your other housemates. You just finished cleaning up the kitchen after heavy cooking which you couldn’t do in the studio, when you heard footsteps and a door creak open behind you.

A sleepy voice followed, “Smells good in here.”

You turned to see a man with dark hair walking into the kitchen, wearing an oversized hoodie and shorts.

“Oh, hey,” you greeted, “sorry, I used the kitchen earlier. I’m ____, the new tenant upstairs”

He nodded, yawning while introducing himself, “Yoongi.”

He didn’t say anything else for a moment, just opened a cabinet, pulled out a mug, and poured himself coffee from the coffee machine. Then, after a pause, he pointed lazily at your containers stacked on the counter, “You meal prep?”

“Yeah,” you said with a small laugh, “If I don’t, I’ll end up eating instant noodles all week.”

Before he could say anything else, you could hear another voice, “Yoongi, you’re actually awake? Miracles do happen.”

You looked over your shoulder to see another man walking into the kitchen, with all messy blond hair. He carried an energy that immediately filled the room. 

“Don’t start, Jimin,” Yoongi muttered, sipping his coffee.

Jimin turned to you with an eager smile, “Oh! You must be _____, the new tenant. Taehyung mentioned someone was moving into the studio upstairs. I’m Jimin.”

You shook his hand, smiling at him, “Nice to meet you. Sorry if I made too much noise this morning.”

“Please,” he laughed, “this place creaks on its own even when no one’s moving, you’re fine.”

You chuckled, brushing a strand of hair away from your face, “Good to know.”

The three of you ended up staying in the kitchen longer than expected. And Taehyung eventually joined in a loose T-shirt, holding a tray of fruit.

♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡

Monday morning came.

You woke up before your alarm for once, the sunlight shining on your sheets. 

It felt different waking up here, it feels quieter. No traffic could be heard outside, no neighbors slamming doors at odd hours.

You stretched your body, smiling to yourself as you remembered you had extra 90 minutes of sleep since the school is now walking distance.

You dressed in your usual work clothes and brewed coffee in the small kitchen of your studio. The kitchen space was tiny but had a charm of its own, you could move from the counter to the sink in a single step.

You sipped it slowly by the window, eyes tracing the quiet street below. 

For once, the commute wouldn’t mean waking up at dawn and running for the bus. You would be able to walk to school, maybe even grab a croissant from that little bakery you passed last week, the thought alone made you smile.

After breakfast, you packed your lunch, checked your bag twice, and grabbed your keys. Taehyung was already in the living room, scrolling on his tablet. He looked up at you and smiled, “Heading to work?”

“Yeah,” you said, slipping your shoes on, “first short commute in two years. I might actually have time to stop for croissants.”

“You look way too happy about that,” he laughed, “good luck with the kids.”

“Thanks,” you replied, waving as you left.

The walk to school took exactly thirteen minutes. You could have cried from how easy the commuting is now. 

You even passed by the bakery, grabbed a pastry, and still arrived early enough to set up your classroom before the first bell.

The day went smoothly, the kids were cheerful, the lessons flowed easily, and even your least cooperative student seemed to be in a good mood. You found yourself humming while cleaning up after class, it finally felt like life was finally peaceful again.

♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡

You got home late as you had dinner with the other teachers, and when you arrived, the house was unusually quiet that night.

By the time you reached upstairs, the clock on your wall showed 10:42 PM. You brushed your teeth, changed into your oversized shirt, and climbed into bed.

You didn’t realize when you drifted off.

Your thoughts blurred, and for the first time ever, your mind wasn’t running a mile a minute about lesson plans, grading, or groceries. 

But at some point in the night, you stirred awake.

It wasn’t because of noise, there wasn’t any. The air just felt different, colder, and thicker somehow. You blinked slowly, still half awake, your eyes adjusting to the dim light from the window.

And that’s when you saw a figure, tall, broad-shouldered, with what looked like wings behind him standing across the room. Not moving, just there.

At first, your mind didn’t register the fear you felt. 

You were too drowsy, still halfway between dreaming and reality. 

You blinked again, trying to focus, but just like that, it was gone.

You sat up slowly, staring at the corner where the figure stood. 

You rubbed your eyes. Maybe you were dreaming, you were tired. And it wasn’t like the studio had the best lighting at night. 

You laid back down, pulling the blanket up to your chin, and finally falling asleep after doing the breathing method the school psychologist taught you.

For the first time since you moved in, you didn’t feel alone.