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take me into the scattered light

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“A rapper. A fucking rapper.”

Yoongi watched as the blonde-haired man who had just pushed him off the way of three bullets tried to wipe the blood on his sweater. Someone else got hit – not the guy, and not anywhere critical –, and the blood spilled on passersby, himself included. Not that Yoongi really minded the blood on himself; he’d seen worse from other nights.

He was never the target of those bullets, though.

“I’m getting real tired of only being taken seriously when I say I like Jay Z instead of when I say, y’know, I’d like a nicer, stable job this time because the last dude nearly gave me a heart attack from stress, but no, they say, you can’t die from a heart attack, so you can take on this new job—

He rambles on, dragging Yoongi away from the mess by his hand, bumping into people unapologetically before stopping by the bar, where the noise is considerably less unbearable, and turning around.

“—I mean, like, check out his mixtape really isn’t the way to convince me this will be a nice ride, but here I am, in this dingy hellhole, shielding Agust fucking D away from a gang fight.” He pauses, staring Yoongi down before shrugging. “I really like your mixtape, by the way.”

All Yoongi can do is stare back at the stranger, mouth agape, not really sure of what to do. He really has no idea why a handsome stranger would just save him from certain death like that while complaining so much about it. The compliment feels backhanded, even in its straightforward wording, and Yoongi finds himself shrugging as he tries not to sound as flustered and confused as he feels.

The guy who just saved him is even more good-looking up close (and that’s not a helpful thought right now).

“Uh… thank you.” He scratches the back of his head awkwardly then looks away. “You can call me Yoongi, by the way. Agust D is just a stage na—“

“I know, I know. Believe me, I do. I know who you are, Min Yoongi”, the man says, waving a hand dismissively at him. Yoongi should feel annoyed, but the constant reminder that that guy just saved his life stops him from snapping. “You’re my charge, after all.”

“Charge?”, Yoongi asks, face scrunching up in confusion. “I don’t remember hiring a bodyguard. Or a babysitter, for that matter.”

For a moment, the man just stares at him in silence. He then chuckles and gestures to the bar. “Order something for yourself. I’ll explain.”


“So,” Yoongi mutters over the rim of the bottle after he finishes his second beer. He feels he’ll definitely need a third. “Let me get this straight: you’re my guardian angel.”

“Well, duh, I just said so”, says the blonde stranger, who introduced himself as Seokjin, with an amused smile, his own beer untouched. He nudges it towards Yoongi, who grabs it without hesitation and takes a long sip. “Don’t drink too much, you’re supposed to get home safely later tonight.”

Yoongi shrugs and sets the beer down, staring at Seokjin. He knows he should be suspicious, maybe call that guy out on his bullshit because guardian angels don’t exist (no matter how much Hoseok likes to call himself one), yet, as he remembers how inhumanely swiftly Seokjin pushed him down and out of the gun’s range, he starts considering there might be something special about Seokjin.

“Guardian angel”, he repeats, eyes wandering down to Seokjin’s hands idly playing with a bottle cap. “I don’t see any halos or wings.”

Seokjin scoffs, thumb tossing the cap up. He catches it mid-air and tosses it again, and Yoongi thinks Seokjin’s hands are ugly, with those crooked fingers and awkward movements. “We don’t go around showing them off to humans, not even our charges. Gotta stay low-key and all.”

“So I’m not the only one who can see you?”, Yoongi asks, but he thinks he’s got his answer from the predatory looks directed at them by both girls and guys alike. Seokjin is good-looking, indeed, and thankfully oblivious to the stares.

“Oh, absolutely not”, says Seokjin as he snatches a drink from a passing girl’s hands. She scowls at him in annoyance and he glares back, just as angry. “My drink now”, he tells her and she scoffs before turning away and leaving. Seokjin then proceeds to pour the drink down on the floor, reaching out with his free hand to close Yoongi’s jaw shut before he could protest. “It’s spiked.”

Yoongi pulls away from Seokjin’s hand unfazed and hums in understanding. “Huh. Looks like a very guardian angel thing to do. Shouldn’t that count as working overtime?”, he asks, and has to physically refrain from clutching his chest like a smitten schoolgirl when Seokjin’s angelic (yeah, yeah, he knows it’s a terrible pun-inducing adjective considering their situation) squeaky laughter spills from his lips.

“You’re a funny one, I’ll give you that. Hobi wasn’t wrong about you, if we forget the part about not gratuitously putting yourself in danger—

Yoongi furrows his brow. “Hobi? You mean my friend Hoseok?”

“Hey, don’t interrupt me”, Seokjin reprimands in a light tone, still smiling. “He didn’t tell you?”

“He didn’t tell me what.”

(Yoongi actually figures out what Seokjin means before he says it, but he needs confirmation. So that’s why that little shit called himself like that, huh)

Seokjin giggles and Yoongi almost reaches out to shut him up before he ended up doing something dumb like calling Seokjin cute out loud. “Hobi was in charge of you before me. Probably wasn’t the first, but I don’t know about the others, didn’t bother to read that much of your file—“

“My file ”, Yoongi deadpans.

“I told you not to interrupt me!” Seokjin swats at Yoongi’s shoulder and Yoongi ducks his head, grabbing onto the beer bottle again. “Anyway, Hobi fell so I had to take his place. Why do you think he moved out of your apartment?”

Yoongi finishes the beer in record time then scrunches up his face, wincing at the bitterness. “To move in with Jiminnie and Taehyung—wait, what, ‘he fell’? What does that even mean?”

“Yeah, he fell”, Seokjin answers, shrugging. “Lost his wings. He’s a human now, like you and your friends Jimin and Taehyung.”

Yoongi was never one to read popular young adult fiction, nor one to enjoy fantasy books and movies like his friend Namjoon, but he’s aware of what popular (human, he adds, still not questioning Seokjin being an angel despite the tiny voice inside his head saying he should) culture says about fallen angels and all the implications of losing your wings and becoming a mortal, and Seokjin’s casual talk on the subject sounds odd, given all that he was taught about religion and the whole ordeal about temptation.

So Seokjin doesn’t look surprised as much as he looks bored when Yoongi asks, “Shouldn’t the whole ‘falling’ thing sound, I don’t know… worse?”

“Nah.” Seokjin props his chin on his hand, and it sounds like he’s repeating himself for the thousandth time when he continues, “it’s kinda like quitting your job. You lose some privileges, but it’s not the end of the world.”

“Besides”, he continues, tilting his head slightly to get a view of the dance floor, “he always wanted to be a dancer.”

Sure enough, Yoongi can spot Hoseok’s bright orange hair in the crowd, along with Jimin’s light blonde one. Even with the mess and the gunshots, none of his friends really seemed bothered; they were all used to going to Yoongi’s gigs at the dingiest and shadiest places to support him, and Taehyung was street smart enough to keep everyone out of trouble while still getting shitfaced and having the time of his life on the dance floor.

“Why did he fall?”, Yoongi asks, and for some reason Yoongi doesn’t quite understand, that makes Seokjin giggle again. He can’t hear it, this time, the squeaky, windshield wiping noises drowned out by the music, but he still thinks he must sound heavenly just from staring at his cute laughing face.

This is bad, Yoongi thinks.

When Seokjin stops laughing, he asks, “Why did Hobi move out again?”

“To move in with Jiminnie and Taehyung—“ Yoongi pauses. “Oh.” He looks down, taking his time digesting the new information before speaking up again. “Isn’t that, like, double the sin?”

This time, Seokjin’s laughter is loud enough to make Yoongi’s heart skip a beat.


Seokjin walks Yoongi home that night. The others went home the moment Barely An Adult Jeongguk found out he couldn’t hold his alcohol and threw up all over Hoseok’s shoes. That’s what you get for not telling me for all those years, Yoongi thought triumphantly when he saw it happening, feeling rightfully avenged by his youngest friend. None of the others really noticed Seokjin in all the mess before they left.

The streets are empty except for the two of them, and Seokjin thinks it’s the perfect opportunity to stretch his wings. Yoongi never prompts him to, but he watches in pure fascination when the white feathery expanses of bone and flesh grow out of the angel's back, flapping once, twice, before settling themselves neatly on his sides.

Brushing some ruffled feathers, Seokjin smiles at Yoongi’s dumbfounded expression. Yoongi looks away hastily, trying not to look too flustered, but he knows the redness of the burning tips of his ears are giving him away. Thankfully, Seokjin is kind enough not to say anything about it.

After a few moments of comfortable silence, Seokjin speaks up. “Why did you even pick that place to perform? Isn’t it a little too dangerous to perform to gangsters and shady people in general?”

Yoongi shrugs, trying not to smile as he remembers how out of place Seokjin and his pink sweater looked in that nightclub. “Exposure. And they pay their performers well.”

Seokjin hums, crossing his arms over his chest and tapping his chin with his index finger. Yoongi looks away and pretends he doesn’t find his manners endearing. “Well, they don’t seem to cover for your life insurance there, that’s for sure.”

“Isn’t that why I’ve got you?”

“That’s not how it works!”, Seokjin protests, wings flaring up a little, the sudden movement making Yoongi look back at him, a tiny smirk on his face. “A guardian angel isn’t immediate guarantee that you’ll always be safe, you know. We’re prone to failing, too.”

“And how exactly do guardian angels fail?”, Yoongi asks, and he knows he’s hit a sensitive chord when Seokjin’s wings visibly deflate and Seokjin looks ahead instead of at him.

“Well… bad timing, for instance. I’ve seen some of my colleagues lose their charges because they got to them a few seconds too late. That’s why some prefer to go undercover and stay with their charges as friends or roommates.”

Yoongi thinks of Hoseok and how he immediately wormed his way into Yoongi’s life in every single aspect as soon as he introduced himself. He never was a friendly person, but the redhead managed to break through his shell in a heartbeat, and in no time they were living together like they’ve been friends for years.

Maybe they were, now that Yoongi thinks about it. He distinctly remembers the accident he suffered during his part-time delivery job and how Hoseok suddenly showed up in his life only a few days later to never let Yoongi leave his sight again.

“Some other times,” Seokjin continues, ignoring how quiet Yoongi suddenly went, “we get distracted. Tempted. Kinda like humans when they do something they weren’t supposed to, but worse, I guess, because it could cost us both our charge and our job. That’s why most of us choose to fall before we fail.”

“You can choose to fall?”

“Well, yeah, that’s what Hobi did. He fell in love and decided to quit before you ended up dying on his watch. A wise decision, if we consider how this night went.”

“If I died on his watch, would he fall?”

Seokjin shakes his head and shrugs. “Nah, he’d be reassigned. Hobi was always much better professional than I’ll ever be. He never got his wards in real trouble before. It’s kinda surprising he chose to fall. He loved his job.”

Yoongi’s face scrunches up in suspicion. “You sound like you don’t really like your job.”

Seokjin quickly shoots his hands up in defense, vigorously shaking his head. “No, no, don’t get me wrong, I like it. I’m just… not good at it, I guess. Sorry in advance.”

“Oh.” There’s an awkward silence between them that Yoongi drags on for almost too long before speaking up again. “You were pretty good back there when you saved me from getting shot.”

Seokjin brushes aside the compliment. “Ah, I’m not that bad. My timing was never the problem.” He stops before Yoongi does in front of a building, and Yoongi belatedly realizes it’s the building he lives in. “We’re here, Yoongi-ah”, the angel says, slightly amused.

Yoongi turns around and fishes out his keys from his pocket, slowly realizing he’s still a little drunk when he struggles to find the right one to open the gate. Seokjin doesn’t move when he opens the door and he frowns, turning back to him. “Aren’t you coming?”

Seokjin shakes his head for the thousandth time that night; Yoongi starts to find it as annoying as his ugly crooked fingers. “No, I don’t work like Hobi. That’s not my… style.”

Yoongi raises an eyebrow (or at least he thinks he does, he’s not fully in control of his body movements yet) and keeps the door open for good measure. “Didn’t you just say I keep putting myself in danger? I thought the least I’d get out of this guardian angel deal would be a roommate.”

(and honestly, Yoongi doesn’t need a new roommate, the spare room is great for keeping all his equipment and he’s self-sufficient enough to pay for his rent and food without having to struggle too much; when he does struggle, Hoseok is still there for him with disastrously homemade food and sometimes takeout and a comforting shoulder to lean on. He could do just fine without Hoseok before, he could still do just fine on his own now, but he feels exceptionally lonely and Seokjin’s refusal at staying by his side like a good so-called guardian angel kind of hurts him like rejection would.)

“I also just said I’m not good at my job,” Seokjin states carefully, stepping back. “They say I tend to get too… attached. So I try to avoid spending too much time with my charges. That’s all.”

It isn’t that hard for Yoongi to pick up on what Seokjin avoids to say; it actually surprises him that he can read Seokjin so easily yet he spent literal years living with Hoseok under the same roof only to find out about his thing with Jimin and Taehyung the day he announced he’d move out. “What, you fall in love with your protégés or something? Like Hobi did?”, he asks, half-amused, half-concerned at how Seokjin’s eyes widen in outrage at his question.

“Hobi didn’t fall in love with his charge!”, Seokjin nearly yells indignantly in defense of his friend, lowering his voice when he realizes he’s too loud. “You ask too many questions, it’s annoying.”

“You didn’t answer this one”, Yoongi replies a little too smugly and Seokjin scoffs.

“And I don’t have to. Good night, Agust D.” He steps further back, spreading his wings a little. The sky is slowly changing color as morning approaches and it’s a little distracting for Yoongi to watch how the light plays with Seokjin’s wings at that angle. “I’ll be around.”

Yoongi lets the gate close to walk closer to Seokjin again. Seokjin steps back once more, slightly alarmed. “Wait, you’re really not gonna stay?”, he asks, not really sure himself why he’s insisting on the subject but adamant on getting a satisfactory answer.

“I said I wouldn’t already!” Seokjin protests, wings flapping as if to keep him away. Yoongi decides he’s going to blame everything on the alcohol later on and goes for a low blow.

“I’m still drunk, you know. I might slip on the bathroom floor and—“

You won’t!

“It’s a possibility”, Yoongi replies, trying to keep a straight face. Watching Seokjin in distress is amusing, he decides.

Seokjin groans in frustration and withdraws his wings. They disappear as quickly as they appeared, and Yoongi also decides he likes Seokjin better without his wings. “Fine. I’ll stay. To check on you. But I’m leaving once I’m sure you’ll be fine on your own.”

Yoongi isn’t one to celebrate out loud, but he allows himself to beam at his – temporary, a voice eerily similar to Seokjin’s echoes in his mind – companion before he turns away to reopen the gate, holding it open for Seokjin to enter first.

Sure enough, Seokjin ends up helping him wobble his way through the apartment and onto his bed. Once he's tucked safely under his blanket, the angel awkwardly pats him on the head before he leaves him alone in his room to stay on the living room.


The next morning – afternoon, Yoongi realizes when he looks at his alarm clock –, Seokjin is nowhere to be found. On the kitchen table, he finds freshly-made coffee and painkillers, and a quick look at the fridge makes him realize Seokjin cooked him enough food to last for a week.

Also inside the fridge, because Seokjin is a very peculiar person – angel –, there’s a note.

Don’t expect this to happen again.