Chapter seventeen

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At a complete standstill (Y/n) doesn't know what to do as she stares at Namjoon. He pulls away from his thoughts upon (Y/n)s entrance, his position remains unmoving, elegant and still like a statue. His hands are interlocked together covering his lips in a serious ponder, his eyes are deep formidable pools of never ending blackness, which lands on (Y/n) where they remain.

Swallowing the lump in her throat, (Y/n) clenches her shaking fist into a tight ball and holds his gaze. (Y/n) knows why he's here, but since Namjoon has made her position abundantly clear, not wanting to anger him, she decides that it's for the best if she doesn't speak unless spoken to.

The two of them lingered in this stagnant silence for what seems like forever, sighing Namjoon slowly arises, holding out his hand he beckons, "come." Breath hitching (Y/n) takes a final deep breath as she obediently walks forward, reaching out, cautiously placing her hand in his own.

His skin is cool to the touch causing (Y/n) to shiver, without much thought she's plunged into the now familiar swirling darkness as her body feels both liberated and imprisoned. When her vision clears and she notices that they are in a somewhat familiar space, but seeing the state of this place almost made her memories seem like they're from a distant past.

It was the church they had met. However unlike her memories of a neat and seemingly normal church, this place was more of an abandoned wasteland. The roof had long since caved in, the stone walls overgrown with ivy, and the tiles that once shone with brilliance are now cracked, long forgotten. The pews are dilapidated from the wear and tear of the elements, only the altar shows a resemblance of the place she knew, the now faint pool of her dried blood proving that this was indeed the place they met.

In silence the two of them sit on the only remaining bench, curiosity getting the best of her (Y/n) does her best to politely ask, "sir was this place always like this?" Namjoon gives (Y/n) a look she perceives as annoyance and immediately shrinks in on herself muttering a quiet, "never mind..." bashing herself mentally for speaking without permission.

Looking everywhere and anywhere except Namjoon, (Y/n)s eyes fall on an old hymn book. Picking it up she begins to flick through it, not surprised to see that most of the pages are decaying, she stops on the 99th hymn which is in a better state then the rest. (Y/n) can just about read it, the 9th line catches her eye, "through days of toil when heart doth fail *** will take care of you." Despite God's name having rotted away (Y/n) unconsciously fills in the blank with the appropriate person.

Falling into yet another silence the sun begins to set, dying the sky with a myriad of vibrant colours. Closing then putting the hymn book down (Y/n) absentmindedly stares at the slowly shifting colours, almost blissfully accepting her fate. Not bothering to beg, or plead, or frantically apologise, she sits there with a clear mind, waiting patiently for Namjoon to finally speak and end their contract.

Finally the time comes, and Namjoon breaks the silence with a single unpolished phrase she didn't expect, "I'm sorry."

Confused (Y/n) looks at Namjoon with a thrown expression, almost as if her ears deceived her. Awkward and unused to saying such words, Namjoon coughs and distracts himself from (Y/n)s gaze by picking up a stick from the floor fiddling with it. It snaps, causing him to awkwardly cough once more and throw it over his shoulder.

Peeking at (Y/n)s baffled perplexed look he begins to open up...

"I wasn't always a devil... Believe it or not I actually used to be an archangel. Not only that, but I'm also the first angel god created. He gave myself, as well as another particularly strong archangel, my close friend, the special duty to help him bring his best vision to life. To work on his most ambitious creation. Humans.

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