"The Devil is real. And he's not a little red man with horns and a tail. He can be beautiful. Because he's a fallen angel, and he used to be God's favorite. The devil doesn't come dressed in a red cape, he comes as everything you ever wished for."

Josh stood in the middle of the dirt road on the 20th of December and looked down at his wristwatch, seeing the time ticking closer to three in the morning. He ran a hand through his faded pink hair, then turned and looked at the old black truck that was parked about half a mile down the gravel strip, in the trees and out of sight. The driver of the car, his longtime best friend, Frank Iero, sat in the darkness with the patience Josh could never understand.

Josh had pitched the idea to his best friend as he hacked out a lung, and despite Frank vehemently disagreeing with the idea, he still drove Josh out to the woods nonetheless. Frank and Josh were both skeptics when it came to anything that was considered supernatural and nothing they could physically see. Frank more so than Josh, considering that Josh had the idea in the first place.

Josh tried to withhold a cough in his lungs, tried to ignore the rasping in his jagged and painful breaths, tried to ignore his lungs filled with cancerous tumors. Nothing could help him anymore, he couldn't hope to afford the chemotherapy that would possibly help his cancer, he didn't like the idea in the first place. When he first found out about his illness, he said he would rather die than put himself through chemo. But the former part of that statement was looming so much closer than he had anticipated, and he was terrified.

He had quit smoking over six months ago, he had targeted therapy and even tried palliative care for a few weeks before then, but being an unemployed artist without medical insurance would only get him so far when he refused chemotherapy and couldn't afford risky surgery. And yet, this was so much riskier than any surgery would put him through. Here he was, here he stood in the chilly night air, in the middle of nowhere, at three A.M. He had enough of the dull and sharp chest pains, enough of the rippling dry coughs with all the blood, enough of the labored aching breaths, enough of the respiratory infections, enough of the fatigue and loss of appetite, enough of the swelling and weakness.

And Frank, despite keeping quiet, has probably had enough of looking after him, had enough of the near-death spells, enough of the constant worry, and enough of the sheer panic every time Josh had a coughing fit or felt particularly dizzy.

Josh never considered himself particularly religious if he thought about it, never having gone to church much growing up except when his parents forced him, but lately he had started praying to whoever would listen, to any God, to ease the pain. But none of them answered his desperate, sobbing pleas. No one reached down and helped him, no one offered him a cure, and got some sadistic pleasure from his internal suffering.

He had even rifled through his bedside drawer and pulled out the Bible one night, closing his eyes and opening a random page in hopes that an answer would come to him. And it had, but in a way, he hadn't expected in the slightest. He read through the paragraph about a dozen times to make sure he was reading it correctly, he read through Matthew 16:23, and by now he had it memorized:

"Jesus turned and said to Peter, 'Get behind me, Satan! You are a stumbling block to me; you do not have in mind the concerns of God, but merely human concerns'."

Perhaps it was meant to be taken in a very different light, but Josh had taken it that by then, God had abandoned his hopeless cause, left him to die, and he had only one other person to turn to.

Here he stood at the crossroads now with a small bag in his hands and a hole in the dirt between his boots, waiting to drop it in. He had no idea what to expect when he buried the bag of graveyard dirt, but Frank had merely rolled his eyes when he realized that Josh was serious about making his deal with a demon. Frank agreed to drive him out of town to a secluded crossroads but would have no part in any of the dealings. So, he sat in the car reading his latest John Grisham novel in his pyjamas and vowed that no matter what happened to Josh, he wasn't exposing his Daffy Duck jammies to an underworldly creature.

Josh heard the soft beep of his wristwatch as it hit the witching hour and he bent down, dropping the small drawstring bag into the hole before he covered it up with dirt and straightened up, his heart racing in his chest as he looked around. There was a small rustling behind him and he turned, jumping as his heart leaped up into his chest. He squinted into the nearby trees as a squirrel appeared from behind an exposed root, it's black eyes staring at him blankly.

"Jesus fucking Christ." Josh put his hand on his chest in relief and aimed a stone at the rodent as it scurried off. He turned around, coming suddenly face to face with a man a fraction taller than he with dark hair shaved close to his head, eyes a spitfire-red even in the darkness and a full white suit, his feet bare. His neck and hands appeared smeared with what looked like dark ash and soot. Or that's what Josh thought it could be, anything else he didn't want to know.

"Ouch." He purred softly, "Swearing at rodents now, Joshua?"

"How...?" Josh began to ask until the man tilted his head to the side, a smile on his lips that was full of dark secrets, "Right."

"What could a lowly musician like you possibly want so badly that he's willing to make deals with-"

"A demon?" Josh finished nervously and the man's head tilted again, eyeing Josh curiously.

"Something like that." He trailed off.

"You know my name," Josh swallowed as he took a step back, eyeing the man dressed in white, "Do I get to know yours?"

"No." He stated firmly before the sweet smile reappeared, "How about you call me 'Tyler'?"

"Tyler." Josh breathed out, nodding.

"What can I do for you, Joshua Dun?" Tyler asked patiently as he held his hand up and examined his fingers- Josh noticed his hands and nails covered in the same smudged black substance.

"I-I don't really know the protocol for this type of thing." Josh admitted, "It's not exactly general knowledge."

"Depends who you're asking." Tyler smirked, "You'd be surprised."

"I want to make a deal." Josh rasped out before he let out a cough, holding his hand up to his mouth when a wet whooping cough pulled at his ribs and had him doubling over. He wiped the spattered blood on his jeans and cleaned his mouth on his jacket sleeve, eyeing the demon apologetically, "Sorry."

"Lung cancer." Tyler sighed, almost a patronizing sympathy to his lilting voice, "How unfortunate."

"Is there anything you can do?" Josh asked desperately, straightening up, "Please."

"You want me to cure you?" Tyler asked as he ran his fingers over his chin, thoughtful gaze on his face, "Take away your cancer?"

"Please." Josh repeated as Tyler began to circle him slowly, eyeing him up, dragging the moment out, "What will it cost?"

"I'll give you another fifty years, Joshua. Since I'm feeling generous. And in exchange..." Tyler came full circle to stand in front of Josh, looking up at him with his hands behind his back, "I want your soul."

"M-My..." Josh sputtered, his heart hammering as he stared into the soulless, but alluring, gaze, "What could you possibly want my soul for?"

"You intrigue me, Josh." The demon smiled and looked down, "I don't leave my dominium for just anyone."

"I- I..." Josh whimpered, his mouth drying up, "Well..."

"You don't seem so set on making a deal with me, Josh." Tyler's face took on a shrewd expression as he eyed the sick man, "Tell you what..." He held out a hand, a slim white card between two blackened fingers extended, "If you make up your mind, and you do want to live, then here."

Josh took the white business card and looked at it, frowning when he saw nothing, "It's blank."

"You'll know when you need it." Tyler smiled demurely and Josh looked back down at the card, flipping it over again when he saw that the black smudging left no traces on the paper.

"But I don't-" He looked up again but found that he was alone in the middle of the crossroads and that Tyler had disappeared, "Ah, fuck."

"You can't tell me nothing happened earlier" Frank muttered softly as Josh sat beside him in the passenger seat of Frank's truck, flipping the ivory business card in his hands, "You came back whiter than cocaine. Why won't you tell me?"

"Nothing happened, I'm still going to die." Josh shrugged, "Guess I wasn't feeling great."

Frank eyed him suspiciously, squinting at his best friend before he shrugged, looking away, "You're looking and sounding worse, though."

"I know," Josh replied solemnly, frowning as a heavy breath rasped in his chest and had him wince.

"Is there nothing you can do?" Frank whispered and Josh hesitated, calloused fingers lightly gripping the card.

"I- I don't really know." He whispered, "I mean... Nothing I haven't already tried."

"You seem so defeated." Frank scowled, "It's weird to see."

"Do you... B... Blame... Me?" Josh managed between breaths, "My body is eating itself and leaving tar behind."

"I don't think that's what cancer is..." Frank whispered and then looked away with pursed lips when he saw Josh's rueful gaze from his snide remark, "Either way, Josh."

"Either way, what?" Josh frowned and Frank sighed, looking down at his hands. He was biting down on his bottom lip as he thought, his gaze pensive despite his body being rigid and tense.

"I just... I don't know. I don't know." Frank looked out at the apartment building where Josh lived, "I have to go, though. I have work soon."

"Right." Josh muttered, looking down as he opened the door to climb out, "Sure."

"You know I have to go. I've missed enough work mopping up your vom, my friend." Frank fastened his jacket over his other multiple layers and adjusted his seatbelt, "Otherwise you know I'd be here."

Josh walked toward the apartment block, thankful that he lived on the ground floor rather than right at the top and he'd have to battle with stairs. He got into his apartment moments later, shedding his coat to prop it up on a hook as he kicked the front door closed. He put a hand on his chest, taking in a deep breath when he felt himself unable to take in a deep enough breath to satiate the need of oxygen in his lungs.

~

"How..." Josh stared at the card in his shaky hands five days later, flipping it over, holding it up to the light to see if there was anything embossed or printed on it in the same white as the paper itself, but it was completely clean. He scowled at it, wracking his brain as he tried to decipher just how to summon Tyler once again.

He had spent his evening alone after Frank left, he had been curled around the toilet, vomiting up every single shred of food and liquid in his system. He hadn't moved from the bathroom, sitting himself up against the side of the bathtub on the ugly floor-tile. He sucked in a harsh, shaky breath and looked up at the ceiling. He held the card up again and gingerly gave it a sniff, noting the subtle sulfur smell to the paper before he slid his tongue out past his lips and gave the paper an experimental lick. He cringed at the taste and looked around, waiting to see if anything would happen. Of course, nothing happened.

He cursed himself under his breath for thinking it would have worked. He bit on his chapped bottom lip and carefully got up, grabbing a pair of tweezers from the little bowl next to the basin. He sat down on the bed and grabbed at a small clump of leg hair before giving it a hard tug. He yelped out, dropping the tweezers as tears involuntarily blurred his vision. He leaned over, blinking profusely as he smeared a tear onto the card, ignoring the throbbing that was localized to a dime-sized patch on his inner thigh. Nothing, once again.

"Oh, c'mon." Josh griped, "What else do you want? Tyler, please. It's Christmas..."

The silence around him rang out loudly, indicating his sheer solitude and alienation at that moment despite how desperate he was for someone to be there and ease his pain. He sniffed softly, pushing his tears back that had threatened to fall a moment earlier. He looked down at the card that had started to warp from the saltwater that had been smeared onto it and he pursed his lips.

"Fuck sake. One more." He got up slowly and walked into the dirty kitchen, crouching down as he opened the third drawer from the top and pulled out the tiny sewing kit that he had, pulling out one of the pins that he had tucked into the foam for safekeeping. He set everything aside and walked back into his bedroom, perching himself on the edge of the bed again beside the stupid card. He held the pin in his hand and held his index finger up and stared at the tip of it, his pulse picking up in its rate, thundering in his ears at the prospect of pricking himself. Sure, if it happened without him planning it, it barely hurt... But this was different. He was doing it himself, he had built up to it, built up to the fact that he was about to stab himself deep enough to draw blood.

He closed his eyes, internally urging himself to just get it over with as he pressed the pin against his fingertip and sucked in a breath, jabbing it into his skin roughly. He sucked in a sharp hiss, wincing as he opened his eyes and looked down at his finger. He put the head of the pin between his teeth as he pushed at his fingertip, watching the crimson bead to the surface. He picked up the card with his free hand and ran his finger over the white card, smearing the small bead of blood like a small paint stroke that ended with half a tarnished fingerprint.

He stared at it for a moment, his brown eyes brimmed with tears as he sucked on his finger, tasting iron. He sighed when nothing happened, pocketing the card yet again when he got up, grumbling to himself. He walked into the kitchen and grabbed his favorite dinosaur mug and popped in a teabag before he filled the kettle and flicked the switch on it, watching the water idly.

He set the card down beside him and flicked it away before he spooned some sugar into his mug as well when he caught sight of the tainted card and realized that it was moving. He blinked hard and looked at it again, seeing it sitting as it had been. He shook his head and watched the water bubble inside the window of the kettle when the card beside him suddenly burst into flames. He let out a yelp and jumped up, scrambling when he grabbed the kettle and tipped it over, splashing scalding water onto the flaming card, panting heavily. The card let out a sizzling hiss as it floated in the water, running over the hot liquid until it slid off of the counter and landed with a dull 'flup' on the floor.

"What the everloving afterfuck was that?" Josh whispered, staring at the card as he took a step back from it, his shoes squeaking in the puddle of water.

"Watching you do all of that was quite hysterical." A voice purred softly and Josh let out a loud scream and whipped around, seeing Tyler standing right behind him, his face stoic, hands behind his back yet again.

"Did I actually get any of it right or- or did you just stop me because you felt sorry for me?" Josh asked with a frown, trying not to look into Tyler's ruby red eyes.

"You got close enough on your last attempt." Tyler shrugged before he walked over and picked up his card off of the floor, pocketing it once more, sliding it into the pocket of his shorts. Josh noticed that he was dressed differently, less formal than the last time they had met. Instead of his white clothing, instead of his white pants, white button-up, and casual white jacket, he was now in black. An oddly human-like and laid-back appearance with a red beanie perched in his head, a long, plain black t-shirt over his midriff, rockstar-cut black shorts went to his knees with two thick white stripes near the end and black tights beneath the shorts. Josh did notice the red socks peeking out over skinny ankles as well as the all-black sneakers. That was also when he noticed the black smutch that coated Tyler's skin, how it faded just passed his wrists, and went up to his neck even from the wide neck hole of his shirt, cutting up under his jawline. Josh wanted so badly to touch it, perversely curious about the texture and the feel of it.

"Not exactly the outfit I was expecting. It's not as intimidating as last time." Josh eyed Tyler, trying to make light of the hardened stare of which he was on the business end.

"Intimidating, hmm?" Tyler asked, his head tilted to the side as Josh shifted his weight from foot to foot.

"Well, the white was a lot more alarming and contrasted well with your... " Josh gestured to his own neck with a small shrug of his shoulder and Tyler pursed his lips, "Can I ask what that is?"

"This?" Tyler held up a hand and smirked when Josh nodded simply, his eyes darting between the sickly man and his upright hand, "It's, ah..."

"It's...?" Josh frowned as Tyler's eyes seemed to harden from a furious red spitfire into stone-cold ruby.

"My skin wasn't always like this. I started out just as you, pale and non-threatening. Easier to approach and make deals with. But as I took more and more souls, as I stole hundreds upon thousands of lives, it started at my fingertips and spread with every person I touched and it grew darker over time. Every touch increased the saturation but it stopped here," He gestured to his wrists, "And then it started at my feet and my chest."

"I see." Josh swallowed, "Well, it doesn't... It doesn't scare me."

"Good." Tyler walked back around Josh to stand where he had before, "So, princess, have you decided on your deal, or did you invite me back up here to chat?"

"I-I accept your offer. Fifty years right? If- If you make me healthy again."

"Just understand what it means, Joshua." Tyler started, "I'm not making you invincible. I'm taking away your cancer for good, but that doesn't mean you can't die. If you get hit by a bus or if you catch pneumonia, you can still die." Tyler folded his arms, "No cancer at all, or even a benign cell for the rest of your life."

"Hypothetically," Josh began, "In fifty years or- or whenever I die, you get my soul, right?"

"Correct." Tyler smiled somewhat, the smirk on his pouted lips far more menacing than the harsh pierce of his eyes, "What else do you want to know?"

"How- I mean... What will happen to me, then? When I die?"

"You can either try and run like a fool and make it worse for yourself, or you can welcome it with open arms and let it happen. And I will take you with me."

"Will I forever be the age I die, like in fifty years will I be seventy-something or what?"

"No, you revert back to the age you were when we sealed the deal, that's the soul I bartered for and I will get it in the condition I bought it." Tyler eyed him and Josh frowned, looking down at his bare feet.

"Will it hurt?" Josh asked then, looking up with his eyes a fraction wider than normal, his stomach knotting profusely.

"Joshua?"

"Yes?"

"'Yes or no. Now."