Chapter Text
Seokjin opens his eyes slowly and blinks the bluriness away, the faintest throbbing sensation against his skull making him grimace in discomfort more than anything else. It's strange, he thinks, how black is the ceiling. He turns his head from left to right, then from right to left and comes to the conclusion that the walls are painted black but despite the darkness of the room, he sees. He sees the edge of the bed he is laying on, he sees the flames dancing slowly - he doesn't know if the candles are so black that he can't see them, or if the fire is just moving on its own. Why would it though? It doesn't make sense.
The strangest thing is that he doesn't panic. He has no idea about where he is, he actually doesn't remember anything but, somehow, he feels like it's going to be okay. Perhaps that's why he stands up, the dark red silky sheets caressing the exposed skin of his arms and legs, and heads towards the door. It feels like he is hypnotized, his body not quite his own and his mind following an order he can't refuse. Seokjin's fingertips run along the black walls; it almost looks like he is greeting them... Or maybe he is unknowingly acknowledging what lies behind those walls, behind every door and window. A distant scream has the male turning his head and his plump, red lips part as if he is about to talk but they only remain parted as he is offered the sight of an endless and dark corridor, the kind of corridor that are usually seen in nightmares. For a few seconds, Seokjin wonders what is waiting for him at the end of it but... He turns away and continues to walk slowly, unaware of the red glowing eyes watching him with every turn he takes.
Being lost in such a maze would make anyone panic. However, he knows where the exit is; he doesn't know how but his mind seems to guide him anyway and all he can do is trust himself.
(Or, maybe, it's the low voice at the back of his mind that is guiding him. Seokjin doesn't know who it belongs to but... He is under its spell anyway. And he follows it, follows both the voice and his instinct because that's all he can do. That's all he wants to do.)
Eventually, Seokjin finds himself facing two huge doors that look like they belong in a gothic castle. A strong gust of wind makes him shiver and he briefly notes that it's rather unusual to feel wind in a castle - or wherever it is that he is - but the thought soon vanishes as the doors creak open and Seokjin feels himself being pulled inside the room. Even if he knows that he doesn't have the choice, he still walks in willingly and with each of his step, flames come to life on each of his side as if they are greeting him warmly. Soon enough though, he becomes aware of the shadows and the whispers, the long and sharp nails reaching out for him but retreating quickly as if the simple contact with his skin is burning them.
He stops, and the air around him is stilling. The darkness is holding its breath and the flames seem to be bowing; Seokjin blinks once and, suddenly, appears before his very own eyes a huge dark throne made of bones and skulls. A black rat snake slowly glides along the top of the throne, curling its body along the edges and curves of grey-ish bones until it meets a pale hand that seems to greet the snake with familiarity; entranced by its fluid moves, Seokjin almost misses the fact that there's someone sitting there and watching him - that is until his eyes lock with the darkest orbs he has ever seen.
He should feel cold. He should feel afraid. Everything around him is so unfamiliar and unnatural.
Except that Seokjin feels warm. He feels like he is right where he belongs.
"I've been expecting you," the pale man says as a greeting and Seokjin recognizes the voice as the one that has been in his mind earlier, guiding and calling for him, "Seokjin."
Flames straighten and shine brighter in the otherwise black room and shadows seem to grow in height, as if they are ready to take him away at any given moment - or maybe they've always been huge and he hasn't noticed. However, he isn't worried. How can he be when it feels like fire is licking at its insides and spreading a unique kind of warmth within his whole body? He doesn't know what the cause of this sensation is, but he hopes that it never stops.
( It could be the way the stranger is gazing at him. Intense and unwavering. )
"Who are you?" Is the question that eventually slips past his lips instead of where he is, or what he is doing here. No, the pale man has Seokjin's undivided attention.
The man raises from his throne, looking like a lazy panther, silky robes following each of his moves as he walks towards Seokjin and for the first time he feels like he might just be a prey more than a welcomed guest. Yet, he can't bring himself to run away - or to even think about it. Instead, he feels that strong pull towards the other that almost makes him forget how to breathe the closer he gets - his eyes are bottomless black pools he wants to drown in and his pale skin is inviting him to have a taste of. And the man awakes something that has been sleeping inside of Seokjin for far too long when he reaches up to caress his skin, the gesture tender and delicate, almost as if he is afraid of breaking him apart.
"You died."
Seokjin nods in acknowledgement. He doesn't know why he isn't surprised to hear that. Or maybe his mind is far too focused on the impossibly warm hand cupping his cheek. The man steps closer until there's barely any space left between them and all Seokjin can think of is: more. He wants more. Hell, he needs more. The other smirks, as if he is reading his thoughts.
"You bravely sacrified yourself, so God gave you a choice: join him in Heaven or make one of your wishes come true -"
"To find true love." Seokjin finishes without missing a beat.
Yes, it all makes sense now, he realizes. Brief glimpses of his life flash through his mind and he now remembers how unlucky with his romantic relationship he has been. Was it because his true love has never been human in the first place? That sounds surreal yet here he is, gazing at the most ethereal being he has ever seen and being looked at in return as if he is a precious and unique gem.
"I'm the God of Death, your true love."
Seokjin nods again. The hand slides down his cheek, finds its way along his neck then explores the length of his arm before fingers curl around his own. The darkness has never seemed so welcoming before, he thinks as he is led away from the throne, and this time both the flames and lurking shadows bow to the God and his lover with reverence. The God of Death looks at him over his shoulder and the grateful look that fills his eyes has Seokjin coming to the conclusion that those aren't bottomless pools but an endless galaxy he is eager to make shine brighter.