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Daehyun is dead.  

A car accident they said. One sharp blow to the head, and he would have never felt any pain as he slowly lay dying on the streets. Youngjae would beg to differ. Twenty major bones broken, ruptured organs, blood slowly seeping over tarmac. How could someone not feel pain of that degree?

The call came shortly after midnight. Youngjae had been dozing on the sofa, TV on at a lowered volume, some random variety show that could only be played after ten. There was raucous laughter but Youngjae hadn’t been paying attention. The noise was just there to drown out the oppressive silence of the apartment. Youngjae had always thought it too big for one person. Just right for two. And Daehyun always made enough racket for three.

The phone had rung once, twice, and only on the third ring did Youngjae manage to stumble off the couch unsteadily, rubbing bleary eyes and fumble for the house phone.

“Dae?” he yawned, glancing over at the clock that read twenty past two in the morning. “What time do you think it is-“

“Is this Yoo Youngjae-ssi?” came a voice that was most definitely not Daehyun’s. It was stoic. Professional. Not at all the profusely apologetic tone Youngjae had been expecting. He stopped mid-yawn and frowned.

“Yes,” he had said, brow furrowing. “How can I help you?”

A rough swallow, slight nervousness betrayed. Youngjae had felt a sweat break out on his brow.

“I would like you keep calm Youngjae-ssi, but ah, a man named Jung Daehyun has been admitted to Jaseng Hospital at 1: 46am. The reported cause is a car accident. Records have you under his emergency contact details and we were...umm Youngjae-ssi? Youngjae-sii?

The phone had been left hanging.

Car accident. Hospital. Jung Daehyun. Three words and Youngjae was out the door, barely remembering to grab his wallet and shove on shoes and a jacket.

It had been raining heavily that night.

A car accident they said, uncontrollable from the rain-slick roads. Daehyun had been getting off the bus and crossing the road, and even though it had been green lights for pedestrian, the driver had been going just that little bit too fast and it had been sleeting down with rain just that little bit too hard and he had pressed down on his breaks just that little bit too late and-

Boom.

Daehyun’s body was covered in bruises, blooms of black and blue that spread down his torso. Inside the surgery room nurses were bustling back and forth and a doctor was snapping out orders, to prepare 250ml of saline now, to arrange his broken leg properly for godssake, and to hurry up and hand him the scalpel because all of his fucking organs were rupturing, and where the hell was the saline and oh gods, Youngjae’s hands were clamped over his mouth because he had never felt like throwing up as much as he did right now.

There was a warm touch on his shoulders, slim fingers that curled round and held him up. Youngjae turned, barely holding back his nausea, to see the soft eyes of a brown-haired woman. She wore hospital garb but even the shapeless clothing could not hide her shapely figure and long legs, or her pale skin and heart shaped face – a milky-white goddess she was.

Not that Youngjae had ever cared for girls.

“My name is Han Sunhwa,” she said. “I’m an assistant nurse here at Jaseng Hospital. Why don’t you come sit down over here? You can still watch the surgery from over there. I’ll get you something warm to drink and-“

“I don’t want it,” Youngjae said brusquely. He knew he was being rude, but Daehyun was in there and Daehyun was suffering and possibly Daehyun was…

A low flat beep sounded, long and resounding. To Youngjae it was like the gong of a tower, imposing and undeniable, the leviathan sound of a monster waking from its decade sleep. He turned far too slowly, eyes widening with the horror of realization.

Youngjae could see the doctor and nurses rush about the small surgery room, hands flying and voices clamoring. Hurry! Prep the defibrillator! the head doctor barked, and a male nurse was quickly swinging around and handing him two silver squarish objects – paddles Youngjae’s medical knowledge admonished him, his brain shutting down and turning textbook style in the face of absolute panic – and the doctor nodded to a second nurse who was manning the large monitor screen. The nurse turned the large black dial and the head doctor positioned the paddles. Clear! he yelled and slammed the paddles down hard onto Daehyun’s chest. There was a WHUMP!  and Daehyun’s spine arced off the surgery bed. Youngjae watched, hands pressed up against the pane of the glass.

Han Sunhwa the nurse did not try to stop him.

Again, the doctor ordered in an unsteady voice. He readied the defibrillator, lifted it, barked clear! and slammed it down again. WHUMP! Again he rose. Again he fell.

Still flatline. 

 “Please Dae,” Youngjae begged. “Stay with me.”

Increase the voltage! Again! Clear!

Still a stream line beep.

“Dae,” Youngjae sobbed. “Please Dae!”

Bright eyes, full cheeks, an insatiable stomach. That was his Daehyun. Not this lifeless body on a steel bed, surrounded in green garb and the stereo sound of a low, flat intonation.

“Please Daehyun,” Youngjae cried and hammered one fist against the wall. He pressed his forehead against the glass, squeezing his eyes tight shut against the reality that was hammering right back.

There was a warm hand on his shoulder, the nurse no doubt, and it was clear from her gesture that she thought the outcome final. But Youngjae wasn’t going to accept it. Never. Ever. There was no way Daehyun could be…

“Time,” the doctor called wearily as he dropped the paddles back into their allocated slots.  

Youngjae lifted his head, eyes wide. No....

Daehyun lay oh so still on the table.

“Three forty two am,” the male nurse replied. He sounded equally defeated.

Not possible. Youngjae clawed at the window pane. The doctor was making a mistake! Any moment now – any moment! – and Daehyun would open his eyes and complain that he was hungry, and his stomach would rumble and Youngjae would roll his eyes but cook up some meat and-

“Time of death three forty two am,” the doctor said with finality in his voice. “The deceased: Jung Daehyun.”

Youngjae felt the world slip from underneath him. The words were the ultimatum and his knees gave way. Youngjae slid to the floor dizzily, barely noticing the gasp from the nurse and her hands around his arms, trying to lower him down gently. All he could hear was the doctor’s words and the sound of the flatline still resounding in his head like a death chime.

There were soft hands, hands of velvet and cream, whose fingers slid up his hips and curled round his chest, clutching his heart and his lungs suffocatingly tight. They beckoned him into the blissful abyss of blackness and Youngjae went willingly.

In the faint background he heard a sharp calling of his name, Han Sunhwa maybe? He heard her call for help from her fellow colleagues, and his brows furrowed. Why are you trying to stop me? he thought. Why keep me here?

Because in a world without Daehyun, why stay there?

In a world without Daehyun…was that even a world at all?

*

“Youngjae.”

There is a soft knock on the door.

“Youngjae…please….”

Another knock. Three taps, and then it ceases.

“Youngjae….it’s been almost a month…please come out.”

It’s his mother. She sounds tired and weary and all sorts of broken down. But Youngjae feels worse. He knows it’s wrong and unfilial of him to ignore her, but right now he can’t bring himself to stand and meet her pitying expression. He rolls over and presses his face down into the comforter that still smells just that little bit like Daehyun. He wishes he could suffocate himself into existence right next to Daehyun.

“Youngjae,” his mother says, words of wisdom that a woman who has lost her husband to a stroke just years ago would only know, “I know this is tough on you.” It’s tough all right. Youngjae still grieves over his father, but the pain from back then is nothing in the face of losing Daehyun. “But Daehyun,” his mother whispers, and Youngjae tries not to flinch at the sound of his name, “Daehyun wouldn’t want you to do this. Locking yourself up, grieving over him… He would want you to live.”

Youngjae squeezes his eyes close tight and throws the comforter over his head so that the world is nothing but a suffocating heat of blackness. He doesn’t want to listen to reason.

A sigh sounds from behind the door. “I can’t stay over tonight, but I’ll leave your lunch here. And I’ve put dinner in the fridge for you. Please eat Youngjae. If not for me, then for Daehyun.” Footsteps and a soft click of the front door signal that she is gone.

Youngjae rolls over and throws the comforter off. It’s getting too hot and stuffy under there, and it doesn’t really smell like Daehyun either. Maybe the scent has just been a fragment of his imagination all along. The more Youngjae thinks, the more he realizes just how much he can’t remember. What Daehyun smells like, what he looks like, what he feels like. It’s been so long that Daehyun is fading to a blur in all his memories.

Nothing else makes him want to cry more than this.

Youngjae throws a hand over his eyes to hold back the tears. He can’t cry. Tears are irrational. They are supposed to be a defensive mechanism against invasive objects. Then again, this all-consuming pain feels pretty invasive. It’s like hands ripping his body in half, not velvet ones these times, but hands made of steel and iron, fists breaking his bones into splinters and heart into fragments. It feels like he’s being slowly compressed and all the breath is being blown out of his body. Youngjae can’t breathe, can’t move, can’t fight. Maybe tears are rational after all? Maybe they’re supposed to be the defensive mechanism against emotional pain and agony? Maybe amongst all the lysosome and lacritin are agents that carry away the particles of sorrow and anguish and everything that is torturing him right now with invisible instruments.

Maybe he should cry after all?

Youngjae lifts his hand off his face and lets it flop down next to him, like an article that does not belong to his body. Suddenly he doesn’t feel like crying anymore. But the bundle of frustration is still writhing in his chest – want, need, desire, Daehyun, Daehyun, Daehyun. That’s all he wants. To see Daehyun, to be with Daehyun, to touch Daehyun. That’s all he can think about. How to be with Daehyun. And suddenly it clicks, a lightbulb flashing in his mind, a click in his heart, and Youngjae knows exactly he can be with Daehyun.

*

The wind rages furiously fourteen floors up. Almost as if it is angry with Youngjae’s decision.

Youngjae is standing on the precipice of the rooftop, staring over the cityscape of Seoul. The skyline here is beautiful, particularly in summer, when the skyscrapers are outline in bright red and faint yellows. It had been the reason why they had picked this apartment out of a hundred others. Never mind the too small bathroom and the leaky pipe in the living room.

Actually Daehyun had wanted to move back to Busan where he could hear and smell the salt of the sea. But Youngjae had work in the big city and Daehyun knew it was too important for Youngjae to just skip out and move to the seaside. Beautiful, self-sacrificing Daehyun. The list of why Yoo Youngjae loves Jung Daehyun is endless.

It’s Youngjae’s turn now to be the one to give something up. At least, Youngjae reasons, it will now be to this scenery that he dies against.

Youngjae takes another step forwards, bringing him right to the edge. He can see down. Fourteen flights, and it’s a long drop. Dizzyingly so. Almost certain death. Just one step and he will be with Daehyun. The wind buffets wildly against him, sending his hair flying upwards in tumultuous curls.

Youngjae takes a deep breath, prepares himself, tells himself you can’t be scared and sends a prayer up to his father and a silent apology to his mother below. He left her a letter explaining why. He knows she’ll understand. She’ll cry, and she’ll curse him, but she will understand. And that will probably make her cry even more. At least his older brother will be there to comfort her.

Now there’s nothing else tying him down to this world.

This fear is but a small blip. One step and it’ll all be over.

Inhale. Exhale. You cannot be scared because if you are, just how scared must Daehyun be, all alone in a strange new world?

The thought of Daehyun standing alone in the shadows, silver tear tracks down both cheeks, is enough of an image to make up Youngjae’s mind.

He’s ready.

He draws in a deep breath, lifts one foot and-

“Stop.”

Youngjae freezes. Turns his head. There’s no one there. No one on the rooftop. So who could have-

“You can’t see me, but I can see you.”

Youngjae frowns and places his foot back down. Stares and squints at the clearly empty rooftop. “Who are you? Why can’t I see you?”

“My name is Yongguk,” the voice says in a deep rumble. “You can’t see me because I’m not a resident of this world.”

Youngjae purses his lips. “And what does that mean? Speak clearly or stop wasting my time. I have places to be.”

“You mean like fourteen floors down?” Yongguk says dryly.

Youngjae narrows his eyes, though he’s not quite sure where to direct his glare. “Yes,” he says flatly. “Got a problem with it?”

“Actually I do.”

Youngjae raises an eyebrow. “If you’re trying to be a Good Samaritan you can stop right now. I want this. I need this.”

“That’s what they all say.”

Youngjae glares at the general direction of the voice. “My boyfriend died a month ago. He’s the kind of guy who gets lonely easily. And he can’t do anything by himself. He needs me.” Oh Daehyun definitely needs him.

“And you think that dying will accomplish everything?”

Youngjae frowns. “What do you mean by that?”

“Humans,” Yongguk scoffs, “You all think you know death intimately. You think that the minute you jump off this building you’ll be transported right to where your lover is? Wrong.”

Youngjae flinches. “W-what do you mean?”

The reply is harsh. “What I mean is that killing yourself will achieve nothing. You’ll die, and that’s it. You won’t be rejoined with your beloved Daehyun. It’ll be all for naught.”

“Wait a sec,” Youngjae says, holding out a hand. “How do you know my boyfriend is called Daehyun?”

A pause. “Oops,” Yongguk says, sounding a little bit sheepish. “Should not have said that.”

“How did you know I was going to kill myself? Have you been following me? Did my mother hire you to do this? Who are you?” Youngjae’s voice rises with each question, high and demanding and his hands shake by his sides.

“Calm down dude,” Yongguk says softly, like he’s baiting a tiny kitty out from under a bush and Youngjae stills. “I’ll explain okay.”

Youngjae tugs at his collar, clears his throat. “Go ahead…” he says grudgingly.

Yongguk gives one harsh exhale before he continues speaking. “Right. I really shouldn’t be telling you any of this, heck, I shouldn’t even be speaking to you, but I am. Yes, I don’t want you to jump. Why? I just told you why. You killing yourself will achieve nothing. So I don’t want you to waste your life for nothing. You called me a Good Samaritan, well yeah, I guess I’m trying to be one because I’ve seen too people kill themselves over momentary fits of grief, depression, sorrow, pain. Your mother didn’t hire me, this is all just me. I want you to live. Death isn’t the end you know. You can move on from this.”  

Youngjae shakes his head furiously, hackles raised, teeth bared. “Wrong,” he spits. “I won’t. I love Daehyun. Love him. With all my heart.”

“Listen to me!” Yongguk yells, frustration spiking. “You say that now, but you’re young. You have your entire life ahead of you!”

“That means nothing without Daehyun,” Youngjae says firmly.

“Humans!” Yongguk hisses. “You think you know everything!”

“If I’m human then what does that make you?” Youngjae says challengingly. His chin is raised and his arms crossed. Behind him is a spectacular backdrop of late afternoon Seoul: bright blue skies and a few scattered clouds. Yongguk finds it highly ironic that it is under this sky in which he is arguing with a stubborn human.

There’s no reply for a few seconds, and Youngjae thinks that maybe Yongguk has vanished, gone home, given up. Then he feels a hot breath ghost over his cheek and it makes him tremble involuntarily.

“I’m Death,” Yongguk whispers darkly into his ear. It makes Youngjae do a full body shiver. “I’m the one who guides the lost souls to the next world.”

Now Youngjae is a believer of many things: that love-conquers-all, that the Earth was created by the Big Bang, that meat is infinitely better grilled than pan-fried. Equally, he does not believe in a lot of other things.

One of them being the existence of a Grim Reaper.

He stands frozen, unsure how to react.

Yongguk chuckles. The sound is further away now, maybe halfway across the rooftop. He has moved the entire distance in a split of a second. “You don’t believe me,” Yongguk says, matter-of-factly. “It’s written all over your face.”

The derision snaps Youngjae out of his stupor. “Don’t expect me to believe you so easily without any proof,” he retorts, a tad too sharply.

Yongguk makes a soft snorting sound. “Listen to you,” he says, “Proof? How human of you. My apologies but I can’t provide the proof you so desperately seek. At some point you humans will come to realize that not everything can be wholly understood and this is one of them. Unless you are dead yourself then I cannot show you your proof, and since that’s what I’m trying to prevent it would be rather contradictory of me to provide said evidence. Instead, shall I tell you about Daehyun?”

Youngjae lets out a small little choked gasp. “You saw Daehyun? When? Where?”

“A week ago?” Yongguk says, slightly uncertainly. “I told you didn’t I? My job is to guide the dead to the next world, and Daehyun was…well dead. A car accident I believe. He died from ruptured organs and blood loss. I came send his soul on his way. Except he didn’t want to go. Mind you I’ve had my fair share of reluctant souls, but his was a completely different issue. He didn’t want to let go, didn’t want to leave you behind. Took me a solid two weeks to convince him to go, elsewise his soul would expire.”

“Expire…?” Youngjae asks. It feels like an information overload, his brain numbing up in retaliation. He doesn’t quite yet believe Yongguk, but there’s something magnetizing about Yongguk, the way he speaks, the things he speaks of, it’s like a black hole drawing Youngjae unwillingly in. There’s a truth to his words and Youngjae cannot deny it.

“Souls must find their way to their ends of the earth within a 48-day death ritual. It’s said in those 48 days that a soul will find peace with his or her self, allowing them to be ferried peacefully to the next world when they reach their end seas. Should they fail to complete that journey, their souls then… expire, and they cease to exist.”

“Cease to…exist?” Youngjae repeats. The words feel heavy on his tongue. Like lead or mercury. A coat of solid metal weighing him down.

“Cease to be able to be reborn.”

“And when you told Dae that, he went?” Youngjae gasps. Yongguk nods.

“But until then he wouldn’t leave your side,” Yongguk says in a low voice. “He would watch over you day and night, crying when you cried and stroking your hair when you fell asleep from exhaustion. He blamed himself even though it was not his fault to blame. I eventually convinced to go by making a promise.”

 “What sort of promise?” Youngjae perks at the words. A message perhaps? Words of goodbye and I love you?

Yongguk’s tone dispels any joyous beliefs. “A promise that if you ever tried to kill yourself, I would intervene.”

“Oh,” Youngjae lets his shoulders slump. “And now he’s gone.”

 “Yes.”

“And I won’t ever see him again?” Youngjae’s voice was coming out in short hitches of breaths. He’s panicking now, grief returning in surging waves that lap at his feet, rising higher and higher with every second. His arms crawl up to hug his body and his feet are slowly slipping backwards towards the edge of the rooftop.

Yongguk does not like the way this is going.

“There is a way,” Yongguk says in slow, heavy words that part reluctantly from his larynx.

Youngjae stills. “Tell me,” he demands, eyes unnaturally bright. He is but a foot breath away from toppling fourteen stories down.

Yongguk exhales hard. “How far would you go to save the one you love?” he asks, with the greatest of trepidation.

Youngjae doesn’t even hesitate. “To the ends of the earth if need be.”

Yongguk can see it in his eyes, in his stance. He would. And maybe it’s just the heat of the moment or his phase of absolute devotion to a dead man, but Yongguk knows he speaks the truth.

It’s too late to back out of this. “You may have to,” he says.

“May have to what?” Youngjae is giving him a hard look, like if he could actually see Yongguk then he’d be over there right now and wringing every last drop of information out of Yongguk’s dead body, but since he can’t, he’ll make do with this instead.

“Go to the ends of the earth,” Yongguk clarifies. “It’s not just a human phrase; it’s a physical place in the afterlife. It will be where Daehyun is heading. If you can find him before his 48 days are up, then I will grant you a boon and bring his soul back to life.” 

Youngjae sucks in a deep breath. “How?” he whispers harshly. This is too good to be true.

Yongguk lets out a small breathy laugh. “I’m Death, am I not?”

“Then why has no one else ever been brought back to life before?” Youngjae says challengingly.

“Because it’s not easy. And because it would stagnant the human world. People being born every day and none dying? Humans must die, be reborn, and give birth to new hopes and dreams. Kill that cycle and you kill the essence of humanity. Yes I can interrupt the flow and bring back lives, but for what purpose?” 

“Then why do it for me?”

Yongguk hesitates a moment. “Because,” he says slowly, “You remind me of another soul. Someone whose life should not have been wasted so soon in death. And maybe…in exchange for that man’s loss of life, Daehyun’s can be extended. Consider it a trade.”

Youngjae shoots him a wry look. “Should Death be so fickle?”

Yongguk snorts. “Be grateful kid. I shouldn’t be doing this, but I was human once and can sympathize. Take what you can and make do with it.”

“You were human once?” Youngjae asks, more than a little surprised.

“Where did you think my soul came from?” Yongguk snorts, sounding a little disgruntled. “Being Death is a job. One soul will take up the responsibility of guiding other souls to their ends seas and into rebirth. And when that soul tires of the job, another worthy soul will takes its place.”

Youngjae gives a small snicker. “Worthy?”

“Oi,” Yongguk barks. “Be nice. Now here are rules of our bargain: you will not kill yourself. In exchange if you find Jung Daehyun’s soul before his 48-day death ritual is up, then I will return his soul to the living world. If not then I return your soul to the living world and you promise to continue living until your natural deathday. Are we in agreement?”

Youngjae gives one firm nod. He cannot fail. Will not fail. “We are.”

“Good,” Yongguk says.

“Now how to do I get to this ‘ends of the earth’ place,” Youngjae asks, hands gripping tightly into fists.

Yongguk makes a small sound, something trapped in between of a laugh and a derisive snicker. “You humans,” he says with amusement.

It makes Youngjae frown and slightly regret his choice of words, but before he can even say another word he feels a ghostly hand on his chest, wide and splayed, and it’s pushing him backwards, and he is toppling into open space, all flailing limbs and windmilling arms and-

Yongguk whispers into his ear the magic words, “You have to die first.”

*

Youngjae awakens to a very different world. It’s still Seoul alright. Still the same tall skyscrapers and bustling streets, but there’s a distinct difference. Youngjae can’t put his finger to it. This Seoul is somewhat…lacking. Absent. Two worlds set apart. Then it hits Youngjae. Sound. Smell. Taste. There is none of them. It’s like he’s in a bubble, floating in ether, completely desensitized to the every sensation of the real world.

“You’re awake,” comes a grunt to his right. “About time sleeping beauty.”

Youngjae pushes himself up into a sitting position and sees a man leaning against the brick wall. He’s well-built but somehow still looks skinny in ripped jeans and a loose white shirt. Draped across his shoulders is a heavy leather jacket, and a black beanie sits atop messy curls. This is definitely not how Youngjae would have imaged Death to look.

“Where’s your black cape? And like, the skeleton bones?” is the first coherent thing Youngjae manages. 

Yongguk just rolls his eyes. “Humans,” is his customary scoff. He kicks one booted foot across the concrete. It doesn’t really scuff the ground but there’s an inherent meaning in the movement that makes Yongguk more human that he pretends not to be.

“Didn’t you say that you were human once?” Youngjae asks with a frown.

“Yeah,” Yongguk shrugs, “So?”

“So all this, humans,” Youngjae mimicks Yongguk deep rumble and the scathing tone, “well you don’t really get to say that do you? Since you’re still human and all.”

It’s Yongguk’s turn to frown. “Don’t be so logical” he says, sounding so much like Daehyun that it makes Youngjae’s chest throb. “I’m not really human anymore. Not completely. Not in the bigger picture.”

Youngjae covers it up by rolling his eyes. “Anyway, what was that all about? Did you just kill me? After all you said about how you weren’t going to do so.” He looks down at his hands and suppresses a small choked gasp. They’re still intact, but they have this spectral, translucent quality to them. One moment his hand is there, solid flesh and hard knuckles but if he turns it slightly, then there’s the slip of bone, and just a bit more and his hand vanishes entirely. It’s like a rainbow: from one angle it’s there in all its seven colored glory, but take a step and the rainbow might well have vanished.

“Not entirely,” Yongguk says, watching Youngjae inspect himself. “I simply slipped your soul out of your body. It took a huge shock like nearly dying to do so. If all goes well and you find Daehyun’s soul, then I’ll simply slip your soul back into your body.”

“What happens to my body then whilst I’m gone?” Youngjae looks up, searching around for it. Oh, there it is. It’s lying at Yongguk’s feet, limbs spread-eagled and greasy hair which has grown far too long in that month of grieving flopping over his eyes. He squints at it. He looks pretty dead already. 

“You’ll look like you’re in a coma,” Yongguk explains. “Your mom will probably ship you to a hospital. I’ll make sure your plug doesn’t get pulled or anything, and then in two week times whether or not you find Daehyun, I’ll slip your soul back in and life will go on.”  

Youngjae winces internally. His poor mother, having to suffer so much. He wonders if he’ll be able to explain this all to her once he returns with Daehyun. He’ll spend the rest of his life making it up to her if he can.

“Now,” Yongguk says, pushing himself off the wall and stalking over to where Youngjae is still lying on the floor. He holds out one hand and hefts Youngjae to his feet. “Are you ready? Time flows differently here than in the living world. Two weeks can feel like five days or it can feel like a month. You don’t have must time to waste.”

Youngjae nods. “But how do I find him?”

“Do you see that star?” Yongguk points up at the sky. It’s night time, but through the filter of this weird-death/soul-world-thing the sky is silver grey instead of blue-black. Like wave-washed granite on a seaside cliff. It’s like looking through a frosted glass.

Youngjae squints and sees that Yongguk is talking about. There are a thousand other stars in the sky but they pale in significance in comparison to this one star. It’s bright and twinkling and a seriously strange shade of pink.

“Please don’t tell me I have to follow a pink star,” he says despairingly.

Yongguk chooses to ignore the words. “The star will lead to where you desire to go the most. For most souls, that’s their end seas. And since the end seas differ for every soul, I cannot tell you where to go. So long as in your heart you truly want to find Daehyun then this star will lead you to him. Simple.”

Youngjae arches his eyebrows at Yongguk. “A pink star. Really? Why pink?”

“Sorry kid,” Yongguk shrugs. “I didn’t choose the color.”

“Of course not. Because then it would have been black like your soul,” Youngjae mutters. “And then who could’ve followed a black star in a black night.”

 “Don’t be a brat,” Yongguk chides, clearly out of patience, and the ability to refute what Youngjae is saying. “Now shoo. Go find your boyfriend lover boy.”

Yongguk waves his hands impatiently at Youngjae and suddenly there is comes a force from nowhere that pushes Youngjae backwards, and he stumbles. When he regains his balance and looks up, indignant and ready to give Yongguk a piece of his mind, Yongguk and his real body is gone, and Youngjae finds himself suddenly alone in the middle of Seoul with nothing but a twinkling pink star for company. 

*

Youngjae soon learns to appreciate his inability to feel anything. There’s no sensation of hunger or tiredness and before he realizes it the sun is burning high in the sky and he has been walking for over fourteen hours. Time slips by scarily fast in this world of travelling souls and fragmented loves.

The only constant is the pink star. No matter where Youngjae goes it blazes brightly in the sky, almost garishly so.

Youngjae goes slowly at first. There are two reasons. The first is that he doesn’t really understand how this whole follow-the-star-and-ye-shall-find-your-way thing works, so he’s kind of tries walking in random directions, hoping each time he looks up that the star will flash a ‘you have arrived at your destination’ sort of signal. He hopes, but it doesn’t really work.

The second is that he’s still getting used to the afterworld. It’s strange being a not-really-dead person walking through throngs of the alive. It’s like being in an aquarium, in one of those shark tunnels. The real world is that the narrow tunnel; the afterlife is the water all around it. The real world is all sharp planes and crystal clarity, but afterlife distorts anything that passes through the veil. Youngjae finds himself fascinated with watching the way he can walk through the hundreds of people on their way to work, unable to touch them, and simply moving right through them. No one pays him attention.

But whilst he can walk through people Youngjae finds that he cannot walk through buildings. He finds this out the hard way.  It’s a little illogical and weird but Youngjae guesses that he just has to take what comes at it and accept.

Several bruised foreheads and nearly two days after leaving Yongguk, Youngjae finds himself at the entrance of an underground arcade. The star has not flashed any signals since and Youngjae feels that he has nothing to lose by going down there. His heartstrings tug faintly.

Follow your instincts.

More like the smell of meat, Youngjae thinks dryly as he finds himself in an underground shopping chain and spoiled for choice between three different BBQ stores. There’s a worrisome moment where he realizes his theory that you can’t feel anything in the afterworld is wrong. Because he could hear Yongguk just fine and he sure as hell felt the bruises from walking into that stone wall yesterday. And though he couldn’t smell anything a day or so ago, now the smell of meat is overpowering and drool-inducing. Sensations appear to be voluntary in this world. Here you can choose how human you want to be.

Without even thinking Youngjae finds himself following his nose into the closest BBQ restaurant. His hands are brushing over stainless steel tops; his eyes graze over the couples and groups sitting inside, hustled over large steel bowls.

It used to be the two of them squeezed into one small booth, knees touching under the table and chopsticks clashing over it as Youngjae tried to feed a hungry Daehyun.

“Feed meeee. My stomach’s shrinking, I swear!” Daehyun had whined, leaning forwards and clashing his teeth over the chopsticks as he devoured the morsel Youngjae had teasing him with.

“Oi!” Youngjae had pulled the chopsticks back, and they were gleamingly clean, all traces of meat devoured by the monster known as his boyfriend.

“You’re too slow,” Daehyun pouted. “And look, that one’s going to get burnt if you don’t watch it.” As if to prove his point, Daehyun had quickly snatched up a darkening piece of meat, but then instead of swallowing it, proffered it to Youngjae.

Youngjae had blinked, slightly surprised.

“What?” Daehyun had tilted his head. “Hurry, before it cools.”

Youngjae had opened his mouth and swallowed it, feeling something delicate burn and twist like molten gold in his stomach. This was the boy he was in love in. Loudmouthed, always hungry, a little selfish and stubborn at times, but beneath that, a little insecure, a little cautious, a lot of layers of love. Daehyun was the sort that always gave too much and asked for too little in return, and so Youngjae had become a mould to him, a shield that shaped and formed and protected him against the storm of the world around them.

“What are you looking at?” Daehyun asked, wiping away that cheesy grin of gratification off him face as he noticed Youngjae watching him. “Aren’t you hungry? Hurry up and turn the meat.”

Youngjae had laughed.

And now Youngjae was here, standing in the same BBQ store they had been in just weeks ago.

“What are you looking at?” Daehyun had asked.

Now is different. Now there is no fresh scent of grilling meat. No cheap beer to sip on. No Daehyun to laugh with.

“You,” Youngjae whispers. “Only you. Always you.”

“Me?” comes an unfamiliar voice. “What about me?”

Youngjae spins, jumping back and half-sinking into the closest table. Then he jumps forwards, apology teetering on the edge of his lips to the couple whose dinner he just interrupted when he realizes that they can’t hear or feel him anyway. The apology dies and Youngjae looks up to see a purple-haired teenager stare at him curiously.

“You can see me?” Youngjae stammers. “I-I mean, see me? Hear me? Talk to me?”

The boy blinks twice. “Well you can see me as well right?” His purple hair stands out so vibrantly in this monochromatic world that it makes Youngjae almost dizzy to look at it. It’s like the pink star in the sky above ground, only this one is purple and underground and walking and talking as well.

“Who are you?” the boy asks, coming closer. Up close Youngjae can make out strong cheek bones and small eyes, both of which contribute to a rather deadpan expression. “Are you dead?” he frowns and squints, practically erasing his eyes.

“I’m not actually dead,” Youngjae clarifies. “I’m kind of…” What is he exactly? He’s alive, but in a coma, allowed to roam the realm of the dead for the next two weeks in order to find the one he loves who actually is dead dead unlike him who is not dead dead? And well…what does that make him?

“You’re just like me,” the boy says suddenly in a tone of astonishment.

“What?” Youngjae is thrown momentarily.

“Yeah,” a bright smile lights the boy’s face, and suddenly he’s transformed. His eyes sparkle and he’s up close, hands gripping Youngjae’s. And he’s warm, Youngjae realizes. Warm to touch. Warm to feel. He has the same spectral substance that Youngjae has, and he’s alive.

“Y-you’re not dead either?” Youngjae chokes out.

“Nope!” the boy grins. “Just like you! My name is Jongup.”

“Youngjae…”

Jongup shakes Youngjae’s hand vigorously. “How old are you? I’m nineteen.”

“Uhh, twenty one this year,” Youngjae finds himself replying.

“That makes you my hyung,” Jongup chirps, pumping his hand one more time before finally letting go.

“It’s lovely to meet you Jongup,” Youngjae grates out, gasping as Jongup lets go and he can finally massage the (metaphorical) blood flow back into his hand.

“I’m surprised,” Jongup says. “To find another person like me here.”

“Yeah…” Youngjae’s pretty stunned himself. “So why are you here?”

“To find someone,” Jongup says, bouncing on the balls of his feet.

Youngjae feels a chill tickle the tip of his spine. “Someone who died?”

“Yeah,” Jongup nods. “He was like a big brother to me. He raised me ever since I was young. I guess I thought he didn’t deserve to die so I came here to find him and bring him back.”

It’s hauntingly similar and yet so strikingly different. A brother or a lover. The length to which people will go for the ones they love has no bounds.

“Hyung?” Jongup looks up at him with wide, worried eyes. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine Jongup,” Youngjae says, inhaling and exhaling and forcing himself to calm down. “I’m fine. I’m fine. It’s just…I’m here to find someone as well. He’s the person I love most in the world, and just like yours, he died unfairly. So I’m going to bring him back.”

“Just like me huh hyung,” Jongup says softly, taking a step backwards. There’s a shift in his tone. His face reads a different story. There’s a downturn to the edges of Jongup’s lips, an ever so slightly, almost miss-able note of sadness. The tiniest tear beads at the corners of his eyes. “And that’s where your wrong,” he says in the smallest of voices, so small Youngjae almost misses it.

“Jongup?” It’s Youngjae’s turn to be worried for the new friend he’s just met. “Are you okay?”

Jongup swipes it away. “Hey hyung,” he asks in a quiet voice.

“Yeah Jongup?” Youngjae still can’t put a finger to Jongup. He’s too variable, too interchangeable, and Youngjae can’t figure if that’s a good or bad thing. He may look like one thing, but peel away the layers and he is very different underneath.

“How far would you go to save the one you love?”

Youngjae halts. Stares at Jongup. “To the ends of the earth if I have to,” he replies, tone slightly mechanical with suspicion. Youngjae wonders if Jongup has meet Yongguk as well.

“And then hyung,” Jongup continues, “What would you do if that person didn’t want you to go to the ends of the earth for him?”

“What?”

Youngjae is stunned. Floored, to be brutally honest.

“Why wouldn’t he?” Youngjae manages, because this thought has never come to his mind before. This is the ultimate sacrifice one can make: to die for the one they love. Who would refute such a gesture?

Jongup doesn’t reply. He just stares down Youngjae with shining eyes. This is an answer that Jongup wants to hear no matter what.

“Jongup?” Youngjae reaches out to touch one hand to his shoulder. “You died to come after this hypothetical person. How could they turn you away?”

And Jongup is tilting his head upwards to look at him, and his eyes, oh his eyes, they are full of tears unshed, shiny and blueish and it’s like looking down a well and being swallowed by the unfathomable blue-blackness there. “Hyung, you say that because the person you are searching for loves you back, am I right?”

Youngjae’s heart thuds as memories surge. Daehyun with his hands around Youngjae’s waist. Daehyun with his sleepy eyes on mornings far too early. Daehyun just being pure silly Daehyun. Youngjae loves Daehyun and Daehyun loves Youngjae. There’s only ever been one equation and in it there’s only the two of them.

“Earlier when you said ‘you, only you, always you’,” Jongup blinks away the tears. “You were talking about him right?’

“How do you know it’s a he?” Youngjae asks, mouth a little dry.

“Yongguk-hyung told me in passing, no names and such, but he spoke of you two,” Jongup says softly. “And when he told me that you were searching for the guy you loved, he told me to give up on mine because he doesn’t love me back. Not the way I love him.”

Youngjae feels like the floor has dropped out from underneath him. Such cold, callous words, could they have truly come from Yongguk? Are they even talking about the same person?

“I really shouldn’t have told you any of that,” Jongup says, voice flat as he flops down into a vacant seat. “I guess I just got a little jealous of you.”

“Jealous? But are you certain your love isn’t reciprocated at all-“  

“He told me himself,” Jongup interjects. “I met him three days before meeting you and I told him to come back with him. And he refused.”

“Why?”

Jongup looks up at him, eyes opaque and black. “Because he loves someone else more than he loves me.”

“But surely if you love him enough…”Youngjae starts. If it’s for love, anything can be achieved. And then he stops. Since when did Yoo Youngjae become such a sappy romantic? That’s Daehyun’s street, all ten miles of it.

“Love doesn’t achieve everything,” Jongup says softly, lifting up a pair of tongs and prodding the oil-slicked grill with it. “If it did, then why do we always end up losing love to Death?”

Youngjae is speechless.

“Enough about me hyung,” Jongup says, dropping the tongs. “I came here to talk about you, not about me.”

“Me? Why?”

“After Yongguk told me all about you, I just had to see for myself, were you in the same position as me? And if so, were you as resolved as I once was?” Jongup looks up at him, so boyishly innocent but with a bitter tinge of maturity, like a child forced too soon to grow up.

 “As resolved as you once were?” Youngjae echoes.

Jongup laughs. “Your confused face is cute hyung,” he says, all blasé and cool like that.

Youngjae’s face heats. “J-Jongup!” Because the only person he’s ever gotten such cheesy lines from is from Daehyun, and as of late he’s been lacking some Daehyun in his life.

“It’s true hyung,” Jongup grins. “The guy you like is lucky.” He says it with the faintest of bitterness. “Like I said I was once like you. I thought love was everything and even if I died, so long as I could bring back my hyung then that was enough for me. But I was wrong. Love doesn’t always have happy endings and even if I died, hyung wasn’t going to come back. But you, you are different. You have no reason to waver. When you find this Daehyun of yours, he’ll come back with you. There’s no need for you to doubt elsewise.”

“Jongup…”

Jongup closes his eyes. “I thought meeting you would help me make up my mind. To decide whether or not I should continue or just turn home like everyone is telling me to.”

“And?” Youngjae can’t help but pry.

“And I don’t know,” he says truthfully. “I thought you would be like me. But I was completely wrong. If anything I think meeting you made me even more uncertain.” Jongup opens his eyes quickly and peers at Youngjae. “But it’s not your fault hyung,” he says quickly, reading Youngjae’s expression easily. “It’s not your fault that I don’t know what to do with myself.”

Youngjae open and closes his mouth, uncertain of what exactly he could say in such a situation.

Jongup offers him a half-smile. “My problems are not yours. Just find your Daehyun quickly okay?”

 “Yeah. About that,” Youngjae sighs, finding the change of subject easy. “Yongguk just said follow this pink star, now shoo in that annoyingly low manly voice of his, and whooosh, vanished, and I have no clue how to read astronomy or anything…”

Jongup cracks up laughing, rolling over and clutching his stomach. “You really are cute hyung!” he chortles.

“H-how so!” Youngjae feels the blood pulse in his cheeks again.

“Because you don’t need to know astrology or anything,” Jongup says with mirth.

“Astronomy,” Youngjae feels obliged to correct him.

“That thing,” Jongup waves him off. “The pink star is like the North star of the afterworld. It doesn’t move. It’s the Earth – our world – that revolves around it.”  

“So?” Youngjae blinks, thoroughly confused with Jongup’s sudden burst of apparent wisdom and weird metaphorical speech.

“Basically the pink star is like a centre. To most souls it’s where their end seas are. To you and me, it’s the location of the dead soul we are searching for. Or at least it was for me a few days ago. Then when I decided I wanted to meet you the position of the star shifted, and I followed it to find you. You just keep walking till the star is directly above you.”

Youngjae just stares. “Um, Jongup, it can’t be that easy can it? I mean I’ve been wandering around for two days and the star hasn’t changed at all. Is it a pretty radical shift?”

“Um it’s more of a feeling than anything else,” Jongup says with a shrug. “You’ll know it when you feel it. But if you haven’t felt anything yet then his end seas must be much further out.”

When Youngjae continues his blank stare Jongup raises an eyebrow. “Like out of town out,” Jongup clarifies. “I mean the end seas for any soul is a place they hold dear. It’s got to be a place they know, so if the guy you love grew up in Seoul then it’ll be somewhere near Seoul, or if you grew up in-“

“Busan,” Youngjae whispers. The sensation of rightness blossoms like a warm hand over his heart.

“Then Busan it is,” Jongup says as if Youngjae’s discovery is the simplest thing in the world.

Before Youngjae even realizes it he’s moving and giving Jongup the biggest, warmest hug he can muster.

“H-hyung?” Jongup yelps, the sound slightly muffled. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing Jongup,” Youngjae says, pulling away, a large smile plastered to his face. “In contrary, everything’s fine. Perfect. Brilliant!”

Jongup stares at him like a zombie apocalypse has just been declared and Youngjae has decided the first thing he’s going to do is make friends with one. “Um, okay,” he says uncertainly.

“Thank you Jongup,” Youngjae ruffles his head, one quick little pat. “I mean it.”

The smile returns to Jongup’s face. “Glad to help hyung. Now go find him. Make him happy okay?”

Youngjae prods him with one finger on the forehead. “Hey Jongup,” he says sternly. “Since you haven’t made up your mind, I’m making it up for you now. Screw Yongguk. Screw whatever that guy said. Go find him. You love him right? So what if Death tries to take our loved ones away from us? What are we doing here then, huh? We’re taking them back. Got it? We’re here because we love them, and because love does conquer all. So go follow that pink star of your own!”

Jongup blinks. Once. Twice. His mouth has fallen open in a small O shape.

“Has anyone told you you’re really smart hyung?” is what he says in reply.

Youngjae can’t help but laugh at that. “Multiple times,” he says, thinking back to the various moments when he’s figured how to open the BBQ sauce jar without a proper jar opener, or when he’s fixed the heating in the middle of winter by simply kicking it, or when the TV’s broken and Daehyun is whining and Youngjae simply turns it on and off and suddenly it decides to work. My genius, Daehyun had called him. Brains of the family!

“I have to go,” Youngjae tells Jongup. Not that he wants to leave his new acquaintance behind, but like Jongup said, they are two very different people walking two very different paths. Jongup nods and hums. But that does not mean they cannot meet again. “Promise me that you’ll make a happy ending, no matter what others say or do.” Youngjae sticks out a pinky. “Swear it.”

Jongup gives a faint smile and links pinkies and they press thumbs to one another. “You too hyung, you too.”

“Good,” Youngjae grins and breaks the link. “Then I’ll see you around Jongup. If not here, then maybe in the living world?”

Jongup smiles at that, a real proper smile that does reach his eyes this time. “It’s a promise,” he says and Youngjae turns without looking back, because he figures he doesn’t have to. This isn’t the end.

Love will conquer. And no matter who says he’s a romantic sap, Yoo Youngjae believes in many things, and this is one of them. 

*

Another perk of being ‘dead’, Youngjae discovers, is not having to pay for train tickets. Which is a pretty good reason since Youngjae isn’t in possession of a wallet. He’s sends up a small prayer, hoping the God of Train Tickets forgives him for skimping out on this ride. He makes a promise that when he gets back to the living world he’ll make a small donation to the train services in thanks every year.

Right now he’s on his way to Busan.

It’s light out but the star still hangs in the sky, a bright dot of pinkness that seems to throb and flicker like a heartbeat. It’s reassuring. With every mile the train devours the star seems to grow bigger, brighter. Youngjae finally understands what Jongup means about feeling it, because his heart feels like it’s beating in tandem with the star, not completely yet but slowly and surely they are achieving synchrony.

Youngjae leans his forehead against the glass to try and cool down his burning skin. His meeting with Jongup loops again and again in his head, unbidden. A child who is like him, yet not like him at all. In the heat of the moment it was easy to answer with his heart: that Daehyun is everything and nothing will stand in his way of reaching him. But the more Youngjae thinks over Jongup’s words, that he told me to give up on mine because he doesn’t love me back, the more his heart begins to waver. He tries imaging himself in Jongup’s position, and it’s scary. What if Daehyun fell in love with someone else? Would Youngjae then be resolved enough to continue through? If he knew Daehyun wasn’t the end equation?

He’s not too sure.

“Yoo Youngjae huh?” comes a drawl to his right. Youngjae snaps his head round to see a tall boy observing him. He’s sitting casually, one long leg crossed over the other and chin in his hand. Being so tall it gives him an almost hunched appearance. But boy is he good looking. Youngjae can appreciate that much. Smooth features, muscular arms, eyes like liquid ink. He’s everything Youngjae is not. And if Youngjae wasn’t attracted to more than appearances then he’d totally be drooling over this kid. That and the fact kissing would be a tad difficult.

“You’re drooling,” the boy comments lightly.

“I’m what-“ Youngjae catches himself, hand rising to his dry chin.

“I lied,” the boy shrugs, pale golden hair shifting slightly at the movement. “Your mouth was open though.”

“Yeah?” Youngjae closes it loudly, feeling rather cross at being fooled, and letting his teeth clack close rather satisfyingly. “And what are you? Dead? Alive? Don’t tell me you’re here to find someone as well?”

“Please,” the boy leans back and stretches his legs. Jesus, those are some legs. Youngjae’s eyes widen incredulously at the miles all clad neatly in white skinny jeans. They only serve to accentuate his tall height and Youngjae is beyond jealous. And most definitely not drooling.

 “I’m a kind of rarity in this world,” the boy says. “I’m neither dead nor alive, but I’m not like you or Jongup-hyung. I can’t be sent back to the living world or pushed onto the next world. I’m just stuck here.”

“Oh…” Youngjae doesn’t really know what to say. His situation sounds like it sucks.

“I’m used to it,” the kid says, rolling his shoulders and sighing in relief when they click. “I’ve been like this for a hundred years give or take.” 

“A hu-“ Youngjae chokes at the thought of this kid being older than he is. And taller. And much better looking.

The kid looks amused. “My name is Zelo,” he says.

“Um, and I’m-“

“Yoo Youngjae,” Zelo finishes his sentence.

“Don’t tell me Yongguk told you as well,” Youngjae says dryly. “Is he telling the entire population of Death about me? Am I some sort of new celebrity?”

Zelo snickers. “Funny. Like we have a population, what with people coming and going every 48 days. It’s not like the entire afterlife is made up of irregularities like you and me. That’s the only reason you’re meeting us all is because it’s rare to see sorts like you, hence we’re all dropping in to check you out.”

“Well thanks,” Youngjae grumbles. “Please remember to collect your complementary Polaroid photo upon exiting the zoo.”

“Consider it me dropping in to give you some good advice,” Zelo says with one hand waving in the air, completely brushing off Youngjae’s sarcasm.

“Yeah?” Youngjae raises an eyebrow suspiciously. “And that is…?”

“To turn back and go home. The dead are dead for a reason. And you should not tamper with that.”

There’s a moment of silence where the world sounds like it has grounded to a halt and all Youngjae can hear is this white noise in the air, loud and vibrating.

“You’re frozen now,” Zelo says in the same dry, crisp tone, like he’s giving live commentary to the growth of an oak tree real time. “Like if I draw a mustache on your face will you slap me or anything?”

“What do you mean by that?” Youngjae snaps, breaking out of his reverie. “Yongguk gave me permission already. If Death agrees to it who are you to interfere?”

“I may not be Death but I’ve been around for a while and I’ve seen the way the world works. And death is not something to be tampered with.” Zelo says warningly.

“Or else what? What happens?”

A flicker runs through Zelo’s eyes, dark and discernable. “It’s less of what will happen and what does happen along the way. I’ve seen people try, and I’ve seen them fail. I’m telling you to turn back now before you get hurt.”

“Hurt how?” Youngjae pushes. He’s not letting this go. Not when everyone in this damn afterlife world seems to think love is doomed, woe be us all, and that Youngjae is better off being told to give up now without any information squat.

“If it makes you feel any better, I told Jongup-hyung the same thing.”

“Not it doesn’t,” Youngjae says firmly. “So spill.”

Zelo exhales harshly through his nose. His belied age seems to shine in his eyes there and then. They’re kind and slightly pitying. Youngjae hates them. Hates how they say, Jung Daehyun is a hopeless case.

“They say that the closer a soul gets to the end seas, the more they forget about their past lives. It’s to prevent souls from clinging onto this world. And Jung Daehyun is thirty seven days into his ritual. How much do you think he still remembers of you?”

Youngjae’s stomach drops. Like a literal falling of his innards into the Grand Canyon and a thousand miles below to where it will shatter into a thousand and one tiny fragments of lost love.

“He won’t forget me,” Youngjae manages to say. It feels forced.

Zelo shoots him an unconvinced look. “I’m just saying the truth,” he sniffs, leaning backing and stretching out his full length. “He’s not the first soul I’ve seen who’s forgotten someone they truly love. It doesn’t mean your love is any less, it’s just the way it is.”

“And you told Jongup this as well?” Youngjae asks, horrified that to Jongup, not only was he being told the one he loved did not love him back, but would also forget him as the days passed.

“I did,” Zelo says. “But his case is slightly different. For you, Daehyun has already left on his journey. For Jongup-hyung, the one he loves refuses to head towards the end seas. So he won’t forget anything.”

“What?” Youngjae spits in disbelief.

“Yeah,” Zelo tilts his head. “Didn’t hyung tell you? The one he loves is love with someone else. And for that reason, he doesn’t want to move on.”

Youngjae’s mouth is wide open. “B-but, won’t his soul expire?”

“Yeah,” Zelo nods. “But the one he loves doesn’t exist in the living world, not now, not ever.”

“Is his situation like mine then?”

Zelo shakes his head. “The guy Himchan-hyung loves is forever stuck in the afterlife.”

“So what? This guy is like you?”

Zelo bites his lower lip. “Um well not really. I’m stuck here because my soul is fused with this world.  I wasn’t meant to die, so this guy tried to save me, but he was young and inexperienced and made a mistake. But this guy? He’s bound here by responsibility.”

Youngjae frowns and thinks.

“I think I said too much,” Zelo says guiltily, looking incriminatingly child-like then. It strikes Youngjae then that Zelo may be over a hundred years old, but somewhere inside he is still a child. Frozen in time. He has never had a chance to grow up, fall in love, be loved, and to live. And for that Youngjae’s heart goes out to him. This child knows not of what it means to hurt someone. Youngjae’s fury spikes. How could anyone just trap him here, accident or not?

But he was young and inexperienced…bound here by responsibility….

There’s only one person whom Youngjae knows can do this. One person who said this was like a job, one a human soul would assume when the previous tired of it.

“The one who this Himchan guy is love in, and the one who got you stuck here, it’s the same person isn’t it. Was it Yongguk?” Youngjae says softly. Zelo goes all rigid and Youngjae knows he’s right. Youngjae lets out a slow sigh. “He didn’t mean any wrong though did he?”

“Not one bit,” Zelo says, surprisingly fiercely. Protective almost. “Yongguk-hyung never meant to do any wrong! He was just trying to save me, and he was new to the job and-“

“Shhh,” Youngjae throws up both hands. “I didn’t mean it like that, it’s just,and ”–he massages his temples as he thinks it through–“it’s just I’m trying to get my head around all of this and it’s coming out all wrong and…”

Zelo relaxes his shoulders and anger fades slightly from his features. “I died saving a little girl. It was stormy that night and the Han River was overflowing. A little girl fell in and she was drowning, and I was the only one around. She was meant to die that night, but I died instead.”

“You sacrificed yourself to save someone else?” Youngjae says matter-of-factly.

Zelo shrugs. “She was a tiny little thing. And her parents were looking for her. They were crying as they called out her name.” He says these words with a faint look of remembrance on his face.

“Yongguk-hyung had been there that night to collect her soul. He wanted her to pass on quickly, to not let her suffer. So when I died instead he tried to return my soul to the living world. It didn’t work. Maybe because he was new to the job, or maybe because such things are not meant to be done. My soul ended up fusing to this plane and ever since I’ve been stuck here.”

“Weren’t you lonely?” Youngjae asks.

Zelo offers him a quick lift of the lips. “I had Yongguk-hyung.”

“But he couldn’t be by your side all the time could he?”

Zelo’s smile falters. “It wasn’t all bad,” he says softly. “I saw the world, saw the way people live and love. I got to see her grow up and get married, have kids of her own, and then pass onto the next world happily. I’ve seen many things that some people would never see. It’s not a bad life.”

“But to be like this forever?”

“It could be worse,” Zelo says. “I could be like Jongup-hyung, in love with someone who is love with a man who he can never have. I could be like you, chasing a man who you love with all your heart but know that that might not be enough in the face of life and death. There are a thousand worse situations I could be in. So for all that it is I’m satisfied with this sort of life.”

Youngjae cringes. He doesn’t really like be used as a case study of what life not to lead.

“So this guy is in love with Yongguk,” Youngjae says, trying to change the subject.

“Yeah, his name is Kim Himchan,” Zelo says. “He’s twenty four and he’s really good looking, and smart, and caring. He’d be perfect for Yongguk-hyung, except that well hyung is Death and Kim Himchan is a soul.”

Ouch. Tragedy summed up in less than ten words.

“Is there absolutely no way for them to be together?” Youngjae asks.

“Nope,” Zelo says, popping the second syllable loudly. “Hyung is bound here by his job as Death. He can’t move on till another soul takes his place. And since he’s only been doing this for a hundred or so years it’s too early to change. And even if Kim Himchan moves on, there’s no guarantee he’ll be reborn in this world.”

“This world?” Youngjae raises an eyebrow.

“Yeah. There are thousands of other worlds out there. When we die our souls are ferried into the ether world. It’s like a giant mixing pool. From there where we end up can vary. There’s no guarantee that even if you die together with the one you love that you two will end up together in the next life.”

Humans. Yongguk had said. You all think you know death intimately. You think that the minute you jump off this building you’ll be transported right to where your lover is? 

The words reverberate in Youngjae’s mind. “So if Daehyun moves on before I catch up with him, then he is gone for good.” The words break his heart’s armor chink by chink.

“Unless you have the luck of the gods, it’s a one in a hundred thousand million billion chance,” Zelo says with an air of grandeur.

Youngjae doesn’t know why he ever doubted his journey.

“Hyung?” Zelo asks, and he knows that Zelo can see the change in him.

“Zelo,” Youngjae says. “You know how you said that Daehyun might not remember me?”

“Yeah, I did,” Zelo says hesitantly.

“Well in response, what does it matter?”

“Huh?” Zelo blinks, thoroughly confused.

“I mean,” Youngjae says, heart beating wildly. “So what if he forgets me. I’ll just remind him of who I am. I’ll make him remember me, and then I’ll take him back. And if he hasn’t, then it just proves we’re meant to be together.”

“And if he’s already gone?” Zelo asks warily.

“That’s why I have to do what I can right now. Before Daehyun disappears I have to try my hardest to catch up to him.”

“And if he does depart before then?”

“Then I’ll follow him. Where ever he is. Where ever he chooses to go. I’ll always be right there next to him.”

“Didn’t I say that’s like a one in a million chance?” Zelo says.

“Technically you said it was a one in a hundred thousand million billion chance, but details,” Youngjae says a little snarkily. He guiltily enjoys the taken aback expression on Zelo’s face. It’s a little perverse but right now he feels elated, and nothing Zelo says can spoil it. “Even then, there’s still a chance.”

Zelo blinks and leans back, looking puzzled. “How can you be so confident hyung?”

“Because I’m human,” Youngjae replies. “And because our love is finite. And precious. And so whatever I can do I will do. If I doubt myself I just know I’ll lose out on many things. So until then I’ll just try my best and trust that love will prevail.”

Zelo wrinkles his nose. “You sound so cheesy hyung.”

Youngjae makes a flicking motion at Zelo’s forehead. He’s pleased to see him flinch. He guesses times haven’t changed that radically if a forehead flick is still used as punishment games.

A train announcement sounds.

We are arriving at Busan shortly. Do not forget to take all belongings. We trust you have had a pleasant journey and hope to see you on Korean Rails again.

Youngjae turns his head to look out the window. There is the sea, bright blue and glistening under the sun’s shine even through the muted colors of the afterworld. And somewhere out there is Daehyun.

“Zelo,” he says as an afterthought.

“Yeah?” Zelo hasn’t turned to look out the window at all. Youngjae wonders if such sights no longer interest him. Does he even see the world in the same colors as Youngjae does? Senses are something you chose to feel, so does this kid not feel anything at all?

“I think you’re wrong. You think Jongup and I are in dire situations. That we lead pitiable lives. We don’t. But you do.”

Zelo’s eyes widen.

Youngjae continues. “Because we do what we do for love. But you’ve never experienced love have you?”

“I-“ Zelo halts.  

“You haven’t,” Youngjae confirms. “And so can you say that you’ve truly lived? So what if you’ve seen the world and watched people live? Unless you yourself live that life, whether in the real world or in the afterlife, can that really be called living?”

Zelo is speechless.

“Jongup is doing what he can even if he wavers along the way. This Himchan guy, he may not have a solution to his problems, but he’s living in the moment. And me, no matter how it ends, if I do return with Daehyun or if I lose him or if he has forgotten all about me, at least I can say that I’ve tried. I’ve struggled and I’ve loved. And that’s what it means to be human isn’t it?”

Youngjae stands and stretches as the train slows to a halt.

“You may be wrong but that doesn’t mean I’m right,” Youngjae says. “I may be completely wrong and fail in everything, but unless you try nothing will happen. How then will you experience something?”

“But,” Zelo whispers in hoarse voice. “What if there’s nothing to try for?”

Youngjae curves his lips, amused. “Then find something. Anything. It doesn’t have to be big. A dream, a hope, a person even. You don’t have to love them the way I love Daehyun. Love comes in many forms, all you have to do is just try. Maybe then you’ll discover something real.”

The train doors slide open stiffly. Youngjae can smell the salt in the air.

“I’ll see you around Zelo,” Youngjae says and steps off the train.

“Junhong!” Zelo shouts. Youngjae turns to see him standing up, eyes wide. “That’s my real name. Junhong. Choi Junhong.”

“Is that so?” Youngjae says. “Well then Junhong. Until next time.”

The doors slide shut and the train leaves the platform, chugging as it goes, and Youngjae watches as Zelo disappears into the distance. And whilst Youngjae knows he might not be right and Zelo might not be wrong and life and love will never be truly known, Youngjae decides that if there’s one thing he can believe in it’s that he is alive, not in the literal sense of course, but he is alive in that he can live and love and struggle, and if that means he is free to pursue Daehyun as hard as he can he will do so. Because damn whoever decided this is how it ends. It doesn’t end like this. Youngjae will choose how it ends.

“Will you?” someone says in a cracking voice. Youngjae hadn’t realized he had spoken those words aloud. He whirls around to see someone seated on one of the waiting seats, one leg thrown over the other just like how Zelo – no Junhong – had been poised, but this man does it with grace and sophistry.

“And you are?” Youngjae asks, but in his mind he already knows the answer.

The man has sharp cheekbones and high set eyes, bright and brilliant. He’s wearing a simple white shirt and black jeans, tight, but with a light jacket thrown over his shoulders. He looks like the pinnacle of being an adult, just without the suit.

There’s no doubt about it.

“My name is Kim Himchan,” he says. “And who might you be?” 

*

They’re walking through town side by side. Youngjae feels his palms sweat. Out of all the sensations to feel this is the most unpleasant one by far. He wishes the awkwardness away.

“So Yoo Youngjae,” Kim Himchan says musingly. “You’re here to save a guy named Jung Daehyun. You’re in luck. I saw him just a few hours ago.”

“At the train station?” Youngjae asks.

“At the train station,” Himchan confirms. “He looked a bit lost, so I gave him some directions. If you’re looking for him then are you trying to bring him back to life?”

Youngjae nods.

“Bbang is being generous again,” Himchan muses. “He’s always such a good Samarian. I always tell him it will be his downfall.”

“Bbang?”

“Oh Yongguk,” Himchan clarifies. “Or Death. However you know him as. His human name was Bang Yongguk. I guess I like to remind both us both from time and time that he was human once, and so it’s alright for him to love a human soul.”

“You’re not like how I expected you to be,” Youngjae admits.

“How did you expect me to act?” Himchan asks, eyes narrowing slightly with suppressed amusement. “Depressed? Suicidal? A crying sob on the floor? I’m guessing that Junhong told you everything. I saw him on that train. That kid blabs too easily for his own good. Not his fault really, he never really grew up with others enough to understand how to keep certain things to yourself.”

“Well then,” Youngjae swallows. “Why aren’t you then? Depressed I mean. Because if I were in your situation…”

“Where you love someone but you know you can’t be with them, and all the while you’re hurting someone else? Yeah, I guess the only logical emotion here would be depression, but well, what good would being depressed be?”

Youngjae doesn’t really have an answer for that. He’s a little shocked that Himchan has such a good grip on his current position.

“I mean I have about three days left until my soul expires. I know where my ends seas are, but I’m not crossing over. There’s nothing for me in a world without Bbang. You of all people should understand that.”

“Nothing at all?” Youngjae echoes. “Then what about Jongup?”

Himchan flinches “I-I…”

“Can’t you live for him? I mean didn’t he come all this way just for you.” Something that Youngjae can sympathize with him for. His voice twists. “Isn’t that worth living for?”

Himchan flushes a deep pink. His eyes narrow and his mouth flickers downwards. “Don’t talk like you know everything,” he snaps, pulling his face up close to Youngjae.

Youngjae freezes, shocked.

Himchan takes a step backwards. Runs a hand through his hair in quickly, frustrated movements. “I’m sorry,” he says quickly, voice calmer now. “I shouldn’t have snapped. It’s just…you’re right. You’re completely right.”

Youngjae eases. “Then why? Why not go back with him.”

Himchan throws him a wretched glance. “You don’t think I’ve tried? Thought about going back with him? Jongup is the sweetest kid ever; he doesn’t deserve to have to deal with me. I met Yongguk before I died, and all I could think about was him, him, him. It was almost an obsession. Even if I try to go back I’ll just want to die again. Try as I might Jongup is not the one I love, and he never will be.”

Harsh words, but sometimes the truth just can’t be minced.

“Then what are you going to do?” Youngjae drops his tone, for this conversation seems to demand so.  

Himchan softens. “I don’t know. What can I do? I can’t go back, and I can’t move on. I’m like Junhong except what is trapping me is myself.”

Youngjae can’t see a solution out either.

“It’s all right Youngjae,” Himchan says softly. “I don’t expect much either. Heavens know I don’t deserve it.”

“And what do you mean by that?” Youngjae asks, puzzled.

 “Do you ever believe in karma?” Himchan asks. “In punishment and retribution and all that?”

“Not really,” Youngjae says.

“I do,” Himchan says. He’s silent for a moment. Thinking. Reminiscing. When he speaks it is in a solemn and collected tone. “I met Yongguk when I was still alive when my mother committed suicide.” He says it all matter-of-factly. Like it’s not a story about him at all. “Yongguk was there to collect her. She threw herself off the rooftop of our building. And I watched her fall. And then I saw him collecting her soul.”

Youngjae draws in a sharp breath. “How?” How could Himchan have seen Yongguk whilst still being alive? Because even Youngjae hadn’t been able to.

Himchan frowns. “We think it may have something to do with watching someone strongly connected to you die.”

“Someone you love?”

“Not necessarily,” Himchan says neutrally. “Because I despised my mother.”

“Oh,” Youngjae coughs. “Is that…so…”

“Yeah,” Himchan says wryly. “I hated my mother because she trapped me. And then she committed suicide right in front of me, just like that. It was so selfish of her. But then I came to realize that I’m selfish too. Runs in the family I guess.” He gave a bitter laugh here.

“Selfish?”

“Yeah selfish. Because in the end I’m just like her. I trap others, and then in order to get what I wanted I killed myself in front of another.”

Youngjae widens his eyes. “You…”

“I threw myself off a building right in front of Jongup.”

Before Youngjae can even think he’s grabbing Himchan by the collar of his shirt, yanking him forwards and his face in in Himchan’s face, and the two of them are breathing hard against one another.

“You killed yourself…” he breathes harshly. “…in front of Jongup?”

Himchan’s chest heaves. “I did…”

“Why?” Youngjae hisses. “In front of a kid like that? Why?”

“Because,” Himchan snaps. “Because I was selfish okay? I told you didn’t I? The day I met Yongguk I fell in love with him. It was a twisted and wretched thing, but I fell in love with Death. Maybe it was because he was the man who had set me free from my mother, or maybe because he was something I could not define. I don’t know how or why but I fell in love with him and from that moment onwards I became obsessed with him.”

Youngjae’s grip slackens. “And so you killed yourself to be with him.” It’s a statement, not a question.

“I did,” Himchan whispers. “I couldn’t stand it. Always seeing him, always talking to him. Never ever being able to touch him.”

“But why in front of Jongup? He said you were like a big brother to him?”

“I was,” Himchan admits. “I found him when he little, a runaway kid. I took him in. Not that my mother ever cared. She barely even noticed his existence. I raised him myself. He was, and still is, a little brother to me.” There’s a wretched twist to Himchan’s face. “I didn’t mean to do in front of him. I didn’t even realize he was there until I went over the edge. Believe me, if there’s anything I regret it was that.”

“He came after you,” Youngjae whispers harshly.

Himchan closes his eyes as if in a prayer. “I know he did.”

“And you told him to go back alone.” More harshness.

Himchan doesn’t even try to refute it. “I did.”

“Didn’t you ever think about how much that would hurt him?” Youngjae whispers, but his fingers are slowly peeling away from Himchan’s collar. Maybe it’s to do with Himchan’s despairing expression and the darkness under his eyes. Or maybe it’s that as much as Youngjae wants to hate Himchan, he can’t. Because Youngjae understands what Himchan is saying. Love and obsession is a fine line, and sometimes synonymous. Beneath it all Himchan still cares about Jongup. It’s just that Yongguk means so much more. And Youngjae can understand that. Because no one compares to Daehyun. And no one ever will.

You’re young. You have your entire life ahead of you.

But our lives are short. We’re human. We are finite. We fall in love easily and fall out much harder. We live, perhaps to love. And that isn’t wrong. Lots of things we do in the name of love can be wrong, but a lot of it can be right as well.

Youngjae lets go of Himchan.

“I don’t expect to be forgiven,” Himchan says, looking down at their feet. “Neither do I expect to deserve to be with Bbang. But you know, being in love is hard.”

“I know,” Youngjae says roughly. He thinks of the many times Daehyun and him almost gave up in their relationship. Of the time when he had grown tired of Daehyun’s high maintenance, and Daehyun of Youngjae’s own high expectations.

“Where have you been?” Youngjae hissed, glaring as Daehyun tried to kick off his shoes and failed. “It’s nearly four in the morning!”

“I was drinking with friends,” Daehyun slurred. “We lost track of time.”

“You could have called. Texted. Anything!”

“Stop worrying so much,” Daehyun said, standing and falling hard against the wall. His hands scrabbled for purchase but slid, and he fell into Youngjae’s arm. His breath smelled strongly of vodka and Youngjae wrinkled his nose, disgusted. He pushed Daehyun away.

“Go sober up,” he said coldly.

“Why are you always like this?” Daehyun whined.

“Like what?” Youngjae turned, eyes flashing.

“So intent on being perfect. Isn’t it tiring?”

“Perfect?” Youngjae hissed, voice growing dangerously quiet. “Maybe have you ever looked at the way you act? At the shit you do? Go out, get drunk, stagger home. You cry when work doesn’t go well and then you get smashed when it does. Don’t you get tired of yourself?”

Daehyun stared back, open mouthed.

Youngjae exhaled and closed his eyes. “I’ll sleep over at Jaebum’s place tonight. Sober up “

He threw on a jacket and tugged on some shoes, and the door closed quietly behind him.

Or there had been times where Daehyun had grown tired of dealing with Youngjae’s insecurities, and Youngjae of Daehyun’s impatience.

“Why can’t you accept that you’re perfect the way you are!” Daehyun yelled as he watched Youngjae run a hand over his skin and frown.

“Daehyun please stop saying stuff like that. I know I’m not as naturally good looking as you are, so please stop trying to pity me-“

“I’m not pitying you,” Daehyun snapped. “Why can’t you understand that I am in love with you because you are you. Because I like the way your face looks and how your body is built. Why can’t you see that I don’t care if you have a zit or two on your cheek. That’s normal! I get them too! And so what if you don’t have a six pack. I don’t either.”

“Yeah, but it’s not the same,” Youngjae grounded. “Your skin color compliments you so that they’re barely noticeable. I’m so pale that they stand out like bites. And-“

“Stop it!” Daehyun slammed a fist against the bathroom wall. Flesh slapped loudly against tiles. Youngjae froze.

“Dae?”

“Just stop it already,” Daehyun whispered, voice creaking like an unoiled door. “I didn’t fall in love with a guy who was all about appearances.”

“What did you fall in love with then?” Youngjae whispered back.

“With a man who made me laugh. Who was snarky enough to make me smile. With a guy who no matter how long I looked at, or no matter what imperfections marked his skin, was a guy who to me would always be good looking.”

Youngjae let him hand slide away from his face, let it reach out towards Daehyun and grasp him by the hand.

“I fell in love with Yoo Youngjae,” Daehyun said quietly. “Who did you fall in love with?”

Youngjae’s heart cracked. “You Daehyun. You and only you.”

“I’m not perfect either,” Daehyun said, lacing their fingers together and drawing Youngjae in close. “I know I’m high maintenance, and I have issues as well.  But the only reason I don’t break down every five seconds is because I’ve got you. And you’ve got me. Isn’t that enough?”

A tear slid down his left cheek, shiny under the bathroom lights.

“It is,” Youngjae whispered and pulled Daehyun in close. He could feel Daehyun’s heart beat strong and wild against his own chest, and it was proof that they were alive. Humans were alive for such short a period of time and yet so much of it was spent on fights and conflicts with imperfection. Why?

Because we are human. We are imperfect. And because of that we need one another. Two halves. One whole.

“You should know that Jongup loves you a lot,” Youngjae said softly.

Himchan looked at him with glimmering eyes. “I know.”

“But even if you went back with him, neither of you two would be happy would you?”

Himchan shakes his head slowly. “We wouldn’t.”

“So what are you going to do?” Youngjae asks again.

“I don’t know,” Himchan sighs. “I don’t know at all.”

Youngjae leans back against the stone wall. They are at the edge of the town, on the border of the seaside. The smell of salt is strong in the air, as is the sound of waves crashing. He’s close to his final destination. Himchan knows that too.

“Don’t make the same mistakes as I did Youngjae,” Himchan says, holding out a hand. Youngjae takes it, shakes it.

“I could say the same to you,” Youngjae quips.

Himchan cracks a smile. It’s wide and these two slightly larger bunny teeth stand out. It’s nice. A small mark of possible imperfection on such a flawless man that it makes him even more perfect. He wonders which part of Himchan that Jongup fell in love with. There are a lot of possibilities to consider.

“I won’t,” Himchan says and lets go. “Good luck.”

Youngjae nods and turns, steps off the stone walkway and feels his feet slide on the sand. This is it.

He turns around one last time to see Himchan, but Himchan isn’t looking at him. There’s another person there. He’s dressed in all black and battered jeans, and there is no dark heavy cloak, but heavy combat boots and a leather jacket instead. He wraps one arm around Himchan’s shoulders and Himchan leans in to it.

Youngjae doesn’t say a word. He turns around and sets off towards the setting sky where a pink star twinkles brighter than ever. In the distance, to a backdrop of the roaring ocean and the smell of salt in the air there is the silhouette of a man staring out at the sea.

He’s so very nearly home.

The walk across the beach front is agonizingly long. Contrary to Youngjae’s almost expectations the silhouette does not burst into flames or vanish in the blink of an eye. He’s still there and he’s getting closer and suddenly he’s within touching distance.

Youngjae stretches out one hand and it grasps warm skin. The figure turns, eyes shiny as they meet Youngjae’s.

“Hello Daehyun,” Youngjae whispers and smiles as warm arms envelop him. 

*

It’s warm in Daehyun’s embrace. Youngjae closes his eyes and melts into it; into the homeliness of the boy he calls his other half. He rests his lips atop the other’s head and it’s like Daehyun never left.

Rough coughing from behind breaks the two of them apart.

Youngjae turns and glares at Yongguk, who at least has the grace to appear sheepish.

“Hate to spoil the mood,” he says unevenly, “but we’re kinda pressed for time and…”

The dark mop of hair buried in Youngjae’s chest shakes hard. “No,” comes his mumbled reply.

“Daehyun?” Youngjae taps his shoulder. “What’s wrong? C’mon, let’s go home.”

“No,” Daehyun mumbles again, clutching tighter.

“Dae?” Youngjae sounds concerned now. “What’s wrong? I missed you too, but when we get back we can have all the time in the world-“

Daehyun extracts himself out of Youngjae’s embrace and holds him at arms-width. His eyes are shiny. “I can’t go back with you Jae,” he croaks.

Youngjae’s breathe catches in his throat. “W-what? Why?”

Daehyun’s voice hitches as he speaks. “Because I’m dead.”

Youngjae feels hysterics crawling up his throat, like tiny spiders, too many to crush. “I know that pabo,” he half-sobs. “That’s why I’m here.” Panic surges. Could Daehyun be losing his memories? No. But he still remembers Youngjae. Perhaps he’s not losing them chronologically? Youngjae’s mind races. Does Daehyun remember him, but not how he ended up here? No, no. that doesn’t make sense. If so then he would not speak of being dead. Maybe has Yongguk not spoken to him of his promise to Youngjae?

Youngjae whirls to stare at Death. Death just shrugs, looking equally confused. Youngjae turns back to face Daehyun who holds his trembling arms tightly to his side.

“Yongguk said he’s make an exception. You know that right? It’s okay to come home.” Youngjae holds out his arms, waiting for Daehyun to jump into them as he always did at the end of a day’s hard work.

Instead Daehyun shakes his head, hugs himself harder. “He’s not supposed to do that,” Daehyun mumbles.

“Then why would he promise?” Youngjae says, feeling speechless on the inside. Why offer something if you can’t do it?

Daehyun bites his lower lip, chewing it raw red. “Oh, he can do it. But at a cost.” Behind Youngjae is the pitched sound of a choked gasp. Yongguk. “For every soul that Yongguk-hyung sends back to the real world, it takes a fragment of his own soul,” Daehyun explains. “He’s sacrificing himself in order for me to go back to the living world. I can’t do that to him. I want to go with you Jae, but I can’t do it at the expense of another good man.” His eyes are wide, searching Youngjae’s in hope of a glimpse of understanding.

“Dae…” Youngjae understands. He does. But he’s come this far and…

“It’s a sacrifice I’m willing to make,” says a deep timbre of a voice. Youngjae turns to see Yongguk stride down the beach front, heavy boots sinking into the sand. But unlike Youngjae’s ungainly run over it, Yongguk walks firm and surely. Himchan is by his side – a shadowy supporter.

“But… your soul…” Youngjae stammers. “Why didn’t you tell me this earlier?” It comes out rather whiny in retrospect. Youngjae winces, but he feels he has the right to be insulted that he was not informed earlier.

“I didn’t say anything because I knew it would trouble you,” Yongguk says steadily. “You were willing to die, to go to the ends of the earth for Daehyun. You’re a good person. If I had told you that to bring Daehyun back would require a fragment of my soul, would you still have gone?”

“Of course not!” Youngjae instantly wants to give Yongguk the old one-or-two but something deep inside him restrains his inner anger. Something tells him Death would not be pleased with a little roundhouse boxing.

“But you would have wanted to, right?” Yongguk continues, and Youngjae falters. The anger dies like the wisp of a candle flame.

“Of course you would have,” Himchan steps in. “Like I said, humans are selfish. We are because life is short, but there is nothing wrong with wanting something and doing whatever it takes to get there.”

“I can handle losing some of my soul,” Yongguk says wryly. “Don’t think I’m that fragile.”

“But Yongguk!” Youngjae protests. Daehyun’s voice overlaps with his.

“You two kids should learn to be selfish once in a while. Take his offer Youngjae,” Himchan chimes. “Love while you still can.”

“No,” Daehyun shakes his head. “You know we can’t do this Jae.”

Youngjae laces his fingers with Daehyun, grips them tightly. Reassuringly so. “I wouldn’t dare Dae,” he says. “You’d kill me if I agreed.”

Daehyun’s eyes sparkle with amusement. “And then we’d just end up right back here again Yongguk. So I guess it’s a moot point.”

Yongguk’s eyes darken a shade. “Kids…”

“Yes ahjussi,” Youngjae replies sweetly. “I mean you’re around that age and all aren’t you.”

Himchan stifles a chortle.

“Himchan!” Yongguk protests. “Aren’t you meant to be on my side!”

“I’m on nobody’s side,” Himchan says lightly, trying to suppress, and failing, a large smile. Youngjae privately thinks that as much as he loves Jongup and his innate sweetness, Yongguk and Himchan are just made for each other.

Yongguk sighs and puts a hand over his eyes. “Look at what I’m surrounded by. Karma I tell you this is.”

“If this is what you call Karma then you must have saved a planet in your previous life,” Himchan says drily. “A guy who died to stand by your side, and two silly kids who are unwilling to sacrifice your soul to gain happiness. What a dire life you lead.”

“Himchan!” Yongguk whines. It’s an unfamiliar tone to Youngjae and Daehyun, a sort of low husky pout. They blink in horror to see Himchan coo over it.

“Aww Bbang, you know it doesn’t work on me.”

Yongguk frowns and turns away. Youngjae swears though that he can see a small smile threating at the edges of his lips.

“So what do we do now?” Youngjae says, returning to the matter at hand. “Dae isn’t going to go back, not if it costs your soul Yongguk. And I won’t return without Dae. So where does that leave us?”

“You won’t go back?” Daehyun says, brow furrowing sweetly like it always does when he’s worried about something out of his hands. (And when he’s hungry and the fridge empty).

“Not without you,” Youngjae says firmly. “I’m never leaving you again.”

Daehyun grins wide and stretches up to press a chaste kiss to Youngjae’s cheek. Youngjae’s feel a small glow burn, starting at the bottom of his stomach and spreading to the tips of his fingers and toes. He’s definitely never leaving Daehyun ever again. He’s gone to the ends of the earth for him, and he’ll go from here to where ever else is required.

Yongguk sighs, deep and loud. “I don’t know then. You guys can’t stay here forever either. You know just as well that Daehyun’s soul will expire in ten days’ time. And you Youngjae, you may not be fully dead but your soul won’t last forever here either.” Besides him Himchan’s smile fades. Youngjae remembers all too well that though they have ten days left to decide, Himchan only has three.

“So go on together,” a new voice pipes up. It’s high and reedy, accompanied by a set of long legs and blonde hair. Choi Junhong.

“Junhong,” Yongguk frowns, the way a father would at his naughty five year old son disobeying orders. “You know that’s not possible. Their souls will separate at the ether world. I can’t control where they go.”

“Yeah, but I remember a certain someone saying once upon a time that even if the chances were one in a million they would still go.” Zelo raises both eyebrows tauntingly at the certain someone.

Youngjae returns the snarky glance. “And if I recall correctly it was more of a one in a hundred thousand million billion chance.”

Zelo makes a small ‘psh’ sound and waves one hand disarmingly at Youngjae. “Details,” he dismisses.

Besides him there’s a small sound of a suppressed laugh. “You may not be able to control where the souls end up, but you can make it so that wherever they do end up, they end up together.”

“Jongup?” Himchan gasps, taking an involuntary step forwards at the sight of the purple-haired boy.

“Hey hyung,” Jongup greets him cheerfully.

“W-what are you doing here?” Himchan stammers, hands floundering at his side like he wants to touch Jongup to check he’s real but is restraining himself.

“What else?” Jongup replies with a bright smile. “I’m here to help save you.”

“But-“ Himchan starts.

And Yongguk cuts him off. “Junhong, what is he saying? Keeping souls together through the ether world? It’s not been heard of before!”  

Junhong nods, a blonde flop of his fringe. “Yeah, well I’ve been around here almost as long as you have hyung,” he says. “And whilst you’ve been preoccupied with being perfect at your job, I’ve been preoccupied with exploring this world. And there was one story I heard: the myth of the Red String.”

“But Junhong,” Yongguk interrupts. “That’s just a myth.”

“All myths have a basis,” Jongup says. “There’s no smoke without a fire.”

“Don’t get all smart on me kid,” Himchan says sharply, sounding very suddenly like the older brother he is. “I taught you those phrases. Don’t turn them back on me.”

Youngjae feels his back straighten involuntarily as the memories of his older brother ‘teaching’ him comes to mind. 

Jongup however just grins cheerily back at him. Youngjae has a feeling that Himchan and Jongup’s brotherly relationship is not at all like his own. For one, Jongup doesn’t seem to show the say subservient respect that Youngjae had for his brilliant brother. For seconds, Himchan doesn’t seem to be able to enforce said respect either.

Daehyun intervenes. “What is this myth about?” he asks.

Junhong chooses to explain. “Legends say that soulmates tied together by a red string become bound in the afterlife so that no matter where they are or when they exist, they are together or will be together eventually. Do you understand hyung?”

“Are you saying that with this ‘red string’ Yongguk can tie my soul to Daehyun’s. So that no matter where the ether world sends us we’ll be together.” Youngjae interjects.

Junhong nods, eyes bright and sharp. “Right hyung.”

“Is that even possible?” Yongguk says, sounding disbelieving.

“It is,” Jongup says. “Because I’ve met someone who’s been around longer than you have hyung. And she told me it’s possible.”

“H-how?” Yongguk asks.

“It began with Hana-noona,” Jongup says. “I met her when I was still alive. It was after Himchan died and I didn’t know what to do. She told me that she could see Death and traces of death. She told me about you Yongguk-hyung, and that ever since her twin died protecting her in a car crash she could see you. But unlike Himchan-hyung, she chose to live. She became a photographer and she travelled the world. In the process she heard a lot of stories about death.” 

“I don’t know if you guys knew, but when hyung died to follow Himchan-hyung, I was the one who found him first,” Junhong says.

Youngjae shoots Yongguk a questioning look. Yongguk nods his assent to the story. “I only sense when people are supposed to die, and then I come to collect their souls. To those who commit suicide or are killed unfairly, they’re much harder to detect. I knew Himchan wanted to kill himself and so I was around when he did so, and for you Youngjae, well, Daehyun asked me to watch over you. All that talk about suicide preventing entry to heaven and so on? It comes from the fact that I can't track down the suicide souls as easily, so they tend to wander, lost, until their souls expire. In most cases suicide souls don't get the chance to be reborn. But Jongup?" Yongguk shakes his head in disbelief at his own naiveté. "I barely even sensed his soul entering. Such a quiet personality he had, I couldn’t fathom what grand goals he had in mind.” 

Junhong offers his hyung a small smile. “You couldn’t have known. Jongup-hyung is super sneaky.”

Jongup harumphs, looking insulted that he’s become the bad guy of the scenario. “Back to the story,” he huffs. “When I died, Hana-noona came with me. Only she wasn’t planning on going back to the living world. She had enough of it and wanted to simply know about the world after living.”

“She left after leaving Jongup-hyung in my care,” Junhong continues. 

Jongup nods. “But then after I met you Youngjae-hyung, I bumped into noona again. You told me to be happy. So I thought about it again and again. And when I met her again I asked for her advice, and she took me to meet Hyosung-noona.”

“H-Hyosung,” Yongguk chokes. Himchan helpfully pats his back. “And she told you this?” 

Jongup nods again. “Apparently Hana-noona had met Hyosung-noona on her explorations, and she said Hyosung-noona knew everything to do with death.”

“That’s an understatement,” Yongguk mutters under his breath. “And apparently she doesn’t like sharing.”

Jongup continues as if Yongguk hadn’t spoken. “Hyosung-noona told us that the myth of the Red String is true and we could use it to tie hyung’s souls together.”

 “So it’s possible,” Himchan whispers. It’s like a gasp of relief, sweet and cool.

And Daehyun, quiet for so long, finally speaks. “And can you do it?” he asks feverishly, as if he doesn’t want to spoil the possibility of this good news by speaking too loudly. He looks to Junhong and Jongup.. “Tie Youngjae and me together? Our souls? Forever?”

“I can’t,” Junhong shakes his head. “But Yongguk can. Only Death can.”

Daehyun turns his head towards Yongguk. “Please,” he begs, eyes wide and puppy-ish.

“I…don’t know how…” Yongguk says, looking down at trembling hands. “What if I mess up?”

“But you won’t,” Himchan says softly, taking Yongguk’s hands in his own. “You never have.”

“It’s simple,” Jongup says, stepping forwards. “Hyosung-noona says you have to envision a spool of red string in your hand. Like everything else in Death’s arsenal, all it takes is some imagination. Just think and make it appear.”

Himchan lets go of one of Yongguk’s hand, gripping the other encouragingly. Yongguk draws a deep breath and stares at his open palm hard. He squints and frowns, and the air fizzles, and a red spool of string snakes out of thin air, bright and vibrantly vermillion. 

“There you go!” Jongup cheers.

Yongguk just lets out a small shuddering breath of relief.

“Now tie it around hyung’s ankles,” Junhong instructs, and Yongguk lets go of Himchan’s hand so that he can kneel and unwind the spool slowly, unravelling it around Youngjae’s ankle. He tied a perfect knot and tugs it to test its strength. It holds, firm and strong. He then unwinds it further and ties a second knot around Daehyun’s ankle.

“Done,” Yongguk breathes and steps backwards. He produces a pair of scissors and snips off the excess string.

And there it lies, a brilliant shade of red connecting the two, red as the pump of a heartbeat.

Daehyun and Youngjae stare at it with wonder. Their eyes travel from their ankles and meet in the middle, traversing upwards and they are staring each other in the eyes, mouth hanging open.

Youngjae holds out one hand and Daehyun takes it.

“You’ll have to leave your family behind,” Daehyun says.

“I know,” Youngjae whispers back. “But they’ll understand. Life is too short to not put love first.”

“I love you, you know that?” Daehyun smiles.

“I know pabo,” Youngjae replies and grips Daehyun’s hand tightly. There’s a broad grin on his face. “I came this far just for you, you little brat. I don’t think declarations of love come any bigger.”

Daehyun pulls a face and sticks out his tongue. Youngjae is quick to tap his lightly on the nose in retaliation “So what now,” Daehyun asks, eyes tracking Youngjae’s finger as if he’s contemplating biting it. “I mean we’re at my end seas so, um, what happens next? Or does Jae need to be at his end seas as well?”

“No. His ends seas are where you are,” Yongguk says. “So this will happen.” Yongguk jerks his head to the seas behind them, and they all turn in time to see a large shadow cast over the oceans. It’s huge. A giant boat, long and built thin like a canoe, but made of dark wood and towering high. A single oar is propped over the side, and slowly but surely it steers the boat to the edge of the beach.

“Is that...?” Youngjae stares.

“The Chariot,” Junhong says. “The boat that ferries you to the Ether world where souls are purified and reborn.”

“So all we have to do is step onto it?” Daehyun asks, staring upwards as the boat lurches to a halt, tall and imposing. It is nearly ten feet tall, and it towers over all of them.

“Payment first,” a sweet voice chimes, feminine and light. All six look up to see a head pop over the top of the boat.

“Hey Hyosung,” Yongguk greets the pretty girl that waves at them.

“Who is she?”

“The Ferrier,” Yongguk says, watching as the spritely girl leaps over the edge of the boat and lands with the grace of a cat on the beach front. She stands and pushes the cowl of her black cloak back to reveal a pale skin and soft white-grey hair. She’s gorgeous, and three of the six boys stare open mouthed.

“Hey noona,” Jongup chirps and Hyosung blows him a kiss.

“I-it’s you!” Daehyun cries and points. Youngjae swats his hand for being rude. The girl just winks at him before strolling over to Yongguk. Yongguk pulls her in for a chaste hug. Junhong blushes when Hyosung pulls him in for a big hug.

“You just keep growing kid,” Hyosung complains as she compares heights with Junhong. “Stop it!”

“Noona, I don’t grow in the afterlife. I was like this before I died,” Junhong protests.

“Nonsense,” Hyosung shakes her head. “You’re drinking some secret growth formula right! I could’ve sworn you were like ten centimeters shorter last I saw you.”

“Noooona!” Junhong whines.

“Just kidding kid,” Hyosung smiles wide and presses a kiss to his cheek, stretching on her tip toes to do so. Junhong blushes to the roots of his blonde hair.

When Hyosung does the same to Jongup the kid just smiles. Junhong wishes sometimes that his hyung could stop acting so cool because Junhong is technically a hundred years older than he is, so why is he the one blushing!

Hyosung strolls over to stand in front of Daehyun and Youngjae, her eyes scanning them over. They cower under her glance. “So are these two kids ready to travel?” she asks. “They look like they need to grow a bit more first.”

“Hyosung,” Yongguk says good-naturedly. “Stop teasing them.”

Hyosung rolls her eyes. “Don’t kill what remaining fun I have left in life.”

“You mean death right?” Jongup interjects. “Noona,” he amends with a sun-bright smile.

Hyosung just sighs, hands on her hips. “Details,” she waves one hand at him. “More importantly, payment you two.” She holds out an open palm towards them.

“Um? What?” Youngjae covers his chest with crossed arms.

Hyosung pulls a face. “I’m not trying to steal your chastity kid.”

“It’s your souls she wants,” Yongguk explains. “She can only ferry you over in your soul form. Her payment is that she gets to read your hopes and dreams on the way over.”

“A good bedtime story,” Hyosung grins and rubs her hands together. “And you two look so tasty.”

“Uhhh,” Daehyun slowly backs to behind Youngjae.

“Hyosung’s just teasing,” Yongguk says before the two bunnies bolt. “All she does is read your lives like a book whilst she ferries you over. It helps her cope with her boredom.”  

“Yup,” Hyosung chirps. “Nothing bad will happen I promise. And look, someone did a nice job tying the strings here. You two don’t have to worry about getting separated.”

“Why didn’t you tell me about the strings before Hyo?” Yongguk says sounding a little exasperated.

 “But where’s the fun is there in that?” Hyosung replies with an expression of mock misery. Yongguk face palms.

“I give up,” he groans. 

Himchan rubs his shoulders reassuringly.

“Now back to the matter at hand. Your souls.” Both Youngjae and Daehyun flinch involuntarily. “C’mon,” Hyosung waved her open hand at them. “It won’t hurt.”

“Yeah I’ve seen countless souls go this way,” Junhong chips in. “It’s painless.”

“Uh-huh.” Daehyun doesn’t look convinced.

“How about if another pair of souls went with you?” Jongup says suddenly. Everyone looks to him, frowning at the suggestion.

“Whose?” Himchan asks, hands still rubbing Yongguk’s shoulders.

Jongup looks at him evenly, shoulders squared and set. “Yours hyung,” he says. “Yours and Yongguk-hyung’s.”

“Jongup-“ Himchan starts, but Junhong cuts him off with a small smirk on his face.

“He’s right hyung,” Junhong says. “We don’t need two old geezers around here filling the air with their stories of do you remember when I was fifteen and got so drunk that I wore underpants on my head to visit my ex-girlfriend and-

“I’ve never done that!” Himchan yelps, a little too quickly and Junhong snickers. Himchan settles for shooting a dark glare at Jongup, who merely deflects it off with a sniff. 

“What Junhong’s trying to say is that your soul is going to expire soon hyung,” Jongup says gently. “So why don’t you and Yongguk-hyung move on together with them. We can bind your souls together like Youngjae and Daehyun-hyung and everything will be fine.”

“But who will take over my job then?” Yongguk says.

“I will,” Jongup says solemnly.

Yongguk stares at him. “What?”

Jongup meets his eyes unwaveringly. “I’ll take up the position of being Death.”

“Jongup-“ Himchan whispers, reaching out with one hand for him. Jongup stops him.

“Don’t hyung,” he says gently. “Those hands aren’t meant for me. They’re for Yongguk hyung.”

“Jongup,” Himchan sighs. “I still love you know you. Just not in the same way you want me to love you.”

“I know you do,” Jongup says, not an ounce of bitterness in his voice. “And that’s why I’m telling you to go with Yongguk-hyung. You two deserve each other, and the only way for you two to be together is if I become Death so that Yongguk-hyung can become a free soul and move on together with you.”

“But Jongup,” Yongguk intervenes before Himchan can say a word. “Being Death is a huge responsibility. It will be lonely and long and you never know when the next soul will come along to relinquish your position.”

“I know that hyung,” Jongup bows his head. “It will be long and I will never know when the end will come, but hyung, don’t forget, I have Junhong with me.”

Jongup turns to look at Junhong, eyes shining. Junhong gives him an encouraging nod and a small shy smile. “And we won’t ever be lonely.”

Yongguk stares with wonder. This may just work.

“Are you sure Jongup?” Yongguk asks, one last time. For formalities sake.

Jongup turns back to Yongguk. “I am,” he says, head held high, eyes sparkling.

“Then,” Yongguk steps forwards, narrowing the distance between him and Jongup to nothing. “Hyosung, will you watch over the procession?”

Hyosung, who has been quiet until now, speaks in a subdued voice. “I will.”

“Then,” Yongguk turns to Jongup. “I pass to you the powers and the responsibilities of Death. It will not be an easy road, neither a short one. But it will be a road with much meaning, and much to learn. Moon Jongup. I recognize you as a worthy soul, and I pass on the mantle of Death.” Without losing eye contact with the younger, Yongguk shrugs off his heavy black jacket and settles it about Jongup’s shoulders. It’s heavy, heavier than Jongup expected and his knees feel like they’re going to buckle. But then there’s Junhong by his side who grips his wrist with one hand, and suddenly Jongup knows he can handle it. He straightens up.

“Stay strong,” Yongguk whispers so that only Jongup can hear him, and then he leans forwards to press a kiss to his forehead. Jongup feels a jolt of energy rush through him, shocking every fibre of his being and spreading throughout his bones. It’s energizing and it’s draining, and it’s a sensation akin to being struck by lightning. Through Yongguk’s lips and to Jongup’s core, he can feel the power pulsate.

And then Yongguk is pulling away and Jongup feels different. He stares at his hands which still look like his hands, and feet which still look like his feet. And he looks up at Junhong who looks down at him, lower lip being chewed, and eyes wide and expectant.

“How do you feel?” Yongguk asks, sounding still like the same old hyung.

“Different?” Jongup says in a whisper, and it feels like the crackle of electricity. He turns his hands over but they still look normal.

“You don’t look different,” Himchan whispers, afraid to come any closer. This is his same dongsaeng but at the same time a very, very different person. It’s his eyes. They crackle with power and glow with an unearthly white gleam. Despite the rest of Jongup looking bodily the same, his eyes speak volumes about how different he now is.

“I’m not all that different,” Jongup says gently, smiling at Himchan the same old foolish Jongup smile, and Himchan’s exterior cracks. He rushes over and tugs Jongup in a large hug.

“Ouch!” Himchan exclaims and lets go.

“What’s wrong?” Yongguk rushes forwards, pulling Himchan back and inspecting him all over. “Are you okay? Are you hurt?”

“No,” Himchan winced and pushes Yongguk off him. “It was just like…an electric shock, that’s all.”

“It must be his powers getting used to a new host,” Hyosung explains, watching them all with the eye of a wise sage. “It’ll disappear soon.”

“Now,” Hyosung claps her hands loudly, drawing all their attention. “We don’t have much time left. Yongguk’s soul will expire in less than a day now that he is no longer Death, and we have three other souls waiting to be ferried across. Jongup, let’s tie Yongguk and Himchan’s string together and then I can ferry them all over.”

Jongup nods his head and with Junhong by his side, envisions the spool of red thread. It appears in his hands, bright and brilliant. Yongguk watches and realizes that Jongup might make a better Death than he ever was. Compassion, imagination and friendship. Jongup has everything he needs.

They all watch as Jongup kneels and swiftly ties one end of the string around Yongguk’s ankle, and then around Himchan’s, lingering slightly longer at Himchan.

“Thank you,” Himchan whispers as Jongup tugs the knot to check it. He strokes Jongup’s right cheek gently, and this time there are no sparks. “I’m sorry, for not being able to love you like I should have.”

Jongup simply produces a small knife and snips the string. Both vanish back into his invisible arsenal.

Jongup cups one hand to Himchan’s cheek. “Don’t be, okay?” he whispers. “Just be happy. That’s all I ever wanted of you.” He enfolds Himchan into a warm hug and Himchan honestly doesn’t ever want to let go. He’s selfish that way. He has the one he loves now but he still wants his dongsaeng by his side. And his new found friends as well. Youngjae, Daehyun and Junhong.

“Wouldn’t it be nice if one day we could all be together again?” Himchan muses, eyes shut and cheek against Jongup’s sturdy chest. “Together every day, just laughing and singing and being silly together?”

“One day,” Yongguk promises, even though he is a man who does not make promises lightly. And so Himchan knows it will come to be. Yongguk takes Himchan’s hand as Jongup lets go, and together they walk over to where Hyosung stands by her boat. She watches over them expressionlessly.

“Goodbye,” Yongguk says, smiling at the other four.

“No,” Himchan shakes his head. “You mean, ‘until next time’, right?”

Yongguk smiles, wide and brilliant. “Of course.” Because this is where it truly shines that Himchan is his other half, picking up where Yongguk stumbles. “Until next time,” he says, amending his words.

“Wait hyung!” Youngjae says abruptly, quiet for so long, but he can’t hold it in any more.

“Yes?” Yongguk looks to him expectantly.

“I…I never got to say this before, but, thank you,” Youngjae bows his head low, almost ninety degrees. Daehyun looks at him for a moment, and then bows in tandem.

Daehyun speaks first. “Yeah, thank you hyung,” he says, a little shyly. “For making that promise to keep Youngjae safe.”

“Well I didn’t really fulfil it did I,” Yongguk exhales. “I mean he still died and all…”

“But you brought us together,” Daehyun says with shining eyes. “And now we can be together forever. So thank you.”

“That was more of Jongup and Junhong,” Yongguk says, waving his hand at the younger two.

“Thank you for that as well,” Youngjae says gratefully to the two. “And Jongup?”

“Yeah?”

“I hope you find happiness wherever you go,” Youngjae says.

Jongup grins wide and gives Youngjae a thumbs up. “You too hyung.”

“You too Himchan,” Youngjae nods to the older. “Like you said, it’s okay to be selfish. Because life is short and because we’re human.”

“And because we love,” Himchan finishes.

“Take good care of him kid,” Yongguk addresses Daehyun. “You won’t find many guys out there who’ll go to the ends of the earth for you.”

“I know that,” Daehyun says and grips Youngjae’s hand tightly. “You don’t need to tell me that again. I’m lucky to have him.”

Yongguk nods and turns him and Himchan back, so that they stand together, hand in hand, in front of Hyosung. She reaches out with both hands and presses them flat to each of their chests.

“Stay strong you two,” she says gently. The second parting is for Yongguk alone. He has been her longtime partner, one of the four she has seen come and go. To see him go and know the chances of them meeting again are slim indeed saddens her. But Hyosung has watched Yongguk for a long time now and knows this is what he deserves. Perhaps he did save a planet in his previous life. “Bye Guk,” she whispers and kisses his cheek one last time.

“Bye Hyo,” he says sadly. He too knows they are unlikely to meet again. 

“Take care of him Himchan,” Hyosung says to the other who nods, because that is a promise in itself. She smiles back and then pushes her hands so that they sink into the two boy’s chests and she can see through their skin and bone and in the center is a sphere, soft as a feather and bright as the sun.

“See you on the other side Channie,” Yongguk says, his final words for the one he loves.

“See you there Bbang,” Himchan smiles and leans over to kiss him, mouth to mouth, lips on lips, and it’s a beautiful entwining of skin. Hyosung clasps her hands around their souls and slowly, in one smooth motion, extracts their souls from their body. For one moment their souls are in her hands but the faint outlines of their bodies still stand. And then in the next they evaporate and vanish with the wind, and all that is left are two souls, one pure white as a dove’s wing, and the other a stolid grey, like smoke from a warming fire. Connecting the two is a red string, strong and proud. Hyosung places the souls gently in a bag at her waist. She tucks them in with the caring touch of a mother.

Then she looks up at Youngjae and Daehyun. “Your turn now,” she says softly. “Are you ready?”

Youngjae nods, and tugs on Daehyun’s hand. Pulls him over.

“No matter where you are when we wake up, I’ll find you okay?" Youngjae promises, gripping Daehyun’s hand so tight it almost hurts him. But its pain that Daehyun is willing to receive.

“No,” Daehyun shakes his head. When Youngjae turns, looking puzzled, he explains. “I’ll be the one to find you this time.”

Youngjae grins, wide and uninhibited, and it’s a promise there as well. “Then you better keep it pabo,” he whispers and leans his head against Daehyun’s. “I’ll take you out for grilled meat when you do. So you better keep that promise.”

Daehyun laughs and leans into Youngjae as Hyosung presses her hands to both their chests, and clasps the souls inside.

“It’s a promise,” he whispers, and their outlines vanish and Hyosung is left holding another pair of souls: one a gentle hazy blue, and the other a faint red. She pockets them carefully.

“And that’s it,” Hyosung says, dusting her hands and looking at the remaining two on the beach. “Will you guys be lonely?”

“Maybe a little,” Junhong confesses. “But Jongup-hyung has a lot of learn and see, so we’ll be occupied for a few decades or so.”

“I’ll drop in to check on you two from time to time,” Hyosung promises. “After I deliver these souls I’ll show you how relations between Death and the Ferrier work, okay?”

Jongup nods. “Okay noona.”

“Take care then you two,” she says, throwing up her cowl and leaping gracefully onto the bow of her boat.

“We will,” Junhong promises and they wave and watch her go. When she’s boarded the boat properly and is out of sight, her oar dipped back into the choppy water and the boat heading out for the sea and somewhere further on that neither two boys will ever see for years to come, only then do the two turn and offer each other a smile.

“So where shall we go first hyung?” Junhong asks, hands in pockets, but smile wider that it has been in years.  

“I don’t know,” Jongup yawns and stretches, heavy jacket swaying on his shoulders, a mantle of responsibility. He decides he may need a wardrobe change first. If he’s learned anything from Yongguk-hyung it’s that appearances matter and he’s got to live up to his hyung’s name. But more importantly-

“How about some food?” he suggests, and as if on command, his stomach growls.

“Hyung!” Junhong admonishes. “We’re not supposed to get hungry!”

“Eh?” Jongup blinks. “But then does that mean we’ll never get to eat food again? Pizza? Burgers? We can’t eat those stuff?”

“Well we can eat them,” Junhong hedges. “But we don’t need to…”

“Well if we can, then we should!” Jongup says brightly and grabs Junhong by the hand, tugging him forwards. “So what’s good to eat in Busan?”

“I don’t know!” Junhong protests. “It’s not like I’ve ever come here to eat before!”

“Well then we’ll explore!” Jongup says decisively. “Shall we have pizza first? Or maybe BBQ? Or not, hmm, burgers is probably for the best. Have you ever tried burgers Junhong? No? Well then, you’re in for a surprise.”

Junhong just stares.

“What?” Jongup notices his glances, stopping and turning around.

Junhong bursts out laughing. “Nothing hyung,” he says with mirth. “I just think the next few decades will be great fun if you’re around.”

Jongup grins to that. “Of course it will be. And then I can introduce you to music. I bet you’re behind times. Have you heard of Chris Brown?”

“Can’t say I have,” Junhong wrinkles his nose. “What sort of name is that? Curisss Buuround?”

“Nooo,” Jongup wails, shaking Junhong by the shoulders. “Chris. Brown.”

“Cuuurise…”

“No, no, no! Repeat after me. Chris. Brown.”

“Slower hyung! I’m not good at English!”

“Huh? But haven’t you been exploring the world for like the past century or so?”

“Yeah, but I never really paid attention to languages hyung!”

“Well you should. How else will you understand what Chris Brown is singing about? Right. First thing is food, then is a karaoke bar, and then-“

And then there is laughter and two boys stumbling away into the distance. Hyosung watches them go from her boat, knowing that thought those two are young, they will take care of each other well. And in her pocket she feels the warmth of four beating hearts thrum in time with one another. She places one hand over them and feels their hopes and dreams spill out, sweet melody to her ears.

It’s time to take them home.

She raises her oar, dips it in and slowly but surely steers them forwards, through still black waters and silvery straits and towards another world and another time, and another loop of love to be continued.

And in the sky a pink star twinkles to lead the way. It sparkles and throbs like a heartbeat as if to say, stay strong and believe. Because love conquers all. And the stars will always shine for you. You may have reached the ends of the earth, but this is not the end of your love. May you travel far and wide, and live and love.

And so they do.

*