I.

                                                                                                           HOW IT BEGINS

when yoongi thinks of jeongguk, he thinks of red.

red like his pretty, cherry lips. red like his cheeks when he flushes. red like his easy, steadfast love. red like the fire within him.

it’s a known fact that jeongguk has never done anything in his life without passion. from the beginning, since they first met, yoongi has known – has seen, that when jeongguk sets himself out to do something, he gives, and gives, and gives, until he’s withered up and gasping because he is just that eager to give all of himself away.

there’s a flame that ignites right under jeongguk's skin, and it flows through his body, and his nerves, and his bones, and consumes from inside out both jeongguk and whomever it is that revolves around him. whomever it is that's too close – close enough to touch. yoongi eventually found out, early in them, that he was the one who was often that close, which consequently caused him to burn with the leftover heat that emanated from jeongguk’s very soul.

yoongi loved it, embraced everything and all that came from jeongguk, and especially if that meant that he’d be close. in truth, that’s all he ever, ever wanted. to be close, close, close, to lose himself in jeongguk, to hide his cowardly, weak heart behind jeongguk’s much stronger and braver one. he welcomed the heat when it meant that they'd be. he was more impassioned when jeongguk was around, more productive. something in jeongguk made him more inspired, more in touch with himself. he was euphoric, he needed to put out as much music, as much beats, as much lyrics as possible, because being with jeongguk made him feel too much, made him feel like he was living. there was always something, always more, and he doesn’t think he’s ever gotten as much work done quite like he did in the four years they've been together.

he is honestly lucky, he thinks. lucky to have jeongguk love him back just the same, to have jeongguk as obsessed with him as he is. when jeongguk looks at him, there is fire in his eyes.

but that was before. it took him a while to realize that something had changed, and jeongguk wasn’t as hot beneath his fingers as he once was, and the fire in his eyes had dulled to a faint glimmer.

jeongguk was always beautiful. he shined, bright and pure and gorgeous under the sky. the sun loved him so much that it embraced him tightly, so warm and kind, whenever he stepped out into the world – and jeongguk’s skin was always glowing peachy golden for it, carrying the mark of the sun's adoration.

jeongguk was always beautiful, but he avoided the sky now. his body has grown too weak to stroll down the park together with yoongi, hand in hand as they used to every saturday afternoon. his skin still tried to desperately latch onto the sun’s affections, but soon enough even that began to seep out from him, leaving his skin greyish and matte. he was cold to the touch.

yoongi didn’t know what to do.

“here, sweet ggukie, open up for hyung,” yoongi encourages, bringing the spoon up closer to jeongguk’s stubbornly closed mouth. he sighs. “come on, baby. hyung made your favourite soup just for you, because hyung loves you.” yoongi isn’t above a little guilt-tripping anymore, not if it'll eventually get jeongguk to eat.

jeongguk rolls his eyes, recognizing what yoongi’s doing, but ultimately opening his mouth to accept the spoonful of chicken soup.

“good boy. thank you, baby,” yoongi praises, and jeongguk flushes a pretty pink. yoongi, if anything, is glad and humbled by the fact that he seems able, still, to cause such reaction in him.

jeongguk is halfway done with the soup by the time he complains about his stomach hurting, and yoongi allows the spoon to rest only because jeongguk does look decently well-fed and rested, for the first time in many weeks. he places the bowl on the nightstand, before moving one of his hands to begin rubbing on jeongguk’s tummy.

“how do you feel?” yoongi asks, lifting his free hand to push jeongguk’s hair, that’s a little damp with sweat, away from his forehead. there’s a light sheen covering his skin, prominent from his fever meds added to the heat of the soup. there’s deep, dark shadows under his eyes from exhaustion – from sleepless nights spent rolling around in bed, in pain, suffering. yoongi is helpless at the sight of him.

“feel fine, hyung, worry too much,” jeongguk murmurs, an undeniable pout beginning to form on his lips. cute.

yoongi huffs, pulling at the pout with his thumb and forefinger, which of course only causes jeongguk to grumble and whine. yoongi’s heart is full, full, full of love inside his chest.

there’s a comfortable silence covering them then, nothing but the sound of breathing inside their minimally decorated room. they decorated it themselves, as they did the rest of their tiny studio apartment. the walls are full of jeongguk's paintings, and the pictures he used to take with their old cannon camera. the walls are painted with a cool, sleek matte black, and the only bursts of colour come from jeongguk’s own work. it makes yoongi smile when he sees it, when he thinks of how that’s paralleled with so many other aspects of their lives. jeongguk has always been the one source of light and colour and joy in yoongi's life – and he always came to jeongguk when he needed a little cheering up or motivation. naturally, the same courtesy, the same love, is offered back to jeongguk whenever he needs it. it makes yoongi happy, it does, to take care of jeongguk.

but.

if yoongi’s being honest, if he’s being truly, painfully honest, it has been taking a toll on him having to care for jeongguk in this situation. yoongi feels hopeless, and a little bit useless, and a lot like he should be making so much more for jeongguk than he currently is. he knows, intellectually, that there are limits to the comfort he can offer – and he knows that jeongguk will indefinitely feel pain, even when yoongi tries his fucking hardest to keep it from happening. he knows, of course he knows, but still...

it’s painful. it’s pain to see someone who's just so full of light, of excitement, of fire, to be confined into a bed. it’s painful to see someone who’s meant to be loved and kissed by the sun every day turn bleak and grey and deprived of its blinding beams, of its blinding life. it’s painful to see your love, your only love, yoongi’s only love, on an endless loop of suffering that seems to have no end. or, one end. that, however, is something yoongi won’t speak about. refuses to. can’t. but god, it’s been hard.

yoongi remember the feeling at the pit of his stomach when jeongguk’s doctor pulled him close, told him that maybe it’s best to just take jeongguk home, make him 'comfortable'. yoongi knew that it was coming, he could see it from the way jeongguk's health showed no improvement regardless of the treatments they tried, could hear it in the way the doctors would whisper amongst themselves right outside the hospital door, voices grave and somber. he knew it was coming, but when it did, when it actually did, he doesn’t think he'll ever forget that feeling – of having your whole life thrown back at your face, your emotions, your hope, your love, thrown back at you to tell you that it was all powerless in the end.

yoongi felt it, felt hope soak up his bones in such way, in such an overwhelming way that it'd be impossible for jeongguk not to heal afterwards. that hope itself, that belief alone would heal him. yoongi was sure of it, but then he wasn’t – because the doctor pulled him close and told to take his love home and care for him the best he could.  

jeongguk took the news way better than he did. he had no expression on his face during the talk with the doctor, so much so that the man – doctor choi, even questioned him further, asked him if he understood what those words meant. and jeongguk… he smiled. he looked at death in the face and smile, said yes, there you are, and welcomed it like a friend. yoongi was angry. he couldn’t believe jeongguk’s complacency, his passiveness before the news. he couldn’t understand it. can’t, still.

he cried. a lot. and latched onto jeongguk like a man whose very soul had been taken, and it had, it truly had. doctor choi tried to reason with him, to calm him down, but he could see nothing but jeongguk. and death. and he was scared. jeongguk cried then, mostly from seeing yoongi’s pain than anything else. there was acceptance in the way his tired body moved in that damned hospital bed, and yet his pretty, sunken face was twisted in worry and hurt at the sight of yoongi’s despair. “come here, hyungie, come here,” he said then, eager for yoongi, eager to help, gesturing towards him with grabby hands, pearly tears running down his cheeks. he was so beautiful. he was so fucking beautiful, and yoongi was lost.

yoongi doesn’t know when exactly he began crying, but when he finally comes back to himself, to the present, he is sobbing in earnest as he leans over jeongguk’s torso in the bed.

“hyungie...” jeongguk whispers, whines, and once more he sounds more pained for yoongi than himself.

there’s a comforting weight over yoongi’s head that he recognizes as jeongguk’s gentle hand, caressing his hair. yoongi weeps over his beloved's lap, aching and needing him even though he’s right there, and comforting him when yoongi should be the one taking care of him.

“i tried so hard,” yoongi sobs, trying to explain – he needs jeongguk to understand. “i tried so hard to be strong for you, but i can’t. hyung doesn’t know what to do anymore, gukkie, hyung is so sorry.”

“no, no, hyung, listen to me. listen!” jeongguk screeches, when yoongi doesn’t show signs of hearing him.

there’s silence for a moment, that’s only broken by the sounds of yoongi’s soft hiccups, and jeongguk's anxious breathing.

there’s a heartbeat. another.

“yoongi-hyung, you don’t have to pretend for me,” jeongguk begins, and makes this little noise on his throat to silence yoongi when he opens his mouth to retort. “you don’t. i know, hyungie, my hyungie... i know.”

“you know,” yoongi whispers, sad.

“yes, hyung. i know.”

“do you remember our first date?” yoongi asks, desperate for something. anything.

jeongguk smiles, big and toothy and gorgeous. it pulls a little at the skin of his bony cheeks, but he nods. his eyes are bright with tears.

“i took you to that observatory, remember? to see the stars.”

“of course i remember,” jeongguk giggles, fond, and a little tear runs down his eyes at the motion. “we had our first kiss right there, right on our first date. so raunchy,” he comments, and yoongi laughs. “there was no music, but we still danced for hours under the stars. god, that was the cheesiest first date ever.”

“hey, you loved it,” yoongi teases, still sniffing a little but smiling now, the memory seeping warm on his bones, warm like jeongguk’s gentle hands on his own, playing with his fingers in the way he likes to do.

“i did,” jeongguk agrees, his two big front teeth biting down into his bottom lip. yoongi feels himself go breathless.

they don’t speak anymore, not for a long time. jeongguk naturally understands what yoongi means bringing this up, knows that look of pure earning behind yoongi’s eyes, and motions to stand, a little unsteady, on his feet. yoongi is there to hold him, as he always is. that, he promises himself, will never change. he'll do whatever it takes for jeongguk. whatever it takes.

they don’t go much farther away from the bed, its comforting presence necessary to ground jeongguk enough to move a little more freely. jeongguk’s taller than yoongi, a fact that he prides himself in, and he smirks when he finally stands up fully, eyeing yoongi up and down and wriggling his eyebrows. yoongi huffs, much to jeongguk’s delight – he giggles, soft like wind chimes, and the very sound makes yoongi’s heart bang against the walls of his ribcage like a wild bird wanting to be set free, wanting to fly up high in the air to land right on jeongguk’s palm where it belongs.

jeongguk’s hands are in his again, fitting so well together like they always have, finding home in each other’s touch. in silence, jeongguk lifts their hands to place them over his tiny waist, and if yoongi were to try it, he knows his fingers would be able to surround it to connect right across jeongguk’s back with no effort. letting go, jeongguk then places his own hands right in the middle of yoongi’s chest, close to his heart, so he can feel it drum underneath his palms – his music to dance to.

and then they are swaying, side to side without leaving the same spot, just gently moving to the sound of life outside their apartment as it continues move on around them, even though they still try so hard to keep still in time, wanting to make it last. just a little more, that’s all yoongi wants. just a little more time.

you know, yoongi has lived with depression for many years. he knows all its faces, all the forms that it manifests itself. sometimes it feels like nothing, sometimes it feels like too much. it’s a quiet companion, though a constant one. it lingers, steady and unwavering, and it grows in, in, in.

jeongguk’s illness is nothing like anything yoongi has ever known. it grows out of him, leaking into every corner of their home like a sticky, dense liquid, staining the floors and the walls with gloom. it’s not constant, and it’s certainly not quiet. it sounds like jeongguk hunched over the toilet seat, throwing up nothing but water and two, or maybe three, spoonful’s of soup he had for either lunch or dinner. it sounds like jeongguk’s whines of pain in the night, uncomfortable and sweaty and just wanting it to end. but it also sounds like the occasional good day, when the air inside their home is fresh and full of jeongguk’s precious laughter.

such days, the good ones, usually make yoongi feel that very same thing he felt that night before doctor choi spoke to him and exposed the ugly nerves of the truth that would eventually grow to become their own. it reminds him of that hope he felt then, that maybe things would work out in the end. that jeongguk would heal. that they'd be able to walk down the park again. that jeongguk would be healthy enough to go back to class to continue his art studies, and maybe graduate, and hopefully work in the area he so loved for such a long time. the world would know of him; kids would be taught about his art at school. that’s what yoongi thinks about in the good days.

days much like this, where jeongguk finds the strength in his bones to get up and dance the night away with yoongi once again.

“can you sing for us, hyung?” jeongguk whispers, eyes wide and so full of wonder. god, yoongi loves him so much.

“me? you are the singer between us, sweetheart.”

“no,” jeongguk breathes, shaking his pretty head side to side in denial. he leans forward a little bit, letting his forehead rest on yoongi’s chest. there’s longing in the way he does it, and enough melancholy to make tears fill yoongi’s eyes once again. for a wild moment, it feels like jeongguk’s saying goodbye – and yoongi feels like his whole world is slipping through his fingers. “love your voice, hyung. want to hear it before going to sleep.”

“are you sleepy, baby?” yoongi asks – tiny. afraid.

jeongguk shakes his head again, shakes it no. yoongi feels as if his insides have turned into cold, ruthless iron. sleep. jeongguk wants to sleep, but he’s not sleepy. so what is he? they both know. of course they do. it’s another type of tiredness that’s latching onto jeongguk’s bones.

so yoongi sings. heart in his throat, love nested between his arms. they are no longer moving, just standing there holding each other as yoongi sings, and supports most of jeongguk’s body weight. he sings, sings, sings his whole soul out of his mouth. sings about longing, about hurting, about first loves. jeongguk’s pliant in his arms, visibly tired but yoongi can tell, even though that the angle is a little awkward, that he still has both his eyes open. always attentive, regardless of anything. always observant. it’s one of the many things that yoongi adores about him. how he sees the world. how he’s always curious.

he can tell right away when jeongguk starts crying, by the way his chest start feeling a little damp, and the way jeongguk’s frail body wretches slightly from his sobs. yoongi’s heart burns inside his chest, but he doesn’t stop singing. jeongguk needs the catharsis, and he’s more than glad to be able to offer it. he knows his sweetheart, however, and he knows it certainly won’t help at all if yoongi brings attention to his crying, so he just sings. and waits.

“i don’t want to die, hyung,” jeongguk sobs, whines, and doesn’t that just completely shatters yoongi’s heart. and doesn’t that just completely makes him want to die. want to switch places with him. want anything but this. “i don’t want to go – don’t make me go, hyung.”

“you won’t, sweetheart. i promise you.”

“how?” he wails in response, little fists grabbing onto the front of yoongi’s shirt, and shaking him back and worth. desperate. wanting to understand. “how?”

“do you trust me, jeongguk?”

“what? i – yes, hyung, but–”

“then you won’t die.”

jeongguk pulls away from him then as to take a better look at yoongi’s face. he looks so confused – pretty face scrunched up in pain, bottom lip jutting out into a pout. his once fiery eyes shine, though this time from tears rather than the stars who usually nest there. 

“i don’t understand, yoongi.”

yoongi shakes his head, and opts not to say anything else for now. there’s no need for words anymore, and yoongi has sat still in his misery for way too long. it was when jeongguk burst into tears in his arms that he understood. now he sees that the time has come. words won’t help jeongguk anymore. it’s time for action.

whatever it takes, he promised himself. he promised jeongguk. whatever it takes.

so he helps jeongguk back into bed, tucks him in warm and nice, and ignores the look on jeongguk’s eyes. he can feel it like a touch on him, on his every movement, but if he looks at jeongguk right now he might want to just lie down with him, hold him tight, wait for morning to come – and he doesn’t have the luxury to do that now. he thinks then, for the first time after many years, of the old map he cemented on the ground of his childhood home. thinks of what it means. thinks of his mother, and wherever it is she might be by now. he hasn’t seen her in a long, long time. his chest is heavy, and he breathes through it – tired. exhausted.

jeongguk doesn’t comment anymore, having exhausted himself as well with their dancing, and the retching of his body when he cried seemingly has made him sore. he’s still sniffing a little bit, big nose looking adorably red, and he just looks at yoongi like he always does. this time around, however, there’s something behind his eyes that tell yoongi that jeongguk’s certainly not letting him off the hook, he’s just letting him be, for now, because he’s seen how determined yoongi seems to be. and maybe, just maybe, it won’t hurt him too much to have just a tad bit of hope that there’s something that his hyung can do for him. either way, he’s too tired to question. he just wants to rest.

there is something, indeed, that his hyung can do, and little does his sweet love knows – but yoongi does. and he’s going back home to retrieve it. whatever it takes.

he waits for jeongguk to fall asleep before leaving. the younger always had the habit of sleeping with one of his little hands fisted on the sleeve of yoongi’s shirt, and he grumbles in his stupor when yoongi pulls his fingers apart and away from him. he knows must go, immediately, while he’s still brave. he promised jeongguk, and he’ll make it happen.

/

as yoongi came to find out, the travel back home by train isn’t actually that long, just about half an hour. it should surprise him in some way, and yet it doesn’t. he should’ve known that, even though he’s been trying so hard to run away from it, it’s impossible to run from the past. it knows how to run too, and it catches up with you sooner or later. he should’ve known that, even subconsciously, he’d end up close to his birthplace and all the secrets it hides between its walls. secrets he has helped create and hide. in truth, he never wanted to go back. he’s not ready to face the life he’s run away from, but for jeongguk… for jeongguk he’d do anything. for jeongguk he’d look into the eyes of his worst fears and tell them to fuck right off – and that’s exactly what he plans to do.

the house, as it turns out, is just how he remembered. it’s old, decaying, and as scary looking as it always has been. it purposefully looks like that too – his mother commanded it to be, he remembers, as means to keep others away from its walls. makes sense, yoongi thinks. the house looks pretty much abandoned and untouched ever since he left. vegetation has begun to grow wild and free, from the front yard and into the house a little bit, and yoongi struggles walking, wobbling through the rooms with nothing but the lantern of his phone to guide him down where he wants to.

yoongi tries not to dwell too much on the familiarity that grows inside him, but it’s nearly impossible not to feel it in his bones. yoongi is alone in here, this much he knows – and yet it feels like there’s a hundred eyes accompanying him wherever he goes. ghost eyes. he’s not alone in here at all, after all. this house, this home is full of ghosts. from the past, present and future. the past, his childhood, his youth, his mother. his secrets, her secrets, and the secrets of her mother before her. the present, the man he’s become, the truth of who he is, of what he’s about to do. the future, what will become of the man he is now. the man jeongguk is. the consequences of yoongi’s choices. this home is full of ghosts. they are not afraid of the wilderness that’s growing inside, so high as to touch yoongi’s waist. they are not afraid of the rotting walls, and the smell of moss. they linger, and they will remain for long after yoongi’s gone. it seems you can’t escape the truth for too long, after all.

the door to yoongi’s old room creaks loud in the stale air when he opens it. once colorful posters now hang precariously, and pale, on the dirty red walls. yoongi’s bed is still made, his school shoes still by the desk on the far right of the room. no, he thinks, shaking his head side to side roughly like a mutt. no. he won’t dwell in such meaningless details. he’s here for one thing, and one thing alone, and he has no time to mourn for what once was.

he approaches his desk, knows that what he wants is right there beneath it. there’s no finesse when he pulls it away from the wall, pushes it away with his leg. it causes a cloud of dust to rise from the floors, but he breathes through it, uncaring. it’s there, and that’s what matters. he places his phone over its surface, a little sideways, so the light is facing him rather than the ceiling.

he pulls his backpack to the front, opens it, takes the hammer he brought from home – the one that belongs to the tool box jeongguk bough when he was feeling adult and manly at ikea once. he raises it with both hands above his head like in the movies, raises the hammer high as if it’s a sword, as if he’s about to pierce his biggest enemy in the chest as they lie in bed, unaware. and maybe he is. maybe he fucking is – and maybe it’s time for him to meet his enemy. to meet that ghost.

he brings the hammer down, hard, and breaks through the concrete of his old childhood room with a rage that seems to take over him completely – like a bathtub that’s been filled too much, and all it takes is one single drop to make it overflow. he’s crying, he thinks. his face is damp, and he can feel where the tears track down the dust on his cheeks, but he keeps on going. keeps bringing the hammer down time and time again because he must. he must. it doesn’t take that much for the little wooden box to start peeking through the cracks. he drops the hammer, tosses it aside so far he doesn’t even know where, just hears it when it eventually falls back into the ground. he digs with his fingers, breaking the box free from the concrete confines, feeling it up until eventually finding, kind of blindly in the semi-dark, the tiny little opening in the front. he clicks it just the right amount of times. one. three. six. one. three. the lid pops up with a click.

it feels like he’s moving in slow motion. ever since he stepped back inside this house, it feels like all his movements are sluggish, like something’s holding him back, holding his body in place. he doesn’t like it. he hates it. he wants to go back home – wants to go home to jeongguk’s warm, soft body, and just wants to lay down with his love and rest. that’s all he wants. that’s all.

his arms feel heavy when he opens up the box, feels like that tiny little wooden lid weights a ton, but he does it. does it for jeongguk. does it because that’s what it takes. it’s when he brings his phone closer, the lantern bravely cutting through the dark, that he sees it – what he came all this way to find.

yoongi picks it up, lifts it in the air like a newborn being presented to the universe; the map of a barren, ancient little island in the middle of the pacific that is jeongguk’s only chance. his last chance.

                                                                                                                      II.

                                                                                                             HOW IT ENDS 

the ride to byzantium is long, and exhausting, and they have to stop plenty of times for both yoongi and, most importantly, jeongguk to take a breather. yoongi's truck is old and uncomfortable, and it suffers as it goes down the road, buzzing and creaking down – and yoongi finds himself praying more than once that it will, at least, hold on for long enough to take them where they need to go.

when yoongi got back home, the map clenched tight in his fist, whole body covered in dust, and looking wild behind the eyes, it was only to find jeongguk completely frantic and distraught – because of course yoongi forgot to leave a note informing him where he went to, leaving jeongguk asleep at home with nothing more than a gentle kiss to his soft, sweaty forehead, and a ‘see you in a bit.’ it took him hours to finally calm jeongguk down, the younger deep in a headspace that kept telling him that yoongi tired himself out, that yoongi was done with everything, done with him, and that yoongi finally abandoned him to fend off for himself. it tore at yoongi's heart, to see his sweetheart reduced to desperate tears as he clutched yoongi's wrists, begging him not to leave.

it makes yoongi's whole body shiver at the very memory of that moment, and what it secretly meant – that such thoughts are jeongguk's deepest insecurities, and that they climb up from his unconsciousness when it’s quiet around. yoongi found that jeongguk seems to be under the impression that he’s is going to eventually leave him, that yoongi will finally see that he's not worth the time, the efforts, the love. that maybe there's no way out from this hell. that maybe the only end for him is beneath the earth, breathless and cold.

yoongi shakes his head, disturbed, and breathes deep through his nose. he knows that jeongguk can see his reflection in the rearview mirror of the truck, as he nested himself in the backseat. the younger probably has been staring at him ever since they left their apartment in the first place. he knows the weight of jeongguk’s eyes on him too well by now. it was one of the things that he first noticed about jeongguk in the first place – those eyes, and how they always seemed to be on him.

they met in their university years, when jeongguk was a freshman and yoongi was on second year of his music production course. jeongguk was an art student, minoring in vocal performance, and he was amazing. yoongi remembers that, although jeongguk has always been the recipient of an undeniable, unparalleled beauty that catches the eye of any and all living beings, his first impression of the kid wasn’t that he was beautiful, but rather that he was brilliant.

they met through taehyung, one of yoongi’s old friends from deagu, who had invited him to a night out at a bar for an early celebration of his birthday. it was an unforgivingly cold winter night, but still, it felt warm inside the bar when yoongi finally walked in. yoongi was never one to enjoy being out in the cold – and especially not in crowded places such as bars. felt a little stuffy, a little pushed aside. he never knew exactly how to act around people, and certainly not drunk people – so he honestly has tried his hardest to avoid going out for most of his college years.

jeongguk was a lounge singer in the bar, working there part-time to help out with his school bills, and yoongi remembers the exact moment during the night when their eyes met for the first time. it was right after yoongi walked in, a little late after being caught up in the studio with one of his songs. during the commotion of taehyung jumping up to his feet to enthusiastically pull yoongi into a greeting hug, yoongi saw from over his friend’s shoulders, a tall and kind of dejected looking kid staring at him from across the bar. the kid and the other members of the bar’s band were clearly in the middle of setting up their instruments for the night’s performance, and the kid was just standing kind of awkwardly by the microphone stand, adjusting its height.

the whole thing was very movie-like, as they’ve come to describe it through the years. yoongi can still see it perfectly, the flashes of memory running through his mind like snapshots of eyes meeting across the bar. of shy smiles being thrown at each other’s direction. of searching gazes in the dark. of jeongguk’s head bowed before the microphone as he sang. of pretty doe eyes closed, shutting out the world outside to feel the music. of jeongguk’s hips moving to the beat. of yoongi’s own hand squeezing the beer bottle tight in his fist, feeling a lot in a little moment.

once the band was done with their set, they got a standing ovation – drunken cheers and clapping so vigorous it sounded like thunders inside the bar. he remembers jeongguk’s overwhelmed bows, his airy little ‘thank you thank you thank you’s’ being whispered so quietly onto the microphone. he remembers after, how they awkwardly orbited around each other, so obvious in their intentions that even taehyung – the birthday boy who was so busy trying to entertain all his friends, noticed, and nudged yoongi over to jeongguk’s direction with a litany of please, please go over there and get this mess over already, hyung, you are killing all of us here.

he remembers how bashful jeongguk’s greeting little ‘hi’ was, sounding miles away from the confident man who had just stepped down from the stage. he was sweet, and incredibly shy, and yoongi was immediately endeared. and nervous too. god, so fucking nervous. he still remembers just how stupid he sounded, blurting out a ‘you’re amazing’ as soon as jeongguk introduced himself. he remembers jeongguk’s answering gasp and the bunny-like smile he offered oh so sweetly – the embarrassed ‘thank you so much. what is… what is your name?’ that immediately followed.

yoongi was never one to flirt, and certainly never one to even speak to such pretty boys. he doesn’t know how to act around beautiful people, and definitely not beautiful people who happen to be some sort of singing deities. jeongguk’s voice was quite possibly the most breathtaking thing he ever heard – and jeongguk shined under the pale light of the bar. yoongi doesn’t think he’ll ever forget it – the very first time he heard jeongguk’s voice.

they immediately grew into each other, conversation flowing easy and just a tad awkward – in a special way that was very theirs. yoongi invited jeongguk to their first date right after they met, and jeongguk incredibly said yes. more than once, too. he was so red in the face, a little bit from the alcohol and a lot of it from the way yoongi looked at him. he said yes, yes, yes hyung, i’d love to go out with you, hyung – and yoongi has been held captive by him ever since. 

he remembers deciding right then that he’d take jeongguk to stargaze in their city’s observatory. he remembers looking at jeongguk’s face and thinking of red. he remembers looking into jeongguk’s eyes and thinking of stars. he could always, always feel those eyes on him. he could feel it on that bar, on that night so many years ago – from the stage, so nervous and yet so eager to get yoongi’s attention. he could feel it on their first date, the stars right above their heads and yet those eyes only ever looking back into his own.

he feels it now, from the backseat of his old truck – burning the back of his head with a look that tells a million words. jeongguk won’t question him, that much he knows. jeongguk always trusted him, and blindly so. he knows jeongguk will follow wherever he goes, and maybe he’s selfish, maybe he’s a monster to take that for granted, to take that to do what he’s about to do. what he’s about to ask jeongguk to do. but this, this is all they have right now. all they have is this truck. the byzantium lights shining pale in the distance. the old map on yoongi’s pocket. and each other. maybe, just maybe that’s enough to make them go through with his plan. yoongi said – he promised whatever it takes, and well, this is what it takes.

“we are about to get there, baby. i can see the lights already. you with me?”

“with you, hyungie,” comes the immediate answer from jeongguk, still so observant and brave even here, even at the end of the world. he’s been oddly lively lately. although still fragile, he’s been looking a lot stronger. he can even stomach a whole dinner.

it should make yoongi happy, but it doesn’t. he tries not to think about what jeongguk’s doctor told him. that a time like this would come – when jeongguk would look better, would seem better, but it’d mean the exact opposite. it’d mean the exact fucking opposite.

yoongi’s fists tighten on the steering wheel as he tries to breathe.

the byzantium is an old, tiny, run-down looking cottage by the edge of a cliff. its wooden walls are chirpy and a little rotten, and suffering from the gloom of the sea bellow. there’s something unorthodox about it, something that makes its otherwise appearance seem vaguely threatening. maybe it’s the lack of cars around other than yoongi’s truck. maybe it’s the giant neon sign that says ‘the byzantium’ right in front of it, looking modern and completely at odds when compared to its ancient looks. or maybe it’s just the knowledge that yoongi has of this place that makes him project such ideas onto it. maybe, to jeongguk’s unknowing eyes, this is nothing but a cottage by the sea. yoongi isn’t foolish, though – and jeongguk certainly isn’t either. if there is one thing that jeongguk still holds on to is his own ability to be painfully perceptive.

there is a careful look on jeongguk’s eyes when yoongi finally helps him out of the truck. he beholds the byzantium, in silence, and yoongi allows himself to marvel just for a second in just how beautiful jeongguk looks bathed in neon lights. red neon. red shadows on a sunken, yet beautiful face. yoongi’s heart bleeds in his chest.

“mm, this is good, hyung,” jeongguk comments, throwing his head back wistfully and breathing in, in, in the full air that the sea offers – filling his lungs with salt and breeze and life.

“i’m glad you think so, love,” yoongi answers, quieting his voice to the maximum not to disturb such fragile moment.

jeongguk’s leaning heavily against his chest, too weak in the legs to stand up properly on his own. he has his arms around that tiny waist he has always loved so much, and he just holds on as jeongguk breathes. he’s warm in yoongi’s arms, still present, yet somehow feeling so unattainable. he always felt like this, in a way. untouchable. yoongi feels as if he’s been running after jeongguk’s brilliant mind for a long, long time, and yet he has never been able to catch up with it. it’s always just one step away. close enough to feel the warmth, but too far for him to grasp.

yoongi thinks that he’d run for jeongguk forever if he had to. jeongguk is always, always worth the chase.

the moment is finally broken when jeongguk starts coughing, his body spent and retching in yoongi’s arms – bowing forward against its force. yoongi only holds him through it, tries to calm him down and caress his back. it’s not like he can do much to stop it, and either way, soon enough jeongguk won’t have to worry about this anymore. he won’t have to worry about any of this.

yoongi pretends not to see the speckles of deep red blood staining jeongguk’s open palm as he holds it against his mouth.

although the byzantium looks empty of guests other than the both of them, it’s still loud inside its confines. the wood creaks under their boots when they walk in, there’s a fire roaring by the far right, and the ever-present sound of distant waves crashing in the shore makes a cacophony come to life around them.

there’s a little table right in the middle of the open space in the front, with two chairs on each side. it looks oddly like a jury. he guides jeongguk to the chair with a gentle hand on the younger’s lower back, and slightly tremulous murmur of ‘you must sit here, baby.’ 

jeongguk complains a little about being made to sit, talking about how he’s not a complete invalid, but yoongi can see the way his shoulders relax even so slightly once he’s finally sat, and yoongi has to suppress an absurd desire to laugh after witnessing the tiny temper tantrum. jeongguk is, still, simply impossible. he places himself behind jeongguk, both his hands resting gently on the younger’s shoulders – trembling. he’s fucking trembling. and if jeongguk feels it, he doesn't point it out.

they wait in silence for about 5 minutes before hearing footsteps carefully approaching from deep within the cottage’s many twists and turns.

“oh my, would you look at that. if it isn’t min yoongi,” a deep, somber voice comments, teases – and yoongi feels a shiver run down his spine. he could recognize this voice amidst thousands. could pick it out in a crowd just as clearly as he could pick jeongguk’s.

kim seokjin is a tall man, arms and legs long and elegant looking. his shoulders are broad and wide, his lips ruby red, and his hair is full and jet-black. the way he walks, the way he breathes is visibly made to seduce – to entice. for half a second, yoongi finds himself breathless at the sight of him after so long. seems like one can never get used to seeing them in the flesh, after all.

“kim seokjin-ssi, i beg you to accept me and my beloved in your home,” he greets, bowing at the waist. jeongguk’s curious eyes are wide and a little surprised as he analyzes the entire interaction with such attention yoongi can see the way his body buzzes from it. can feel it under his hands that are still resting over his shoulders. 

“hyung?” jeongguk whispers, confused, and looking up at him for guidance. yoongi simply shakes his head once, silencing him for now. jeongguk thankfully relents without further question, turning his head to face seokjin’s approaching figure more intently.

“i’m gonna need a little more from you before making my decision, old friend,” seokjin says, glancing at him from across the table. there’s a dangerous glint behind his eyes, and the corner of his plump mouth is twisted in a half-formed grin that looks in equal qualms amused, and terrifying.

seokjin, after a moment, takes his seat before them – becoming eye-level with jeongguk, although refusing to meet the younger’s gaze for some reason, and leaving yoongi the only one standing. yoongi tries hard not to dwell on it too much, as well as to shut the little voice in his head that’s telling him to simply jump in front of jeongguk’s slouched form, to shield him from seokjin’s eyes – from his judgement.

“my beloved is –”

“sick. that is fairly obvious. tuberculosis, is it? something else?” seokjin interrupts, one perfect eyebrow lifting in half-concealed amusement, as if seeing the depth of yoongi’s despair is giving him some twisted sort of entertainment. yoongi tastes bile on his throat, and his hands instinctively clutch jeongguk’s shoulders just a bit tighter.

“it hardly matters what it is, seokjin-ssi,” yoongi continues, shaking his head a little bit, disturbed. he can feel the heat in his face, that undoubtedly must look blotched red and ugly. he doesn’t care. not anymore. certainly not now. “please, i… i beg for your permission. i beg of you to allow me to take him to the island.” 

if seokjin is bothered by being interrupted, he certainly doesn’t show it. there’s a strange look on his face when he holds yoongi’s gaze, merely sparing jeongguk a glance the entire time. for a split second, there’s something akin to recognition in seokjin’s eyes are he sees the way yoongi’s hands tremble on jeongguk’s shoulders – how yoongi’s whole body bends forward and downwards, towards jeongguk’s crouching form as if pulled into its orbit. 

although the room around them buzzes with boisterous life sounds, there’s silence between the three of them for a good amount of time. yoongi doesn’t even entertain the idea that somehow seokjin will decline his request – he came all this way, risking to deteriorate jeongguk’s fragile health even more if that’s even possible, and he won’t take no for an answer. he’ll beg on his knees if he must. he’s ready to speak again, open his mouth to say fuck knows what, when the tense silence is broken by jeongguk’s frail voice.

“seokjin-ssi,” he calls, and stalls a little when seokjin’s sharp eyes turn to him for the first time. jeongguk swallows, audibly, and swiftly muffles a cough before continuing. “i don’t know you, and i honestly am not sure of what exactly yoongi’s asking you permission for. but seokjin-ssi, i…” he pauses, and yoongi’s heart bleeds in his chest when he hears the unmistakable shake in his voice that tells him jeongguk’s about to cry.

“i don’t want to die,” he continues, wobbly. “i don’t… want to go. for so long i’ve been trying to hold on to life, and trying to stay strong for my hyung, but i’ve – i’ve reached my limit. i can’t pretend anymore. and i’m so scared, seokjin-ssi… i’m so scared… and like, not of dying exactly – but what’s truly terrifying to me is the fact that i’ll have to go through it alone, and i... i don’t wanna be alone, seokjin-ssi. my hyung...” jeongguk is crying in earnest now, sobbing out his words, but adamant in making sure they know. it seems like he’s been holding onto this feeling for a long time now, and he has nothing else to lose anymore. might as well just go for it.

seokjin looks as if he’s made of stone, not a single trace of emotion behind his eyes. the pale, flickering light of the fireplace somewhere behind him creates a shadow of silhouette that’s so big it takes up most of the room. seokjin looks, by all means, like a god as he beholds jeongguk’s sobbing, trembling little soul. 

“my hyung has been taking care of me so well, and he doesn’t complain about it – does it all willingly. but i know it’s taking a toll on him too, and that’s the last thing i want, seokjin-ssi. i want to be good for him, want to be his sweet jeonggukie again,” yoongi honestly wants to interrupt jeongguk then, and he almost, almost does – but he’s silenced promptly by one of jeongguk’s hands reaching over to touch his. his baby squeezes as tight as he can, as if knowing what yoongi was about to do, and yoongi’s jaw snap shut sharply enough to hurt.

jeongguk continues, “but i can’t and i’m… i’m tired, seokjin-ssi. i don’t – i don’t wanna leave my hyung, and i don’t wanna leave without him, because i love him and i want… want to be old with him. want to kiss him every morning and every night. want to go back to school, and finish my degree, and want to open that art exhibition like i always dreamed of doing. and i just… i just need a chance, seokjin-ssi. and if you think you can give me one, however small, i’ll gladly take it. i’ll owe you for life. i just… i just wanna live. just wanna be with my hyung,” jeongguk cries, and cries, and cries, and finally relinquishes his speaking – the rant obviously draining all his energy up to the point his little body is limp and malleable on the chair, being held up only by yoongi’s firm hand on his shoulders, by yoongi’s gentle hold on his shaky hand.

silence grows once again between them, and seokjin’s once impassive figure now holds something in his beautiful face that looks painfully close to sorrow. for a moment, he looks as if his mind is far, far away from them. reminiscing. he quickly recollects himself once he sees the recognition on yoongi’s eyes, his expression going back to its usual blank marble.

he looks at yoongi’s eyes. one, and then the other, trying to catch one of them faltering. the side of his plump lips rake up ever so slightly when all he sees reflecting back at him is the very fire in yoongi’s will, fed and bolstered by jeongguk’s words – and burning bright like a supernova. unwavering. fierce.

“min yoongi, jeon jeongguk,” he announces, and yoongi holds his breath – feels jeongguk do the same under his hands. none of them ask how exactly does he know jeongguk’s name at all, as none of them mentioned it. “i permit you to stay in my cottage for the time being. as well as permit you, min yoongi, to take jeon jeongguk to the shrine – if,” he quickly adds, once yoongi’s whole body weakens and nearly falls to his knees in relief. “and only if, min yoongi, you take full responsibility over jeon jeongguk’s training. you must vow to me that jeon jeongguk will not, under any circumstance, interfere with the actions and decisions of the brethren, from the day he turns until the day he dies.” 

“i vow to you, kim seokjin-ssi, that i will take full responsibility of my beloved’s training, as well as guide him and protect him, and keep him from interfering in any way with the brethren and their actions and decisions,” yoongi immediately vows, circling over jeongguk’s chair and bowing deeply at the waist before seokjin. 

“i am violating the brethren’s primary code by agreeing with this, min yoongi – you must never forget that. because now i vow to you, that if you somehow break this agreement, both you and jeon jeongguk will be made to regret ever coming here,” seokjin murmurs, a finality to his voice that makes yoongi’s whole body quiver. scared, he realizes. he’s scared of seokjin.

“i’m thankful, kim seokjin-ssi,” he says, body still bent, and he feels jeongguk place a shaky hand on the small of his back. the careful touch is all the fuel he needs to continue. “i will never forget this, nor your terms.”

this is quite possibly the easiest promise he has ever made in his life.

it’s when he finally stands up straight again that he beholds the look on seokjin’s face. it’s sad, a little bit, the corners of his mouth turning downwards – but the man’s eyes are… curious. something glinting behind their darkness that yoongi has never seen before, and certainly not from the man before him.

“enough of this – disappear from my sight. go upstairs, and prepare your beloved,” he orders, voice turning teasing and strangely resentful at the word ‘beloved’. he clears his throat. “soon it’ll be time for him to meet his fate. and another thing,” seokjin quickly adds, face becoming stony once more. “you owe me.” 

yoongi only nods in response, deems his throat to clogged up to be able to say anything else for the time being. he whispers a broken, meek little “come on, dear,” to jeongguk, who’s still sniffing a little bit as his skinny body tries its hardest to take deep, fortifying breaths. he looks completely drained already, certainly by the emotional moment as well as the physically exhaustion of talking for so long. in truth, yoongi would take him to the shrine right now if he could, desperate to take the chance right now, right now – but, given the odds, that’d certainly cause much unnecessary harm and strain, so he silently opts to take jeongguk there first thing in the morning instead. and either way, he has a lot to tell jeongguk before taking him there. seems like jeongguk isn’t the only one who’ll have to through something so visceral in the upcoming hours. and maybe yoongi’s ghosts have been kept at bay for way too long, and now it’s time for them to face the light.

yoongi stalls for a second when, with staggering realization, he recognizes that by this time tomorrow both him and jeongguk will have gone through the unthinkable. but maybe, only maybe, they’ll be able survive at the end of it all.

he helps jeongguk up, holding his love with a careful but firm hold on his waist, and honestly holding up most of his weight – though that hardly counts as much anymore. seokjin gets his attention back for a second when silently gets up from his own seat, standing tall, and proud, and silent as he watches them with a analytical eye. 

when jeongguk finally gets up on his too feet, it’s so he can immediately circle yoongi’s shoulders with his arms, making himself tiny as to hide in the safe curve of yoongi’s neck. yoongi sighs from deep in his chest. he can’t help but hug jeongguk’s torso tight against his own for a moment, before reaching down and pulling jeongguk’s legs up. the younger immediately understands what he wants, jumping a little for a moment so yoongi can wrap the younger’s legs around his hips. jeongguk feels light and frail on his arms.

seokjin shows them the way to the room they’ll be staying the night in with nothing but a movement from his head, and a raised eyebrow. yoongi follows slowly. he has never been exactly athletic, and the weight of jeongguk – although minimal, only grows by the minute.

by the time they reach the modest room they’ll be spending the night in, yoongi’s muscles are sore and spasming – which makes jeongguk huff out a tired little laugh. the sound is enough to break the ice that’s been forming inside of yoongi’s chest ever since seeing seokjin for the first time. or, still, even since seeing the byzantium sign shine bright in the darkness of the night, miles away from here. 

“weak hyung,” jeongguk teases, rubbing his runny nose against the side of yoongi’s neck. yoongi winces at the sensation, but doesn’t reprimand him. it pains him to say it, but he honestly finds the action endearing. 

“ugh, you little brat – i’m never picking you up again,” yoongi complains, just for the sake of complaining, and jeongguk giggles. honest to god giggles, finding mirth right here, right here at the end of the world. 

yoongi is so in love with this boy. 

he deposits him as gently as he can on the bed, that’s thankfully covered in covers and fleece that seem comfortable enough for jeongguk’s weary body to rest on and, hopefully, don’t end up sore. the room itself is pretty cosy-looking too. there’s something understandably rustic about it, with warm, brown and yellow tones to the furniture and covers. it’s nice.

“want hyung to tuck you in?” 

jeongguk shakes his head no, his body turning visibly taunt with anticipation. it seems like a little bit of the tension from earlier comes back at full force, turning the already fragile atmosphere just that much colder.  

somehow, yoongi knows what’s coming before it does. 

“we need to talk.”

yoongi nods, in silence, sitting down at the foot of the bed as his stomach just… sinks. this isn’t going to be easy – but then again, it was never supposed to be. in truth, they should have had this talk a long, long time ago. preferably, right after yoongi realized he was in love with jeongguk in the first place. maybe, even before that at all. 

it’s silent for a moment, jeongguk giving him time to pull himself together, which he appreciates. even in moments like these, when his baby is just so lost, confused, and scared, he still trusts yoongi so completely that it’s almost daunting. 

“you know hyung isn’t one to gloss things over,” yoongi begins, after taking a deep breath. jeongguk simply nods, waiting. “so i’ll just come out and say it. we are here because there’s an island nearby, the one i mentioned with seokjin-ssi earlier, that may give us a chance to turn… turn this around.”

he pauses, and fuck, he can already feel the tears pooling in his eyes – just waiting to spill. he hasn’t spoken about any of this out loud in such a long time, his voice sounds almost detached from his body, as if he’s uttering such sequence of words for the very first time. 

he hears the soft moving over the covers before he feels jeongguk’s bony hands covering his trembly ones. his love’s palms are clammy, and a little bit cold, but his touch is still the most comforting yoongi’s body has ever felt. 

yoongi feels himself curve towards their joined hands in something that almost looks like reverence, and he places a careful kiss on jeongguk’s knuckles before he continues, fortified by his lover’s touch. 

“you know… when i was a kid, i used to live with my mom at this little wooden house in deagu. it was a good house, decently sized. i had my own room and everything,” he pauses, and smiles, reminiscing. it seems like a lifetime ago. “back then, we used to get… visitors, from time to time. mostly men, much like seokjin-ssi. and i couldn’t understand why but – but every time they came, my mom used to tell me to hide in my room and don’t come out until she came to pick me up.”

his hands are shaking where jeongguk holds them, and when he looks up to meet jeongguk’s face, the pain he sees in his eyes is, for the first time in a long time, not a consequence from his disease – but from witnessing yoongi’s own hurt. 

something about that look, so honest, so full of devotion, propels yoongi to continue on.

“one day, when they came, things seemed… different. heavy, somehow, and even as a young boy i could feel it. mom was nervous all day, as if she was waiting for something dreadful to happen… as if she knew it’d happen. when they finally came, she told me to hide just like she always did. she said that she’d be right back. but… but this time around, she didn’t come back to pick me, she just… she didn’t come back, at all. i waited… for so long… for so long, jeongguk, and… nothing. she was gone, and has been ever since.”

he pauses once more, and the tears finally spill from his eyes. jeongguk makes a wounded sound that comes from deep within him, and lifts one of his hands to cup yoongi’s cheek, a thump wiping away the tears that run freely. yoongi’s face curls against the touch, letting jeongguk’s gentle loving seep down the layers of skin and right into his bones, giving him the strength he needs to continue… to just say it… 

“as it turns out, my mother was something that’s often referred to as soucriant,” he finally confesses, and feels bile on his tongue. he remembers how they used to call his mother. soucriant. hag. whore mother. he shakes his head, tries to clear out his thoughts from that old rage that still seems to burn bright inside him. he has never forgiven, and he never will. never. but that hardly matters. 

his mother is gone, and she isn’t coming back – that is something that he has learned to accept, and recognize, through the years. it doesn’t matter anymore. 

the only thing that matters is his jeongguk. his baby, his love, the one that’s looking at him right now as if he has never seen yoongi before in his life – his eyes so big and scared that it almost, almost makes yoongi stall. 

however, he’s in way too deep now. 

it’s time to bring those ghosts into the light, for his own sake too. 

“do you know what a soucriant is?” 

jeongguk’s stills for a second, and yoongi knows that he wants to answer but doesn’t… know how to. yoongi smiles, encouraging. 

“it’s okay if you don’t, sweetheart, hyung can tell you.” 

“no, it’s – actually, i… have heard of them in literature class, i think… something about soucriants being sort of like… like…”

“vampires,” they say, at the same time. 

jeongguk nods, a blush rising to tint his skinny cheeks. cute, yoongi thinks, wildly out of place with the situation at hand but… but oh, well... intrusive thoughts around jeongguk’s overall cuteness are always welcome, he guesses. he knows them well.

“that’s corret – that’s, that’s what they are,” yoongi continues. “in other words, my mom was a vampire. i found out, many years after she was gone, during endless, endless research that i can tell you all about later,” he huffs, and jeongguk squeezes his hand a little bit. “i found out that she… turned, right after she had me. apparently, we both almost died during my birth, as she was previously sick with tuberculosis during the pregnancy and very weak. but, you know, my mom was a hell of a woman, and anticipated all of these complications somehow so… she had me, right at the foot the island that’s just a few miles across the sea from here. and that’s… that’s the same island where our journey will begin, jeongguk-ah, but mostly… your journey, if you decide to go through with all of this.”

jeongguk is silent for along time, and understandably so. it’s all very confusing, even to yoongi’s own ears – so he understands that jeongguk needs some time to… think things over. as it turns out, yoongi hasn’t even told him all of it, not nearly, but this is good enough for a start. just to let jeongguk know where they stand right now, at least.

“what does the island has to do with… with turning, hyung?” jeongguk asks, finally, and his voice is paper frail. yoongi doesn’t comment on it, accepting jeongguk’s aprehension for what it is.

“there’s a shrine in there, something of a crack between two of its mountains,” yoongi murmurs, and for a moment the tension in the room seems almost palpable. jeongguk looks like he’s not even breathing. “nobody who’s walked out of it after turning bothered with sharing the details, but… you walk in, and you meet another in there, and when you wake up it’s just… done.” 

“another?” jeongguk whispers, scared. 

yoongi realizes then that he truly doesn’t have a single idea of how the deed is done. he doesn’t even know if jeongguk will feel pain, or if the creature that lives in the shrine will hurt will somehow, besides… besides the obvious hurt that’s kind of the purpose of it all. again, no one who’s walked out of the shrine ever mentioned the details of the turning events but… fuck… if that’s what it takes…

“no one knows exactly what it is, but… this other, it… it takes the form of whomever walks into the shrine. so, for you, it’d just look like another jeongguk.”

“and…” jeongguk pauses, and gulps a little awkwardly. he has naturally big eyes but yoongi doesn’t think they have ever looked this big. something that looks like fear brimming behind the pupils. something that looks like fright. but also… like intrigue. maybe even like hope. “and then i’ll meet this other, and it will turn me into a soucriant?”

“well, not a soucriant. soucriant is a term that’s only used for female vampires, but… yeah,” yoongi sighs, defeated, and bows his head, prostrating himself before his love, much to jeongguk’s surprise. 

“hyung, what–”

“i’m sorry, jeongguk-ah. hyung is so sorry. this is all that can do for you, this is all that i can offer you… a half-life… a life of shadows and secrets and ghosts and…. and i’m so sorry. i’m so sorry, love, please, forgive me..” and oh no, he’s crying. he’s crying hard. 

you know what, forget it. forget this. there must be another way…

“hyung, don’t cry… please dont, yoongi-hyung,” jeongguk begs, tearful himself, and stuffs his face on yoongi’s head. his voice comes out muffled when he pleads. “hyung, yoongi, please stop tormenting yourself. i know you are looking out for me, i know that. and i… i want to try, hyung. i want to try it. you have no idea of just how much i meant what i said downstairs. i meant every word, hyung. and i know that… i know that i have nothing left. i have no other options. and i want to try, hyung, i do.” 

they stay like this for a long time, just breathing each other’s air – yoongi crying on jeongguk’s lap, and jeongguk hiding in yoongi’s hair. yoongi is scared, and he can’t even imagine what jeongguk must be feeling. jeongguk, his jeongguk, who will go through something unthinkable – who will change, forever. there is no going back from this decision. there’s no way to undo it, and that’s… scary. yoongi doesn’t know what will become of them, and he has always hated not knowing things. he’s the hyung. he’s supposed to know everything. he’s supposed to take care of jeongguk, he’s supposed to keep things like this from happening. 

he lifts his head when he feels jeongguk’s hands pawing at his hair, trying to get his attention. his mind feels fuzzy, and heavy, and jeongguk’s outline is a little blurry when he meet his face through his swollen eyes. jeongguk tuts, displeased. 

“you need to stop martyring yourself, yoongi,” jeongguk comments, and oh. it’s almost as if he can hear yoongi’s thoughts. it should be surprising, but it honestly isn’t. they have been abnormally in tune with each other since the very first day. since the very first time their eyes met across the bar. “this is my decision too, okay? and i want to do it. i want to try.” 

yoongi sighs. 

takes a deep breath.

another.

“fair enough,” he says, and the finality of it all is apparent, then. the decision has been made. “first thing tomorrow i’ll take you to the island, and we’ll go from there.”

“okay.”

“okay.”

then, they just look at each other. jeongguk is gorgeous, even now when he’s so visibly exhausted, emotionally and physically. poor thing can barely keep his eyes open, and yet, he’s still as alert as ever – still trying so hard. yoongi smiles. his brave, stubborn boy, who refuses to give up. refutes the idea of backing out of a challenge. yoongi’s golden, golden boy. oh, the lengths he’d go for this boy.

“are you sleepy, sweetheart?” yoongi asks, moving his hands to cup jeongguk’s face between his palms. he caresses the delicate skin under jeongguk’s eyes softly, causing the younger to close his eyes before nodding in agreement. “alright, let’s try to rest for now. we can speak a little more tomorrow before… before it’s time to go.” 

“wait, hyung, i’m not…”

“don’t even try to deny it, jeongguk. you can barely keep your eyes open as it is. come on, let hyung tuck you in,” yoongi interrupts jeongguk’s aborted refusal, pulling at the covers so jeongguk can lie down underneath. 

jeongguk huffs. 

“fine,” he complies, although begrudgingly. “just… can i ask you one more thing?”

“sure,” yoongi agrees, easily. it’s not like he has much to hide from jeongguk anymore. 

“the men that came for your mom,” jeongguk begins, treading carefully. “were they… were they the brethren? you mentioned something like this before, for seokjin-ssi…”

“oh, my, jeon jeongguk,” yoongi comments, honestly a little surprised. he din’t expect jeongguk to pick out the name so clearly like this. “i almost forgot how annoyingly perceptive you are.”

jeongguk groans, punching yoongi’s nearest body part in complaint, that turns out to be his chest. he keeps his hand there, his touch soft and careful over yoongi’s heart. “tell me,” he says, bottom lip jutting out in his signature pout. 

“yeah,” yoongi answers, simply. “they were the brethren indeed. seokjin-ssi is one of them, too.” 

“i thought so," jeongguk nods. "is it… is it safe to be around him? won’t he try to take me away too… once i turn?”

it's a fair question, yoongi thinks. in truth, yoongi wouldn't say he trusts seokjin in any way, and they certainly wouldn't be here at all if there was another choice. he wants jeongguk, and himself, as far away from the brethren as possible. 

yoongi honestly doesn't know why seokjin has decided to help them. he doesn't know what he's seen in them that evoked his compassion, and the thoughts and whats and hows have been tormenting yoongi ever since. he doesn't know why.

there was something there, however – yoongi swears he saw it. for a fraction of a second, he saw something dangerously close to sorrow flash across seokjin's face when jeongguk was speaking. the memory of that expression has been getting under yoongi's skin, and there's a feeling on the edge of his bones that's trying to tell him that that look has something to do with him, to some degree. 

still, it's hell to admit, he doesn't know. he doesn't think he ever will.  

"it's sure not safe, exactly. and i certainly don't trust him as far as i can throw him, but… seokjin-ssi won't hurt us here. not only he's made a vow that i have accepted, but he also really, just… can't. the byzantium is sacred ground. there's permanent truce in here – and hurting anyone under this roof would result in consequences worse than death itself. even for someone like seokjin-ssi." 

jeongguk accepts his words in silence, giving a single nod in acknowledgement. he yawns, raising a fist to cover it up. yoongi huffs. 

“that’s enough. let’s get you sleeping.”

when he would usually complain at being babied, jeongguk accepts it this time around with no resistance – clearly too tired to be stubborn as he usually is. while the air around them is a little stiff, there’s still that familiarity underneath it all that makes the entire scene more bearable, in a way. 

jeongguk sighs, closing his eyes and looking halfway gone already. yoongi gives him a little kiss on the forehead, like he always has done ever since the first night they slept together, and moves to get out the bed. there’s been shadows that look perfectly like both of seokjin’s feet peeking from the gap under the door ever since they locked it behind their backs.

however, he’s stopped by jeongguk’s frail grip on his wrist. “hold me, hyung,” he whispers, gone, gone, gone already. “miss sleeping with you.”

“i’ll be right back, love, and i’ll hold you all night.”

when yoongi exits the room, seokjin is standing right outside the door like a statue. even though yoongi expected to find him there, he still startles, holding his chest as his heart races. 

“my apologies,” seokjin says, raising one of his eyebrows ever-so-slightly. “i didn’t mean to scare you.”

“it’s okay,” yoongi excuses.

“there’s a boat prepared for both of you near the cottage’s pier. you must use it for your journey to the island tomorrow.”

oh.

“oh,” yoongi breathes. “of course. i’m so thankful, seokjin-ssi. thank you for giving us the chance,” he continues, bowing yet again before seokjin’s still immobile form. 

“you already said that,” seokjin murmurs, face impassive as ever. yoongi deems the conversation over but, for some reason, seokjin’s still standing there, just… looking at him, so he decides… fuck it. 

“seokjin-ssi… why have you decided to help us?”

the silence that follows his words are heavy. nothing changes in seokjin’s face, nor in his body language, but his eyes get that far away look again – something similar from before, but subdued. as if he was already thinking about it, and his reasons, before yoongi asked. as if he was expecting the question but, somehow, couldn’t completely prepare himself to react. it’s strange, yoongi thinks. he would never think someone like seokjin would retain such painfully human aspects such as this. 

“what happened to your mom was an abomination, yoongi-ssi,” seokjin says, unwavering, like it doesn’t mean anything. like it means everything. yoongi feels something inside him turn to stone. “i wanted to leave the brethren after what they’ve done, but we both know there’s no such thing as leaving,” he pauses and, for the first time, breaks eye contact with yoongi. 

yoongi waits, and doesn’t say anything – doesn’t think he’d be able to even if he had anything to say in the first place. there’s… rumors of what was done to his mom after they took her, but yoongi has never been able to confirm them. part of him desperately wants to know if they are true at all… but, the other part of him desperately doesn’t. he doesn’t think he’d be able to live with the knowledge of it. as it turns out, he doesn’t think he’s that strong.

when seokjin meets his face again, there’s finally a visible sign of something on his expression. he’s tired. seokjin seems tired.

“i’ve decided to help you and your… beloved,” seokjin’s perfect speech falters, for the first time, at the word ‘beloved’. yoongi realizes that that’s the same word that caused the reaction from him downstairs. in another moment in time, maybe yoongi would have the energy to think about it more. wonder the what and ifs that such reaction implies. right now, however, all he wants is to go back to jeongguk and sleep. “because i made a promise a long, long time ago. and now it’s time for me to fulfill it and be done with this torment, once and for all.”

there’s a heartbeat.

another.

yoongi sighs, and nods. 

he’s tired. 

he doesn’t want to think about all of this anymore. he already… has so much on his plate right now. and tomorrow, everything will change yet again. he’s dug up enough skeletons for one night. it won’t harm him any more than he’s already been hurt to keep some of them under the dirt for a while longer.

blinding reaching backwards and opening the door again, he feels the warmth from the room welcome him back again like a lover. jeongguk’s air is sweet in his lungs. 

he sighs, again. 

“alright, seokjin-ssi. thank you for… clarifying, and for offering us the boat – that’s… that’s very nice. i’ll go back to my beloved now, if you’ll excuse me.” 

he bows his head respectfully, and walks back into the room. his movements are stiff, and robotic – it’s like he’s automated. 

he closes the door. and shuts down the lights. and notices the feet at the bottom gap of the door are gone. so he walks back to bed, to where his only love in this world is waiting for him. and lies back down. pulls jeongguk’s sleeping form to his chest, because he knows jeongguk sleeps like the dead when he’s tired, and holds onto his love. and kisses his sweaty forehead. and thinks of how jeongguk said, in tears, downstairs, that he wants to be yoongi’s sweet jeonggukie again. and feels his heart break. so he says, quiet into the comfort of jeongguk’s messy hair, that you are always, always my sweet jeonggukie, baby.

and, although he tries, he doesn’t – just can’t sleep.

/ 

he can still see seokjin’s form standing at the beach where they left him.

seokjin didn’t say anything the entire time, simply stood there watching them as they prepared everything. yoongi tried… not to look at him, either. the mere idea of facing seokjin’s face right now, after he’s come to know last night, makes him want to scream. they merely touched the truth, mentioning only the very tip of the iceberg, but yoongi already wanted no more of it. just… not right now at least. 

jeongguk was wide awake before dawn even came, and he didn’t mention it when he noticed the dark circles under yoongi’s eyes, reminiscent of his lack of sleep. 

yoongi thinks of the warmth of his hands on his cheeks, the sleepy smell in his breath when he came closer and kissed yoongi’s eyes, one, and then the other. 

and smiled. 

there was something different about jeongguk this morning. something… igniting. there’s fight in his eyes when they meet yoongi’s, as they sail towards the nearing island. a bout of energy on every breath of his tired lungs. an iron on his grip where it latches onto yoongi’s own across the boat. 

when they finally get there, and yoongi helps him out – when jeongguk’s feet touch the rocky ground at the bottom of the island, he looks at yoongi full in the face and there’s something in there he hasn’t seen in a long, long time. 

under the grey skies that house the last minutes of jeongguk’s human living, yoongi looks at his beloved, at his jeongguk, and he sees fire. 

they hold each other for a long time near the curve that leads to the shrine’s entrance, as yoongi can’t accompany him there. unfortunately, his love will have to go through this on his own. yoongi hopes that they haven’t made a mistake coming here. nature is unrelenting, and nature has been claiming jeongguk for the greatest part of the past year. what they are doing here, what jeongguk is about to do, is defy the very essence of life itself. and maybe, just maybe, people aren’t made to live forever. 

but when jeongguk pulls back from the embrace, and yoongi’s met with the look of absolute determination in his eyes, of dead devotion in his expression, like yoongi is life itself to him at that moment – yoongi thinks that yeah, maybe not everyone is made to live forever. but jeongguk is. and he will. 

no matter what it takes, he promised. not matter what it fucking takes. 

as yoongi watches jeongguk’s carefully climb up the ridge that lead up to the shrine, still tasting his love’s lips and savouring his sweet i love yous and thank yous and the promise of i’ll be right back on his tongue, yoongi wonders if the legends he’s heard about the moment a human soul is replaced with the spirit of a creature made out of night are true. 

a minute passes.

and then two.

for a moment, time stands still – and yoongi is breathless. 

time has come for both of them to meet their fate. 

when jeongguk walks into the shrine, he doesn’t look back. 

                                                                                                                     III.

                                                                                                             HOW IT BEGINS 

when yoongi thinks of jeongguk, he thinks of red. 

red like his pretty, cherry lips. red like his cheeks when he flushes. red like his easy, steadfast love. red like the fire within him.

the wait isn't very long. time is lost for yoongi at this point, as he couldn't pinpoint the minutes from the weather nor did he have the energy to even glance at his watch. all he could do was stare at the shrine's opening, not daring to even blink, and wait.

many years ago, when yoongi was still a kid who believed in something, he remembers hearing about the story of moses, and how he turned the waters of the nile into deep, red blood. this is what comes to his feeble mind when he sees the waters that cascade down the ridge of the mountain and off of the shrine’s opening turn into a maroonish red. blood red. 

oh, he thinks. the legends are true after all.

there’s a second of silence, before the earth around him turns to motion. colonies of bats set flight at the same time, screeching right out of the gap of the shrine's opening. the once grey skies turn midnight dark, and the red waters cascading down the mountain sound violent as a war. 

yoongi is frozen into place, and he honestly feels… fear. 

someone stands right at the opening gap of the shrine, under the waters, bathing in blood. the smell of iron and salt is so strong it’s nearly unbearable.

for a moment, eyes that look like jeongguk’s meet his, and the recognition lasts before jeongguk’s arches back grotesquely, falls to his knees, and screams – as the bats, and the shaking of the earth, and the violence of the water mingle with the sound of anguish.

yoongi thinks, then, of just unrelenting nature is – of how it will always win in the end. nature has been claiming jeongguk for the greater part of the year, and now jeongguk is at the palm of its hand. as it turns out, nature doesn't create humans only. it also creates monsters. 

as he runs to meet jeongguk’s shaking form, yoongi bares witness of the moment when the shadows of the mountain come to embrace jeongguk’s wailing body.

he witnesses, in awe, the moment nature bends to greet the birth of its newest creation.  

jeongguk sits back on his heels, and lifts his head to face yoongi's approaching form. 

his eyes are red. 

/