Archive of Our Own ^beta

There was a time when Seokjin used to love fireflies. 

He remembers innumerable lanterns reflected on a lake, rising into the air with murmured wishes and reverent prayers. He remembers seeing it from somewhere high, watching the cool night air make the lanterns sway and spin. He remembers thinking: they look like fireflies.

Seokjin quietly tugs on a blade of grass, flattening it down to make room for himself. He clears out a small patch, the sleeves of his robes wet from an insolent drop of dew that rolled down a tall piece of grass and caught him off-guard. In the distance, a firefly flits through the leaves of a bush, casting an amber glow around it. It’s a harmless little thing, and it pays Seokjin no heed. 

Why were there lanterns? It seems strange, like a life that happened to someone else. Seokjin isn’t sure why he is thinking of them now. 

He finishes his bed, loosely weaving the blades of grass together to make a makeshift mat for himself. A light breeze ripples through the meadow, breathing the scent of wildflowers into the air. He is closer to the city than he would like. The light pollution hangs in the sky like a purple haze on most nights, obscuring the heavens to his eyes. But tonight, Seokjin can see the stars glimmering as he lies down under the open sky above him.

The stars have always been the same, no matter where he sees them from. It’s comforting, knowing that there is something in the universe that hasn’t changed in all the time he has been around. Time means nothing to gods, Seokjin knows, and centuries might pass in the blink of an eye. It is not as precious to them as it is to humans, precisely because they have so much of it. 

Why care for a drop, if one has all the oceans of the world at one’s feet? 

Seokjin lifts his arm above him, idly watching a star disappear behind his palm. His sleeve is still damp as it pools around his elbow, the fabric sliding down his arm. The outline of his hand is a blurry shadow, barely visible in the dark. The firefly flits nearer, casting a pale halo of light around it. Not enough to illuminate anything at all, but Seokjin appreciates the effort nonetheless.

“You cannot rival the stars, little one,” he murmurs, dropping his hand back down to his chest. The firefly settles on a leaf, glowing valiantly in the dark. It is quite possibly going to outlive him. Just like the stars.

“And yet, how I envy you,” he smiles wryly. There he goes again, thinking like this. Jungkook would be upset if he knew. 

Seokjin sighs, tucking his arms below his head. He cannot find his usual reserve of resilience tonight, and something has left him feeling far more vulnerable than he allows himself to be. He should conserve his energy, whatever little of it he has left, before the world wakes up in the morning again. 

But he can’t bring himself to close his eyes, to stop looking his fill of the stars like it’s the last time he might ever see them before he disappears into the ether like the morning dew at dawn.

The oceans are beyond him, he knows, but he still can’t stop wishing for a drop.

Taehyung doesn’t enjoy the taste of alcohol.

He hates it actually, the smell, the way it burns down his throat and the bitter aftertaste that lingers in his mouth. 

Taehyung empties the rest of his glass, choking down the last of the offending liquid with his eyes screwed shut. If he’s still thinking about the taste then it means he’s not drunk enough, and he needs to get there as soon as he can, before he starts to replay the events of that morning for the hundredth time in his head. He cannot possibly think his way out of this one. No matter how many times he tries to figure out what he could’ve done differently, the truth is this: Jimin left him. 

Jimin left him, and Taehyung couldn’t convince him to stay.

He coughs, the alcohol hitting the back of his throat and making his eyes water. if Jimin was here he would laugh at the face he makes every time he takes a gulp of the cheap vodka. 

Taehyung huffs, and it comes out like half a sob. A lonely little sound that echoes in the stale empty air of his bedroom. If Jimin was here...

If Jimin was here, he wouldn’t be in this position in the first place.

The sob turns into two, then three, and four, and before he knows it Taehyung finds himself gasping like a man being drowned alive, shuddering like he is going to fall apart into pieces at any moment. Maybe he will, he thinks, hand fisted in the fabric of his shirt, right above the ache in his chest that feels like his heart is trying to claw its way out. 

It has been years since he cried like this, and he forgot what it feels like. How visceral it is, and how much it hurts . The alcohol makes his head swirl in a way that makes him feel like he’s floating outside his body, like the silly boy sobbing on his bedroom floor is someone else. Like any moment now, Jimin will walk in, and he really should stop crying like this... what if Jimin sees him? He’ll get that sad look on his face again, and he’ll ask - he’ll say “what’s wrong baby?” and try to wipe Taehyung’s face with the sleeves of his sweater that are too big for his little hands -

Jimin was looking at him like that, he realises. When he was telling Taehyung that he wanted - no, he needed - time apart. Jimin was looking at him like he wanted to reach out and wipe Taehyung’s face, but he didn’t.

A part of Taehyung knew right then. He had lost Jimin too. Somehow, impossibly, Taehyung had let the most important person in his life slip away right through his fingers, and he realises now that nothing he did could’ve stopped Jimin from leaving. It wasn’t what he did, it was who he was. 

People always look sad when they look at Taehyung, like he’s breaking their hearts. For some reason, he had believed Jimin would be an exception to the rule. 

He has only himself to blame for it.

His body seems to have tired itself out from all the crying, because it offers him a brief interlude of relief. His eyes hurt when he blinks, sore from all the exertion. A bone-deep feeling of exhaustion settles over him like a blanket, the ache in his chest receding to a dull throbbing pain.

He is so tired.

Absurdly, he finds himself thinking of his grandmother. Thinking of her still hurts, even after all this time, though the pain is half sadness and half nostalgia. She was a remarkable woman, and Taehyung remembers how he would run to her whenever something made him cry, and she would make it all better with her kind words and gentle smiles. She would distract him with fascinating stories that made the world seem magical, full of endless possibilities. Stories of faraway lands, powerful flying dragons, old myths and legends - carefully woven tales to calm him down until he would open up about his troubles and unburden his heart. 

“My brave little Taehyung,” she would say. “ There is no shame in needing help. If there comes a day when your dear old grandma can’t listen to you anymore, and you find yourself in a darkness too hard to bear alone, speak your worries into the wind, and it will carry your words to the kind god who wears his hair in a long purple braid.”

Jimin was there at her funeral. He was the one who drove Taehyung back home, and then forced him to take a few days off work. Taehyung had wanted to cry, but all he felt was an aching sense of emptiness, a void that would never be filled again. But at least he had Jimin, and Jimin had held him close all night, stroking his hair until he had fallen asleep.

“The god listens to all those who call him with an earnest heart, little one. He will surely hear you when you pray to him.”

Taehyung blinks, and the world swims back into focus again. Night had fallen while he was lost in his memories, and his bedroom seems emptier without the warmth of the sun. It’s a darkness he has to bear alone now, he knows. Jimin will not be by his side this time.

“What about you, purple haired god?” he mumbles, the alcohol finally making his eyelids heavier. “Are you listening to me?

He tries to stand up, and immediately regrets it, the world tilting precariously around him. He settles heavily against the side of his bed and slowly tries to blink away the dizziness. 

“Look at me,” he huffs, a miserable laugh caught in his throat. “I wouldn’t blame you if you stopped listening… everyone does… you must be tired of hearing wishes day and night... ”

He trails off, closing his eyes and tilting his head upwards to rest it against the edge of the mattress.

“But if you’re out there like my grandma said, o great and mighty god who is so kind and generous…. here’s a challenge for you.. ”

Taehyung breathes out, sleep finally claiming him as he exhales his half-forgotten plea into the air.

“... please …. fix me. Save me.”

Miles away in a meadow of wildflowers, Seokjin gasps awake.

A voice.

It was a voice that woke him, he knows, and though it has been a long, long time since Seokjin has felt it, he knows what it means. It comes to him as naturally as breathing, like a missing piece of him slotting back into place. 

A prayer. Someone is praying to him. 

Someone is praying to him .

He scrambles up, trying to hold on to the softly murmured words that are already starting to fade. Even if the person didn’t follow the proper etiquette or adopt the correct formal tone, Seokjin can feel that the intent behind the prayer. 

“... save me.”

Seokjin’s heart sinks. The prayer ends as abruptly as it had started, and Seokjin remains quiet and still on the grass, hoping to hear a few more words. The person says no more.

They wish to be saved. They wish to be saved by Seokjin. Seokjin, who got bullied by a wasp a few days ago. How can someone like him save this poor devoted soul from whatever trouble they are in? Why did they choose Seokjin of all the gods...

He halts that line of thinking. He finally received a prayer, after all these years of living in complete and utter obscurity. He can’t forget the feeling of rightness that washed through his entire being as the prayer found its way to him. It’s his duty, the very purpose of his existence, and to be reminded of it at a time when he had all but accepted his imminent dissolution... Seokjin can’t deny how much it seems like a sign. His second chance.

Seokjin may not be as powerful as he once was, but he vows to do all that is in his power to help. He will honour this prayer, he has to . He owes it to this person who let him feel this feeling, even if it may be for the last time ever. 

“I hear you,” he whispers, trying desperately to not get his hopes too high. 

“This god has heard your prayer,” he repeats, in the formal tone as the custom demands. 

Then, he gives in to the urge and spins in a circle, and jumps twice for good measure with a jubilant yell. The firefly regards him lazily with a curious eye as he throws himself flat on the grass again and stares at the clear night sky, his body quivering with emotion.

A light breeze scurries through the tips of the grass in the meadow, and Seokjin looks forward to the dawn of a new day after a very long time.

“...Thank you,” he breathes, thinking back to the softly murmured words of the prayer, and the note of despair and sadness that Seokjin can already feel. 

“Just hold on a little bit longer. I’ll find my way to you.”

Taehyung is on his way back home from work on a Monday when his life changes.

He stopped by at the printing shop to make a few photocopies on the way, silently cursing the perpetually broken office copy-machine. It’s much earlier than he usually leaves for home, but he couldn’t deal with the constant worried looks Namjoon was throwing his way every 30 mins.

Did he really look that pathetic? One of his co-workers had asked him if somebody in his family had died. He doesn’t even remember talking to that guy before. 

He could just do the rest of his work for that day at home. He stands on the pavement at the intersection, absent-mindedly going over his mental to-do list when he notices something. He spots movement out of the corner of his eye, and turns on instinct, anticipating a puppy or small animal of some sort. It could be dangerous for strays to wander so close to the traffic.

It’s… not a puppy.

Taehyung spots some flowers swaying in the breeze, making their way down the street, narrowly dodging the feet of a man who walks past them, paying them no heed at all. 

Taehyung blinks, wondering if he’s still hungover somehow. 

The flowers get nearer, and Taehyung can see they are tied to something… something that looks startlingly human. The breeze rustles the flowers again, and Taehyung catches a glimpse of tiny hands in pink robes which dart out quickly to hold on to the daisies. A lady walks past the little figure, and doesn’t even stop to spare it a glance.

Taehyung hitches his bag higher on his shoulder and holds the photocopies in his hand more securely, and begins to approach the strange figure, trying to get a closer look. Is it some sort of new battery-operated doll? A new advertisement scheme for some innovative brand? As he gets closer he can make out the figure’s small head and long hair that seems to shine purple in the fading afternoon sun. Such level of detail is remarkable, and the way the little doll swivels its head from side to side is surprisingly lifelike, almost like it’s looking for someone.

When Taehyung is barely a few feet away, it happens to glance right in his direction, and their eyes meet.

Taehyung freezes.

It’s an extremely elegant face, almost too perfect to be real, and Taehyung marvels at the artist who was able to craft such delicate details on such a miniature form. He can see the design of the robes more clearly now, and it’s certainly a very unique choice of attire for such an advanced piece of technology. Taehyung wonders how it has been programmed to interact with people who notice it and try to initiate contact. There must be some mechanism in place -

He takes a step closer, and the little figure yelps in alarm, clutching its flowers close as it turns on its heels and begins to run.

“Hey, wait!” Taehyung picks up his pace as he watches the pink-robed figure trying to flee, though its little feet are no match for Taehyung’s long legs. As if sensing this truth, the figure steps off the pavement and takes a sharp left, intending to speed across the crosswalk to reach the other side of the street. 

Taehyung glances in alarm at the traffic sign, and relaxes slightly when he sees the green of the pedestrian crossing light. He hurries down the street to reach the crosswalk, keeping an eye on the little figure’s progress across the road. When it’s almost halfway across, Taehyung watches in horror as the pedestrian crossing light starts flashing in warning, and the waiting cars begin to turn their engines back on. There’s no way the little being would be able to make it across in time.

It seems to realise this at the same time as Taehyung, as the lights finally change and the cars roar back to life. The robed figure seems to be frozen in place as the vehicles begin to move forwards.

Taehyung starts running.

The cars slam their brakes and screech to a halt as he sprints across the crosswalk and scoops the little figure up from the road, away from the path of an advancing sedan. His photocopies go flying, abandoned in his urgency to grab the tiny person before they get crushed under uncaring wheels. The wind picks up the papers and carries them down the street, the documents floating and dancing in the air like playthings of a delighted child. Taehyung knows there’s no point in trying to recover them.

The people yell at him and honk in anger at his rash actions, and he bows profusely in apology after reaching the pavement. It was risky, he knows, but he doesn’t regret it. Not when he can feel the trembling warmth of the little being encased in his hands.

He ducks into a quiet corner of an alley and carefully opens his palms. 

The little person is curled into a ball, covering their head with their hands to shield themself from injury. It must not have been pleasant to be jostled around while Taehyung carried them.

“Hey, are you alright?” Taehyung whispers, holding them as gingerly as he can.

The little being jumps at the sound of his voice, and carefully peeks out from under the shelter of their arms. Taehyung tries to look as non-threatening as possible. He is aware that he can look quite intimidating sometimes, so he tries to smile a little to put this strange little person at ease, even though he is freaking out inside.

It seems to work, as the person looks at him with wide eyes and slowly lets their guard down, carefully picking themself up to stand upright on Taehyung’s palm. 

They stare at each other.

Taehyung breaks the silence first, unable to restrain his curiosity any longer. He has so many questions.

“Can you understand me? This language? I am -”

The little person rolls their eyes.

“You are Kim Taehyung, I know,” they say, and Taehyung snaps his mouth shut. The little person looks pleased with this reaction, as they stand up straighter and adjust the sleeves of their robe.

Then they place their hands on their hips, and stare at Taehyung as if to ask “well?”

“How - how did you know my name? Who are you?”

“Your prayer has been heard, Kim Taehyung from Seoul,” the little being says, with an aura of great seriousness. “Even if it was lacking in decorum and was borderline blasphemous, this god has graciously chosen to accept it. Rest easy, for you are now in the care of the illustrious and benevolent Seokjin, and he will help you attain your heart’s desire.”

Taehyung blinks.

“Erm… ‘Seokjin’?”

“Me! I’m Seokjin, obviously!” the tiny person yells indignantly, stomping their tiny foot for emphasis. Taehyung barely feels it on his palm.

“... right.” Taehyung tries to frame the next question in the least offensive manner possible. “No offence, but you don’t look like much of a god.”

Seokjin narrows his eyes, glaring at Taehyung with his hands clenched into fists by his side. It’s alarmingly cute.

“Well, you’re not much of a devotee either,” he retorts with an angry huff. “Besides,” he says, self-consciously brushing away some dirt from his robes, “it’s not my fault if you have preconceived notions about what gods are supposed to look like. This is simply one of my forms.”

Seokjin folds his arms over his chest in a clearly defensive gesture, and Taehyung decides to be nicer. 

“My apologies, it was very rude of me,” he says, and Seokjin blinks at him in surprise, like he expected more arguments. “I have never met a god before, I hope you will excuse me, oh benevolent and gracious Seokjin.”

Seokjin fiddles with a daisy tied to the sash of his robes. 

“You are forgiven,” he mumbles, his ears steadily turning red. “A god should be merciful to his devotee after all.”

Taehyung tries not to smile too hard. What on earth is happening? He is having a conversation… with a god?

“So, if I understand correctly, you heard a prayer from me? And you were seeking me out?”

Seokjin nods. “That is correct.”

“Then why did you run away when I tried to approach you?”

Seokjin’s ears seem to turn even redder.

“Ah well, I guess you could say I… panicked.”

Taehyung raises a skeptical eyebrow. Seokjin seems to have difficulty looking at him.

“You see,” Seokjin mumbles, “gods are only visible to those people whose prayers have been accepted by them, and it has been a long time since someone looked right at me, instead of through me. I felt - I was caught off-guard, that’s all.”

“So that’s why nobody even noticed you on the street!”

Seokjin nods. “It’s convenient while travelling amongst mortals, though animals are still able to sense me somehow,” he shrugs. “I suppose they pick up on my energy.”

“You should still be careful,” Taehyung says, bringing Seokjin closer so that he can look into the little god’s eyes with what he hopes is a stern look. “You gave me quite a scare on the road there. The cars wouldn’t even have been able to see you -”

“I had it under control!” Seokjin protests, though they both know it’s not true. “I am a god, you know? These puny mortal perils do not bother me.”

Clearly, Taehyung has touched a nerve there. “If you say so, it must be true,” he concedes,  and tries not to think about the single daisy that had come loose and fallen on the tarmac, trampled underfoot by some passerby. 

“Onto more pressing matters, it would be helpful if you could state the terms of your prayer more clearly,” Seokjin says. “You weren’t too specific with the details.”

Taehyung clears his throat.

“Okay, listen, uh Seokjin,” he begins, trying not to seem disrespectful. “I’ll be honest with you - I have no idea what I said in my prayer. In fact, I don’t even remember praying to you, or any god at all.”

Seokjin frowns. “That cannot be -”

“I was really really drunk last night, so that might’ve had something to do with it,” he admits. He was relieved this morning when he realised he hadn’t done something stupid like texting Jimin or leaving him an hour long voicemail begging him to take Taehyung back. No, instead he had somehow managed to pray to and summon a god. Small mercies.

“You’re the most peculiar devotee I’ve ever met,” Seokjin remarks, and casts an assessing gaze on Taehyung’s face. “I had assumed from the nature of your prayer that perhaps you were afflicted with some sort of sickness, or in some dangerous predicament you needed help with.”

“Hey! Are you disappointed that I’m not?”

Seokjin ignores him, and continues in that same assessing tone, like he’s trying to read something written on Taehyung. “And yet, the prayer was sincere, otherwise it wouldn’t have reached me at all.”

“Huh.” Taehyung tries to think about what he could’ve wished for with such sincerity while being drunk off his ass. He hopes he didn’t ask the poor god for break up advice. “Did I ask you for a million dollars or something? Because I sure am sincere about that,” he jokes.

“No, you don’t want money, Kim Taehyung,” Seokjin says, in that steady way of his as he looks into Taehyung’s eyes, all shyness and hesitation from before gone from his face. For the first time, Taehyung actually believes that he might have an actual god on his palm. 

It terrifies him, a little.

“Ah - then I think,” Taehyung licks his lips. “Did I ask for a promotion at work? I hope I did, because if it isn’t that then I’m afraid I really might have asked you for relationship advice.”

Seokjin shakes his head with a soft smile.

“Say, Kim Taehyung, do you know why mortals pray?” Seokjin says. “Humans are incredibly resilient creatures, and while some may pray to show gratitude for what they already have, most turn to prayer only when they seek things that they believe to be completely outside their reach.” Seokjin pauses for a moment, looking at Taehyung in that same thoughtful way. “Money, professional success, love… you didn’t pray for any of these things, and I suspect it’s not because you don’t want them, but because you believe that someday these things will be within your grasp.”

Taehyung swallows, and feels like he is on the edge of a waterfall, hurtling towards an inevitable revelation.

“But what you did ask for, is something you believe you cannot do yourself,” Seokjin says, without any hint of judgement in his voice. “Kim Taehyung, you want to be saved.”

Taehyung exhales, and it comes out a little shaky.

“I’m sorry for misleading you, but I'm not in any trouble. There is nothing I need to be saved from,” he says, as earnestly as he can. “Sorry for making you go through all this trouble of finding me, but as you can see, I’m perfectly fine.”

Seokjin sighs.

“Regardless of whether or not you believe you deserve to be saved, you prayed to me for help, and I accepted your prayer. A god doesn’t go back on their words.”

“Listen - all I’m saying is that there’s no need for you to waste your time on me. I’m sure there are plenty of other people out there who need it more urgently, so you should help them instead -”

“Don’t presume to tell me what I should and shouldn’t do,” Seokjin says, hands curled into fists by his side. He looks mad, standing on his tiptoes to glare at Taehyung. “We’ve not even begun and you’re already ready to give up! Why can’t you have a bit more faith in me?”

Oh no. Somehow Taehyung has managed to disappoint Seokjin within minutes of meeting him. This must be a record, even for him. He sighs, the exhaustion of the day catching up with him as he rubs his eye with the hand that doesn’t currently have a tiny god on it.

“I’m sorry,” he says, giving Seokjin a tired smile. “I don’t mean to doubt your strength or abilities… it’s just me.” He shifts the bag on his shoulder. “It has been a long day, and I should be getting home - would you mind if we continued this conversation sometime else?”

Seokjin blinks, visibly relaxing, and nods in agreement. “Yes, of course. We can talk more after you have acquired adequate rest and nourishment. Mortal bodies require a lot of care and maintenance.”

Taehyung raises an eyebrow. “And gods don’t, right?”

“Well, since I have taken this physical form, I need to occasionally perform the required actions to preserve it in good condition.”

“This form of yours…” Taehyung says, and Seokjin narrows his eyes.

“Yes?”

“Are all gods this tiny?”

“Are all humans this nosy?” Seokjin retorts, and Taehyung can’t help but laugh at his expression.

“Touche,” Taehyung concedes. “Well, I am only a humble mortal,” he says, “and I am so very tired after a long day at work.” 

“Yes, we should get going.”

Taehyung blinks. “We?”

“Ah don’t worry, now that I know the circumstances of your prayer, I won’t hold it against you for not having a new shrine ready for me. I can continue to reside in my general place of residence.”

“And where is this ‘general place of residence’?”

“A small meadow not far from here,” Seokjin replies. “By the river.”

Taehyung stares at him. “You - you live on that grassy patch of land by the riverside? Out in the open?”

“Yes?”

“And you walked here all the way from there? Alone?”

“Obviously.”

Oh, there is no way Taehyung will be able to rest easy knowing Seokjin is out there in the wilderness. He can still hear the brakes of the cars screeching.

“Here’s a proposal,” he says, hoping Seokjin doesn’t refuse it, “since you came all the way here to answer my prayer, why don’t you stay with me at my place? It’s the least I can do, right?”

Seokjin looks at him with wide eyes. “You wish to invite me into your home? Nobody apart from you can see me, Taehyung. It will be difficult to explain to others -”

“Oh don’t even worry about it. Please, I insist. Take it as another prayer from me, okay?”

“That’s not how it works,” Seokjin grumbles, though his ears start to turn red again. 

“All the more reason why you should come! Then you can teach me how it actually works, and answer all my questions - and I do have many questions.”

Seokjin hesitates, fiddling with one of his daisies again, until he sighs hard. “Well, I suppose there is no harm in it,” he says, and smiles when Taehyung beams at him. “Thank you for your invitation, Kim Taehyung,” he intones, in what Taehyung is beginning to term as his ‘customer-service god voice’, “this god shall grant you the honour of his presence in your humble abode.”

Taehyung grins. “Much obliged, my lord.”

Seokjin pokes his head out of Taehyung’s bag as they come to a stop outside an apartment door.

“This is your home?” he asks, as Taehyung produces a set of keys from his pocket.

Taehyung nods. “I live alone, so you don’t have to worry about other people around -”

Whatever Taehyung says next is lost to the air as Seokjin hears the sound of rapid footsteps coming from inside the apartment, followed by a loud bark from the other side of the door.

“What was that?!” Seokjin shrieks, ducking back inside Taehyung’s bag. “Taehyung, I told you, animals can sense me!”

“Oh! It’s just Yeontan, don’t worry,” Taehyung assures him, unlocking the door to reveal a small puppy that barrels straight into Taehyung’s legs. “Yeontan is a friend.”

“Friend?! He’s nearly three times my size and has no moral compass!” 

“Oh hush, he’s a little baby,” Taehyung chides, opening the flap of his bag so that Seokjin is forced to face the vicious beast.

“Stand back!” he yells, brandishing a sharp instrument he had found in Taehyung’s bag. The dog simply yips at him, trying to come closer and smell him.

“Hey - put that down, come on,” Taehyung scolds, taking away his only defence. “Tan-ah, be nice,” he says to the dog in a far gentler tone. To his credit, Yeontan quiets down, though his tail continues to wag merrily, betraying his excitement.

“Good boy!” Taehyung praises, scratching under the puppy’s ear until it practically melts into his touch. “Now, Seokjin, meet Yeontan. Just let him smell you, and he’ll know not to bother you anymore.”

“I know how dogs work,” Seokjin mutters, gingerly extending his hand towards Yeontan, who curiously leans forward to sniff at it. “I used to be very fond of them, a long time ago.” Seokjin holds very still as Yeontan performs a thorough inspection of his hand. It’s terrifying, and he can’t help but remember all the stray dogs on the streets who had chased him viciously, snapping and tearing at his robes until he managed to hide in some small crevice. That experience was unfortunately followed by many other such incidents, which had forced Seokjin to keep his distance from these animals for his own good.

To his credit, Taehyung doesn’t ask him to elaborate. Humans are naturally curious, and Seokjin knows Taehyung must have many questions. He must be biding his time before he can ask them. Or he must’ve drawn his own conclusions somehow, which Seokjin is not sure how to feel about.

Taehyung sets him down on a cushion, and picks Yeontan up to carry him into a different room.

“Be right back! Gotta feed his highness,” he yells behind his shoulder, and Seokjin nods, even though Taehyung can’t see him. He lets himself sink into the softness of the pillow under him and takes in the place which Taehyung calls home. 

After all, he has his own questions too.

From what he can see, the space is well organised and neat, cosy but not cluttered. All the furniture seems to be following a cohesive colour scheme, and there are coasters on the table in the shape of maple leaves. The rug on the floor looks almost sinfully soft. He cranes his neck to see the wall behind him, and sees a large abstract painting done in bold vibrant tones of yellow, red and blue.

There is nothing in this room to suggest that Taehyung is unhappy with his life, or that there is something that has prevented him from keeping his home spick and span.

“Like what you see?” Taehyung says, now dressed in a well-loved t-shirt and striped pyjamas. 

“Sorry it took me a while. Had to change out of work clothes.”

“Your home is lovely,” Seokjin says. “You must take a lot of pride in it.”

“Oh uh -” Taehyung blinks. “Thanks? It’s nothing special really.”

Seokjin shakes his head. “Not everyone has a place they can call home with confidence, Kim Taehyung,” he says. Seokjin certainly can’t. Gods don’t have the luxury of putting down roots the way humans like to. 

He notices Taehyung staring at him.

“Anyway!” Seokjin clasps his palms together, effectively putting an end to that line of thought. “You must be famished, right?”

“Right,” Taehyung says, eyes never leaving Seokjin. The man sure has a piercing stare. “What do gods eat? I don’t have much in the fridge right now, so I’m afraid it will have to be something simple. I’ll go grocery shopping tomorrow, Jimin was supposed to -”

Taehyung stops talking abruptly.

Seokjin watches his face crumple for a second before Taehyung turns away. The man quickly opens the fridge to stick his head inside it. “Ye - Yeah, not much to work with tonight,” he says, clearing his throat.

Hm. So there was something there, after all.

“I am not picky about food,” Seokjin states, watching the stiff line of Taehyung’s shoulder relax a little when he realises Seokjin is not about to pry. “I honoured all offerings made to my shrines back in the day. Now I have come to enjoy the taste of fresh fruits above all.”

“Whoa, you had shrines?” Taehyung asks, coming closer to kneel in front of the sofa to talk to Seokjin. “What did they look like?”

“Of course I had shrines! What sort of a god would I be if there was no place my devotees could offer prayers to me,” Seokjin huffs. “There is no one fixed way a shrine must look. The intention matters more than the actual structure, I suppose.”

Taehyung places his chin on the sofa, and looks at Seokjin with a thoughtful expression on his face. Seokjin can see himself in the reflection on his glasses. 

“And what purpose does a shrine serve to a god?”

Seokjin hums, resting his own chin on his hand to watch Taehyung’s inquisitive eyes tracking the movement behind his glasses. This human sure has a gaze . It has been a while since Seokjin held anyone’s undivided attention like this, and it makes him feel oddly self-conscious.

“Shrines are a sign of a god’s power - in a sense. They reflect the people’s faith, and the more shrines a god has, the more faith they inspire, and hence the more power they have. Do you understand?”

Taehyung gives him a sleepy, lopsided smile, his cheek now squished against the soft surface of the sofa. “A little bit.”

Seokjin squints. “Are you falling asleep right here?”

Taehyung huffs. “A little bit, yeah.” He blinks. “What is your favourite fruit?”

Taehyung wipes down the kitchen counter and hangs up the kitchen towel to dry. Then he pads out of the kitchen on quiet feet, and softly clicks the light off.

It has been a bizarre day.

He almost has trouble believing it was real, except he can see the little god sound asleep on his sofa, curled up against a softly dozing Yeontan who seems to have taken a shining to him. 

“So, gods sleep too, huh?” he whispers to himself, watching the very human way Seokjin sleeps with his head pillowed on his arms. “You’re a mysterious one, aren’t you?” he smiles, wondering if Seokjin is aware that he is snuggling with his sworn enemy.

There is an empty bowl on the table in front of them, where Taehyung had cut up the freshest green apple he had in his fridge into bite sized pieces. If Seokjin’s happy expression was something to go by, then he sure hadn’t been lying when he confessed his love for apples. Taehyung makes a note to stock up on them later.

There is a peaceful silence in the air, even though it’s barely 8 pm. Seokjin must’ve been exhausted after walking all the way to the city to find Taehyung. All because Taehyung had prayed to him.

Taehyung runs a hand through his hair. He doesn’t want to think too hard about what he had prayed about. God or not, Seokjin had proved to be a welcome distraction, preventing him from thinking too hard about what Jimin was doing, and if he has eaten -

If he has been thinking about Taehyung the way Taehyung has been thinking of him.

Selfishly, he hopes Jimin is hurting too, and then hates himself for it. But then, there’s no need for him to hide it anymore. Jimin must’ve seen it already. He knows what kind of a person Taehyung is.

Taehyung sighs, running a hand down his face. 

He takes another look at Seokjin, and starts thinking about the idea that had popped up in his head during their earlier conversation. He needs a project, something to immerse himself in so that he can avoid wasting time thinking about all the ways in which he’s fucked up. 

Fifteen minutes later, Taehyung settles down next to the sofa with one of his models for his older projects. The structure was meant to be a monument in a park, a part of his larger model for a commercial office complex, but Taehyung supposes he can easily repurpose the material to make something different. Maybe he could keep the base, double the width to make more room for decorations, and he could paint the exteriors for a more vibrant look.

It would certainly be unconventional, and a joke compared to the shrines Seokjin must've had in his honour in the past, but the god did say that it was the intention that mattered.

Something in Seokjin’s eyes had seemed so wistful, so sad, when he was talking about the shrines, like he was recalling someone else’s memories. Taehyung doesn’t know how long Seokjin intends to stick around, but he wants the god to have a shrine again. After all, Taehyung is not an architect for nothing. It’s not every day one gets to build something for a god.

He tinkers with the design for the next few hours, thinking of all the changes he can make once he gets the proper materials. It’s exciting, being able to work on something like this, and it creates that familiar buzz of excitement in Taehyung’s heart. 

Fuck being modest, he thinks, once he has settled on a design. “I’m gonna make the best little shrine you’ve ever seen, Seokjin,” he whispers, and casts a look at the god on his sofa. 

Taehyung gasps.

Right there, curled up against Yeontan, the little god has begun to glow.

It’s a pale shimmer of light that seems to circle around Seokjin, and it’s gone before Taehyung knows it, sinking into Seokjin and settling beneath his skin. 

Seokjin sighs in his sleep.

Taehyung blinks, still awestruck by the sudden light-show on his sofa. If he looks carefully, he can see that though the light is gone, it seems to have imbued Seokjin with a rejuvenating glow, fading into a faint shimmer clinging to the god’s skin.

Like a little firefly, Taehyung thinks, and smiles at the image.

Outside, the sky is clear and the stars twinkle on, keeping their silent vigil as paths of destiny intertwine in the night.