Archive of Our Own ^beta

“There is one spectacle grander than the sea, 

that is the sky; 

there is one spectacle grander than the sky, 

that is the interior of the soul.” 

 

 

- victor hugo

☆

Jimin loved to be among the stars. 

Up there, he was free. 

The way he danced alongside those luminous spheroid of plasma always made him bloom with joy and reassurance, and that only made the moon shine even brighter amidst the ominous dark sky.

He was not afraid of the dark, however. The young man was no man, per se. He might have the appearance of one and walk among humans when he wished as if he was their equal, but in the end he was still a god. The God of the Moon. And, like any other celestial being, he had a job of immense importance to do—to keep the presence of his beloved moon alive. 

Sometimes, he simply enjoyed staying up there seated on its dusty surface, surrounded by all the peacefulness and quiet the universe had to offer, eyeing the earth from far away. 

It was fascinating and utterly beautiful how he could never get tired of it, for it brought him comfort like nothing else.

He belonged there, and those moments each night made him feel so useful to the earth and its inhabitants—like he truly mattered.

Jimin loved every bit of his life. 

Everything, except for one little detail that was the reason for many of his problems: that he had to leave his spot in the sky to another divinity every single morning.

Jeon Jeongguk.

Jeongguk was quite the opposite of Jimin, for he was the God of the Sun—the only star Jimin seemed to despise with all of his soul.

His light was the first thing humans saw when they opened their tired eyes after a night full of darkness—and his symphony that perfectly blended with the soft chirping of the birds that flew happily in the sky was the first sound they would hear.

They all worshipped the sun and its God. 

They all adored Jeongguk and Jimin was simply forgotten once the other was to take his place in the morning and shut down his magic to replace it with his.

Jimin hated him for it. 

Not many humans contemplated him as they once used to—not when they had Jeongguk to brighten up their busy days.

It was unfair. Once Jeongguk was high up in the sky, Jimin was nothing more than a distant memory. It hurt how he would hear the whispers of humans that wished Jeongguk never had to leave—that wished the sky would always remain bright with light.

He envied the other so much. However, he had to hide his hostility the best he could. He couldn't let the latter know, of course. 

Still, he was almost certain he was doing a very poor job at it.

Little did Jimin know that Jeongguk felt the same way—that he too wished to be seen like Jimin.

Jeongguk tried, but he couldn't understand why the satellite was admired by so many artists, unlike him—why a quiet thing like the moon was a source of inspiration and the most adored muse.

Perhaps, that was a lie.

He knew why.

Still, Jeongguk wondered how Jimin could be so selfish. Was it not enough to be considered a masterpiece of unreachable beauty? Why did the other have to take his place in the sky too? 

Ever since the beginning, Jeongguk had tried to be cordial, to befriend the satellite—his life was a lonely one after all—but Jimin had been quite hostile since the very first moment they laid his eyes on each other. 

Maybe, if Jimin were slightly nicer, Jeongguk would’ve gladly given him his place for a few hours without complaining—shining for so long was not an easy thing, but Jimin was so arrogant, so mean.

So… so beautiful. 

With his snowy smooth skin, pearly eyes that seemed to hold the whole universe in them, lips plump and of a pretty shade of pink, silver silky hair that sometimes grew long enough to reach his shoulders and he had to tie it in a ponytail… He was so beautiful and Jeongguk hated the fact that he couldn’t hate him.

Jeongguk couldn't deny the attraction he felt towards the silver God. 

However, even if he didn’t want to at first, he began to act the same way as Jimin. Turned out, arrogance fitted him better than he was expecting. 

All that he felt towards Jimin was pushed to the back of his mind, for the most part at least.

Jimin was beautiful, yes, but beauty wasn't an excuse to try to take Jeongguk's place. Jeongguk was bigger, more powerful. He could paint the world with dazzling light while Jimin could only leave a faint glow on its surface. 

Couldn't that be considered a win? A show of grandiosity? 

Jeongguk liked to believe so.

⋆ ☽ ⋆

Jeongguk was seated on the cold sand, elbows resting on top of his bended knees while he observed the vast sea before him.

The day had ended a while ago and there was nothing for him to do than to wait for a new day to come.

Jeongguk wasn't oblivious. He knew the importance of the moon—not only for humans, but for the world itself. Both of them needed to cooperate in order for the world to remain balanced.

Still, that didn't mean he liked to be cast aside.

He sighed, looking at his nude hands and arms. His tanned skin looked pale under the glow of the night, and the labyrinthine lines of tattoos that adorned his right arm seemed darker in contrast.

Even though it was almost summer, the wind was still cold; another consequence of the night, he figured. No matter the season, it was always colder during those nightly hours. 

Jeongguk wasn't a fan of the cold—his warmth was way more pleasing, even the humans seemed to agree with him.

He had no idea how long he had been sitting there contemplating his life. Perhaps only for a few minutes, or maybe for a couple of hours. It did not matter anyway, he had nothing better to do.

He had yet to look up at the sky, however.

He knew pretty well what was above him—the serene and ashen moon.

With the moon came Jimin, obviously, and Jeongguk wasn't sure if he wanted to see his cocky face tonight.

He was exhausted. Summer meant more light and warmth gracing the earth, and that always meant more hours of work and a very displeased Jimin.

An icy breeze flew past Jeongguk and he felt his whole body shiver in response. It was too chilly for him to fully relax, and he needed to do so in order to endure another day of hard work.

He closed his eyes, inhaling deeply. He reached inside his body and began to feel the fire burning in his chest and his powers moving through his veins, but they were faint—as if they were dormant.

Jeongguk touched the fire with his mind, slowly, tentatively. The flames began to stir softly, moving gently in circles, reminding him of a dance between two lovers. 

He touched them again, slightly harder and more firmly. This time, the flames grew larger and brighter. His body began to heat up almost immediately as they expanded inside him, the air around him becoming heavier. He hummed at the feeling of tension finally slipping away from his sore muscles. 

Once Jeongguk decided he was content enough, he laid down on the sand—now hot against his skin. All was tranquil. The only sound breaking the silence were the waves crashing against the shore, but he welcomed those.

He, at last, dared to open his eyes to take a quick glance at the moon, expecting to be graced by its gray-dusty surface; but surprisingly, he was met with a scowling Jimin floating in the air no more than two meters away from where he stood.

The silver-haired being was glowing, surrounded by a radiant light, which was uncharacteristic of him.

Was he an illusion? There was no other reason for Jimin to be bathing in light, willingly.

Jeongguk right then thought Jimin looked astonishing. He was already lovely when surrounded by mist and stars, but Jeongguk couldn’t deny this brighter glow was a good look on him.

“What do you think you’re doing?” The angry tone in Jimin’s voice seemed to be enough to awaken Jeongguk from his trance.

Jeongguk’s eyes widened, a bit startled, his heart of flames racing. There was no way it was an illusion. Jimin was indeed standing before him in the flesh, and he was considerably furious.

Jeongguk quickly got up, brushing the sand off his oversized clothing.

“What are you doing here?” He queried, trying his best to not sound taken aback. It wasn’t the first time he was in Jimin’s presence, of course; but it was one of the first times Jimin had addressed him first. They had never exchanged many words throughout the centuries. When it was time for them to take the other’s spot in the sky, they would usually only glare and ignore each other as they did. “Shouldn’t you be doing… your job?”

“You’ve got to be kidding me…” Jimin scoffed in disbelief, crossing his arms over his chest as his feet came into contact with the ground. “You take my place and even dare mock me.”

A look of puzzlement crossed Jeongguk’s face. All he did was wait for his turn to do his job. He had not bothered anyone, especially not Jimin, so there was no reason for the other to be speaking to him in such a tone.

“What are you talking about?” He asked, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. What was Jimin referring to? Had he been so bored that he had to leave his job to come down and pick a fight with Jeongguk? “Take your place? I did not take your place.”

“How dare you lie straight to my face when you’re literally rising before my eyes?” Jimin gestured to all the light that was enveloping his body. “Do you think I’m an idiot?”

Rising before him? No, that was not possible… right?

Oh no.

Jeongguk glanced at his surroundings, noticing for the first time that his whole body was glowing and that his light was becoming stronger with each passing second. 

He knew then that he had screwed up badly, in a way that had never happened before. Jimin had all the right to be mad, for he would be too if the situation was reversed.

He hadn’t meant for this to happen. He was only supposed to use a bit of his power to keep him warm, nothing else. Instead, he let his powers run wild—which made him unconsciously begin to rise before what was stipulated.

He wasn’t a newly born God. He had years and years of experience, mistakes like these weren’t supposed to happen.

“Jimin, I’m sorry. I swear I didn’t mean to,” he tried to explain, sweat beginning to run down his temples. “I just…”

“You just what? Got tired of waiting and decided to rise an hour earlier? How dare you!” Jimin cut in, the thousands of tiny stars that always seemed to follow him around were barely visible, but Jeongguk still felt their restlessness from where he stood. “I knew you were low, but this is a whole new level.”

Jeongguk took a deep breath, fists clenching. Jimin could somehow always leave him like this—so out of his mind and heated. Still, he managed to control his emotions and remain calm for his own sake.

“I’ve told you I was sorry,” He tried again, he didn’t want to spend the next month looking over his shoulder wondering if Jimin was planning something against him. “I really didn’t mean for this to happen. If you want, I can push my light back. It’s no problem, really.”

“No problem, you say? Are you so stupid that you can’t see that humans have already seen your light?” Jimin spitted, cheeks tinted red with anger. “I don’t care about your worthless apologies.” 

Jimin had never treated him so much hostility. No matter how much they couldn’t tolerate each other, things had always remained within the courteous side—for the most part, at least.

Jeongguk bit back the retort that almost slipped past his lips. “It won’t happen again, I promise.”

“It better not. I will finish you if you try something like this again.” Jimin stepped a bit closer to him, his now dim darkness slowly blending with Jeongguk’s light, his starry eyes alight. “I thought it was impossible to hate you even more, but I guess I was wrong.”

I thought it was impossible to hate you even more, but I guess I was wrong. It sounded so genuine and it broke something inside Jeongguk’s chest. 

He knew Jimin couldn’t finish him, that those were only words spoken amidst anger, but he too was angry. He had tried to apologize, to tell the other he hadn’t done it on purpose. He had never apologized in his whole life, but still, he did it for Jimin.

He had acknowledged his wrongdoing and the other wouldn’t even accept his apology?

The fire inside his veins was moving rapidly, and impossibly warm. He was so, so infuriated. “You know what, dear Jimin? At least I’m saving these humans from another hour of misery. Who even wants to see you up there anyway?”

He didn’t wait for the silver-haired being’s reply, he wasn’t expecting one. He wanted to leave the other’s unpleasant presence so that he could do his job properly.

With a flick of his finger, two large wings made of fire appeared on his back out of thin air, which made a surprised shriek leave through Jimin’s parted lips. Jeongguk then rose from the ground, sending a triumphantly smirk Jimin’s way before shooting up towards the scorching sun—trying to seem unaffected by the fact that he had left Jimin, flabbergasted and hurt, alone by the sparkling morning sea.

⋆ ☽ ⋆

Four months had passed since the incident that made Jeongguk rise earlier. And since then, neither Jimin nor Jeongguk had exchanged even the briefest of words.

Jimin wanted to make the bright creature pay. 

He began to steal minutes from Jeongguk’s days, leaving the world dancing in darkness and stars for longer periods of time. Jeongguk didn’t speak of the matter, however—Jimin couldn’t possibly know the reason behind it was Jeongguk’s guilty  conscience. 

Reason why the blond God pretended not to know what Jimin was doing—setting every time he sensed the silver-haired God wanted to rise.

No matter how much Jimin had tried to ignore the bright God, he still couldn’t help the few gazes he would send the other every time his broad back was facing him—piercing through the thin layer of clothing with the strength of thousands of deadly bullets. Their relationship, if he could call it that, was thornier than ever.

Today was just like any other normal day. 

Jimin felt his gentle white light begin to fade, and he knew what that meant—Jeongguk was about to rise. It was time for him to go, for another day was about to begin.

Jimin glanced at his right when the sound of something flapping found its way to his ears. Jeongguk was approaching him with his enormous blinding wings and hands behind his back, leaving behind a weak trail of smoke.

Neither greeted the other, but Jimin felt there was something different about Jeongguk—something he couldn't quite point out.

He watched Jeongguk count the time quietly under his breath. Jimin had stolen him two minutes of light—another two minutes to add to the total of seven he had already stolen previously that week.

“I’m beginning to get tired of this,” Jeongguk confessed. It was the first time in months that Jeongguk made his voice be heard in the presence of Jimin. "You keep taking minutes of my day. Think I wouldn’t notice?”

Jimin freezed, not expecting Jeongguk to speak of it after so long. He bit his lower lip hard before answering. “It’s payback, and I think I’m being too nice if you ask me.”

“Nice?” Jeongguk turned to the smaller God and chuckled darkly, his eyes finally meeting Jimin’s paler ones. “I took one hour from you by mistake and you know it. I apologized, more than once, actually. Was that not good enough for you? You’ve stolen hours from my days now, hours!”

Jeongguk’s voice was growing louder, his glow stronger. Jimin had never seen Jeongguk so agitated before. Miffed, Jimin didn’t show any signs of being affected. He stood his ground, head raised high. “It’s what you deserve. You think only you can play with fire, but you’re wrong. I will fight for my place in the sky, and nothing will stay in my way.”

Jeongguk remained still for a short while, looking down at Jimin’s figure. Then, Jimin witnessed something that had never happened before. Jeongguk’s feet touched the most sacred thing to him—his beloved moon.

As soon as the feet came into contact with the dusty ground, Jimin felt as if the other had touched him . It looked so wrong to the eye, to see Jeongguk standing there, but it made Jimin’s insides tingle in what seemed to be anticipation. Anticipation for what, he didn’t know, and he wasn’t sure if he wanted to find out.

“What... what are you doing?” He asked in a high pitched voice, the stars moving frantically at his side. His breathing was uneven and his body felt warmer than it ever had before. He took a step back, figuring that putting some distance between them would help, it didn’t. “Don’t you dare get near me or I won’t hesitate to throw a shooting star at your damn face.”

Jeongguk seemed unaffected by his threatening words, and came closer anyway.

“I’ve been patient with you, Jimin. I knew what you were doing and I said nothing, I have let you do as you wish thinking you would eventually stop, but you haven’t.” Jimin gulped, feeling the power coming out of Jeongguk. He didn't feel threatened by the other, however. He felt… something else. 

Something deep and unexplored before.

Jimin opened his mouth, perplexed. Jeongguk was looking at him in a way Jimin couldn’t quite comprehend—or perhaps, he was too shocked to.

“I haven't because humans deserve to see me, to love me. Only they can do that,” Jimin hissed, pointing a finger at the earth. From up there, the planet resembled a huge marble with white swirls adorning it. Jimin could see the earthy continents, the oceans, the icy lands—the planet was beautiful, capable of taking Jimin’s breath away. And the moon, no matter how big,  was undoubtedly smaller than the marble-like planet. “Is that asking for too much? Seriously, jealousy doesn’t suit you.”

Jeongguk scoffed, tattoos ablaze, turning his skin into a deep red. “Jealous of what, you? I am the sun, the brightest and biggest star around here. I'm the center of the Solar System. You think I’m jealous of you? Who even are you?”

Jimin gasped, taking a weak step back, Jeongguk’s words like daggers to his fragile heart.

“I... You know… you know there is no night without me! How will humans see the stars if you’re around? I help with the tides, with the speed of the earth’s rotation...” Jimin could feel the tears pricking at the corner of his eyes, but he wouldn't give Jeongguk the privilege of seeing him crying. Jimin would never admit it, but it hurt. Maybe Jeongguk was right, maybe he wasn’t as important, but that didn’t mean he did not matter. “Stop pretending you’re the only one who matters. My job here is as important as yours, and they are aware of it.”

Jimin was out of breath once he finished speaking, chest rising and falling quickly. He was expecting Jeongguk to show some signs of understanding, but instead the other only rolled his eyes.

“C’mon Jimin. You're just… a natural satellite. You are not naive, you know humans prefer to see me reign. Why do you think they cry so much more during the night? It’s because they’re tired of you. Don’t even think you're as important as me when we can’t even be compared.”

Jimin was at loss of words. 

The moon was crying, he could feel its despair run through his body. He brought one hand to his cheeks and found it damp, he too was crying. 

Jeongguk’s eyes widen at the sight of Jimin’s pearl-white tears streaming down his face. He took a step closer, mouth slightly parted as if he wanted to say something, but decided against it instead. Then, he cleared his throat, not being able to meet Jimin’s broken figure. 

“I… I have to go.” The taller God said, hesitantly. He was moving away from Jimin slowly, almost as if he didn't want to go. Eventually, he opened his wings and flew out of Jimin’s view.

The moment Jeongguk’s feet left the dusty grounds of the moon, Jimin felt even worse, as if a hole was being formed inside him—like he wasn’t complete again—and he weeped even harder.

That day, Jimin wasn't able to rest. 

He spent most of the time replaying what Jeongguk had told him, mind polluted with dark thoughts, until he couldn't cry anymore. 

The next night, he didn’t grace the sky with his beauty.

The new moon had arrived earlier.

⋆ ☽ ⋆

Jeongguk spent the whole week moping around—the sun hadn’t even been shining the way it was supposed to. If he had been feeling guilty before, now he couldn't even begin to express how that guilt was eating him alive.

Jimin had cried. No matter how mad Jeongguk had been, he had never meant to make the other cry. Those tears didn’t feel right on Jimin’s face—the most beautiful being Jeongguk had ever laid his eyes on had cried and he was the one to blame.

Jeongguk was dreading having to see Jimin again, but he made a promise to himself—that he would swallow his pride, again, and apologize for all the lies he had told the smaller God. 

When they met at the end of Jimin’s shift, which wasn’t much long after their fight, Jeongguk tried to reach for him—to let him see how regretful he was—but it was all in vain. Jimin didn’t even let him get near; and when he tried to speak, Jimin floated away, disappearing in a blink of an eye. 

That day, Jeongguk hid behind thousands of weeping clouds, completely aware that he had broken his promise.

⋆ ☽ ⋆

Since the day Jeongguk touched the soil of the moon for the first time ever, Jimin had begun dreaming of him. Six days had passed already, but the dreams still came—even when he was conscious, his mind seemed to constantly drift to the memory of the other. 

It had never happened before.

At first, the silver-haired God blamed it on all the fights that were becoming a constant in their lives, and in all the anger he felt towards Jeongguk.

Maybe, it was a way of his restless mind to deal with what happened—or perhaps, to fuel the hatred he had inside him, consuming him whole.

But, as more days passed, he was more and more uncertain of everything.

He found himself dreaming once more. 

In the dream, Jeongguk was there again, smiling at him so fondly it seemed almost unnatural. They were close… close to the point where Jimin could count the God’s blond eyelashes—touch the dimples on his cheeks he had never known to exist. 

Jimin unconsciously licked his lips, not missing how Jeongguk’s eyes followed the movement. Something switched in them as the blond God moved closer, his breathing becoming heavier as his eyes came into contact with Jimin’s. Jimin too was slowly moving closer, not completely sure of what he was doing. He was following his instincts, letting his irracional side take the lead. Their breaths were mingling together and… 

“Jimin.” 

He stirred at the sound of a voice from outside the dream, so distant and floaty. It was familiar, but he couldn’t identify who it belonged to. 

The dream was blurring all around him, turning into a mesh of black and white. His dream version tried to hold onto it—not wanting to let go of the feeling just yet.

“Wake up, sleepy head.”  There it was the voice again, more clear this time. He felt a cold hand touch the skin of his arms before they began to shake his body, trying to wake him up.

Jimin fought against it. The dream was completely gone by now, leaving him floating in a sea of stars—but he could still feel it’s warmth hovering in the air. Eventually, when he realised the stranger would not give up, he opened one eye. 

He was immediately met with a tuft of chocolate-brown hair and a familiar scent that reminded him of the ocean.

“Namjoon?” He yawned, a bit disoriented. He sat up on his bed made of magical moonflowers, eyes fixed on the brown-haired being not too far from him.

“Hello there,” Namjoon was grinning while facing him, dimples on full display. “What were you dreaming about?”

The lost dream replayed on his mind in swift fragments that came together as pieces of a puzzle.

Jeongguk’s gentle touch, his warmth, his kind eyes, his fresh and welcoming scent—his lips, so pink and soft-looking.

Jimin felt his heart start to pick up, stomach filling with thousands of butterflies.

He blinked a couple of times, baffled at himself. What was wrong with him? He had to be losing his mind. Why was he having all these sweet emotions towards Jeongguk—his sworn enemy?

He began nibbling on his lower lip, feeling agitated. “Mhm, nothing much. Why?”

“You were smiling, it must have been a nice dream.”

Nice dream? He was more inclined to call it a nightmare.

“Can’t remember.” He lied even when he knew Namjoon could read him as easily as all those poetry books he seemed to love so much.

“Really?” Namjoon arched one of his eyebrows, looking rather amused. “Then why are you blushing?”

Jimin’s eyes widened. His hands found their way to his heated cheeks in a flash, coming in contact with the skin with such force that he was barely able to suppress a pained welp.

“Who’s blushing? Don’t be silly,” He faked a laugh that soon turned into a short coughing fit when it became clear Namjoon was aware of what he was doing. He decided to change the subject. “So, why are you here, anyway?”

“You sent a star a few days ago, remember? A very hysterical one may I add,” The taller man spoke, face contorting as his mind filled with unpleasant memories. “My ears haven’t been the same since then.”

“I remember now, yes. Alya can be like that sometimes,” He smiled fondly at the thought of the small star. “Where is she?”

Namjoon groaned, massaging his brow with one hand to relieve some stress. “I think she took a liking to Yoongi. I tried to bring her with me but she started squeaking and wouldn’t let go of his shirt… All that stardust will be a bitch to remove.”

“I can’t believe she traded me for Yoongi… Well, I will miss her. You better treat her nicely,” He warned, pointing his index finger at Namjoon.

“ She better treat me nicely, that’s more like it.”

He squinted his eyes at the man, threateningly, but let it pass. Namjoon would soon warm up to the small star. “Thank you for coming, though. How was the journey here?”

“Same old same old,” Namjoon shrugged, his long black vests swirling in the misty wind. “Stopped by Hoseok’s on the way here. He spent one hour telling me how he almost got sucked into a blackhole.”

Jimin brought a hand to his mouth that was wide opened in shock. He had heard stories of beings like him being sucked into that pitch-black darkness and never returning—eventually falling into oblivion. A shiver ran down his spine, he couldn’t imagine that happening to him and his moon one day. 

“That must have been so traumatising, is he okay?” He asked, the sound of worry painting his voice.

“He seemed pretty excited about it, actually. Said it makes him look tougher now.”

“Sounds like something he would say,” Jimin chuckled while brimming with nostalgia. He loved how Hoseok was a free spirit—wandering through the universe without a care. He too wished to be like him sometimes. “Have you heard anything about Jin and Tae?”

He hadn’t seen his friends in so long. It was hard to reconcile everything, and with his mind filled with so many worries, he feared he wasn't the best company to have around.

Namjoon shook his head and sat down beside Jimin. “Nothing besides them thinking about moving. There’s a star near their home that’s close to death, poor thing… Jin is angry their house will get destroyed.”

“That’s so sad to hear…” A death of a star, no matter how beautiful its colorful show was to the eye, it was always a sad thing. “Do you only bring me bad or scary news?”

The brown-haired man crossed his arms over his chest, giving Jimin a side glance while drowning his bare feet in the gray dust of the moon.

“You’re the one who supposedly has something to tell me,” The man pointed out. “What is it that has you so distressed to the point you have to send me an hysterical star?”

Jimin then closed his eyes, taking a deep breath to calm himself as he prepared for the worst. 

Jimin had sent that star to Namjoon without even thinking—when the dreams began to shift into something more bizarre.

It was already bad enough that his unconscious mind had betrayed him the moment it showed Jeongguk in his dreams; but having the other smile at him, touching him so tenderly as if he cared… It wasn’t right, except it felt like it was.

What would Namjoon think of him? Perhaps he would tell him what he already knew, that he had gone mad.

“It’s stupid…” He muttered after a while, not knowing how to address the issue.

“You know you can tell me anything, right?”

Jimin nodded, a small smile appearing on his lips. He didn’t know why it was so hard to tell Namjoon about it… Maybe because speaking of it would make it so painfully real.

“I've been dreaming…” He tried again. “I’ve been dreaming of Jeongguk.”

There. He had finally said it. He felt lighter somehow, relieved.

“That's what’s been bothering you? That's not so bad.” 

“You don’t understand. They’re not just random, meaningless dreams.” He continued with some desperation in his voice. “They’re more… intimate.”

To say it out loud… dear moon, he felt so embarrassed.

Namjoon tilted his head, gazing intently into his pale eyes. He was searching for more, something Jimin wasn’t telling him. Then, when he found the answers he was looking for, he smirked and began laughing like a maniac. “Oh Jimin, are you telling me you’re having heated dreams with the man you despise? I have to tell Yoongi about this, this is gold.”

Jimin whined, feeling his already feverish skin warm even more. Never in his many centuries of overflying the world, he had thought he would have to go through something like this—so utterly humiliating.

He couldn’t help the bubbling annoyance that swam freely in his veins. Jeongguk was a plague, and he wanted to get rid of it.

“Namjoon, this is serious. I have no idea of what’s happening to me,” He exclaimed, tired. “I’m even reluctant to fall asleep afraid he will be there. And the worst thing is that…”

He stopped himself, not sure if he wanted to say more. This was already too much for his frail mind... what if Namjoon wouldn’t understand his concerns? His fears?

“What’s the worst thing? I’m sorry, I won’t laugh about this anymore.”

Jimin inhaled and proceeded. He couldn’t believe he was about to say it out loud. “The worst thing is that… is that when I’m dreaming, I enjoy the feeling… I enjoy the warmth and comfort it gives me so much that I don’t want it to end, Namjoon. I crave for more—more touches, more smiles, more of him. I want to be close to him and it’s driving me crazy. I hate him… So why is my mind doing this to me? I don’t know what to do or how to stop this. I need your help, Namjoon. Please.”

He hadn’t noticed when the first tear began falling, or when Namjoon wrapped his sturdy arms around his waist. Namjoon was trying to calm him down, whispering sweet nothings into his ears. After what felt like hours, he let go, cupping one of Jimin’s cheeks with one hand.

“I’m sorry, love, but I don’t think I can help you with this,” The man spoke gently, as if he was scared Jimin would fall apart once again. “I just want you to know that there’s nothing wrong with you, you’re not going crazy. This… this is normal. It has happened with me too, you know.”

Jimin sniffled, drying his tears with a petal from one of his moonflowers. “It has? When? What did you do to make it stop?”

The taller man smiled fondly, remembering old days. “I embraced it. I was like you Jimin, fighting against the feeling, until one day I just stopped. There’s only so much you can run from the matters of the heart.”

“Matters of the heart? Namjoon, I don’t want to embrace this… I don’t understand.”

Namjoon sighed, leaning against Jimin’s shoulder. “You know, I met Yoongi one day when…”

Oh no, not again.

Jimin groaned in complaint, cutting Namjoon’s speech. He knew the story Namjoon was about to tell as well as the palm of his hands. “Please tell me you’re not going to remind me again of how you and Yoongi met.”

“Why not?”

“Because I already know how you left your orbit to clash against his planet…” Jimin explained. The story was so familiar that he could pretend it had happened to him instead. “I still think you exaggerated, by the way.”

“He was asking for it.” Namjoon frowned, rolling his eyes.

“He literally just said Pallas looked bigger than you. He was only messing with you and you almost destroyed his planet!”

“Doesn’t matter,” Namjoon shrugged while a victorious smile flourished in his lips. “It brought us together in the end, now we are happily in love.”

“Well, good for you. But I don’t see what this has to do with me.”

What could Namjoon and Yoongi’s love story have to do with what was happening to him? Why were they even speaking of love when Jeongguk was the topic?

It made no sense.

“What I’m trying to say is that love doesn’t always need to happen at first sight.”

“And? I still don’t get it.” 

“You can be so oblivious when you want to,” Namjoon sighed, feeling defeated. “What’s to come will be so much more shocking to you that way.”

Jimin liked to believe Namjoon was wrong, that he wasn’t oblivious. However, at times like this, he felt like a child next to the other who had so much more experience with… well, everything. 

“What do you mean?” He could feel his insides trembling. Namjoon was speaking in riddles Jimin couldn't understand. He was scared… scared of what the future had for him.

Scared that Jeongguk somehow would be part of it, for better or for worse.

Namjoon then glanced at his human watch Yoongi had gifted him the last time they were on earth together on a date. “Oh, look at the time! It’s getting late. I should go.”

Jimin frowned. Time on space worked differently than on earth, and Jimin doubted the watch was even functioning right.

“Namjoon answer me, please!” He pouted, lunging forward to grab the other’s bigger hand. “You’re scaring me, take responsibility.”

“Next time, now I really need to go.”

”Can’t you stay for a while longer?” He asked, eyes sparkling with hope. 

He didn’t want to be alone just yet, and he didn’t want the memories of a made-up Jeongguk to be the only ones to keep him company.

“I can’t, sorry. Yoongi is expecting me and you’ll rise soon.” There was sadness in the man’s tone. He too didn’t want to leave Jimin by himself in times like these, but he didn’t have an option. Duty called. “But Jimin, don’t worry too much about this. There’s nothing wrong with feeling this way. If something, I believe it’s a beautiful thing.”

“I see,” Jimin replied while nodding, still not sure if he should believe Namjoon’s words or not. “Thank you for coming, Joon.”

“You should visit us more, okay? Now that I’m so looking forward to our next conversation, I mean, I’m pretty sure it’ll be an interesting one, don’t you agree? Have fun with your little dreams, but not too much.”

And with a teasing wink, Namjoon vanished in a cloud of black smoke—leaving Jimin more confused than ever.

⋆ ☽ ⋆

A couple of days later at nightfall, when Jimin was tending to his moon flowers, a small piece of paper fell at his side. He looked around, trying to figure from where it came, but the sky was as quiet as ever.

He crouched down, holding the paper carefully between his fingers and unfolded it. In neat handwriting it read:

I wanted to tell you this in person, 

but I can’t seem to get close to you.

I’m sorry for treating you that way, Jimin. I didn’t mean any of the things I said to you.

I really am so sorry.

I hope you can forgive me.

Take care.

     – Jeongguk

He felt his heart quicken at Jeongguk’s apology—spreading warmth throughout his whole being.

He shook his head, trying to get rid of the unwelcome feelings that kept haunting him and tore the piece of paper apart, letting it join the fleeting particles in the air—hoping that those feelings would fly far away along with it.

They didn’t.

⋆ ☽ ⋆

Jimin was walking hand in hand with Jeongguk.

He was dreaming, of course. A lucid dream.

The heat from Jeongguk’s skin was slipping into him gently, marching quietly in the direction of his heart.

Dream Jimin felt thrilled, blooming with happiness. Real Jimin, however, was desperate. Confused. 

Hurt.

Why was this Jeongguk so kind to him when the real one couldn’t even look at his face without a glint of hatred in his eyes?

Jimin didn’t think it was fair how his heart was beating fast for a being who wasn’t real—a being who in real life wanted him gone for good.

He was the God of the Moon. Jeongguk was the God of the Sun.

They were polar opposites, born to never be nothing more than enemies.

They were enemies, and that was all.

And this was what was driving Jimin mad. He longed for someone he couldn’t have and who would laugh in his face if he knew Jimin was having these thoughts towards him—that he wanted to shine throughout eternity by his side. 

In the dream, they kept on walking, hands swinging between them. Jimin had only seen two other people holding hands while looking so fondly at each other—Yoongi and Namjoon. But unlike them, Jimin and Jeongguk weren’t in love and never would be.

Suddenly, it started to get hotter. The dream was melting, running down the walls of Jimin’s mind resembling the wax of a burning candle. 

Jimin was also feeling hotter too. He tried to wake up, but he couldn't. He screamed, squirmed, and scratched the walls of his mind, but nothing seemed to help. 

Jimin was no longer holding onto Jeongguk’s hand; in fact, Jeongguk was no longer there. The dream had vanished. But instead of being met with a starry sky like he usually would, he was met with blinding light.

He was stuck inside his mind, panicking. Without the comfort of his stars.

Jimin felt his legs stumble on something hard and fiery hot, and he fell—both in his mind and in reality—landing on his hands and knees. His mind freed him once he did, and when he opened his eyes, he was met with a land of fire. 

A fire that didn’t burn—Jeongguk’s fire.

He had landed on the sun, somehow. 

Jimin had no idea how he had gotten there in the first place, but sleepwalking was the best answer he could think of—his unconscious mind had pulled him there.

He needed to get out of that land fast—leave before Jeongguk could notice his presence and decided to start a war now that he had made it clear Jimin was nothing but a mere satellite.

When he was about to rise from the scorching soil, mist and stars already swirling around him—ready to take him to the safety of the moon—he heard a voice he had hoped not to hear.

“Jimin?”

He turned around in a flash, following the sound of Jeongguk’s bemused voice. The other was not much further away from him, and Jimin could see his whole figure easily.

He feared his heart might jump out of his chest at any moment.

“What are you doing here? Did something happen?” Jeongguk didn’t seem mad, however, only confused.

Jimin exhaled the breath he had been holding, glad that he wasn’t met with Jeongguk’s fury right there. He had never been so nervous before. He barely even saw Jeongguk since he started having those dreams, and now that he was in front of him, those dreams were all he could think of.

“I don’t know, I just... I was dreaming and then I couldn’t wake up and suddenly I was here and I know I shouldn’t be here because you don’t want me here but—”

“You’re rambling.” Jeongguk interrupted him, now closer than before. “That way I can’t understand you.”

His thoughts were in turmoil, stumbling on each other as if eager to come out. It was hard to think and even harder to breathe. 

“I should go… I need to go.” He whispered, not caring if his voice was loud enough to be heard.

He was feeling the same sort of emotions he had felt the day Jeongguk feet touched the moon. He felt whole again, and he wanted to ignore the voices in his head that kept saying Jeongguk was the reason for it.These were dangerous waters, foreign ones. He could immerse in its quiet yet turbulent waves at any second and never be seen again.

“Wait, don’t go.” Jeongguk bellowed, sounding almost desperate. “If you're here, you must have a reason. Tell me.”

He had many reasons, but they all seemed futile now.

What could he say to Jeongguk? That he was developing feelings for an imaginary version of him? 

No. He couldn't do that.

“It doesn't matter. I was led here by a stupid dream, nothing more.”

Jeongguk didn't need to know. It would be better for the both of them, especially for Jimin.

His mind would eventually turn back to normal and Jeongguk would stop messing with his life. 

All he needed was more time, and maybe, to stay away from the blond God.

Jeongguk tilted his head, face becoming more serious. “A dream?”

“I said it was nothing,” Jimin had said too much already, he should've left right when he saw the bright divinity approaching.

“You've been dreaming of me, haven't you?” Jeongguk intoned, expectant. His fire was dancing around him, wrapping around his tattooed arm. “You’re here because you feel it, right? The pull.”

The pull .

Jeongguk knew. 

Jeongguk had found out about his secret even with how hard he was trying to keep it buried. 

Had the God been listening to his conversation with Namjoon? Nonsense, he would have felt his overwhelming presence.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He tried to sound intimidating, but failed miserably. 

Jeongguk was strolling towards him, and he felt small like a helpless prey. He thought he was doomed, that his secret would destroy him.

That Jeongguk would use his weakness against him.

However, Jeongguk’s eyes lit up like two torches. His whole posture screamed that he was excited—truly happy with the news. “You do, your face tells me that you do. I can't believe this, we're both having them.”

Jimin stilled, surprised with Jeongguk’s confession. “You're having these dreams too? Of us, I mean.”

Jeongguk nodded fast, face pensative. “Yes, but I don't think these are dreams, Jimin. Not anymore.”

“What do you mean?”

Jimin wasn’t following Jeongguk’s line of thought. All of this was news to him. He hadn't expected Jeongguk to be having the same dreams, he thought only he was losing his mind.

What was happening to them?

“I wasn't sure at first, but now that I know you have them too, I have a theory. I've heard of things like this happening to creatures like us. I believe we're seeing glimpses of our future, or maybe the future we can have, Jimin.” 

Jeongguk was pacing from one side to the other, fire swaying as he did. 

Jimin shook his head when his mind comprehended what Jeongguk had said. “That makes no sense.”

“I know it sounds crazy, but for what other reason would we be dreaming of things like these?”

It sounded more than crazy, Jimin wanted to say, it sounded impossible.

“That can't be true… We can't tolerate each other, we can't even stay five minutes in the same space without fighting.”

Jimin was perplexed. It didn’t make any sense… but for them to be having the same similar dreams… could Jeongguk be right? That the impossible was indeed very much possible? 

“Only because we choose to. We don't have to fight, Jimin. I'm tired of this,” The blond God admitted. Jeongguk had spent so long sulking like a kid only because he wasn't the only one shining upon the earth, and what for? Jimin would never disappear, he was true to his work. And did Jeongguk even want Jimin gone? Wouldn't he miss the smaller God? He most certainly would. “The space is big enough for the both of us, I was wrong and I'm sorry. I'm sorry for everything I’ve told you, for making you believe you weren't worthy.” 

Jimin sucked in a sharp breath, not expecting to hear those words. Jeongguk seemed so sincere, and Jimin found himself slowly believing what he said.

“You truly believe that? That we can be… more?”

“I do, I want to know you better, I…” Jeongguk glanced at his hands, playing with his fingers nervously. Jimin wasn't the only one struggling with his feelings—Jeongguk had been doing that way before him. “I want to know all of you, if you let me. I want to make up for all the pain I caused you.”

Jimin could almost pretend this was just another dream. Jeongguk had never been like this towards him—so open with his emotions. However, it wasn't another dream. And for some reason, Jimin's heart jumped with happiness.

And maybe, with a bit of worry too.

Could Jimin fall for the real Jeongguk if the other was telling the truth about their future?

Did Jeongguk feel the same? Did his heart beat fast every time he would see Jimin's smile, the way Jimin's heart did when he would see his? Jimin didn't know, and he was hesitant to ask.

“But if you're right, if these dreams aren't dreams but our future, you know what that means. You've seen what I’ve seen… you know what will happen between us.”

“Are you scared of what you see in them?”

Jimin wanted to say no, that he wasn't scared of anything, but he ended up nodding. “Maybe, but I'm more scared of getting hurt.”

“I won't hurt you anymore, I think it's time for us to stop hurting each other, don't you agree?”

Jimin’s cheeks began to flush with shame. He was putting all the blame on Jeongguk, as if he also hadn't hurt the other. They had both said things they shouldn't have—things that they knew were nothing but lies meant to damage the other.

“I agree, and I'm sorry too, for all that I said.” Jeongguk smiled down at him, content that they were both on the same page. Jimin bit his lower lip, avoiding the blond’s gaze. “So, what now?”

“Now we'll start over and do things differently.” Jeongguk was beaming, even more than usual. Happiness suited him, Jimin thought.

“How will we do that? It won't be easy...”

Jimin wanted this new opportunity, but he couldn't help but wonder how long this truce would last. 

He didn't want to go back to hating Jeongguk, far from that. And he also didn't want his heart to break. He wouldn’t be able to handle it. He had never let people get closer to his heart, afraid with the consequences. 

How would he be able to shine upon the world with a broken heart?

It wouldn't be easy at all.

“Do you trust me?” Jeongguk smiled again, expectantly, and stretched out a trembling hand towards Jimin. 

Jimin looked at it, seconds turning into minutes. 

If he were to take that hand, all would change. It would be a new beginning for both, a new chance.

Jimin searched for any signs of dishonesty in his expression, but saw nothing of the sort.

Jimin melted under Jeongguk’s tender gaze and found himself letting go of the past at that moment—forgetting all the fights, all the screams, all the tears. 

He followed his heart as he whispered I do , taking Jeongguk’s hand in his—the way he did in the dream.

At that moment, night came during the day for no more than a brief minute.

It was the first time humans ever saw an eclipse.

⋆ ☽ ⋆

The next day, when both Gods were glancing at the sky in silence—trying to get used to the company of the other—a shooting star cut through the starry atmosphere, leaving a slit of sparkling light in its passing.

At that moment, they made a wish. And, unknowingly, they wished for the same—for the future in their dreams to turn into reality.

⋆ ☽ ⋆

The past handful of months passed in a blink.

Jeongguk was seated against the headboard of the bed, Jimin down on the mattress, head resting on Jeongguk’s thigh. The smaller man was swaddled in a satin robe and a pastel-blue silk sheet while the blond God’s fingers were playing with the silver strands of his soft hair, massaging his nape from time to time. Jeongguk enjoyed the goosebumps that bloomed on Jimin’s skin everytime the tip of his fingers grazed the smooth skin of his neck.

He loved to see the effect his touch had on Jimin, how the stars bounced in delight—even when Jimin tried to hide how affected he was, his stars would always expose him no matter what.

It was nighttime, and neither of them had duties to fulfil.

It was a moonless night after all.

They usually met on earth. They believed it was the best decision for it was neutral territory—easier for them to let go of their troubles.

It hadn’t been an easy road. 

There were times when they still wanted to pull their own hair in frustration, not understanding why the other couldn’t see things their way. Forgiveness wasn't an easy thing and neither was forgetting, it both took time. But, forgiveness was a good gift, and fortunately for them, they had all the time in the galaxy. 

There were lovely times too, where they bathed in each other’s warmth, stealing fleeting kisses and smiles that alone were capable of setting the whole world alight—times where a single glance at the other was all they needed to get rid of all the worries that tormented them.

They were getting there, slowly, and they couldn’t be happier.

Jeongguk’s fingers moved lower, grazing the smooth skin on Jimin’s bare shoulders. Stars curled around his arms, tickling it like feathers. Jeongguk smiled softly at how Jimin’s eyes began to flutter open while he turned on the bed until he was facing Jeongguk, head still resting against his thigh.

Jimin stretched his arms, letting them fall by his side afterwards. “You woke me up, bastard.” 

Jeongguk shivered at Jimin’s voice, still rough with sleep. The smaller man didn’t look angry from being awakened, however—at least the radiant smile he had on his lips told Jeongguk so.

“What can I say? Missed hearing your pretty voice,” He teased, knowing what his words would do to Jimin.

Jimin rolled his eyes, but Jeongguk didn’t miss how his cheeks flushed. “Who are you and what did you do to Jeongguk?”

The blond God chortled, shaking his head in amusement. He pinched Jimin’s cheeks, gaining a welp from the smaller God who slapped his hands away, muttering something indecipherable under his breath.

“You happened, all of this is your fault,” Jeongguk said and Jimin’s chest expanded with pride.

He had turned the hot-headed and arrogant Jeongguk into a soft, caring creature. Or perhaps he already was all of those things, but Jimin liked to believe he had a hand in it.

“Is it now?” The smaller God was trying to contain his smile, but it was impossible. “What do you want me to do then?”

“Mhm let me see…” Jeongguk brought his index finger to his mouth, tapping on the skin as he pretended to think deeply about it. “You can start by giving me a kiss, what do you think?”

Jimin mimicked his movements, also pretending to be thinking. “I think you’re spoiled.”

“And I say that’s also your fault.”

Jimin snickered playfully, grabbing Jeongguk’s arm and following the lines of his tattoos with his fingers gently. “Dear moon, you’re the worst.” 

“You like me like this, don’t even deny.” He grabbed Jimin’s hands and made him sit on the bed. Jimin frowned but didn’t try to lay down on the mattress again.

“I wasn’t planning to.” Jimin admitted. He liked Jeongguk’s teasing and flirty comments, and the other knew it perfectly. 

“So what were you planning?”

Jeongguk saw Jimin glance at his bare chest, eyes darting along his predominant muscles. Fire began to consume him from the inside when the other whispered “I have a few ideas.” 

“Show me then.” He uttered in reply, and Jimin immediately straddled his strong thighs—something he seemed to enjoy more and more each day. 

Like a switch being pressed, the air around them changed as they stared into each other’s eyes. Gone were the teasing words and snarky remarks. Their senses were totally enlightened.

Jeongguk could feel Jimin’s soft, warm body above him, as he began caressing his thighs. He had noticed how Jimin was no longer cold to the touch like before, and perhaps he was the reason for that.

The fabric of Jimin’s satin robe was falling off his shoulders and Jeongguk pressed a trail of kisses up the column of his neck, drowning in Jimin’s broken gasps.

Jimin wrapped his arms around Jeongguk’s shoulders to bring him closer, and carded his fingers through his blond hair, pulling sometimes to earn a groan from him. Jeongguk continued to leave mouth-open kisses on the soft skin—an action that made Jimin’s whole body tremble and a soft moan leave through his parted lips.

“Jeongguk, please,” Jimin whispered, already breathlessly.

He looked like a delightful wreck. Cheeks tinted a lovely shade of pink that travelled all the way to the tips of his ears, eyes dazed and unfocused.

Jeongguk couldn’t look away.

“You’re so beautiful, Jimin,” He breathed out, nose bumping into Jimin’s gently. “So damn perfect.”

There was so much fire dancing in Jimin's eyes, so much earning. Jimin parted his lips as his eyes seemed stuck on Jeongguk’s thinner ones. The room felt ten thousand times hotter as their breathings intertwined.

Jimin didn’t waste a second more as he pressed into Jeongguk’s awaiting lips; and when their mouths touched, a colorful circus of fireworks exploded in their chests.

Their lips moved together as if they were meant to be. There was a hunger behind their slow movements, an intensity they couldn't deny.

Jeongguk was used to warmth, but nothing could compare to the feeling of Jimin against him.

Jimin’s lips felt like a promise of a better future. An addiction Jeongguk couldn’t let go of. He wanted more and more and more. And, as he doused in Jimin’s sweet taste, he wondered if the man could feel his desperation.

He wanted all of Jimin.

He wanted to have a place in his gigantic heart, because there was no greater melody than the sound of their hearts beating together as one.

Jeongguk eventually broke the kiss to catch his breath, the tip of his nose caressing Jimin’s cheek as his hands rested on his full hips. Their eyes were closed and their lips tingling deliciously. 

All felt right. 

“Will you dance for me?” He found himself murmuring. 

Jimin’s dancing was like an opening to his soul, and Jeongguk wanted to see its beauty from up close.

“But there’s no music,” The silver God pointed out, still out of breath while a small pout appeared on his lips as he glanced around looking for anything that he could use as music.

“It’s fine.” Jeongguk shrugged. He didn’t need any, all he wanted was to see Jimin dance along his stars.

"You can sing while I dance, if you want.”

“I don’t think I have the strength for it at the moment,” He grinned with his eyes closed, imagining Jimin’s disapproving glare.

“You’re a lazy ass.” The petite scoffed, but got up from Jeongguk’s lap anyway and walked to the center of the room.

Jimin adjusted his robe, no longer letting it fall off his shoulders and took a deep breath, closing his eyes so that he could concentrate. He could feel Jeongguk’s piercing gaze on him, and his stars began jumping in anticipation.

So, Jimin danced. 

He danced at the sound of the wind howling outside their window, at the sound of his own beating heart and the sound of the giddy laughs of his stars.

Jeongguk was utterly awestruck, completely lost in Jimin, as if he had been put under a spell.

He had seen Jimin dance, only for a few seconds each time, but having the other dance for him with mist and stars following his movements… Jeongguk had never seen anything so beautiful.

When Jimin stopped dancing, stars and mist stilling beside him, Jeongguk was glowing, and so was Jimin—their lights filling the whole room. It was as if they had catched the whole universe and bottled it up.

How did he get so lucky? What did he do to deserve someone like Jimin by his side?

He was overflowing with emotions. Craving to keep Jimin close and never let him go. He wanted Jimin to be his. All his desire to rule over the sky seemed so meaningless now—he didn’t want that anymore if Jimin wasn’t the one ruling by his side.

Jimin sat down on the bed, his arm touching Jeongguk’s bigger one. It all felt so intimate that Jeongguk found himself whispering what he had on his mind for so long. “Jimin I… I’m in love with you. I’m so in love with you.”

As soon as those words dropped, the world seemed to completely still around them, and there were no sounds other than their heavy breathing. 

Just the two of them in the whole universe.

Jeongguk had been wondering how he should confess, trying to picture the right moment to do so. He couldn’t find it, there would never be a right or a perfect moment, and he needed to accept it.

So he just went for it. He put behind all his fears of rejection and let those words be free.

Jimin was tense and Jeongguk’s mind was chanting that no matter Jimin’s reaction, he would be fine with it. Even what he was feeling was one-sided, he would smile and take Jimin’s hand through it all as whatever the other wanted them to be.

The silver-haired God wasn’t looking at him, his eyes were slightly wider than usual and his lips were red from being nipped as a result of what Jeongguk would assume nervousness. It was then that Jeongguk began to regret his words—not regretting loving Jimin, but regretting dropping such a serious matter on him without knowing if he was ready to heart it.

Jeongguk opened his mouth to speak, to apologize for what he had said, but Jimin held onto Jeongguk’s cheeks with both hands and shook his head, a smile like Jeongguk had never seen before plastered on his face.

Jimin came closer, close enough for Jeongguk to feel his body heat once again, and he placed a gentle kiss onto his forehead, another to each of his eyelids, eventually ending with a brief peck on the lips. And when he spoke, Jeongguk felt revived like never before. 

“You’ve no idea how long I’ve been waiting to hear that, Ggukie.” There were tears forming on Jimin's eyes; but this time, Jeongguk didn't mind them. Tears of joy only made Jimin even prettier. “I love you too, so much. You’re stuck with me for all eternity now, lucky you.”

Jeongguk chuckled and closed his eyes. He felt so full of love and affection, something he never dared to dream of before.

He laid his head against the crook of Jimin’s neck, and his delicate scent instantly filled his lungs. “I already was, silly.”

Jeongguk had finally found his home. 

Jimin was his home. 

⋆ ☽ ⋆

Jimin and Namjoon were laying down on the grass one spring day, the soft sound of birds singing filling the air around them. 

“So, Jimin,” Namjoon drawled, fingers playing with the swaying grass beneath them. “I’ve been meaning to ask you something.” 

Jimin turned his face to the side to look at the brown-haired being. “What is it?” 

Namjoon too glanced at him through his peripheral vision, a taunting smile dancing on his full lips. “How does it feel to have your dreams come true?”

The smaller God barked out a cheery laugh, eyes crinkling into two crescent moons. He looked up towards the morning sky, Jeongguk’s warm and bright light shining upon his pale silky skin—illuminating the world before their eyes. “It feels wonderful.”