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Ah, but I don’t blame you;
I’ll never burn as brilliantly as you. It’s only fair
that I should be the one
to chase you across ten, twenty-five, a hundred lifetimes
until I find the one where you’ll return to me.
-25 Lives (Tongari)
**
The place reeks of oil, ash, and blood. A body remains motionless on the floor as another cradles it with an anguish cry.
You can smell that death is nigh, but only for the one with dirt underneath his fingertips.
The cries for help becomes even more desperate as those with pristine fingers are slowly soaked with red. The end is near, but only for one.
‘Please,’ the angel cried, wrenching and broken, a sound no winged-being had ever made. Underneath all their power and glory, angels too are the same when their heart breaks: mortal. ‘Please,’ they beg, cheeks wet with tears, another birthed flaw that blossomed when their mortality awakens. ‘Please… anything but this…’
They hold the body closer, fighting the inevitable in a helpless battle of fate; deep down wishing it is them instead. They’d take his place. He deserves more than what he had been dealt with, especially in this lifetime.
And maybe, god did pity them. Or maybe this was all part of the Great Plan. But nonetheless, the angel got their wish. Only that, it came with a price.
They gave up their immortality so he may live, not knowing he’ll carry the burden of it as amendment for his sins in this lifetime.
**
‘I don’t think it’s bad,’ Jeonghan says, an empty reassurance deeply contradicting the burnt smell of rice in their clay plot.
Minghao cannot help but roll his yes. But instead of arguing, he simply says, ‘We’ve never done anything good.’ He raises an eyebrow at his friend as challenge when Jeonghan seems to disagree. He sighs. ‘I wish we could do something and it doesn’t turn into the worst case scenario.’
Jeonghan sits down, a smile on his lips as he bumps his shoulders with the younger boy. ‘Maybe we should look at this differently.’ He ignores the burnt rice as he meets Minghao’s questioning gaze. They should find something to eat. Soon. ‘Maybe we fail a lot because this is our first life.’
Minghao ponders on that, looking away from those bright brown eyes. Jeonghan’s always been the optimistic one. And these days Minghao can’t look at him for too long without feeling like he might burst. He thinks he understands why people don’t stare at the sun for too long.
He bumps shoulders with Minghao again. ‘Let’s go find more things we can fail at.’ He grins, wide, big, and blinding. ‘So, in my next life, I’ll be better.’
The younger only snorts in disbelief. But when Jeonghan helps him on his feet with those warm hands gripping his tightly, Minghao doesn’t let go.
Fortunately, for Jeonghan he did become great. An angel is always good at everything.
Unfortunately, Minghao didn’t get to be as lucky in his next life.
**
Later, Jeonghan can blame it all on the alcohol, but it still wouldn’t change the realness of the situation.
‘Go out with me,’ he repeats, tongue tripping on some of the syllables but his message was clear, even the moon above them heard and understood.
Minghao doesn’t look confuse this time, there’s raw surprise painted on his face. Jeonghan on the other hand wants to faint, the blaring music from the party downstairs add to the ringing in his ears.
The wind is blowing, tousling Minghao’s hair in a graceful dance; but Jeonghan’s sweaty underneath his white shirt. His cheeks seem to be on fire. Or is he really catching on fire? It happened thrice this year alone, and with his luck a fourth incident isn’t far-fetch.
He wants to look around him, in case he did made contact with a flame from a candle. But he can’t seem to look away from Minghao, too nervous to miss even a fraction of his reaction about Jeonghan’s confession.
It dawns to him then. What if his confession becomes a burden to Minghao? It’ll be awkward in their workplace, too, if Minghao rejects him, or if they got together and then broke up.
God! What has he done? Fuck, alcohol! He’s never drinking ever again.
He backs away. One step, and then another. Feeling the tears start to gather at the corner of his eyes. He turns before they fall, embarrass to be given pity later if they’re seen.
‘Hyung.’ A cold hand grabs him by the wrist.
Jeonghan refuses to face the younger man, the idiocy of his drunken confession finally sinking in. ‘Please. I didn’t know what over came me.’ His voice is wet — cracked. He wishes his luck could excuse him just this moment and not fail him.
The grip only tightens, much to Jeonghan’s misfortune. It’s his curse, despite his disbelief in superstition.
Cold fingers touch his cheek softly, prompting him to meet the other’s gaze. Minghao’s always been the kind to directly look at you when you talk to him, his entire focus on you bares the sincerity of his heart.
‘Hyung, look at me. Please,’ he pleads when Jeonghan still refuses to meet his eyes, even when they’re face to face now. The tip of their toes almost touching.
The grip on his wrist remains, and Jeonghan’s stupid enough to wish he could at least intertwine their fingers for comfort as he faces the music. How many times has those cold fingers held him through difficult times there last couple of months?
That’s why falling for Minghao was easy, the younger had been nothing but kind to Jeonghan, supportive, attentive, and sweet. He’s been building the courage to confess because he knows he didn’t misunderstood Minghao’s kindness as something more instead of as it is.
Or maybe he did.
He wants to faint again.
Has he been so starve for love that he has misread Minghao’s intention? Has he been so drunk on the easiness of his life since Minghao came that he refuses to go back to his unlucky one with misfortune looming over him every second of every day?
‘Hyung,’ Minghao prompts softly, head bent to touch Jeonghan’s. ‘Tell me what’s going on in that pretty little head of yours?’ His words fan over Jeonghan’s face, each syllable smelling of the minty cocktail he’s been drinking all night.
Jeonghan grabs him by the waist, grounding himself for another moment of truth. Being rejected right now takes a small part of his worries, but it’s the loudest. It’s all he can think of.
He wets his lips, not missing how Minghao drops his gaze to the movement. It gives him courage to proceed. ‘I’m thinking… that… that this is too real, but also… it feels like a fantasy.’ He meets the younger’s eyes this time, shyly peeking at the Minghao’s reaction.
‘This is very real,’ Minghao assures, pulling Jeonghan close by the waist so they’re even more connected. ‘Can I kiss you as proof?’
The blush creeps on Jeonghan’s cheeks again. But he nods his consent, and keeps his eyes on Minghao as the younger finally connect their lips together, one hand cradling Jeonghan’s face delicately.
Jeonghan closes his eyes and savours the feel of Minghao’s lips on his. It’s perfect. Once again, he thinks he’s going to faint.
**
Minghao looks, fills the old emptiness in his soul with the sound of his laughter, five tables away. His laughter sounds the same, reminds him of soft wind blowing through wind chimes on a hot summer day. He’s always been radiant and beautiful.
Jeonghan doesn’t notice, to him Minghao’s just another nameless face in the crowd. He doesn’t know this is his fourth life, while Minghao’s never been laid to rest ever since the angel sacrificed his immortality to save him. Minghao still has the scar of cut off wings on his back, a reminder of what had transpired, as if his exhausting immortality isn’t enough of a punishment. God is unfair.
Nonetheless, Minghao carries his burden, just as in every lifetime he’s been reborn, Jeonghan carries his punishment.
‘Shit!’ Jeonghan exclaims, his pristine, blue button shirt now stained with coffee. And before him and his group of friends can recover, a waiter nearby trips and accidentally dumps a whole plate of spaghetti bolognese on him. His hair dripping red sauce. What heavy misfortune.
But because he’s Jeonghan, and not too young anymore, he only laughs it off and excuses himself. Minghao doesn’t miss the small heartbreak colouring his face. Even when the older’s use to his unluckiness, it’s still frustrating when it does happen.
When Jeonghan’s completely out of site, Minghao snaps his finger. A man in dark suit — a uniform — comes forward and bows in greeting.
‘The blue paper bag,’ he says pragmatically.
The man bows again and goes away to fetch the bag from their car. He’ll be sure to deliver it to Mr. Yoon through one of the staff. He’s use to this, having served Mr. Xu for ten years. And deep down he feels bad about Mr. Yoon’s predicament. He doesn’t believe much in the supernatural, but it’s quite obvious that there’s no scientific reason for Mr. Yoon’s constant bad luck.
Minghao sips his tea quietly, anticipating his fourth introduction to Jeonghan. He wonders what the older will be like in this life. And then he smiles into his cup, because whatever it’ll be, Jeonghan will always be Jeonghan: warm, patient, optimistic, kind, and nurturing. And the love of Minghao’s life, the heavens had laid witness to this.
**
The angel’s pacing would have left a pathway on the floor, but the ground is oblivious to their weight. Just as how their ward, Xu Minghao, is oblivious to them.
Xu Minghao continues to sharpen his sword and knives despite the angel’s trepidation on tonight’s suicide mission. They’ve long given up screaming their lungs out whenever their ward goes into a killing spree, risking his life as he takes away others. Such is the life of a mercenary, a path paved in blood.
But tonight’s mission is a bit different than the others. Tonight, Xu Minghao has finally obtained the highly coveted royal palace map, which would make his assassination possible. He’s been solely living for this day, struggling to survive for this chance. All those lives he took were laid as foundation for this day. For this night.
Tonight, Xu Minghao will finally fulfill his dream: revenge on the royal family. His mother and sister’s death will be brought to justice. The people of his country will no longer suffer from a corrupt tyrant. And once it is all done, Minister Wen can usurp the throne, and with his reign, people can have peace and prosperity.
The sheathing of the last sword grips the angel’s heart with fear. It hammers loudly in their chest, an echo of who they use to be: human. They don’t cry, but their eyes sting with unshed tears.
‘Please,’ they beg, small and weak. ‘There must be another way.’ They held on to his arm in vain, as if their invisible presence can stop the inevitable. They wish they could hold him close, and assure him that his sufferings were seen and heard, and that he didn’t have to carry the entire sky anymore.
Later, two of the angel’s wish were answered. Both came with a price.
They were able to hold him close, only because he’s halfway to the grave. And the second wish, well, Xu Minghao bears its weight like how he used to bear the weight of his dream.
**
The bed is soft, and the body next to him is warm. Minghao’s heart is full and content, though a greedy part of him yearns for this moment to be forever. But life, especially theirs, has never been gentle.
‘Do you ever regret it?’ Jeonghan asks, breaking the silence. His voice is quiet but the worry is obvious.
‘Do you?’ Minghao retorts.
Jeonghan doesn’t hesitate to shake his head in response. It’s the truth, he has remembered all their lives together, and he’ll remember this one too when he’s reborn again. It’s their sole oasis, that Jeonghan remembers when they fall in love and is sealed with a kiss. It’s a ridiculous notion like true love’s kiss. But they’ll take it.
‘I’m more worried you do.’ Jeonghan frowns. ‘Because you’re the one who has to carry all these memories, and is task to make me remember.’
‘It’s not easy,’ Minghao confesses. ‘But, I’ll endure anything for you. For us.’ He plants a kiss on Jeonghan’s temple, caresses his lover’s bare back. ‘You’ve given up heaven for me. I’m willing to live thousands of years to look for you, and find the lifetimes where we are together.’
‘Cheesy.’ Jeonghan slaps him in the chest, ears burning. ‘So, tell me, when did you fall in love with me?’
Minghao pauses, taken aback. Jeonghan had never asked this question before, simply trusting the whispers of their hearts.
He looks down at Jeonghan’s anticipating expression, love written on his face, and Minghao’s probably mirroring the same heart eyes. They’ve been through a lot: different eras, different lifetimes. But always the same love.
So, when exactly? For him, Jeonghan makes him fall over and over again. Just when Minghao thinks his feelings are irrevocable, Jeonghan does something that makes him question if his fragile heart is enough to carry all these love around for one person.
‘Since our very first life,’ Minghao replies, smiling at the memory of them in their teens: carefree, innocent, and happy. He should have not thought too deep, because it was clear as the day he has loved Jeonghan since the very beginning. And his feelings only continue to grow.
‘Good.’ Jeonghan smiles, happy, and rewards him with a quick peck on the lips. ‘It’s the same for me, even when I was an angel watching over you. I had some very strong emotions toward you, which I didn’t understand till you were half-dead, and I remembered who you were in my past life.’
They both shiver at the memory, pulling each other closer to remind them both of what they have now, and what they’ll have forever.
It’s not perfect. But it’s theirs.
Fin.