Work Text:
Time passes very differently for dragons than it does for most humans or immortals.
Or maybe, it’s just Jungkook.
Seokjin’s usual spot near the thick roots of the dogwood tree is empty. The little circle of pebbles that surrounds the small grassless patch has disappeared, the flat stones cleared to a side where they lie in a quiet pile. Looking at the orderly stack of pebbles makes the panic in Jungkook’s heart recede a little. Surely, Seokjin must’ve left the spot of his own volition. Judging by the stray leaves littering the spot, it has been abandoned for at least a day or two. Jungkook crouches down and picks up a small seashell from among the pebbles that he had brought to Seokjin when the tiny god had sighed about missing the sea. Seokjin used to treasure that seashell greatly.
Jungkook sighs, putting the seashell into his pocket. Silly, obstinate little god… Jungkook hopes he’s safe, wherever he is, chasing after an imaginary devotee. He can’t help but smile at the rock with tiny uniform marks on it - Seokjin’s ‘calendar’, which he uses to keep track of the days between Jungkook’s visits. It was Jungkook’s idea. He had suggested it when Seokjin had started to look especially zoned out and floaty, completely unmoored from life. He thought it would be nice if Seokjin had something to look forward to sometimes, and for once, Seokjin had listened to his advice.
There are other tiny knick-knacks there, in a small crevice under the tree’s thick roots. Seokjin’s woven mat made out of reeds, a particularly pretty eagle feather, some dried apple seeds, and some string Seokjin would occasionally use to tie things together.
Jungkook stands up, and brushes the grass stains from his clothes. He takes one last look at the spot, and turns his head to the city glimmering in the distance. Somewhere in there is Seokjin, and though the god has had a head start, Jungkook is certain he can catch up.
(Dragons, you see, are named very differently than most humans or immortals. Their names are given to them by many over time, but dragons refer to each other by names that reflect their nature.
Before the humans called him Jungkook, this dragon was always known as ‘Swift-Footed’.)
Seokjin wakes up the way Jungkook used to land in his dragon form when he first learned to fly: suddenly and violently, with a lot of terrified screaming.
He was jolted out of sleep when the ground started to move under him and found himself trapped under something heavy on his chest. As the ground continued to shift under him, he realised that the ground had fur, and that it wasn’t the ground at all.
Then Yeontan realised just who he had been snuggling with all night and tried an inquisitive sniff, which was enough to send Seokjin diving under the heavy fabric that was on him while he screamed his lungs out.
“ - Tan-ah! Quiet, quiet, be a good boy now! Oh dear… Seokjin? Seokjin-ssi? Little god? Ah… Tannie you gotta stay in my room for a bit. Sorry baby -”
There is the muffled sound of footsteps outside and Seokjin sits as still as he can inside his little cocoon of fabric, willing his heart to stop beating so hard in his chest. It reminds him of how frighteningly mortal he is right now - this palpable fear, this raw panic.
“Seokjin… I’ve sent him away, he’s in the other room. It’s safe now, you can come out.”
Seokjin wants to scold this stupid human and his stupid dog so hard, and wants to tell him that he’ll have none of that soft placating tone Taehyung is using at the moment, because Seokjin is not a frightened child. He’s not. He hates that kind gentle tone, especially from people who know nothing about him. He wants to go out and tell Taehyung all of this, if only his voice would come back from wherever it has run off to.
“Or you can take as much time as you need,” Taehyung says. “There’s no rush.”
Seokjin waits for the footsteps again as Taehyung falls silent, waiting for him to leave, but the sound never comes. After a minute, it starts to get quite stuffy under the fabric, so Seokjin carefully peeks out of his cocoon to survey the situation.
“Hello,” Taehyung smiles, looking annoyingly put-together early in the morning. “Did you sleep well?”
“I was merely… resting my eyes,” Seokjin protests. “Gods don’t need to sleep.”
Taehyung smiles one of those lopsided smiles again and nods very seriously. “Well, did you rest your eyes well, then?”
“...I did,” Seokjin admits. It has been a long time since he has been able to rest uninterrupted for so long. “What about you?” he asks, because it’s only polite, but Taehyung winces and shrugs it off with a smile.
“I’m alright,” he says, and then adds, “When I woke up this morning, I thought I had dreamed you up.”
Seokjin huffs. “As if your human mind could come up with a form so perfect,” he scoffs, and is pleased when Taehyung laughs.
“I have something to show you,” Taehyung says, looking at him expectantly. “I was working on it all night, actually.”
Taehyung gets up, the rustle of his clothing the only sound in the quiet morning. He shuffles to the window on his long legs and moves the curtains aside, and for the first time, Seokjin gets a look at the room bathed in morning light — the sun streaming in through the windows, spilling over a chair, rolling over the carpet, and reaching up the central table to illuminate —
Seokjin’s gaze stutters to a stop upon the object. It couldn’t be.
“What is that?”
Taehyung turns around, and smiles, moving closer to inspect the structure on the table with him with a critical eye.
“Okay, keep in mind that this is just a model that I made overnight, so it’s not much,” he says, with his hands on his hips, “but I can get some materials soon and spruce it up all nice and shiny, and I need to do some research as well on shrines -”
“...shrines?”
“—and figure out a way to support the roof— hm? Oh yeah, of course,” Taehyung pauses, looking at Seokjin and taking in the little god’s dumbstruck silence. “Ah. Yes, this is for you. A shrine, or well, a model for a shrine. Still working on it.” He bites his lip, looking from Seokjin to the shrine again, and folds his hands over his chest.
He’s nervous, Seokjin realises. He’s waiting for Seokjin’s opinion.
Seokjin’s opinion on the first shrine someone has made for him in a century, perhaps even longer.
“...Seokjin? Do you not like it? I can change the parts you don’t like,” Taehyung asks again, hesitant, and Seokjin shakes his head to reassure him, this silly man who keeps giving him hope. He clears his throat and swallows the lump of emotion lodged in there before he speaks in what he hopes is a fairly nonchalant tone.
“You’re right, it still needs a lot of work,” he says, but before Taehyung’s face can fall, he adds, “and I’m sure it will be even more beautiful when it’s complete. You’re very skilled, Kim Taehyung.”
Taehyung listens with a furrow in his brows and asks again, “Do you like it?” and only when Seokjin nods earnestly, a shy smile on his face, does Taehyung finally relax, grinning broadly. “Good. That’s what matters the most, isn’t it?” he smiles and saunters into the kitchen. Seokjin hears him putter around in there as the sounds of cutlery mix with the mellow sunshine that settles on the shrine. His shrine.
Oh, Seokjin-ah , he thinks to himself, maybe there is a place for you in this world yet.
“So, your prayer.”
Taehyung pauses with his spoon of cereal halfway to his mouth. “What about it?”
“Don’t hedge,” Seokjin says, planting his hands on his hips and staring Taehyung down. “What do you want to be saved from?”
Taehyung chews thoughtfully. He swallows, then says, “This conversation?”
Seokjin huffs, wishing he was tall enough to smack Taehyung’s head, though it would be a very ungodly thing to do. Taehyung smiles at him with a mouthful of cereal. It’s obvious he doesn’t feel like cooperating.
“Kim Taehyung, it would be much easier for both of us if you could tell me how I could help you. Your refusal to cooperate, especially after expressing an intention of being my devotee, makes it seem almost like an insult!”
“I wouldn’t know the first thing about ‘expressing’...”
“You attempted to build me a shrine! That’s one of the biggest expressions of devotion there is!” Seokjin yells, stomping his foot for emphasis. The sofa he’s standing on is very soft, so his stomp is pretty ineffective. “One should have no secrets from their god” he intones, and Taehyung raises an incredulous eyebrow and eats another spoonful of cereal.
“Really, there is nothing to be afraid of,” Seokjin tries again, softer. “I am not one to judge.”
The sound of Taehyung’s spoon scraping the bottom of his bowl is the only sound for the next few moments before he lifts the bowl with both hands and slurps the rest of the milk, while Seokjin calls upon his centuries of patience to guide him at this moment. Then Taehyung sets the bowl down with a sense of finality, the spoon resting against the side with a soft clink.
“I can’t open my heart to a stranger, god or not,” he says, looking at Seokjin with the same unsmiling face and guarded eyes as when they first spoke of his prayer. “And I don’t like being in someone’s debt, no matter how selflessly they insist upon helping me. Besides”—Taehyung points at him with the damn spoon—“Nothing comes for free. I don’t know anything about you! Who says you’re not some demon who’ll steal my soul?”
Seokjin rolls his eyes. “Only someone who has never seen a demon would say such an absurd thing.” He folds his hands over his chest and watches with some satisfaction as Taehyung blanches at the realisation of demons being real. Good , the man has been too comfortable joking around under the protection of Seokjin’s infinite mercy.
“If I really was a demon,” Seokjin continues, “would it really be in your best interests to provoke me like this?”
Taehyung raises his palms in surrender.
“Alright, alright, I admit I was only hoping you would perform something cool with your godly powers to prove me wrong. It’s not every day one meets a god, you can’t blame me for being curious.” Taehyung looks at him with eager, searching eyes. “Couldn’t you show me a little? Maybe make this spoon turn into a hot dog or something?” he suggests.
“I’m not a children’s magician!” Seokjin scoffs, wishing he could smack Taehyung’s head again. “Besides, it doesn’t work that way.”
“Then how does it work?”
“Why should I tell you?” Seokjin huffs, quite peeved.
“Okay, I get it, no need to pout like that—”
“I don’t pout !”
“—how about we make a deal?” Taehyung suggests, in a placating tone. “You tell me something about yourself, and in return, you can ask me your own questions. If you want me to spill my guts to you, it’s only fair I know about you too, right?”
Seokjin stares at him.
“What?” Taehyung asks, perhaps a bit embarrassed, “there’s no godly rule about this, is there?”
“No, there isn’t… because nobody has ever suggested something like this before.”
“Then you can have no reason to refuse,” Taehyung beams. He’s right, much to Seokjin’s chagrin. The deal is the best possible way to know more about Taehyung and find a way to grant his cryptic wish.
“Fine. I mean,” Seokjin clears his throat with a prim little ‘ ahem ’, “This god accepts your contract and will do everything they can to uphold their side, as long as you do the same.”
Taehyung nods in agreement. “Excellent. Very official.” Seokjin graciously ignores the note of amusement.
“Go ahead, ask what you wish to know,” he sighs, and Taehyung puts a thoughtful hand on his chin.
“You said earlier that you don’t just display your powers randomly,” Taehyung muses, “so could you tell me a bit more about that? I know I was a bit of a nuisance, but I genuinely do wanna know.”
Seokjin considers the request for a moment before nodding in acquiescence, settling down on the sofa with his feet folded under him, not unlike a teacher getting ready for a lecture. Taehyung leans forward in interest.
“The root of all power in this world is faith,” Seokjin states simply. “Be it gods, humans, or animals, we all derive power from faith in different ways. Animals are simple beings, their faith in nature and those around them is based on experience, and slowly they learn to trust the way the world works in predictable ways. It helps them stay alive in the midst of chaos. Their faith lies in things that exist in the limited sphere of their understanding. Do you follow?”
Taehyung nods.
“Humans are special, as they are not only capable of having faith in the world around them, but also in people they will never meet, in things they will never know. They build communities based on faith: faith in each other, and faith in the inherent goodness of humanity. More importantly, humans are capable of having faith in themselves, thereby being the source of their own power.
It’s remarkable, really,” Seokjin smiles, “the way they can sustain themself this way. Faith in oneself, or as you call it— conviction.”
Taehyung’s eyes look sad again, something bitter lingering in the corners of his mouth. “Right,” he mumbles, exhaling heavily. “And what about gods?”
Seokjin looks at the dust motes sparkling near the floor in the sunlight. “Faith in oneself, built upon the true knowledge and acceptance of one’s own soul, that is conviction. But faith in something other than the self, based not on experience, or any transactional relationship — a clean, pure faith, based on trust, gratitude, and forgiveness...between humans, it is called love.”
Seokjin looks at Taehyung, wondering if he understands. “But when directed to a god, it is devotion. Love is what sustains humans, Kim Taehyung, just as devotion is what sustains gods.”
Taehyung looks at him quietly, and they sit in the silence of the sunlit room, the city humming a busy note outside the window. Then, soft as the chirp of a fledgling sparrow, that you would miss if you weren’t paying attention, Taehyung whispers, “Why did you pick me then? I’m incapable of both.”
Seokjin frowns. “Taehyung,” he says, “what do you—”
“Nothing, forget it.” Taehyung scrubs a hand over his face and leans back, replacing his somber expression with a smile. “So you get your powers from devotion, is that it?”
Seokjin nods, and wonders if Taehyung intends to brush past what he said earlier with that painfully forced smile. “I receive strength from devotion and prayers, and this strength enables me to sustain myself and fulfill the wishes of those who seek my help. Prayers are not always requests, you see, sometimes they are simply expressions of gratitude,” he says, looking at the lines on his own palm. He can anticipate Taehyung’s next question, and braces himself for it.
“But… I don’t even remember my own prayer,” Taehyung says, understandably confused, “there couldn’t have been any devotion in it, and I was a mess back then. Why would you even accept it?”
Seokjin closes his eyes. Here it is. How can he bring himself to admit it to this mortal?
“Because I’m not as strong as I once was.” An understatement. There is barely anything of that power left. He’s running on fumes at this point.
“It has been… quite some time since I answered a prayer.” Since anyone prayed to him. “Truthfully, Taehyung, I am not remembered anymore. You can imagine what that does to a god. What that does to anyone.” He can’t bring himself to say anything more than that. The humiliation of admitting such a great weakness to one’s devotee is enough to make his cheeks burn. But it is the best way, the only way, for him to help Taehyung, and save himself in the process, if Taehyung comes to have faith in him someday.
To his credit, Taehyung doesn’t ask him to explain it in greater detail. He simply says, “Thank you for telling me, and indulging my request” and then, “My grandma told me stories about you when I was younger. I always thought you were very cool.”
“Taehyung… you don’t have to worry. Lacking though I am, it won’t interfere with the fulfillment of your wish. I will find a way, I assure you,” Seokjin states, emphatic, but Taehyung shakes his head, a more genuine smile on his face.
“Don’t worry about that, really. If I understand correctly, the shrines are also an expression of devotion to you, right? Something that powers you up when people pray to you there?”
“Yes, of course.”
“And the more faith they have in you, the more power you gain, right?”
“That is correct…. Why do you ask?”
Taehyung hums, absorbed in thought. “I think maybe there is a way we could make your name be known again, and restore some of your lost power to you.”
“What— It’s none of your business! I didn’t tell you all this just for you to pity me,” Seokjin yells, regretting his moment of vulnerability already, but Taehyung protests immediately.
“I’m not pitying you, I just want to help,” he says, his voice sincere. “The same way you want to help me.”
“It is not the same at all,” Seokjin hisses. “Don’t you get it? Helping you is the only thing keeping me from fading away. It’s my duty, something I’m holding onto for a shred of sanity because I’m desperate for a sense of purpose in this world that seems to carry on just fine without me!”
His voice cracks, and only then he realises how hard he is breathing. Oh, how embarrassing, having an outburst like this. He was doing so well. How will Taehyung ever respect him after this? He takes a moment to collect himself before speaking again.
“I - that was unacceptable—”
“So am I, Seokjin,” Taehyung says, with the same sad eyes, with a hint of relief in them. “Our reasons for wanting to help each other are the same.”
Seokjin doesn’t know what to say to that. What a pair they are.
“Will you let me do it? Please?” Taehyung asks, and how can he refuse, now that he knows.
“Only if you uphold your end of the promise. I told you what you wanted to know, it’s your turn now.”
Taehyung is about to respond when they are interrupted by the sound of his phone ringing.
“Oh shit! I’m so late for work,” Taehyung yelps, running to the kitchen with his empty bowl before disappearing into his room in a panicked rush. Seokjin stares dumbfounded as Taehyung emerges moments later with his bag in the crook of his arm while he shrugs on his coat.
“Hey, this conversation is not over!”
“I know! We’ll talk later I promise!” Taehyung yells, as he grabs his keys and phone and puts his shoes on. “I know someone who can help with my plans, I’ll talk to him after work today.”
Taehyung does one last sweep of the room with quick eyes, and then opens the door to his apartment.
“I’ll try to be back as early as possible, make yourself at home. Tannie is in my room with his food and water, he won’t bother you. See you!”
And then before Seokjin can blink, the door slams shut and Taehyung is gone, a whirlwind of panic, determination, and ideas.
It takes Jungkook only a few hours to pinpoint Seokjin’s location. It’s a pale beam of energy that stands out with its familiarity against all the other sounds, smells, and sensations of the city. He follows the resonance until he finds himself outside an apartment complex in one of the cheaper residential areas of the city. A few floors above him, Seokjin’s energy pings like a tiny beacon. Jungkook smiles to himself and reaches for the window in one swift upward jump.
He peers in through the window of the apartment in which Seokjin’s aura seems to be located. The place seems empty, or at least, the bedroom he can see through the glass is. Jungkook quietly slides the window open and steps in, sliding it shut behind him.
Immediately, a tiny clump of fur sits up straight on the bed, sniffing in Jungkook’s direction. They stare at each other for a few seconds, standing absolutely still, until Jungkook makes a break for the bedroom door and the little puppy throws itself off the bed and nearly trips over its own feet trying to get to him.
It’s a fast little one, but Jungkook is faster, and he crosses the space in two quick leaps and yanks the door open. There’s a surprised yelp from somewhere to his right as he slips out and slams the door shut behind him, leaving the dog to yip and bark from the other side.
“Oh stars, you scared the hell out of me!”
Jungkook startles at the familiar voice, and spots Seokjin on the floor in a startled heap, looking up at him with wide eyes.
“There you are!” Jungkook yells, immediately joining him on the floor. “Why’d you leave without me?! I told you we would go together!”
Seokjin sheepishly picks himself up and straightens his sleeves. “I just couldn’t let myself wait, Jungkook,” he admits, apologetic. “I needed to find the person who prayed to me as soon as I could. You understand, right?”
“Besides,” he adds, smiling up at Jungkook, “I knew you would find me soon enough, ‘Bright-Eyes’.”
Jungkook blushes, trying to ignore the way he feels giddy like a fledgling whenever Seokjin calls him by that name. Of all the names Jungkook has received, the one given by Seokjin is his favourite.
“Stop trying to win me over with flattery, I’m trying to be mad at you,” he grumbles, trying not to smile, but seeing Seokjin safe and sound has already lifted the weight from his shoulders, and it’s not in Jungkook’s nature to hold grudges.
“Did you at least find him? Your new devotee?” he asks, but Jungkook already knows the answer. He can see the way Seokjin doesn’t seem to be in danger of fading away at any moment, his aura dim and pale, but no longer flickering.
He watches Seokjin nod, watches him lead the way through the apartment, past the kitchen, and to the cozy living room, where a miniature shrine sits quietly with a plate of apples beside it. He watches Seokjin beam as he shows Jungkook the shrine, so shyly proud of something so small, something that would’ve certainly escaped his notice a century or two ago.
“It’s not much, I know,” Seokjin says, his tone oddly defensive, “but the human was unprepared, and he said this isn’t even the final version of the shrine yet, you know?” He tries to brush it off, the cadence of his voice nonchalant, but Jungkook has known him for far too long to not understand.
He really likes it. He wants me to tell him that it’s alright to like it.
If there’s one thing Jungkook is good at, it is getting people to stop denying themselves what they truly desire.
“You love it,” he says, and it’s not a question. Seokjin stills, eyes wide, and then soft with hesitant hope, he nods.
“I do, I do… Jungkook-ah, I’m such a fool, I love this little thing so much!” he cries, hiding behind his sleeves, and Jungkook laughs.
“It’s okay, Seokjin,” he says, watching Seokjin’s aura remain soft but steady. “It’s okay to hope for good things even when you’re not feeling your best.”
Seokjin sniffles, and wipes his face with his sleeve. “Since when did you get so wise?” he grumbles, reaching out to hold onto Jungkook’s palm.
“One of us has to be,” Jungkook quips and laughs as Seokjin swats at him. It’s easy banter, based on ages of familiarity, and Jungkook is grateful for it. It’s important, because when nothing stays the same in the world around you, something has to be there for you to return to. When steady and strong Seokjin had begun to change with the world, Jungkook had been worried that his anchor of familiarity would be lost as well.
Seokjin is changing again, but this time Jungkook doesn't mind being his anchor.
“But tell me,” he wonders out loud, “what is this ‘Taehyung’ person like?”