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The spirits’ whispers clung to Jungwon’s lyre as he stepped through the doors of Hades’ castle.

He swallowed as his eyes roved over the towering walls, the vaulted ceilings, the chalices of indigo fire illuminating the way to the throne. Apollo had warned him before he’d plunged into the tunnels: his blessing would cover Jungwon and his music as he ventured into the Stygian realm, but it would be of no good at Hades and Persephone’s feet. Down here, the golden grace of the sun touched nothing. Jungwon was on his own from here on out.

Still. Nothing would deter him. No god, no fear, no darkness on this earth could be bigger than his love for Riki.

Pushing his trepidation aside, he walked forward, following the path marked by the blood-red carpet. His breath came in white wisps, the chill of death seeping through his clothes. Did Riki feel this cold too, or were sensations like these reserved for the living? Was his ghost protected by the absence of a mortal shell? Jungwon wasn’t sure what he hoped for more — that his husband was warm, or that he still had a body to call his own. A body Jungwon could worship, a body he could touch. A body he had touched, a body he could never unlearn.

His feet came to a complete stop on their own. Blinking himself out of his daze, Jungwon belatedly realized that he’d arrived at the steps of a dais. There, sat between two monoliths of marble columns, on twin thrones of unforgiving stone, were the king and his queen. Above in a stormy cloud of fog, the Eumenides circled with their leathery wings. He’d been preparing for this since the moment he decided to descend into the Underworld after Riki, but nothing could compare to being in the impossibly imposing presence of the gods. This was far from Apollo, far from home. Jungwon froze for half a second, before dropping to one knee in a deep bow. “My liege. My lady. I thank you for granting me safe passage to the palace.”

Hades’ voice was quiet and booming all at once, echoing off the onyx walls and scraping the inside of Jungwon’s head. “Apollo’s whelp. The spirits have been muttering about you for hours. I was wondering when you would finally darken my doorstep.” Jungwon wanted to ask if it was possible for his doorstep to be any darker, but he didn’t think the question would be met with much levity. And he could not risk drawing Hades’ ire, not with the favour he was seeking. He elected to keep his mouth shut and his head bowed.

“What is it that you seek here, child?” Persephone asked. Her voice was frigid, tugged straight from the winters ravaging the fields in the realm above. It blew over him, sending a shiver down his bones. He supposed it had been too much to hope that the goddess of spring would offer some warmth — not even she could make anything grow down here. I am not a child, Jungwon muttered to himself in secret. At least, he assumed it was in secret; but the way Persephone’s gaze sharpened told him every wisp of a thought was amplified in this cavernous castle.

“You are just twenty summers old,” she mused. “Mortals, like crops, flourish and wither all in the blink of an eye. A lifetime to you means nothing to me, so yes, you are only a child. An impetuous one, at that.”

This was going splendidly well. Jungwon was glad his head was still lowered, so neither monarch could see the wince he had to bite back. “Forgive me, my lady. It has been a long journey, and in my weary state my words turn careless.”

The queen hummed in assent, eyes narrowed. “I shall ask again, what have you come here to seek? Is this another one of you mortals’ pointless heroic quests?”

“If you would allow me to speak freely and without the fictions of rambling tongues?” The king and queen nodded. “I have not come to bind Cerberus, or to seek the heads of the beasts populating Tartarus’ depths. My husband is the reason for my journey. A viper struck him in the forest with its venom, robbing him of his life too early. We have only been wed—” Jungwon choked on the words, tasting salt in the back of his throat. They had not even been married six full moon cycles yet before Riki had been so cruelly snatched from him. “It is not for lack of trying that I have not accepted this fate. He was taken from me too soon, and love has driven me across the Styx.”

“So, you have come all the way here to ask that I reverse his death?” Hades asked after an excruciating stretch of silence. “You wish to be reunited with your lover?”

“Yes, my lord.” Jungwon’s eyes fluttered half-closed, attempting to gauge if the god was angry at the audacity of such a request. “I imagined that you might call upon him from Elysium and—”

“What makes you so certain that your beloved rests in Elysium?” Hades only sounded terribly amused now, as if he was holding back laughter. Jungwon forgot himself and looked up, startled. “He could be a hungry shade, as far as you know. A nameless spirit, wandering Asphodel.”

No. Never. It was unthinkable. “My husband was—is a good man,” Jungwon blurted over the blinding ache in his chest. “A kind man. He has compassion in his heart for every living creature, and he has never once not been gentle. He is the soul of my soul, my lord. I am certain he has not been damned, as certain as I am that your scales of judgement are fair and impartial.”

“But you are not impartial,” Hades rumbled.

“Forgive me, my lord, but we were made as one from the same clay, born for the same hearth. He is all the better parts of me. I am certain.” 

“You speak of him as if he is still with you.”

“He is always with me, my lord.” Jungwon clenched his hands into fists to stop their trembling. “I am what he is. He is alive in me, through me. And I have died because he did.”

Hades and Persephone appraised him with impassive gazes, their eyes four blank voids. The emptiness in them took Jungwon back to when he found Riki crumpled on the ground in the forest, mere miles from their house, crimson soaking the grass under his body. It had not mattered how fast Jungwon had run to him then — he’d already been cold to the touch. He’d died all alone. Jungwon had screamed and screamed until his voice had gone hoarse, clutching at Riki’s body, crying himself to sleep for days over Riki’s unbeating heart, until Apollo had appeared and pulled him off. “My lord, my lady. I beg you, by these fearful places, by this immense abyss, by the silence of your vast realms. All that roams the earthly plane is destined to be yours. This is the final abode we are bound to, the home we all eventually hasten towards. You reign over the human race, and Riki too will be yours to command when he has lived out his golden years. I ask this favour as a gift, but if the Fates refuse me, I shall not deign to return. You may delight in both of our deaths.” In a seizing moment of desperation, Jungwon dared to look into their eyes, “I beg you, please. If the stories are true, you too were wed by eros. Surely you must understand.”

“We are not required to understand anything—” Persephone began, a frown marring her brow, but Hades cut her off abruptly.

“I shall like to hear a song,” he said. Jungwon blinked. He was not sure what he had expected the god to say, but it definitely had not been that. “You may rise, and sing for us on your lyre.”

“My king—” Persephone started to protest, but she was promptly silenced by Hades laying a hand over hers. Jungwon beat down the jealousy that flared to life in his chest; once upon a time, Riki’s touch had been easily and freely given like this too, so much so that Jungwon had stopped keeping count of them at all. He should have kept count.

“You have the blessing of Apollo, do you not? I would like to see for myself why.”

Jungwon swallowed and shifted in discomfort, uncertain if this was some sort of trick. Surely if the god wanted him dead, he would’ve had the Moirai snip the threads of Jungwon’s tapestry already? “Of course, my lord. Is there a song that you would like me to play?”

The ghost king’s eyes glinted. “Play whatever it is you think I need to hear.”

Well. A song for Riki, then. Right. Jungwon lifted his lyre, hesitating as he glided his fingers over the strings. He had not consciously composed anything during their courtship or marriage, he’d simply run his eyes over his muse and let his hands and heart do all the talking. The lyre was a gift from Apollo, carved from the hollow of a blessed tree, but its true magic had always lain in the way Riki brought its music to life. “May I sit, my lord?” At Hades’ wave of assent, Jungwon moved to sit cross-legged, setting the lyre on his thigh.

He didn’t allow himself to think too much before he started plucking out a slow, quiet melody. His music had always been an extension of the marrow in his bones, more his blood than the blood running through his veins. He could trust it; it possessed a psyche of its own that would speak for both him and Riki. The notes sparkled silver in the air, prancing with all the freedom and flight of the butterflies he’d once known.

He thought of when he saw Riki for the first time, on the fringe of a bacchanalia: eyes gleaming brighter than the firelight, ivory skin smoother than the marble of any statue. The crooked smile he gave Jungwon when their gazes crossed paths had been knowing, as if he could hear Jungwon’s heart stuttering in his chest, could see how valiantly he was fighting not to collapse at his feet. Come closer, those eyes had seemed to whisper across the clearing. Come here, I’ll bring Olympus to your door, I’ll wrap around you like folklore. There is no ambrosia I would not pour. Let me show you why for great beauty, wars are fought and lost and won.

And of course, Jungwon had been hypnotized, ensorcelled, flying straight into his orbit. Yes, he’d whispered back. Rain on me as Zeus had over Danaë — in a cascade of gold, in a shower of sparks. Yes, cover my body like a birthmark. Yes, tip your nectar into my mouth, I will write songs and sonnets and soliloquies for you. Yes, take my life and change it. Annihilate me, ruin me, mould me into a whole new shape. 

He kept his strumming light as he waded into the memories of failing at being friends, furtive glances passed like a forbidden currency. At seventeen, they’d been so naïve. The bright evening of their courtship, full of sun-soaked meadows and flowers woven into circlets in his hair, hands and lips and eyes only for each other. That first kiss, the first real dawn of Jungwon’s life, tentative but never unsure. Riki on one knee, his earnest gaze glittering with something interstellar as he swore to love Jungwon for the rest of time. His fingertips lingering on the curve of Jungwon’s mouth as he fed him fruit at their wedding feast. His scorching touch skating down Jungwon’s bare skin, more pious than any prayer, heavy with all the worship in heaven. The taste of port wine on his tongue stamped onto Jungwon’s teeth, driving his blood hotter in his veins. Love had begun and ended in the way Riki murmured Jungwon’s name, as if nobody had ever said it before him and nobody ever would since. Loving Riki had unraveled all of the stars.

Jungwon built the song up into a crescendo as the last day of Riki’s life flashed in his mind, the notes shifting to something deeper and darker — a warning, a herald for a brewing storm. Sitting by the crackling hearth as the sun free fell through the sky, wondering why his husband had not come home yet. Not knowing he would never come home again. Desperately venturing into the forest too late, the abject horror when he finally stumbled into the clearing where Riki’s still body lay. The feeling of the ground being wrenched from beneath his feet, of the world going dark forever. Torturing himself wondering if Riki had been afraid or lonely as he’d lain dying.

The butterflies were pinned to the wall now, their wings flapping furiously as they struggled in vain. They did not know why they were robbed of the skies; they did not want to live, they only wanted to fly. The music was being torn from Jungwon at this point, his fingers plucking the lyre’s strings so hard they could have been bleeding. A mark of his dying soul. Riki used to dance whenever Jungwon played, twirling like fire, around and around. His laughter had been the best melody, the sweetest symphony, and now Jungwon was doomed to a lifetime of settling for less. He attacked the strings with more vehemence — his song could never compare to the one Riki’s heart had sung, but it would be enough if it could cry for him now.

His lyre was vibrating in the crook of his arm, and Jungwon knew if he pushed it any further, his desperation would crack the wood and snap all of its strings. He forced the hurricane within to settle, his touch growing gentle once more as he chronicled the barren plain that had overtaken his spirit like a sore, the hours it had spent building dunes into determination. Clamping an iron fist around his body to keep himself together as he descended into the Underworld to find Riki. His love knew no bounds then and it would know no bounds now. He had always been too much, but Riki had always made space, had always made him feel like he could be even more. There was no threshold he would not cross for his husband.

“Are you certain you desire a life with me?” Jungwon had whispered once on the night before their wedding. “Being married could be rotten work, you know.”

“That is not possible,” Riki had declared in response. “It could not be anything but beautiful as long as I have you.”

Jungwon was shaking again, breaking again. He ended the song abruptly, with no flourish. There was nothing grand about kneeling at someone else’s feet and leaving your fate in their hands, even if that someone was a god and king. His hairline was damp with sweat, and a bitter salt coated his lower lip. He dared to look up, and nearly startled when he saw that the Eumenides had landed next to the thrones, the frightful glow of their red eyes dimmed, their faces wrinkled from snarls streaked with crimson tears. Persephone stared at him, ashen and trembling.

Jungwon knew better than to attribute any of this to the music. It was merely a medium for the light of Riki’s soul to shine through; it was a sun that would never set, no matter how dark the cover of the night, no matter how much the moon wished to come up the horizon too. A light like that left no stone unturned, no corner untouched. Not even in the depths of the Underworld.

“That was lovely,” Hades broke the lingering silence first, his gaze fixed not on Jungwon but on his queen.

“Thank you, my lord,” Jungwon said, his voice barely a croak.

The god turned to him, looking grave, “Those who venture here are usually husks. Their hearts pour out empty. But your heart is full.”

“My heart is not my own,” Jungwon corrected, “nor is my soul. They are only full of my husband, who was the only beholder they could belong to. And now he is gone, and I have nothing. I have nothing except these two feet to walk the road he has walked.”

“You have your hands to play the lyre,” Hades remarked, arching an eyebrow.

“These hands are his,” Jungwon said stiffly. Was it not obvious? “My songs are all his.”

“Hm.” The god of the dead swept another glance over him, then surveyed the throne room one last excruciating time before seeming to come to a decision. “Very well,” the king beckoned a spirit over. “Bring the bard’s lover here. He should be amongst the recent arrivals.” The spirit nodded and scampered off.

Jungwon’s heart leapt into his throat, its first actual sign of life in days that had felt more like years. “Thank you, my lord, thank you—”

“I only have one condition for both of your releases.”

“Oh,” Jungwon blinked. “Of course, what is it? I do not have much, but I will give anything I can.”

“There is nothing material you possess that could possibly interest me,” Hades waved away. Jungwon took no offence, knowing the god wasn’t trying to be blithe; it was simply true. He was the ruler of the largest kingdom in the world, and had absolute control over all the riches the earth’s depths had to offer. Jungwon couldn’t give him anything he did not already have. “You cannot turn around.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“You cannot look at your lover,” Hades clarified. “You will lead him out, but you are not allowed to look at him, or speak to him, or touch him until you have both emerged from Erebus. You shall have to trust that he will follow you.”

Jungwon felt all the blood drain from his face. Even the queen squirmed a little on her throne, looking discomfited. Perhaps this was some sort of esoteric joke. “My lord, I’m afraid I do not quite—”

“You said it yourself that you are two halves of one soul, did you not?” The ghost king’s eyes gleamed, as feverishly bright as the dark fire burning around the palace. “You were made from the same clay. Surely, you have unwavering faith that your husband will go where you lead.”

Jungwon hesitated. “I did say that, but…” The mere idea of having his husband close but not being able to look at or speak to him was a torture in itself. It had taken him almost a full day to complete his descent into the Underworld. Could he go that long without gazing upon Riki’s face? Without touching him, holding him in his arms? He had never tried. He’d never had to.

“Of course, if you do not trust him, I can recall my servant and tell her there is no need to retrieve your husband after all,” Hades drawled.

“No!” Jungwon blurted. Curse it. He didn’t have a choice, this was the only way. Hades held all the power here. If becoming a puppet to entertain the god’s fancies was what had to be done, then Jungwon had to transform into the limpest puppet there ever was, happy to be held up by strings. His husband was worth it. He had to be certain that Riki would see it that way too. “No, my lord. I accept your condition, of course I do. I thank you for your generosity.”

Hades smiled with all the relish of a panther having clamped down on its prey. Jungwon and Riki were caught in his jaws, gnashed between his sharp teeth. “My servant will return very soon. Go and stand over there,” the king pointed to a shadowy corner of the throne room. “You will not look at him, and he will not see you until it is time.”

“Yes, my lord. My lady.” Jungwon rose to his feet and bowed once more, then slowly retreated into the corner as told, his hands trembling. The dark swallowed him in a swathe of velvet curtains, but it did not completely shroud his vision, so Jungwon turned to face the wall. He didn’t trust himself to close his eyes and not open them when he heard Riki approach.

Hades had been right. It wasn’t long before the castle doors heaved open with an audible groan, and muffled footsteps echoed down the short entryway to the throne.

For a moment, Jungwon tilted his head, frowning. Was this a trick? The footsteps did not sound familiar, they did not pad softly with Riki’s gliding walk. Instead, they were hiccuping, indicative of an uneven gait. This could not be his husband. But then the realization lanced through his soul, and Jungwon had to close his eyes from the agony of it: of course, it was because of the snakebite. Its venom had stayed with him in death, in the way Jungwon could not. Riki’s eternal wound, it seemed. Their eternal wound.

“Lord Hades, Lady Persephone,” Riki’s low, silky voice said. A full shudder wracked Jungwon’s body, and he had to fight to keep standing. It was his husband, there was no doubt about it now. They’d brought his husband to him. All the rivers and oceans would dry up before Jungwon ever forgot the timbre of Riki’s voice. “May I ask why you have summoned me?”

“It seems someone has come for you,” Hades informed. “You may depart with him if you wish.”

“Who would—” Jungwon could not see Riki, could not feel the weight of his gaze, but he heard his breath catch. “Jungwon,” Riki exhaled, as if on the cusp of prayer, and Jungwon shook with feeling, tears pricking his eyes. He had hoped and wished and dreamt, but he hadn’t thought he would ever hear that voice shape his name ever again, with such reverence it put every altar and temple to shame. “My husband is here?”

“Yes. He is waiting to lead you back to the realm of the living. Do you wish to go with him?”

“Yes, my lord,” Riki immediately said. “Wherever he goes, I will follow.” Jungwon was still standing in the shadows, but the darkness no longer felt absolute. The light was leaking in, reconciling with the chasm that had grown like a mouth within him, starved and starless. Time had been so silent since Riki had left his side, but with just a handful of words, his husband had flooded his world with song once again. No chariot pulling the sun, no harbinger of day could ever begin to compare.

Hades’ voice was slick with satisfaction, like wax melting into oil. Jungwon could imagine the predatory glint in his eyes, gleefully watching these two mortals blindly devote themselves to love. “Very well, then. I shall bid you a good journey.”

Before Jungwon could react, the ground was yanked from under his feet, and he tumbled headfirst into a swirling pit, tripping further into Hades’ wicked game.

✵✵

In the twist of a second, Jungwon found himself blinking his eyes open to the dark, again. Was there anything that wasn’t dark down here? At least he knew that Riki was right behind him, the cadence of his breathing a balm over Jungwon’s shredded nerves. His vision slowly sharpened as it adjusted to the endless void of pitch black. They were in some sort of tunnel. The walls were roughened stone like a cave’s, but the path was straightforward: a gentle slope upwards, no forks or diversions to be seen.

“I cannot see a thing,” Riki grumbled. “I shall most likely trip and fall and break my nose. The gods have decided to send me back to my husband crippled and disfigured. How very kind.”

Jungwon was almost startled when he had to stifle a laugh. It seemed like forever since he’d last found mirth in anything. He wondered if anyone had ever laughed in these tunnels before, so close to the heart of death, so far from the light of life above. He made to turn around to tell Riki that they should start walking, but stopped himself at the last possible second, remembering Hades’ sole condition. No looking, no speaking, no touching.

That was why the road was so straight, he supposed. The real difficulty lay in this challenge, battling the hungry urge to turn and let his eyes drink in the sight of his husband. His tongue felt uneasy in his mouth, sitting strange with all the words he was dying to say.

Just then, Riki’s eyes seemed to finally acclimatize to the dark, because he gasped softly. “Jungwon? It is you, isn’t it? You have come for me?”

Of course I did. There was doubt? Jungwon wanted to say. But he was not allowed to. Haltingly, he began walking, praying that Riki got the message to follow.

Just as he had hoped, his husband did not wait a moment to fall into step, quickening to catch up with Jungwon. “Is something the matter, my love? Why won’t you talk to me? Your voice has not been stolen, has it?”

Jungwon felt like the most wretched, rotten creature alive when he sped up to keep Riki at his back. He did not know what he would do if Riki were to walk beside him. He possessed a decent degree of self-control, but no amount of discipline would keep his eyes from straying to his husband. The bindings that could keep his hands from reaching out for Riki had not yet been invented.

“Jungwon. Darling, won’t you look at me?” Riki implored. It took all of Jungwon’s strength, fighting every cell in his body, to keep facing forward. “Jungwon, where are we going? Are we going home? I thought I’d never see you again. I was in the woods, bleeding, thinking only of you, calling out your name, and then I was sure I was dead. I crossed the river alone.” Jungwon’s nails were digging into his palms so hard, he was surprised that he hadn’t broken skin yet.

I’m sorry, Riki, he cried internally. My love, I am so sorry. Please forgive me. I should’ve been there with you. I should’ve heard you. I should’ve laid right down and died next to you.

“Jungwon, look at me,” Riki ordered. “Why can’t you look at me? What is this? Can you not hear me? Am I…” he hesitated. “Is this Punishment? Have I landed myself in the pits of torment with Tantalus? Have the gods of the Underworld decided to send me my husband as a mirage, forever out of reach?”

No, never, Jungwon wanted to scream. Not you. You could never be condemned to such a fate. Please, my heart, hear the words of my soul. I will not be out of reach for much longer. Please, simply walk with me until I may touch you once more.

“I must not have been a good husband,” Riki said quietly. Jungwon nearly halted to turn and shake him and make him see sense. Not a good husband? Was he out of his mind? Had death stolen all of his mental faculties? Jungwon had always been the one who wasn’t good enough for him. “But this is an unbearable cruelty. Hades, Persephone, gods above and below, I beg of you. This is a torture I cannot bear. I lived and died to love Jungwon.”

Jungwon wanted to stop walking. He wanted to crouch down and shatter into a thousand pieces so fine and scattered, that only his husband could put him back together. He wanted to turn around and look upon Riki’s face, to trace the lines he’d memorized, to cradle him within his palms the way he had every night. He wanted all of these tunnels to crumble back into shadow, he wanted the dark to dissolve so that he could hold his eternal sunshine to him again. But it would not, and he could not. He had to keep going. It was the only way.

“Anything but this,” Riki was saying, voice thick with tears. Jungwon was shaking. “I would rather die a hundred thousand deaths. Drag me in front of Thanatos if you must, let him tear my psyche to pieces. Allow me to wander voids blind and haunt Asphodel insensate. Anything but this.”

Jungwon wanted to march back to Hades and shout in the god’s face. Was this his idea of kindness? If so, Jungwon would prefer that he be brutal instead. He would’ve preferred it if the god had cracked his lyre in two, struck him down where he stood, banished his ashes to the furthest corners of Tartarus. He would’ve nestled in quietly if it meant Riki would be at peace.

He kept walking. It had to be worth it. It had to be. His love would be stronger than death, as final as the grave.

“Jungwon,” Riki pleaded again. “My love, are you really an illusion? Say something. Touch me, anything, anywhere. Hold me.”

At that, Jungwon couldn’t help it; he faltered, swept away by the memories of having those words murmured into his skin. It was only for a second, but his husband’s eyes had always been sharp like an eagle’s, especially when it came to Jungwon. Or only when it came to Jungwon. That distinction had mattered once.

“You can hear me,” Riki said disbelievingly, then his voice grew hard. “Darling. Turn around and look at me, now.”

Jungwon winced, and continued to stride forward. They had to get out of here, quickly. Jungwon had never learned how to refuse his husband, and if Riki kept this up, he would inevitably turn and all of this agony would go to waste. No. It had to mean something. It was the only way he could bear it.

“Are you truly my husband?” Riki demanded. “Because Jungwon would never ignore me. He would never forsake me so. He loves me more than I do myself.”

That was true. But truths were undeniably reserved for the living. Here, climbing out of the Underworld, there were only bargains and gambles, the pieces on the chessboard moving only to the gods’ whims. Silently, Jungwon begged his husband to understand.

“Darling, if you don’t turn around, I will cease to follow you,” Riki warned. “I will stop right here and you will have to continue without me.”

Jungwon knew he was lying, so he kept going. It was awful, but he knew in his heart that wherever he went, Riki would never choose to be far behind. Their souls were made the same that way — greedy, voracious, possessive. Why couldn’t they have been made gentle instead? 

As he expected, Riki’s footfalls did not halt. “This is absurd,” Riki snapped. “Why have you come for me if you do not wish to look upon my face? Has death contorted my visage so horribly?”

Even if it did, it’s not as if that would ever matter, Jungwon snorted derisively to himself. Riki could transform into a swamp monster and Jungwon’s love would not change.

“What is the meaning of this?” Riki was still raving at him. “You have followed me into death, and yet you cannot stand the sound of my voice. Are you—have you found someone else?” Riki’s voice quietened. “Oh, my love. Do you hate me so much for abandoning you that you would bring me back just to see you embrace another? I do not blame you for hating me, but darling, I could not stand to see you with anyone else. I would be less broken in death.”

Horror rose within Jungwon in an unstoppable tide. Had his husband gone mad? It had only been mere days since he’d passed, and Jungwon had spent every single minute since scrambling to reconcile the chasm that had torn open in his soul, ripping the fabric of life and death itself to find Riki. Where in the world would he have had the time to seek solace in another person’s arms? It was unthinkable to begin with, the idea that his heart could belong to anyone else. It had not been his for a very long time, and thus it was not his to give away. Jungwon almost whipped around to yell at his husband for daring to even consider the notion, but remembered himself at the last second. He gritted his teeth and kept walking, but his resolve was fracturing.

“My Jungwon,” Riki lamented, and yes, Jungwon admonished him internally, I am your Jungwon. Remember that. I am yours, I have always been yours. I vowed an eternity to you, have you forgotten? “What deadly sin have I committed that this is the punishment met out for me? Have I angered the gods? This is as cruel a torment as I can imagine.”

My heart, please, Jungwon sent him a silent plea. Just a little further. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I want nothing more than to turn around and hold you in my arms once again. Please believe me. I’m sorry.

“There is no point to this,” Riki murmured. “You have turned your back on me forever, and I am doomed to follow you because I will never not follow you. Oh Sisyphus with your rock, I understand your pain now. You have devoted your being to an endeavour that yields no prize, only the perpetuation of your laborious love. Giving your body to something your soul cannot refuse, not in a million lifetimes.”

… What?

“Death was not nearly as agonizing as this, it was better than this. I only wish to die again, in the hope that perhaps this is not the outcome the Fates decide for me once more.”

Jungwon slowed down to nearly a halt. What was Riki saying? Did he really—

“I do not want to live in a world where my husband does not love me,” Riki cried, his voice breaking. “He does not love me anymore, but I could never stop loving him.”

Jungwon had heard enough. He could not bear it any longer and whirled around, everything forgotten. “No,” he said forcefully. “A world where I do not love you? Impossible. The heavens have moved and the seas have parted with the will of my love. You are not allowed to doubt it.”

Riki gaped, and oh, he was so startlingly beautiful, unchanged in the way only statues and skies were. Jungwon could never have forgotten his husband’s face, the contours and lines and curves of it, but the novelty of gaining back something he had lost made it feel as if he was being struck down anew. “Jungwon,” Riki breathed. 

“Riki. My darling, my love,” Jungwon gasped, lurching forward. Riki brightened, his expression transforming with that achingly familiar smile, the one he reserved for Jungwon — Gods above, how long had it been since Jungwon had seen that smile? When exactly had been the last time? Every second had been cold and empty ever since. He reached out, desperate to touch his husband’s skin, to kiss his lovely mouth. Neither Selene with her moon, nor Helios with his sun, could light up the dark the way Riki did.

But his fingertips only managed to brush the crescent of Riki’s cheek, before he disintegrated back into shadow. “No!” Jungwon screamed. “No, please, please. You cannot take him from me again! I didn’t—I need him! I am not done loving him, I am not done being loved by him, please, let me have another chance, please—” He gasped, unable to breathe. This was even worse than the first death. He was dying all over again, and this time there wasn’t a body for him to clutch onto, there wasn’t a pair of eyes he could pretend were merely closed in slumber. “Apollo,” he choked out, invoking his patron god’s name for once. “Apollo, come to me, I require your help, please!”

The golden god shimmered into existence in front of him almost immediately, morose lines carved into his face. “Jungwon. You called for me?”

Jungwon didn’t have time to be surprised that it had worked. “Yes. I need—I need to find my way back to the Underworld. I could only do it the first time with your blessing. Will you help me?”

“I do not know if I should,” Apollo regarded him sadly. “I have been watching you the entire time, child. You have the soul of a hero, made for the constellations. Do not embark on your foolish expedition once more, it will only bring you more heartbreak.”

“My soul means nothing to me without my husband,” Jungwon ground out between his teeth. “I do not care for the constellations. I only care for him.”

“You are brave, Jungwon. Do not let your courage spurn you into senselessness. Even if I wanted to grant it to you,” Apollo exhaled, “I am uncertain that my blessing would protect you again. The monsters from the deep will not take kindly to a mortal twice descending into the Underworld.”

“I don’t care. Let them do what they must, if it means I will be allowed to take Riki’s place. If it means I will be charged for his crime.” Pressure was building like smoke in Jungwon’s chest, robbing him of air. “Riki has not been guilty of anything except loving me. Marrying me. Is that such an unforgivable sin?”

“Don’t you know the stories? The lovers of heroes always fade the fastest,” the light in Apollo’s eyes was very far away, as if the god was in another place entirely. “They have to, for heroes to burn the brightest.”

“I am not a hero, nor do I want to be one. I only had one task, one wish. And it was blown out like a fragile fire, for the Fates are cruel indeed. They see our wedded hearts and twist the tapestry to keep us apart.”

“Jungwon,” Apollo warned, casting his gaze heavenwards nervously. “If I were you, I would take care in how I speak. The Moirai see all and hear all and remember all. They are eternal, and you do not want to be on the other end of a grudge.”

“I don’t care,” Jungwon repeated. “I must go. I have to acquire another audience with Hades and—”

“And what, child?” Apollo interrupted. “He is the ruler of the joyless kingdom, he oversees the forever winter. He granted you a favour once, and he shall not do it again. Come, let us return to your husband’s grave instead, so you may pay your respects and proceed with the proper mourning rituals. It need not be like this.”

“There is no grave,” Jungwon said flatly.

Apollo blinked. “What do you mean?”   

“I made sure not to bury him. He does not have a grave.”

“Why? If you loved him so much, then you should’ve known that—”

“Because I wanted him to have a body he could return to, when I brought him back. And…” Jungwon swallowed. “And because he will not be buried without me. When the right time comes for him to be lowered into a grave, I will climb in and lie right there alongside him. I will not allow Death to part us once more.”

“Death is a cruel master, Jungwon,” Apollo said grimly. “He wants what he wants, and he always gets what he wants. You cannot defy Death. There is no power higher, and no will stronger.”

“No. No, I don’t believe that. My love is stronger. Our love is stronger.”

“You are a child,” Apollo shook his head, morose. “You don’t understand—”

“Death doesn’t need him!” Jungwon’s voice rose to a shout. “But I need him! No force on Earth or Olympus or in the Underworld could ever need him more than I do!”

Apollo stared at him, at his heaving chest, at his white-knuckled grip on the lyre, at his other hand clenched into a fist at his side. “Death has taken him, a force that is most irreversible. You tried once, you will not get to try again.”

“What must I do to earn another chance?”

“Nothing. I told you, there is nothing that can be done.”

“That cannot be true. There must be a way. Perhaps it is unknown to the gods above, but I will wander these tunnels until somebody hears my call. This cannot be—” Jungwon broke off with a choke. He knew he was being ridiculous, he knew he would be walking for centuries before any denizen of the Underworld answered his pleas. He knew this was nothing more than a fool’s errand. But this love had been born a long time ago, before the age of titans and kings, before gods and men roamed the earth. This love had burnished itself into existence with the beginning of the universe, raining in rivulets of heavenly fire — it was an ancient, atavistic thing. A love like that could not be contained within the claws of death. It just couldn’t. No star could burn hotter than this sun. Nothing could douse this vehement flame; not Death, not anyone. Jungwon would be the biggest fool history had ever known without a second thought if it could bring him one step closer to Riki. “This cannot be the end. I refuse to let it be.”

“Jungwon,” Apollo said, his voice gentler than Jungwon had ever heard it. “Nobody descends into the Underworld twice. Not the living, at any rate.”

“I will find a way,” Jungwon replied bleakly. “I’ll tear the world apart, rip it down brick by brick with my own two hands if I must. I will get my husband back.”

“The only way you possibly can is by joining him.”

Jungwon straightened, spine turning to steel. “Then I will.”

“Jungwon. Listen to me. Death is the unknown country, the hot underbelly of the world. Even the gods are not allowed there. No one has ever ventured there and come back. But you have,” Apollo urged. “Take this gift, and live out the rest of your days. Find someone else to love.”

“You can say that,” Jungwon shook his head, “because you are immortal. Because for you, life is a neverending stretch of road, and you must continue down it, you have no choice. Worlds will bloom and fade and you will still be here. A mortal’s lifetime means nothing to you. But I am mortal, and I can say that my life ended when Riki’s did. It is only the brutal truth. There will never be anyone or anything else.”

Apollo looked at him dubiously. “Was he truly all you had?”

“Why do you say that like it’s a terrible thing? He was everything. He is everything.”

“Child,” Apollo said mournfully. “You are speaking of impossible things. Delusion is a terrible madness, and you are terribly mad with grief. But it will pass, I swear it. No one truly wants to die.”

“Would you?” Jungwon asked, tilting his head. “If you could, would you choose to be able to die?”

“I…” Apollo faltered. “I am a god. Gods do not know how to die.”

“Neither does anyone living. But sometimes death is preferable, if the alternative is a long, empty life. A life with no love or song.”

“You have my lyre. You will always have song.”

“Well.” Jungwon glanced down at his precious lyre, his hallowed instrument. Before he’d met Riki, he had only been a musician, his greatest pride Apollo’s blessing. But Riki had become his greatest song, his most lovelorn melody. There was no returning to the life he once had before his husband had come into it, rearranged it, reshaped it. The world was now an empty place, and Jungwon could not fill the gaping spaces by himself. Not with anyone, or anything. He strode forward and deposited his lyre into Apollo’s arms, looking away from the god’s stunned expression. “Here. Now it is yours once again.”

“You—” Apollo gaped. “You will give up music for love? You would deprive this land by refusing to play?”

Jungwon felt as if he was shattering every bone in his hands. Never once had he squandered his gift, but… “I thank you for the generous patronage you’ve bestowed upon me all these years,” he bowed his head. “But my heart is with my husband. He used to dance, and he became the song of my soul. There is no melody on earth I could play without thinking of him.”

“That is how love lives on, child. You pour it into the things you have and find them there.”

“My love goes where Riki goes,” Jungwon said resolutely. “And Riki can only now be found in death, so that is where it must follow. That is where I must follow.”

“You don’t have to,” Apollo shook his head, cradling the lyre like a child. “You can be the poet and choose to remember him instead. You can create in his memory.”

“He can live in on my music, but I cannot live through anything when he is gone. I cannot live without him, so I choose him over the memory of him. I turned around, and now I must complete what I have started.”

“Oh, Jungwon,” Apollo said with sorrowful finality. “I shall not gift your lyre to anyone else. I will place it amongst the stars for you.”

Jungwon blinked, his mouth falling open. “You do not have to, it’s alright. There will be a great many musicians after me—”

“This is something I can choose to do,” Apollo said firmly. “I could not make the same choices you are able to make now. I envy you for it.”

Jungwon’s eyebrows rose to his hairline, disbelief warring in his chest. One of the sacred Twelve Olympians, the god of the sun, envying him? “You envy me? A coward following his lover into death?”

“There is dignity to be found in the places pride has vacated. And you love without clinging to your pride, it is enviable indeed.” Apollo had that distant light in his eyes again. “I have loved ruinously before, and I was unable to choose the way you are choosing now. That is even more cause for envy.”

Jungwon wracked his brain, flipping through the stories he’d read of his patron god. Finally, he landed on one that made understanding dawn on him. “Hyacinthus,” he said quietly. Apollo flinched violently, as if the wound was still bleeding, even though Hyacinthus must have been dead for centuries now. Perhaps even millennia.

“I tried everything,” he said bitterly. “But nectar and ambrosia only heal the gods, and he was as mortal as one could be. I wished to be mortal too, then, so I could join him. As you said, the Fates are not kind, and he died in my arms instead. I watched his life fade right before my eyes.”

“I am sorry,” Jungwon whispered. He could not fathom having to return to living after experiencing such a horrific ordeal. At least he was allowed the choice of death. Apollo was a god, forced to carry on, plagued by the promise of days that would see no end. “I could not imagine such pain.”

“Alas, he was taken from me in his youth too. I believe you’d be able to imagine it quite well,” Apollo smiled humourlessly.

“Yes,” Jungwon murmured. “If it is possible and permitted, I shall seek out your beloved in the underlying lands, and reassure him that your love remains steadfast. I shall tell him that you remember him and that he is fortunate, for the memory of a god is as immortal as he. He will forever live on through such love.”

Apollo regarded him silently, and for a second, Jungwon thought he saw tears in his eyes, sparking as gold as the blood in his veins. Jungwon wondered how rare a sight it was, witnessing a god cry for his long-gone lover. Ambrosia indeed. “Jungwon, I swear to you on the Styx, the people of the earth shall always look up at the sky and be able to find your song. I will give you a place close to the heavens, for a heart like yours belongs in the castle of the gods.”

“I do not deserve such kindness,” Jungwon shook his head.

“Nonsense.” Apollo flapped a hand, blinking the tears away. “It is only what must be done. Loving the way you love is usually a right reserved for the immortals. It is a privilege.”

“I rather think that love brings the gods closer to humans,” Jungwon mused. “Humans are familiar with loss, and to love is to hold something that loss can touch. No being is free of the space death can occupy, of the shackles with which it may bind.” He gazed into Apollo’s surprised eyes calmly, “Perhaps you are more mortal than you believe yourself to be.”

For a moment, Apollo seemed caught in an instinctive, divine rage, but he quickly settled down with a huff, smiling wryly at Jungwon. He was sure that if it had been any other Olympian, they would not have been so forgiving of his audaciousness. “Perhaps you are right. I would have… I would like to believe that you are.”

Jungwon inclined his head. “Thank you for everything, my liege.”

Apollo’s eyes glowed with mirth, “I am no liege, Jungwon. I hold no throne, my father will gladly attest to that.”

“Before Riki, I only ever served you,” Jungwon said resolutely. “I have served you all my life. As far as I am concerned, you are my liege.”

Apollo quietened, taking a couple of seconds to respond. “I am most sorry to see you go, child. I will miss you very much.”  

“I am sorry to leave. I shall not forget you, nor the oaths I have sworn to you. I shall never see you again, but if I find your lover in the lands beneath, I will have found enough of you indeed.”

“I do not doubt your honour,” Apollo said softly. “I pray you find peace in the Underworld.”

Jungwon bowed his head again, “Goodbye, my liege.” He moved to make his way back down the tunnels, hoping the paths remained straight, a direct descent back into death. Not a maze to navigate, but a sheer drop with only a long way to fall, for falling was not a problem. He’d fallen the day he met Riki.

“Jungwon?” He turned at the sound of his name, catching Apollo’s last smile before he vanished with a shower of gold. “If I were you, I would have looked back too.”

✵✵

As Jungwon had foreseen, the tunnels spat him out near the gates of the Underworld instead of back at Hades’ palace. The ferryman refused to grant him passage across the river, naturally, so Jungwon planted himself on the foggy banks and listened to the drowning spirits shriek from the Styx, until he felt his body waste away from the days without food and water. His head was heavy from the constant assault of dismembered screams, his throat a scorched desert and his stomach curling into itself as it ate its own walls. Still, no pain could outweigh the desperate need to be reunited with Riki once again.

When his heart finally stopped and his soul departed from its withered husk, Charon glided to his side, a single eyebrow raised. “You are a persistent one, aren’t you? I thought you’d leave days ago.”

“No,” Jungwon said, his voice crackling slightly from disuse. “I came to be with my husband. I will not leave him again.”

“Well, I suppose you will not have to, seeing as to how you are quite dead,” Charon observed. “You do not have a coin on you, I’m guessing?”

“I died right there,” Jungwon said blandly, pointing to his unmoving body mere steps away. “Who could have possibly done the proper funeral rites for me?”

“You mortals hardly ever do,” Charon grumbled. “I have learned not to expect much. Come along, then. You will not be judged by the scales, Lord Hades wishes to see you himself.”

“Oh.” Jungwon wondered if he could be killed twice over; he supposed the king of shadows could eviscerate his ghost, or shred it apart and scatter the pieces across Tartarus if he so willed it. Jungwon knew the god must not have been pleased about his little display on the riverbanks, considering how he had vowed to not return should he fail to bring Riki back to the living world. “Did he seem unhappy?”

“The lord is always unhappy,” Charon said dryly. “The one exception was his wedding day, and that was more than a thousand years ago.” Curses. Jungwon was definitely in trouble. He chose to keep his head lowered as Charon rowed them across the river, silently trekking past Cerberus and towards the castle once again, the towering spires set against the ominous sky sending a shiver down his spine.

The spirits announced his arrival as they had the first time, and he ambled down the same blood-red carpet, coming to kneel in front of Hades and Persephone again. “My lord, my lady,” he muttered, slightly abashed.

“I see you have returned, despite swearing that I would not have to look upon your face once more should you fail in your quest,” Hades remarked. Jungwon bit his lip so hard, he nearly drew blood.

“Yes, my lord. I’m sorry, but I could not bear to live without my husband.”

“You do not have your lyre with you this time,” Persephone observed, sounding mildly curious. “I would have enjoyed another song very much.”

“Yes, I—” Jungwon swallowed. “I relinquished my instrument to Apollo before I journeyed back.”

“You gave up your gift? Your patron god’s blessing?” Hades asked incredulously.

“Well… it was meaningless without my husband, my lord,” Jungwon looked up at the king and queen, blinking as they stared back at him. “Music is close to my heart, but Riki is my soul. I am most grateful for Apollo’s patronage, of course, but he understands that I would break every last finger if it meant I could have one more moment with Riki. There is nothing I could not give up for him. He is the only one I cannot sacrifice.”

Persephone’s expression contorted with something indecipherable, and she leaned towards Hades to whisper fervently in his ear. The king nodded, his fathomless gaze never straying from Jungwon’s face. “We have listened to the ghosts chatter about you for days,” he finally announced as the queen drew back. “They all spoke of a boy who would not move from the shore of the Styx, dipping his toes in its waters and succumbing himself to the cries of the souls there. Why did you resign yourself to such a fate in your final hours?”

Was this important? Another test? Jungwon did not know. “They all seemed to be people who were not ready to die yet,” he said. “I only listened to their lingering sorrows, their last regrets, their faded hopes, and found myself within them. I apologize if I overstepped, my lord.”

Hades nodded slowly. “On the contrary, rather. You gave many of these disquieted souls peace. Nobody enjoys ruling over discontent subjects.”

“I—suppose? I confess I would not know of such matters, my lord.”

“You have proven that you are worthy of Elysium. And my queen wills it, so it shall be,” Hades declared. “Follow the spirits on the guided path, and the gates will welcome you.”

“Oh.” Jungwon was thunderstruck. Was that it? This was not the reception he had imagined. He had rather expected the god to crush him into dust and shadows. “Thank you, my lord. Thank you, my lady.”

Persephone finally cracked a small smile, and in it, Jungwon caught a glimpse of the spring she resided over, blessing the earth with a blooming warmth. “Your husband shall be there, awaiting your arrival.”

“Thank you, my lady,” Jungwon repeated, bowing as deeply as he could. A ghost materialized at his side as Hades dismissed him with a wave, and he obediently stood to leave.

The walk to Elysium was not long, because of course Paradise was the closest field to the heart of the land, where the palace stood. Jungwon’s heart was a riot in his throat, a surprise considering he was very much dead. He wondered if the spirit floating next to him had a heartbeat it could hold in its mouth too. Perhaps this was Apollo’s final gift: a spark for his carcass to still feel the sensation of music. Or perhaps he’d been right along in that Death could not halt the machine that moved in his chest for Riki. 

Elysium’s gates opened with the barest whisper of a touch, and the spirit disappeared with a pop. Tremulously, Jungwon slipped inside, stunned by the grass growing green under his feet, by the light raining down from the cavernous ceiling, as warm as the earth’s sun. It glinted gold off his skin, nestling in his hair and sinking deep into his veins. It was almost unfathomable that this was the same Underworld he had ventured twice into.

“Jungwon?” A voice called from afar, and his head snapped towards it, his blood singing. There, only a distance away, stood his husband, eyes wide and glittering with hopeful disbelief. “Darling, is that you?” 

“Riki,” Jungwon breathed, and then he was running, and they were in each other’s arms, crashing into one another with the force of an exploding star. Relief drove a joyous stake through his heart. “Riki, my love, I’m so sorry—”

“What ever are you sorry for?” Riki’s voice was muffled into Jungwon’s hair as he pressed frantic kisses to it. “There is nothing to be sorry about. We are together. We are together.” They clung to each other for another ferocious second, before he drew back to stare at Jungwon, frowning. “But why are you here? What happened to you?”

“Well,” Jungwon swallowed dryly. “I sat on the banks of the Styx without food or water and waited to die.”

“Jungwon!” Riki berated, looking two seconds away from throttling him. “Why would you do such a foolish thing?”

“I had to come and be with you.” Jungwon pulled away, his hands fidgeting. “I… I know it was foolish, but I thought not of my dignity, only that I could not live one more day in a world without you in it. I could not live with myself.”

“Darling, did you even try?”

“I did not want to.”

“Your life holds more meaning than just having me in it,” Riki said, his brow still furrowed.

Jungwon was shaking his head before his husband even finished, “Not to me. The world is too full of you. There is nowhere I could go without finding you all around me, without feeling as if I have left you.”

“You could have left me,” Riki whispered. “I would never begrudge or hate you for it. I would only have waited.”

“I did not want to wait.”

“You could have let me go,” Riki smiled sadly.

“Never,” Jungwon said emphatically. It was unthinkable. He had considered many options in the days he’d lain over Riki’s still heart, but not once had the notions of letting go or moving on ever crossed his mind. Leaving Riki was as good as leaving himself behind. “I could never.”

“Oh, my love,” Riki sighed, his fingertips grazing over Jungwon’s cheek, down the line of his jaw. “How I have made you suffer.”

“Are you…” Jungwon hesitated. “Are you not angry with me?”

“Angry with you?” Riki echoed, bewildered. “Now why would I ever be?”

“Because I failed you,” the words were difficult to force out, sticking in Jungwon’s throat. “I failed to die with you, I failed to bring you back—”

“I am not angry,” Riki interrupted, his eyes softer than any song, his touch gentler than any breeze. “And you have not failed me at all, that is ridiculous. Come away from that idea at once. What could I possibly have to complain about? I’ve been loved. You have loved me for every day of the life that we spent together, and in the death we now share.”

“Yes.” Jungwon was trembling. “Of course. I love you always. There has never been a second in which I have not, and there never will be.”

“See?” Riki smiled, the brightest thing in hell. Jungwon wondered if there had ever been anyone who felt the way he did now in the kingdom of shadow — he wondered if anyone had ever been held like this, illuminated with such painful love and despair before. Desperation whittled him down to the bone. “I have no cause to be angry. We are together again, that is all that matters. Leave frustration and regret behind, darling, leave them for the living.”

“I cannot—” Jungwon faltered. “I do not know how.”

“Come back here. Take my hand,” Riki commanded, and Jungwon obeyed helplessly. His husband’s eyes gleamed. “Kiss me.”

Something shivered through Jungwon from the words, something reverent and ancient that harkened back to when humanity’s first lovers collided. The strength of that primal memory beat in him, a faraway call that pushed him forward, cradling his husband’s face in his hands as he pulled him down into a searing kiss. Riki’s pillow-soft mouth was as eager as he remembered, tugging on and taking everything Jungwon had left. This was eulogy enough. This was lightning, straying from thunder, separating from the rain. This was a godhood, bringing him back to life and ruining him for everyone else all over again.

I was made for loving you, Jungwon thought to himself when they finally parted for air. Only you. I came into this world just to love you. Riki’s eyes glowed like he’d said it out loud instead. 

“Do you feel it now?” Riki asked quietly, his arms strong where they were wound around Jungwon’s waist.

“I don’t feel anything but you,” Jungwon answered honestly.

 Riki grinned, “You know that is not what I meant.”

“If you meant happiness,” Jungwon brushed his lips over Riki’s again, “or peace,” and again, “then we are indeed speaking of the same thing. It is you.” He gazed up at his husband, sinking into his tender tempest, intoxicated on his touch. “And where you are, that is where I will be.”

Riki’s hold on him tightened. “Where you are, that is where I will be,” he repeated. “It is a good thing then, that I have eternity to go where you go?”

Jungwon laughed, “There was doubt?”

Riki did not deign to reply. He only yanked Jungwon back in to seal it with a heartstopping kiss: another wedding, another beginning. Another end to all their endings.

✵✵

“Darling,” Riki began as they lay together under the bough of a willow, Jungwon nestled comfortably between his legs, wrapped in the circle of his arms. Elysium made it possible for Jungwon to rest his head on his husband’s chest and hear the strong, melodic beat of his heart. The song of it was a spell lulling him closer and closer to slumber.

Jungwon cracked an eye open lazily, humming, “Yes?”

“Have you thought about the possibility of rebirth?”

“Rebirth?” Jungwon frowned, sitting up and twisting around to stare at his husband. “No, I have not. We would have to drink from the Lethe, and I do not want to forget you.”

Riki smiled. “Do you really think you could? Any more than I could ever forget you?” 

“My love, we are capable of many things, but overcoming the strength of Lethe’s curse is not one of our talents, I’m afraid.”

“We will forget this life, yes,” Riki nodded. “But we will have another. A new one, together. I believe our souls will find each other, no matter what.”

Jungwon blinked. “I suppose so,” he said slowly. “Although it could be a long time before they do. Decades might pass before I find you, and there is no guarantee that you will not love someone else by then.”

Riki laughed, touching Jungwon’s face. “Darling. Do you truly believe me capable of loving anyone that is not you?”

“It is not a slight against you now,” Jungwon protested, even as he leaned into Riki’s palm. “You would be a completely different person. Who’s to know?”

“I will know,” his husband said simply. “The strings that tie us are not so easily severed. They are not so fragile. Neither the gods nor the Fates could lead me astray or keep me from you.”

“You are speaking of the most ancient of powers,” Jungwon pointed out, but he was beginning to smile too. “A most primordial one.”

“Are we not even more primordial? Death would have had us separated, but you followed me here,” Riki reminded him, eyes glinting.

“Dying is easy. Living is harder.”

“It is,” Riki conceded. “But living is better when it is with you. Don’t you think?”

Jungwon curled a hand around Riki’s nape and dragged him in, enveloping his mouth in a slow-melting, scorching kiss. He reveled in the feeling of Riki going boneless under his touch and thought, yes, we are more primordial. “I do think so,” he whispered against his husband’s lips when he pulled back. “But for now, I wish to enjoy death with you a little longer. I want to stay and have the time to remember our life together.”

Riki grinned, pressing another short kiss to Jungwon’s mouth. “Alright,” he breathed. “Give it a hundred years, and then let us try again. Let us depart and meet again with different souls, but the same hearts.”

Jungwon huffed, but he was smiling; he couldn’t help it. “Alright.”

“Really?” Riki brightened even more, if possible.

“Really,” Jungwon echoed, slinging his arms around his husband’s neck. A hundred years to wait was nothing; after all, their love had been alive for millions. It had survived the beginning and ending of worlds, the rise and fall of empires, too much for Olympus and the Underworld alike. It was an immortal pour, an inextinguishable flame. It had tested the temper of fate once, and it would again when the time for it finally came.

“A hundred years,” he murmured, tasting the sunshine in Riki’s smile, “and then we try again.”