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Zhang Hao lay in bed, his frail body sinking into the mattress. His skin was pale, his breathing thin and strained, each inhale a quiet struggle. The sickness had hollowed him out, slow and merciless.
Beside him, the candle burned low—its flicker weak and wavering, like him.
The door creaked open.
Jiwoong entered, soundlessly. The air shifted, reverent. His cloak trailed like a shadow set loose, and even the candlelight shrank in his presence.
“You’re here,” Hao rasped, turning his head with effort. “I thought it might be someone else. A priest. A witch. My brother.”
“You knew it would be me.”
“Unfortunately.”
A silence passed between them, thick with unspoken memories.
“I’m not leaving,” Jiwoong said.
“Of course you’re not,” Hao said, forcing a bitter breath that almost sounded like laughter. “Why would Death leave? You’re exactly where you need to be.”
“You always find your way back, don’t you?” he added. “No matter how far I run. No matter how hard I try to forget you.”
“I came because you need me.”
“I don’t need you,” Hao said sharply, turning away. “And I don’t want you either.”
Jiwoong stopped in his tracks.
Hao turned his face away. “Leave me alone.”
The weight of those words knocked the breath out of Jiwoong like a blow. Still, he said nothing, only took another step forward.
Jiwoong faltered. Still, he took another step.
“Don’t,” Hao snapped, voice rising in panic. “You think you can just walk in, kiss me, and make everything better? Like I’m some fairy tale, and you’re the ending I’ve been waiting for?”
“I’m not here to fix anything, I know I can’t.”
“Then what are you here for? To hold my hand as I fall apart? To make yourself feel better for what you couldn’t do?”
“I’m here because I love you,” Jiwoong said, soft but unflinching.
Hao let out a breath that shook. “No. Don’t say that. Don’t you dare say that to me now.”
“It’s the truth.”
“No,” Hao whispered, voice breaking. “If you loved me, really loved me, I wouldn’t be dying.”
He looked at Jiwoong through tear-filled eyes, gaze sharp with betrayal. “I spent years loving you, waiting for you to save me. Wishing your touch could be the cure. I thought maybe… maybe if you loved me enough, I’d be the exception.”
Jiwoong opened his mouth. Nothing came out.
Hao’s body trembled under the pressure of his own words. “Why can’t your kiss heal me? Isn’t that how it works in all those stories? True love’s kiss— happily ever after ?” His voice cracked, and he looked away. “What’s the point of your love if it changes nothing?”
Jiwoong stepped forward, but Hao shoved him weakly with trembling hands. “Don’t come any closer.”
The push barely moved him, but it shattered Jiwoong more than any blade ever could.
“You lied,” Hao whispered, voice barely audible. “You made me believe in something that was never real. You were always going to take me, weren’t you?”
“No,” Jiwoong said, desperate now. “I wasn’t supposed to love you. That was the first mistake. And the first rule. Death doesn’t feel. Death doesn’t stay. But I—I did.”
He took a shaky breath, his voice cracking for the first time. “I broke the rule the moment I chose to stay by your side. I’ve kept you alive for twenty-four years, Hao. I’ve pulled time out of its rhythm. I stole seconds from fate, rewrote pages that weren’t mine to touch. I’ve been fighting the end for as long as I’ve known you.”
Hao’s breath hitched. His lips parted, but no words came out.
“I was born the moment you were. I followed you from your first breath. I watched you grow—I grew beside you. And somewhere along the way, I… forgot what I was.”
Jiwoong knelt by the bedside now, his voice raw. “You weren’t meant to live this long. I was supposed to touch your hand seventeen years ago. That was the plan. The prophecy. The design. But you smiled at me. You looked at me like I wasn’t the scary thing everyone hates. And I—I couldn’t do it.”
Hao blinked slowly, tears pooling in the corners of his eyes.
“You pretended to be human,” he finally whispered.
“I wanted to be,” Jiwoong admitted. “I thought maybe… maybe if I loved hard enough, fate would forget. Maybe if I stayed close enough, death would skip a turn.”
“But it didn’t,” Hao said. “And now here you are. Exactly what you were always meant to be.”
Jiwoong nodded. “Exactly what I never wanted to be.”
Hao turned his head, and their eyes met—two lifetimes tangled in one look.
“You lied to me,” Hao said. “Every time you kissed me, you knew it would end like this.”
“I did,” Jiwoong whispered.
“I hate you.”
“I know.”
“I hate that I still love you.”
Jiwoong closed his eyes. “I know that, too.”
He leaned forward, slow and reverent, pressing his forehead to Hao’s. “I’m sorry.”
Tears streamed freely now, falling down Hao’s cheeks like rain.
“I wanted to live. I wanted to live with you,” he said.
“I wanted that too,” Jiwoong whispered.
A long moment passed, the candle flickering low.
Jiwoong reached out, this time not stopping. His fingers brushed Hao’s face, soft and trembling. He tucked a loose strand of hair behind Hao’s ear, his hand lingering for just a second too long.
“I’m sorry, my love,” he breathed.
Hao closed his eyes.
Jiwoong leaned in and pressed a kiss to Hao’s forehead.
A kiss filled not with magic, but mourning.
A touch like snow on spring soil—fleeting, cold, and achingly gentle.
And in the silence that followed, Hao exhaled.
A final breath.
Stillness.
The candle sputtered, then went out.
Jiwoong stayed there, motionless, forehead against Hao’s skin, as the world shifted without him. As time moved on.
And for the first time in his endless existence, Death wept.