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Sweltering heat.
That is what Hanbin—the world—is used to, when ten suns hang brightly in the sky. They batter down ruthlessly, leaving devastation in their wake. Many die, from the lack of food, the heat, and the cruel hands of opportunistic individuals pushed to violence in the face of a calamity.
"The suns are a punishment, Hanbin-ah," his mother rasps. She sounded so frail, within an inch of her death, "But there will be someone to help us. To help you..."
The dirt he digs up crumbles into dust underneath the tin shovel. Hanbin doesn't get to bury his mother deeply enough to protect her from the worst of all: Humans.
Hanbin prays his mother is right.
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Solace only lasts eight full hours of nighttime out of the twenty-four. It's barely enough for Hanbin to get his affairs in order. As the village chief—he took over his father when he inevitably passes from heartache—he tries his best to help out around the village. He shares the hunt that he's gathered. The kids come out to play even though the dirt beneath their small feet is still painfully warm from sixteen hours of relentless heat, and wives thank Hanbin for doing what their husbands can't.
Hanbin ignores all that. His priority is at home, waiting for him patiently. He doesn't spend much time with the children before he's bidding all of them farewell. Hanbin's footsteps are swift until he reaches his hut at the top of the slope, where he sees the centre of his universe settled on the chair near their table inside their home.
"Hao, my heart," Hanbin whispers. Hanbin runs towards Hao the same time he drops his bow and arrow by the door. They meet each other halfway, Hanbin's arms squeezed around his husband's frame tightly, "I missed you."
"I missed you too, Hanbin-ah."
It's easy for fatigue to slowly dissipate into nothingness when he's with Hao. They end up in bed together as they do every night after dinner, and this time, Hanbin curls into Hao's open arms, pressing his forehead against his husband's chest.
"Do you think this will last forever?"
Hanbin sighs. He knows what Hao is asking about—everyone talks about the prophesied end to their suffering—when they've paid enough penance as a collective whole.
"It will end, soon. Someone will help us. Don't worry, my heart. The day will be ours once again. We can have more time with one another."
Hao hums and kisses the crown of Hanbin's head. "I trust you."
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When Hanbin says 'someone' will help them, he doesn't expect it to be himself.
The heavens are always… unpredictable. Hanbin feels as if he's hallucinating when he is suddenly approached by someone. Yet, the decree reaches his ears loud and clear—
"You are to shoot down nine of the suns that hang high in the sky. You are the one the prophecy promised. Succeed, and you will be rewarded."
Hanbin gulps and the strange being dissipates into thin air. It makes no sense, but Hanbin doesn't question it.
All he can do is resolve to do as the prophecy promises.
Hanbin returns home with the weight of the world on his shoulders.
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The suns that come down are blazing comets. Hanbin's sweat trickles down his temples as he shoots them all down except one. The heat that dissipates is almost immediate and the chorus of cheers that follow is deafening. Hanbin succeeds this great feat, but all he can do is think about his husband back at home.
He doesn't stay long enough for the fanfare to reach him and returns home to bring Hao in his arms. They laugh as they dance in the hut—they kiss, and for the first time, Hanbin doesn't fear their future anymore.
"Hao," he whispers, soft against his lover's lips, "The day is finally ours."
The smile on Hao's face is enough fanfare for Hanbin. He sees the whole future with Hao right in front of his very eyes.
Hanbin lets himself hope.
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His reward materialises on the empty table. An elixir of immortality, the label reads—the greatest gift, according to the heavens.
Only enough for one.
"It's nothing if I can't share it with you."
Hao agrees, and they tuck it away in a box, doomed to be forgotten.
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News unfortunately spread fast.
It's all too quick when the news of his gift spreads around the village like wildfire.
The title of village chief doesn't protect his home from being raided for the coveted elixir—dread washes over him in a tidal wave as he rushes back home, only for his blood to run as cold as the night. Hao is collapsed on the ground right outside their home, breathing shallowly, clutching the elixir close to his chest—protecting it fiercely. Hanbin falls to his knees on the ground right beside him and desperately holds him.
Hanbin sees it too often. The way people approach death—he sees the light leave his mother's and his father's eyes did, the exact same way he sees it in Hao's. There is only one solution in his head.
"My heart," he cries out. Hanbin doesn't hesitate to pull up the cork before he desperately pours the elixir between Hao's lips, "You have to stay alive. Please."
Hao takes what Hanbin thought was his last breath before he sputters back alive, but Hanbin's relief doesn't last for long. Hao doesn't stay in his arms and instead, feels weightless, floating, despite Hanbin's tightening arms.
"Hanbin-ah, what's—what's going on?"
Hanbin doesn't have an answer. He watches helplessly as Hao is forcibly ripped from his arms, floating higher, and higher—until he rises into the sky and becomes one with the moon, so, so far away from Hanbin.
Hanbin realises this: In saving Hao, he's lost him too.
Hanbin spends all eight hours of his night looking at the moon—at Hao—aching to be able to hold him once again.