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Summary
“They say pomegranates are a form of love,” Chan explained, not looking at Minho, still cutting gently through the fruit. Which was surprising for a God like him, to be so delicate and gentle about something so mundane. “Of consumption in its most primal ways possible. You peel the skin softly, and take the seeds out, getting your hands dirty with its red juice.”
It’s exactly what was happening. His fingers were stained in red, glistening under the dim lights of his office. Minho then realised the sun had already started to set. Chan faced Minho again, and he had six seeds in the palm of his hand. They were pinkish red, smeared in juice, soft and shiny. Minho wondered how they would taste.
“People compare it to cannibalism,” Chan said in a quiet voice, and it made Minho look up questionably. Chan continued. “If you peel the skin away from the meat, it tastes better. And love tastes better when you consume it the right way, straight from the very core of your lover.”
or; Chan is Hades, and Minho is Persephone’s son; and they’re in love.