Five seconds. He opens his eyes and looks, one last time, at the face of the man he loves, the man that he's fated to. Kairos, the God that stands alongside himself, the God Chronos.
With all the strength he can muster in his muscles, Seokjin drives the dagger up towards his own eyes. He hears Namjoon scream, he thinks, he's not sure, he can't distinguish it from the sounds of his own blood rushing through his ears like a warning sign telling him no, Seokjin, don't do this, don't-
Hot blood sprays all over Seokjin's face and he squeezes his eyes shut instinctively, to close his eyelids on the dagger he'd plunged into his eye, but for the first few seconds Seokjin doesn't feel anything other than the blood on his face. He doesn't feel anything in his eyes, nothing at all, so slowly, warily, he cracks his eyelids open.
The sharpened point of the dagger is mere centimetres in front of him. His eyes widen is shock, in fear, in a dreadful kind of anticipation that's been put on hold and he's confused, for only a moment, because after that the rest of the world around him and the dagger's point becomes visible, and he sees that Namjoon had lunged forward to grab the dagger before Seokjin could gouge out his own eyes.
He's got one hand gripped tightly around the hilt of the dagger, his hand shivering over the top of Seokjin's hand, and his other and holding the blade. It was Namjoon's blood sprayed over Seokjin's face and it's Namjoon's blood that's dripping onto the foliage under their feet. "N-Namjoon..." Seokjin stutters, quietly, in shock.
"Thank god," Namjoon whispers back as he softens the pained look on his face, "I made it in time." And then, just as quickly as it happened, his expression turns sour as he rips the dagger from Seokjin's grip and flings it onto the ground. "What the hell were you thinking?!" he nearly screams at Seokjin.
Seokjin's eyes travel to Namjoon's injured hand that he cradles with his other in front of his chest. There's so much blood that Seokjin can't see the gash or how deep it is. "I- Namjoon, this isn't-"
"This isn't what you were planning?" Namjoon finishes Seokjin's question as he now uses his other hand to hold tightly over his wrist in the place of a tourniquet. "What were you planning? To blind yourself?"
"Mm," Seokjin sounds, his voice small and scared. "None of this would've happened if it weren't for these eyes of mine."
And once those words leave his lips he suddenly remembers what his eyes are for, the curse of having them, so he snaps his head up and looks at the numbers floating above Namjoon's head because surely they were ticking down, surely the seconds were running away from him, surely he should be dead by now-
One second left.
One second left, but even as Seokjin stares at it with wide eyes and bated breath, the counter doesn't move. It stays, frozen, on just one second. The number is pulsating, it's flickering, and with wide eyes and a bated breath, Seokjin reaches up to touch it.
But Namjoon grabs his wrist before he can. "You told me, before your trial, that you are the grim reaper. You didn't elaborate. But I've never stopped thinking about it since you said it, and I remembered how many times you would look at something above my head. I didn't understand at the time, but now I do."
"Yeah?" Seokjin breathes, his wrist still held by Namjoon's bloody hand.
"You can see how long I've got left to live. You can see how long everyone has left to live."
He brings Seokjin's hand back down, away from Namjoon's lifespan that reads just a single second, nothing more, nothing less, and doesn't change. "Yeah," Seokjin whispers in response.
"It was my time to go, wasn't it? I saw it. When I kissed you just a minute ago," he tells Seokjin before he slips his bloody hands around Seokjin's. "You were going to murder me."
"N-no," Seokjin gasps, "I would never. Why- why would you-"
"I don't know," Namjoon cuts him off with furrowed brows and a stern, concerned look on his face. "But when we stopped kissing and you took out that dagger, I had to step in."
"You manipulated the moment," Seokjin ventures, and Namjoon nods.
"I wanted you to direct the blade somewhere else – somewhere that wouldn't kill me, like my side instead of my chest. But you ended up directing it towards your own eyes."
"But you stopped me."
"I did."
Seokjin lifts his hands and feebly grips into Namjoon's arms, holding on tightly. His knees are shaking and he isn't sure how much longer he'd be able to hold himself up for. "What now?" he asks, his voice barely a whisper, raspy along the edges.
Namjoon steps closer and reaches up to hold Seokjin's face, and with his thumbs he smooths over his cheeks, streaking his blood across his skin as he goes. "Someone's going to die," Namjoon tells him before he leans in and kisses Seokjin. He tastes like blood.
The taste of Namjoon's blood lingers on Seokjin's tongue. He's not sure how it happened, or more importantly why, but he pushes all of those questions out of his mind. He's standing on the shore of his island, feet anchored in the sand while vicious winds whip up around him and form tornados that threaten to tear him apart. But Seokjin doesn't budge, doesn't get swept off his feet. He puts one foot in front of the other and he walks, unshaken, back the way he came.
Namjoon's lifespan had paused. Seokjin was reluctant to leave him, was afraid that the second he looks away, Namjoon's lifespan might just drain right out of his grasp. But Namjoon had told Seokjin to trust him, so he did. He turned around and he made his way back to the settlement.
He isn't aware of the details that flesh out what might have flashed through Namjoon's mind in that second, whether it was a spur of the moment, a fleeting idea, or whether he'd planned it days, weeks in advance. But Seokjin trusts Namjoon. He doesn't need details. He doesn't need facts. He doesn't need witnesses or testimonies or evidence. All he has is Namjoon's blood on his hands.
He's panting heavily by the time he returns. The moon is clear in the night sky, Seokjin doesn't know what time it is, but his skin feels itchy with dried blood. He stops in front of the gates, his chest rising and falling with laboured breaths. He's tired, his eyes are threatening to close, and his thighs are aching from the climb. He presses one hand against his chest in an attempt to calm his heart that's hammering against his ribs before he holds both hands out and he pushes the gates open.
Daehyun is waiting for him. He holds his arms out, a wry smile on his mouth, but Seokjin ignores the look on his face to look up at his lifespan above his head.
It, too, has paused. Seokjin quickly flicks his eyes back down, hoping that Daehyun didn't notice his fleeting fixation on his lifespan, hoping that it doesn't make him suspicious of anything. So he walks and he approaches Daehyun, and he stops in front of him. "I did it," Seokjin breathes, his voice raspy and dry. "I killed him. Kairos."
He holds his hands out, palms up, to Daehyun as proof. Daehyun looks down at his hands and his smile grows wider. "Good," he praises Seokjin and reaches out to take his cheek in his hand, but Seokjin lowers his chin, and Daehyun's hand touches the top of his head instead.
Daehyun doesn't seem to react to that, nor did he seem to pick up the way Seokjin's eyes flickered to his lifespan.
"Come with me," he tells Seokjin, and turns on his heels to walk into the settlement. Seokjin stands where he is for a moment, sizing up the trust Daehyun must have in him not to turn tail and run, but he guesses that if he had come back after he was let out, Daehyun has no doubt Seokjin will run. So he puts one foot in front of the other and he follows.
The winding path that leads up to the mansion is lined on either side with small lanterns. The trees that flank the path look especially dark, the branches reaching towards Seokjin like they're going to pluck him up off the ground at any moment. There's no one else around, and Seokjin doesn't hear so much as the wind whistling through the trees. He only hears Daehyun's footsteps in front of him, followed by his own.
And the air around him becomes still, grows colder, quieter, with every step. It screams at him to turn, to run, to get away. Daehyun's paused lifespan flashes above his head, pulsating like it's alive. Fifty-two years it's paused on, staring into Seokjin's eyes, taunting him. Beckoning him. Tells him to keep going despite the rest of the world that tells him to stay away.
Daehyun waits for him at the bottom of the stone steps that lead up to the mansion. He holds one hand out for Seokjin to take, and Seokjin swallows down the sour taste in his mouth that ignites when he reaches out and takes that hand. Daehyun smiles and helps Seokjin up the stairs. Then, he pushes the doors open and light from inside floods outwards.
He leads Seokjin along a path he knows well. Daehyun takes him to the room Seokjin slept in, opening the doors for him as he goes. He pushes at Seokjin's shoulders to make him sit at the edge of the bed. Then, he lowers both hands until they're flat on his chest. "Finally," Daehyun begins quietly, the low light of the lamp in the dark room causing shadows over his eyes, "everything is falling into place."
His hands slide down Seokjin's front, over his abdomen, but before they reach his hips and the front of his pants, Seokjin clasps his wrists and halts them there.
A disgusting smile finds its way onto Daehyun's lips. "Are you nervous?"
Seokjin swallows, hard, but he tries his best not to react. If Daehyun's hands move any further down, he'll find the phone that Namjoon tucked into the band of his boxers just before they parted ways, the phone that's currently recording. Seokjin licks his lips. "No," he answers, his voice thin and dry. "I'm just tired. I want to rest."
With a sigh, Daehyun pulls his hands away from Seokjin's waist and leans back. "Fine. But we must perform the Rites, though you won't have to do much for that. Look, I'll even change your clothes for you."
He reaches for the bottom of Seokjin's shirt to lift it up, and Seokjin quickly stops him. "No, I'll do this myself," he interjects.
"Why are you so shy all of a sudden?" Daehyun smiles. "I've already seen you half-naked."
"I-" Seokjin begins, his mind tripping over itself in an attempt to make up an excuse that Daehyun won't find suspicious. "I need to change my boxers," he mutters.
"Okay," Daehyun accepts Seokjin's excuse. He turns on his heel and starts walking towards the door. "I'll be waiting just outside. Clean off all the blood."
Seokjin stares at Daehyun's back until he disappears behind the door, until he hears the click of the door shutting. Then, he stands and he quickly strips himself of his dirtied clothes. He finds some wet wipes and starts to scrub at Namjoon's blood on his hands, face and neck. He discards the wipes into the small bin in the corner of the room, repeating over and over until the wipes come away white. Then, he dresses himself in yet another loose, billowing white shirt and a pair of white pants. And once again, he tucks the phone that's still recording into his pants.
Then, he swallows down all his bad feelings and dread and fear to open the door and join Daehyun once again, who takes his hand and leads him to the hall. They enter through a side room and when the door opens, the brightness of the white light hurts Seokjin's eyes. He squeezes them shut for a few seconds before he peels his eyelids open and tries to adjust to it. Then, he looks over the hall, to the mass of people at the bottom of the stone steps, kneeling and praying. Once they see Seokjin, their prayers grow louder, more frantic, more senseless. Seokjin can't even tell what they're saying, what they're crying for, what they're begging Seokjin to do for them.
Daehyun guides Seokjin to his throne. Seokjin sits down and tries his best to subtly readjust the phone he'd tucked into his pants so that it's closest to where Daehyun stands, by his side.
Seokjin continues to watch the heretics below him, rocking back and forth, shaking their clasped hands in front of them, crying and praying to him. Soon, Daehyun holds a hand out and silences them all, and it takes a moment for the hall to quieten.
"Tonight," Daehyun sounds, his voice carrying through the hall, loud and low, "we celebrate the most sacred mystery in our faith," he announces and walks over to the side where Seokjin follows his movements. He approaches a table in the corner, draped in a pure white cloth, atop which sits a large, intricately designed crystal decanter. "The kykeon, sacred drink of the mysteries. I've prepared it exactly as it should. The sacred barley, mint, and honey."
He uses both hands to pick the decanter up and slowly walks back to where Seokjin sits, standing in front of him. He hands the decanter to Seokjin.
"Your following have all paid their blood debts, have all fasted and washed themselves in holy water. Now, you must bless this drink so that they may drink from it and be elevated. Tonight is the Spring Equinox – the time that Persephone returns to Demeter from the Underworld. With your power we will transform this world, we will rid the world of all darkness and evil. Persephone will never again return to Hades. Chronos," Daehyun addresses Seokjin, "please, blow onto the kykeon."
Seokjin takes the decanter into his hands. It's heavy, but he doesn't react at all. Instead, he just looks up at Daehyun with a straight look in his face. "Before I do," he begins, forcing himself not to look up at Daehyun's lifespan, "I want you to tell me all the names of everyone whose lives were taken. As part of your blood debts."
"If that is your wish," Daehyun concedes before he reaches out and smooths his palms over Seokjin's cheeks. Then, he recites names one after the other, names that mean nothing to Seokjin, names that Daehyun has memorised. He continues to utter the names of people that Seokjin realises were murdered, of people who are no longer alive. Names of people that Seokjin doesn't recognise, but of whom mattered to somebody. And then, the names of people that Seokjin does recognise. "Jang Jaewon, Hong Haejoo, Myung Minwoo," he states, and Seokjin licks his lips to prepare himself to speak, but Daehyun parts his lips once more. He takes a breath. "Kim Namjoon," he finishes off.
Fire ignites in Seokjin's chest, sizzling along his skin, turning his veins into livewires. He feels heat coursing through him and it takes all of his willpower to stay seated, to not lift the decanter up above his head and smash it against Daehyun's head. He presses his lips together and reminds himself to breathe, to appear unaffected, to stay silent. He'd left Namjoon in the woods because Namjoon told him to have faith, and what he saw before he turned his back on Namjoon was his lifespan blaring the number one, paused on it, flashing and pulsating it, much in the same way that Daehyun's is in this moment. Seokjin doesn't know what it meant, and he doesn't know if Namjoon is still alive or not. If it didn't drain right out of him the moment Seokjin was far enough away from him.
But he contains himself. "So what, do I just blow onto this drink?" Seokjin asks. Daehyun nods.
He lifts the decanter up slightly and angles his head downwards towards it. The liquid inside looks milky, and at first Seokjin feels the light and mild scent of barley, mint, the sweetness of honey, but it's only when he parts his lips to blow that he notices it. He freezes.
The smell of almonds is faint.
"What's wrong, Chronos?" Daehyun asks.
"Nothing," Seokjin replies without looking up. He tries not to inhale because by now he's almost entirely certain what that almond scent means. He knows that smell, he's dealt with it before. Has defended someone accused of killing with it. He knows all about it.
"Bless the kykeon," Daehyun prompts him. Seokjin licks his lips and looks up at Daehyun in front of him.
Across the hall, behind the mass of heretics watching Seokjin, pinned to the wall is a small cluster of red spider lilies. Seokjin doesn't know how he's able to see them so clearly, he's sure his vision isn't this good, but it all makes sense once he blinks and the flowers disappear.
Seokjin lowers his chin and blows into the decanter. Then, he looks up and stares, pointedly, into Daehyun's eyes. "You. Drink first," he orders as he holds the decanter up.
Daehyun doesn't seem fazed. He just smiles. "I think your followers want to drink first," he replies mildly, and his comment is adorned with the cries of the people kneeling below Seokjin. "They've worked harder than I have."
"Don't belittle yourself," Seokjin fights to keep his voice level as his battle with Daehyun is hidden under a veil of white. "You've done a lot. You're more important than you know," he tells Daehyun, his voice holding just the subtlest hint of challenge.
He rises to his feet and holds the decanter out towards Daehyun, but Daehyun keeps his hands by his side and refuses to take it.
"Take it," Seokjin orders once again, his voice lowering despite the way his fear and dread grows inside him. Daehyun doesn't budge. "Take it, or I'll drop it," he warns, but before Daehyun can react Seokjin drops the decanter to the floor and lets the crystal vessel smash onto the marble floor, spilling the concoction of barley, mint, honey and cyanide. It trickles down the steps, makes its way towards the heretics.
Daehyun moves faster than Seokjin can prepare himself. He whips his hand up and grabs a fistful of Seokjin's hair, the hairband he'd used to tie it back snapping in the clinch, and he pulls Seokjin by the hair towards him. Seokjin doesn't yelp, doesn't make a sound at the burning pain in his scalp, because this has already happened before and he knows how this feels, and he knows what's going to come. Daehyun doesn't say anything, just like last time, he just turns and he drags Seokjin by the hair out of the hall.
He takes Seokjin through hallways, through doors, until he lets go of Seokjin's hair and pushes him, making him stumble until he falls against something big and soft. His bed. He quickly shakes his hair back and out of his eyes to look up at Daehyun, slamming the door shut behind him. "How dare you," he seethes, his fists curling into balls by his side, "drop the sacred kykeon?"
Seokjin presses his lips together and remains where he is, propped up on the edge of the mattress for support. He stays silent and just watches as Daehyun pushes his sleeves up to his elbows and stalks closer to Seokjin, closing the distance between them.
"I don't want to hurt you, but it seems like everything we did to prepare you to become Chronos wasn't enough," he says. "I should've bitten the bullet and killed Jeongguk that night like I planned. I had to settle with that other officer and apparently, Myung Minwoo didn't affect you enough."
Still, Seokjin doesn't speak. He bites down on his lower lip, hard, and his fists curl around the bedsheets of his bed. Daehyun now stands in front of him, and his expression turns dark. Seokjin's stomach sinks with dread.
"There's one last thing I could do to break you," he whispers just before he pushes Seokjin, forcing him onto his back on the bed. Then, he climbs on top, his knees flanking either side of Seokjin's hips. Seokjin quickly reaches up, tries to push him off, but Daehyun had anticipated that and clasps his wrists, pinning them down beside his head.
"Get off of me," Seokjin growls at him. "You fucking psycho."
"Oh my," Daehyun leans in, curving over Seokjin, "I thought I groomed you into a kind and polite God?"
There's another disgusting smile on Daehyun's lips just before those lips touch Seokjin's for a brief moment – and for just a second his hold on Seokjin's wrists loosens just enough that he can break out the restriction, grab the back of Daehyun's head by his hair and pull backwards. With his other hand he smashes his fist dead in the centre of his face.
For the second time that night, blood splatters onto Seokjin's face. But it doesn't faze him, he kicks Daehyun off him and throws him to the side. Then, he scrambles up off the bed and runs for the door.
Daehyun is on him in a moment, pouncing on him like Seokjin didn't just break his nose. The two men fall to the floor in front of the door, and Daehyun straddles Seokjin once again. He reaches down and grabs a fistful of Seokjin's hair in both hands, lifting his head up before slamming it down on the floor.
His head slams against the floor once, twice, countless times, and with every hit he feels pain busting through his skull, radiating inside his cranium. His vision blurs and he tries to reach up, to stop Daehyun, but he's so disoriented by the repeated slams that he can do nothing but go limp and wait for Daehyun to stop.
Finally, he does, and he leans back, panting heavily. He lets his head hang back, staring up at the ceiling as he huffs. Seokjin clenches the muscles in his stomach and he forces himself to sit up despite the waves and waves of intense pain radiating through his head, and he strikes one hand out to grab at Daehyun's throat. His hand is slick with the blood from Daehyun's nose but he grips, as hard as he can, and forces him back, cutting his air for just long enough to pull his other arm back and launch another fist into Daehyun's face, and Seokjin hears a sickening crunch of cartilage.
He doesn't waste a single second. He quickly pushes Daehyun off and forces himself up on his feet, but as soon as he rises he stumbles to the side, lightheaded and unsteady from the repeated attacks. His vision focuses and unfocuses, pulling in and out of blur. With a shaking hand he reaches up and lightly touches his fingertips to the back of head, where it feels tender and sore and suspiciously wet. When he brings his hand back in front of him, his fingertips are bloodied.
Daehyun manages to get up, but he too is disoriented from Seokjin's punches. He loses his footing and stumbles to the side while Seokjin tries to ground himself and stop the world from spinning.
"You..." Daehyun breathes out, his eyelids drooping, his face covered in blood from the nose down, "are letting the whole world down."
"Yeah, well," Seokjin rasps, "I'm not kind or polite, and I am not your God."
Daehyun tries to wipe away some of the blood on his face before he lunges at Seokjin. He's still unstable on his feet, so when Seokjin stumbles to the side Daehyun falls forward and loses his footing. Seokjin inhales sharply and turns on his heel, reaching down with his hand to grab at the back of Daehyun's head, grabbing a fistful of his hair. He pulls Daehyun up, forcing him to straighten, to face Seokjin.
"Three is your lucky number, isn't it?" Seokjin wheezes. "Jang Jaewon, Hong Haejoo, and finally, Myung Minwoo."
He pulls his arm back and musters all the strength he can in his body and catapults his fist into Daehyun's face for the third time. The sheer weight of the punch sends Daehyun's head backwards and it connects to the door just behind them, ricocheting with a loud smack. Then, Daehyun falls forward and he doesn't move.
Seokjin quickly rushes over to the bed as fast as he can, powering through the way the floor is swimming underneath him and his vision is blurring. He reaches the bed and rips apart some of the sheets into long thin strips before he wraps them around his head as makeshift bandages in the hopes that it might stifle the bleeding. Then, he gives one last look to Daehyun who twitches on the floor and starts to move his arms, planting his hands on the floor to push himself up, he quickly leaves the bedroom.
With one hand steadying him on the wall, his other hand pressed to the back of his head where he's starting to feel less and less of the agonising pain, he moves along through the hallway. It's long and seemingly neverending, and it's swaying back and forth in front of him. The world is still spinning, the hallway seems like it's suspended on a pendulum, and Seokjin feels like vomiting.
Oh god, Seokjin thinks, even though the voice inside his head is drowned out by the sound of ringing in his ears. I'm concussed.
He furrows his brows and keeps walking. He tries to reject every symptom that screams at him, begs to be heard, and he walks. When he feels like vomiting, he pauses and presses his hand to his stomach to stifle it. When he sees white spots in his vision, he shakes his head to get rid of them, and then promptly discovers that shit, ow, no head shaking, but once those white spots return Seokjin forgets that he shouldn't shake his head, and he does it again.
Footsteps make themselves known amongst the ringing bells in Seokjin's ears, so he slowly turns so as not to disturb his head, and he finds Daehyun, blood streaking down his face and staining his shirt, following him slowly. He looks just as dazed as Seokjin feels.
"Get... back here," Daehyun wheezes.
"No," Seokjin breathes out, his voice barely audible. "Fuck you."
He continues to walk through the hallway, faster this time, as fast as his heavy spinning head will allow. There's so much pressure inside his head and his vision keeps blurring and all he wants to do is pass out, but he can't. He has to keep going. He can't allow Daehyun to get a hold of him, not again. He doesn't know if he'll be able to endure another blow, and he doesn't know if he'll have the strength to fight Daehyun back.
So he just focuses on walking. One foot in front of the other. Hand on the wall, steadying him as he goes. He listens to Daehyun's footsteps behind him, to make sure he won't catch up, but those footsteps grow faster, faster, until he's running.
Every muscle in his body cries out when Seokjin, too, starts running. The pressure built up inside his head is suddenly ignited, set aflame, and its pure agony. The world is spinning faster, he feels like he's going to vomit at any moment, but he keeps running.
He pushes the doors open with his shoulders when he reaches them and he stumbles out, falling forward after tripping over his foot, but he catches himself on his hands just before the marble steps that lead down and out of the mansion. He snaps his eyes wide open as he looks down the steps that he might have fallen down and injured himself even more, and then he looks up and meets the gaze of Namjoon, who's just as wide-eyed and shocked. Flanking him is Yoongi, Jeongguk, and a multitude of officers.
Suddenly, Seokjin feels okay enough to stand. He pushes himself up on shaky knees and smiles despite all the pain his body is wracked with, but before he can take a step down, an arm comes from behind him and circles around his neck, pulling him back and against a flat, heaving chest.
A dagger appears in Seokjin's vision.
"Don't shoot," Daehyun warns the officers, who must be brandishing guns that Seokjin can't see. "Or I'll slit his throat."
"What do you want?" Namjoon asks, his voice loud and carrying through the night air.
"I want you to leave us alone. We're just a harmless religious group."
"I'll be the judge of that," Yoongi chimes in. "So why don't you let go of Seokjin and come with me, Officer Kang? Or should I even call you that?"
"Are you going to arrest me, chief? I've done nothing wrong. I'm one of your officers. I'm a witness in this case," Daehyun reasons.
"You can witness my fucking fist down your throat you piece of-"
Yoongi holds a hand out to silence Jeongguk. "Let go of Seokjin," he orders, his voice lowering in pitch.
"What if I said no? If you shoot, I'll slit his throat."
Seokjin grasps at Daehyun's forearm, tightening his hold around in an attempt to pull it away and release him. The blade of the dagger is pressed right against his throat and all the officers, including Jeongguk, have their arms by their sides like they've lowered their weapons. Seokjin can't see them well, it's too dark, but he knows exactly what kind of expressions are painting their faces and the kind of decisions that they have to make that are flashing through their minds. The dagger is starting to cut into the skin of his throat, and one wrong move might just sever his neck. He's sure that Namjoon is calculating the time it'll take for an officer to raise their gun, aim at Daehyun behind Seokjin, and shoot; versus the time it'll take for Daehyun to press in just enough to fatally wound Seokjin. Numbers are most likely flying through his mind in much the same way they've always flown through Seokjin's, like they're flying through his mind right now, so he puts a halt to those numbers. He leans his head forward, ever so slightly so as not to alert Daehyun to anything, before he launches his head back and smashes it against Daehyun's nose for the last time.
That final blow to the back of Seokjin's head bursts all the lightbulbs and everything goes black.
From the moment Seokjin had woken up, surrounded by white walls, white sheets, white curtains, he'd been whisked off by the nurses for immediate testing. They'd asked him if he knew his name (Kim Seokjin), his age (twenty-eight), his occupation (criminal defence attorney), and what had happened to him to land him in hospital. That last question threw Seokjin off just a little.
They'd checked his eyes first and foremost. Shone a pen torch into his eyes one at a time, checking to see if his pupils were responding normally. They checked his vision. Both of which he was told was fine. They checked his hearing, one ear at a time, and that too appeared fine.
Then, he'd asked Seokjin to perform various tasks, such as picking up a pen, pushing his hand against the doctor's as hard as he could, walking in a straight line, keeping his balance, and checking his reflexes. Seokjin was quite wobbly, he still is, but the doctor told him he'd be fine after he'd recovered.
He'd sustained an inch-long laceration to the back of his head. While he was unconscious it seemed that it was stitched up, and despite how badly he wants to reach around and feel it, the doctors tell him to leave it alone for a few days. He does, however, touch it once while they're not looking.
They'd had to wait until after he woke up to take scans of his head to rule out the possibility of subdural haematomas or fractures in his skull, of which they found none, luckily.
But he was concussed, and they decided to keep him in the hospital for a day so that they could monitor him. Seokjin wasn't really complaining.
For a brief moment, Seokjin waited in his hospital bed, staring out of the window from his private room, a drip connected to the inside of his arm, wondering when his parents would come and visit and bring him delicious homecooked meals to make him forget about the disgusting hospital food he has to eat. For a brief moment, Seokjin waited patiently because his dad still had to go to work and his mom had to look after Jeongguk who was still young. Seokjin didn't mind waiting, because he had his phone with him and he had his handheld game consoles, but most of all he knew that his parents would come and visit soon and everything would be okay.
When Seokjin pulls himself out of that daze and remembers that his parents aren't alive anymore, that no matter how long Seokjin waits, they're not coming to visit, he buries his face in the clinical white bedsheets and he cries out loud.
There's a knock on the door to Seokjin's hospital room, which snaps him out of his attention that he'd funnelled into a book he was reading. He looks up from where he's sat upright in his bed, and watches as the door slides open and a tall, young man walks in. His hair is pushed back and he's wearing a long black trench coat. Seokjin watches him with wide, blank eyes as he walks in and takes a seat beside his bed.
Now, up close, Seokjin can make out every detail of the man's face. His straight eyebrows, his cute nose, his taut face and the slight stubble along his jaw and chin. There are dark circles around his eyes like he hasn't slept in days, and with those haggard eyes he looks at Seokjin deeply. Above his head, the numbers sixty years pulsate in bright red. "Seokjin-ssi. How are you?" he asks, his voice deep and smooth.
"Um. I'm okay. Who are you?" Seokjin asks, brows furrowed as he stares at the handsome man in front of him.
His eyes go wide. "D-did you forget who I am...?"
Seokjin doesn't react.
"Seokjin. I'm... I'm your-"
His eyes gloss over and he pauses before he can finish sentence, but Seokjin decides to put him out of his misery and he laughs, out loud. "I'm just fucking with you Namjoon, I know who you are."
The despair on Namjoon's face quickly morphs into irritation. "Hey! Fuck you!"
Seokjin falls back against his bed, laughing out loud.
"That wasn't funny, you asshole."
"Shut up, I can do whatever I want."
Namjoon doesn't respond, and a soft, comfortable silence settles in the hospital room between them. For a moment, neither of them speak or move, or even look at each other. Then, Namjoon slowly reaches forward and slides his hand over Seokjin's. "I was so afraid," he begins quietly, "that you wouldn't be okay."
"It was just a little bump to my head."
"But you bled so much."
"Head wounds always bleed a lot."
Namjoon sighs heavily and lets his shoulders sag. "I know. I know, I was just... so afraid."
Seokjin presses his lips together and tightens his hold on Namjoon's hand. "I'm okay, Joon. I promise. I'm just a little woozy. The doctor said I might still be for a while, and I might show bizarre behaviours or get confused with my talking, but that should go away soon. I'll be fine."
"Your behaviour is always bizarre, so no difference there."
"Fuck you."
Once again, silence settles in between them. Namjoon doesn't let go of Seokjin's hand, continues to stroke his thumb over the back of his hand soothingly. The humidifier in the corner of the room makes Seokjin feel calm, but being here with Namjoon makes him think that everything will be okay. He looks up to meet his eyes.
"What happened to me? I remember having my head bashed against the floor by that psycho... but I don't remember much after that," Seokjin furrows his brows and as he tries his best, again, to recall, nothing comes back to him save for a pounding headache.
"You smashed the back of your head against his face like an idiot. And you passed out right after," Namjoon recounts with a straight-laced expression on his face.
"And Daehyun...?"
"Jeongguk shot him in the leg and in his hand. Blew his hand right off. But that crazy fucker used his other hand to slit his own throat."
"H-he killed himself?!"
Namjoon nods solemnly. "He was bleeding out on the ground as we approached him after Jeongguk shot him twice, and he was crying something about god abandoning him, that you were meant to be his saviour. And then he killed himself."
Seokjin licks his lips slowly. "His lifespan paused when I returned to the settlement," he recalls quietly, the pain in his head dulling out at the corners, "just like yours did. And you told me someone was going to die."
"Yeah," Namjoon begins, looking down at Seokjin's hands. "That was the price. If it was me who died, then all the followers of that cult would have also died from ingesting cyanide."
"So... what happens now? Am I still...?"
"No," Namjoon answers resolutely. "The phone I gave you recorded everything. There's going to be a trial for Lee Mirae and his brother and everyone else who was a part of the cult, but... the police have dropped all charges against you."
Seokjin lets his shoulders sag as he looks down at his hand enveloped in Namjoon's much larger one. "It's over, huh?"
"Yeah," Namjoon responds quietly. "I would've never thought... a few months ago... that this would happen. Or that you and I were... regarded as Gods."
"Do you believe that?" Seokjin asks, raising his brows softly as he meets Namjoon's gaze. "That we're Gods?"
Namjoon shrugs one shoulder nonchalantly. "No. I'm just a normal human being."
"Who can manipulate fleeting moments. Yeah, sounds very normal to me."
"Says the one who can see people's lifespans."
Seokjin laughs again, and then reaches over to take Namjoon's hand in both of his. "Hey. You should be my boyfriend."
A wide smile stretches onto Namjoon's lips, baring his teeth. "I have a marriage document in my wallet that says we're married."
"You didn't even propose to me."
"Neither did you. You just slipped the document onto my desk."
Seokjin tightens his hold on Namjoon's hand, and his other hand comes to cover Seokjin's. They sit there like that, comfortable in each other's presence, with soft smiles on their faces. Soon, Namjoon adjusts himself to stroke Seokjin's hair that needs a cut and he stays there until Seokjin falls asleep.
Jeongguk comes by as soon as he has time. Jimin and Taehyung are with him, waiting outside the room for them. He's wearing just a t-shirt and sweatpants and he sits on the edge of the hospital bed and drapes himself over Seokjin's lap, just like he used to do to their mother when he was younger. Seokjin smiles as he looks down at him and strokes at his hair.
"I can't feel my legs, you big baby," Seokjin hisses at him after way too long. Jeongguk slowly raises his head, his brown hair a messy cloud around his head, and he blinks a few times through swollen eyelids. "Oh my god, have you been crying?"
"Shut up," Jeongguk pouts. "I thought you were going to die."
"I literally got a bump to my head."
"You split your head wide open."
"It was an inch-long split."
"I heard your skull cracked in half like a coconut."
"Who the hell told you that?"
Jeongguk shrugs.
"As you can see, I'm fine," Seokjin stresses, holding Jeongguk's shoulders and plastering on his most resolute expression. He presses his lips together, but Jeongguk doesn't seem convinced.
"You look really disturbing with facial hair," he blurts out instead, "I brought a razor, please let me shave your face."
Seokjin sighs. "Yeah, go ahead. Give me a haircut while you're at it."
"I only know how to do bowl cuts."
"In that case, stay far the fuck away from me."
Yoongi and Hoseok visit him at the hospital, too, bringing flowers with them that are (thank god) not red. They're white lilies, and they smell divine. They update Seokjin on the situation, how the court proceedings are going, but after a while Seokjin doesn't want to hear any more. He doesn't want to think about it anymore. He just wants to rest.
So when the hospital finally discharges him and he returns to work that following week and is subsequently met with a multitude of varying reactions, he immediately makes his way over to the chairman's office. There were people whispering to each other when they saw him, there were people asking him questions he wasn't comfortable asking, there were people trying to show him articles written about his whole ordeal. People asking him what happened while he'd been abducted. The chairman doesn't look too pleased to see him, and Seokjin doesn't know if that's because he'd missed work for the last four weeks or if it's because he's just never liked Seokjin from the beginning, but he walks in, walks right up to the front desk, and slides over an envelope.
"What's this?" the chairman asks, fingers laced together as he stares at Seokjin, not acknowledging the envelope at all.
"My resignation letter," Seokjin answers. "Effective immediately."
This, finally, garners a reaction. The chairman startles, leans forward, and his eyes go wide. "No, Seokjin, you-"
"I've already made up my mind. Thank you for everything until now. Take care of yourself."
He turns on his heel and walks out of the chairman's office, and he makes his way back to his own. Some of his colleagues find him along the hallway as he goes, and they follow him, curiously. Once he returns to his office he slams the door shut behind him, and Namjoon immediately looks up at him from his desk.
"I quit! I fucking quit. Haha," Seokjin effervesces as he reaches his desk and starts to clear it away. His files that he no longer needs, he tosses into the shredder. His drawers filled with his belongings he sweeps into his bag. He logs out of his computer.
"Are you still concussed?" Namjoon asks incredulously, standing up from his desk.
"Maybe I am, maybe I'm not. Who the fuck knows?"
Namjoon starts to pack his bag, too, frantically trying to make sure he has everything with him. "And what exactly do you plan on doing now?"
"I'm going to fly off to Bora Bora or something and have cute boys feed me grapes while they massage my back."
"What about me?"
Seokjin pauses his packing to meet Namjoon's eyes, which have since gone dark. "What about you?"
"I'm your boyfriend. I could feed you grapes and massage your back. And I'm cute."
"Hmm. You make a strong case for it."
"Yeah, well, I am a lawyer. And I told you that I was only here for you. So if you go, I go too."
Seokjin presses his lips together and hoists the strap of his bag up on his shoulder for just a moment before he makes his way over to Namjoon's desk, leans over it and clasps his cheeks in between his hands. Then, he closes the distance between them and kisses him. "Alright," Seokjin concedes after their lips disconnect, "I guess it's me and you, then."
Namjoon smiles as Seokjin pulls his hands away, but after he circles around his desk and joins Seokjin's side, he slips his hand into Seokjin's and clasps it tightly.
With their hands held tightly together, unapologetic and daring, they walk out of their shared office for the last time and they leave the company for good.
Seokjin settles in, wriggling about in the soft quilted chair until he's comfortable. Namjoon walks into the room, his tan just a little deeper than before, a little more golden. He has a fresh bouquet of white lilies in his hands that he brings over to the dresser and carefully he cuts the stems at forty-five degrees exactly before he places them into the vase he'd just filled with fresh water. He arranges them until he's happy, and he looks down at Seokjin.
"Have you seen Tapioca?" Namjoon asks just before Seokjin pulls his laptop up on his lap.
He furrows his brows as he tries to recall when he'd last seen their kitten. "No... not since we fed her."
Namjoon purses his lips. "Hmm. Lemme go look for her."
"Okay."
He watches as Namjoon pads out of their bedroom on fluffy slippers in search for their kitten. He then pulls his laptop back up and opens up the browser, returning to his search for an office to rent.
His phone buzzes in his pocket and he pulls it out to look at the screen. It's Hanyu.
From: Hanyu
Hey, Seokjin! I found a good office just on the outskirts of Seoul
From: Hanyu
It's in a good area, and it's not that far from ur home
From: Hanyu
We can check it out tomorrow if u want?
Seokjin smiles down at the screen of his phone. Since he'd walked out of his previous company where rumours continued to course through the halls of his status as the grim reaper, of his absence and of his connection to the gruesome serial killing-turned cult mystery, he and Namjoon had taken a long and much needed vacation, and has since returned to the home his mother lived in before she passed. Namjoon moved in, too, and they'd adopted a small kitten from a nearby shelter.
Upon returning to Korea he'd promptly discovered that Hanyu, too, had quit. She reached out to Seokjin and they decided to start their own company. Hanyu was too good for just an admin role, so Seokjin decided that it fitted her much better to be the director of the company, with Seokjin and Namjoon as the two lawyers. One day they'll expand, and they'll hire more attorneys, but they have to start small to begin with, start from the very bottom and work their way back up. Seokjin didn't want to be known as the grim reaper anymore. He didn't want to be a legendary trial lawyer anymore. He didn't want the acclaim that he once had.
He closes his laptop and places it on the ground beside his chair just as Namjoon walks back into the room, Tapioca nestled in his arms. She's so tiny compared to Namjoon's thick forearm, but she looks both bewildered and comfortable at the same time. Seokjin shoves himself into the side of the chair to force some space for Namjoon to sit, but he doesn't. Instead, he stands in front of Seokjin, Tapioca still in his arms, and then he kneels in front of him.
"Look what I found on her collar," Namjoon says, edging the kitten towards Seokjin. She mewls softly as Seokjin leans forward and touches his fingertips to the underside of her jaw, lifting it up lightly. Attached to her collar in place of her bell is a ring.
"N-"
"Will you marry me?"
There's a hopeful glint in his eyes as he looks up at Seokjin from where he is, knelt in front of him, a little kitten in his hands with an engagement ring attached to her collar. All thoughts and words leave Seokjin, he can only stare in shock, at his boyfriend whom he loves more than words will do justice for.
"I know you said you don't care for marriages or big grand announcements to the world, but..." Namjoon trails off as he brings Tapioca back to his lap and detaches the ring from her collar. Then, he gently allows her back down on the floor. With a small mewl, she patters off somewhere. Namjoon then reaches out and softly takes Seokjin's left hand. "The rest of the world doesn't need to accept us, or even know about us. It's better if they don't. But I love you and I want to make a big, grand gesture to you, to make sure that you know."
"I do know," Seokjin whispers.
"Then, will you marry me?"
"Yes."
Namjoon forgets to slip the ring onto Seokjin's finger because he's overcome with love, and he reaches up to take Seokjin into his arms and kiss the breath right out of him.
Seokjin fixes his collars that are peaking out from under his sweater one last time as he watches Namjoon tie his shoelaces. He's tapping his feet on the floor, making sure Namjoon knows that he wants him to hurry up, because they're meant to meet with Hanyu in, like, fifteen minutes, and it takes about forty to reach Seoul. They're going to check out the new offices and speak with the agency about the rent and bills. Then, after that, they need to meet with Jeongukk, his two boyfriends Jimin and Taehyung, Yoongi and Hoseok, for dinner. There, they'll announce to them that he and Namjoon are engaged, and will be holding a small ceremony to celebrate their partnership.
He looks up at the clock on the other side of the wall to check the time. He huffs just so that Namjoon knows he needs to haul ass, but he can't actually see the time on the clock.
He narrows his eyes. Rubs at them. But no matter what he does, his vision doesn't clear. His focus doesn't shift in and out, and the blur remains constant. He can't see it. He used to be able to see it from this distance, but no matter how much he strains his eyes, he can't make it out.
Namjoon looks up at him. "Seokjin? Is everything okay?"
The winds have settled around his island, and he's no longer alone. The skies are clear, not a tell-tale hint of a storm in the horizon, and he's standing side by side with the one he loves. But when he looks down at his island, it's all destroyed in the wake of the inferno Seokjin had ignited himself.
Seokjin pulls his gaze away from the clock whose numbers and hands doesn't see, and he looks down at Namjoon's concerned face. He smiles so that Namjoon doesn't worry.
"Yeah, everything's okay."