featuring: king!seungcheol x queen of opposing kingdom!reader
word count: 1022
summary — the prophecy that seungcheol was sure meant his life was guaranteed for at least a few more decades was true, only that seungcheol had missed a detail in interpreting the exact wording of the prophecy. he never imagined that you would be the one to make him realise.
author’s note: this fic is inspired by this artwork and the beast charmer trilogy by maxym m. martineau. also, in other news, the writing block has been letting up quite a bit, so i’m hoping this short fic is a good return from a long break.
warnings: blood, gore, death, stabbing, blades
Seungcheol stares at you as you approach, his gaze stricken as he takes in everything that is going on around him. The air is thick with the salty scent of sweat and the metallic tang of blood. There is so much blood, open wounds subjected to the humid heat of the battlefield, a thin layer of dust kicked up by the horses settling over the motionless bodies strewn across the expanse of barren land.
The smell is overwhelming, the heat suffocating. All of it adds up, the protective armor he’s wearing heavy on his limbs, caging him in. There’s nowhere for him to go. Behind him, his army charges forward, gushing forward like an unending torrent, and ahead of him the clang of swords parrying against each other rings in his helmet, echoing in his mind.
You stride ahead, as effortlessly as walking through an empty hallway. Beside you the warriors you command groan and struggle to make a path for you, deflecting attacks left and right to give you room to move. Your expression is hidden by your visor, but you lift it as you approach him to expose your eyes.
Sweat beads at your forehead, your eyebrows drawn into a hard, tense line. You reach out for Seungcheol and he stiffens, finding himself unable to move. Never had he expected you to be at the forefront of your forces, leading them into battle against him.
If it were not you at the helm, Seungcheol is sure he would have increased the pressure, urging his forces to press forward and attack even more ferociously. Already he can see that your side is giving at the seams, outnumbered and stretching themselves just to defend themselves. The constant attacks from his side don’t give them a chance to be on the offensive, and they’re stuck trying not to retreat too far or to concede too quickly.
But the occasional thud of a body falling to the floor is undeniable, and it’s impossible to keep fighting with the uncertainty of whether your companions are still alive, without a chance to look to the side even just for a second to see who has fallen.
Your forces are dwindling. Seungcheol has full confidence that he would have won this battle and gone on to win the war if it were not for you standing in front of him, unmoving, eyes staring straight into his soul.
He breathes out your name, barely a whisper, carried away by a gust of stray wind. But you hear it, and you pause, the hand on your sheathed sword hesitating.
In any other circumstance, you would be dead. That second of hesitation is enough for Seungcheol, a skilled swordsman, to step forward and close the distance between you. Before you even knew it, he would have plunged his sword in the vulnerable spot under your breastplate, driving the blade mercilessly into your stomach.
He knows the bleeding would be unstoppable. By the time you were taken to a medic, you would be dead.
All this Seungcheol knows. And yet he stands there, oblivious to the rest of the world, the shouting dulled to a steady thrum by the overwhelming sound of his blood rushing to his head and the erratic nature of his heartbeat.
It’s all he can do to watch as you unsheathe your sword, and he barely manages to react in time to parry it, his arm feeling leaden and heavy. He’s still full of energy, but he can hardly bear to attack, only parrying each of your blows with half-hearted energy.
Confusion leaves him in a heady daze, as if fog is obscuring his mind and his hearing, and the only sense he can rely on is his sight. Blow after blow comes at him, until he snaps out of it and knocks your blade out of your hands, pressing the flat of his sword against your neck, the cool metal flush against the reflective protective armour.
Heaving, he glares at you. He reaches up to lift his visor as well, so you can see the way his eyebrows are tightly knotted together, doing his best to decipher the puzzle in front of him.
“Cheol,” you murmur, quietly. As if the gentle way you say it is the only way it can be said, when really, in this position, you should be saying it with venom in your tone. But nothing of the sort laces your words. Instead, it exits your mouth like a honey-glazed promise of a better future.
”Why are you doing this?” Seungcheol asks, breathing ragged, hand tightly clutching his sword. He takes a moment to trail his eyes down your body, the rusty red-brown colour of dried blood staining your protective gear. It’s dull and lifeless against you, a backdrop that is full of life.
”Didn’t you hear the prophecy?”
Of course he knows it. Kingdoms rise and kingdoms fall, but no man will cause the king of Treces’ downfall. There is more to it, but that is all that is important to him. That he, the king of Treces, will die only of natural causes and not by anyone else’s hand.
Yet, there you are.
Seungcheol only realises he has been too focused on your captivating gaze and your cryptic words when you swiftly draw a small dagger and stab him in the neck.
His own sword clatters to the ground, and he reaches up to staunch the bleeding wound in his neck, but the searing pain tells him that it’s no use. He’s bleeding out, and you reach out to hold his body as it falls limp in your hands. He never realised you were this strong.
You lean towards Seungcheol, your free hand going to remove your helmet—a bold, cocky move on the battlefield, where the threat of death is evident all around you. Pressing your lips against his helmet, you whisper into his ear, “But, you see, I am no man.”
The flash of understanding and fear that crosses Seungcheol’s gaze is the last emotion he ever displays before his eyes turn glassy and he breathes his last breath.
"I'm sorry, Jisung. I have to go." Tears were brimming your eyes, threatening to fall. It had to be done. You didn't have any choice.
"I don't know what I'll do without you, y/n. Please, don't go. Don't leave me." You knew you were hurting him, but you had to leave, it was for the best.
"Jisung, I don't have a choice. I don't want me to go either. I'm so sorry." Your heart was tearing into two. Seeing the pained look in his eyes, it fucking killed you.
"I won't forget you," He sniffled, averting his eyes to his hands in his lap, fiddling with his fingers. "I love you."
You broke, and so did he. Neither of you could stop the fits of giggles from erupting out of you. "I love you too, Jisung, you drama queen. Now let me go to the bathroom before I piss myself."
renjun x gn!reader; 0.347k; model au; mentions of skipping breakfast due to tight schedules
“and one more.”
you give the camera a sweet smile as you cup your cheeks and tilted your head ever so slightly. the oversized gold framed glasses that rested on your nose matched the soft pink dress you had been dressed in.
click.
you quickly hop up from the chair you were sitting in and make your way back to where your manager was seated. she gently pushes the drink you had purchased earlier on your way to the photoshoot, urging you to finish it since you hadn’t eaten breakfast.
this wasn’t the first time you had gone without the most important meal of the day. but it was one of the many things you had to give up when you chose to become a model. among the many other things you had given up, the one thing you missed was a consistent sleeping schedule.
getting ready for photoshoots was a tedious process, requiring you to get up at ungodly hours, drive to the location of the photoshoot and be dolled up by complete strangers. but you love being on camera, especially as a kid and dreamt of becoming a model during your teenage years. now you are slowly but surely achieving your dream.
you take the cup and mouth a little “thank you” to your manager before taking a sip. the warmth of the drink spreads through your chest, waking you up a little more. you look around the studio, photographing equipment was set up, suitcases thrown open, items of clothing spilling from them. your eyes land on the stunning male figure posing in front of the camera, with a potted plant in his hands.
“whose that?” you whisper to your manager who was scrolling through her emails. she looks up, humming and follows your gaze.
“renjun.” she leans in and whispers to you. you nod lightly processing her answer.
you had probably been admiring him for too long as the model glances at you, flashing you a quick smile. you look away quickly, nearly dropping the drink you were sipping away all over yourself.
Requested, Smut | 371 | Drabble, Yuta x gn!reader | Foreign Yuta and reader, mentions of alcohol, pretty vanilla
“Yuta” you moan. Besides his name, there is no other sound coming from you than your moans and whimpers. Any other words he simply wouldn’t understand. The same goes for him. “Y/N” he moans right back at you. His movements are rhythmic and his face goes from frowning to pleasure in mere seconds.
You met him at a club in Tokyo. The friends you made on a club-hopping-tour long forgotten when you saw him standing at the bar. Full of good hope, you approached him in your best English, hoping he would understand. “Hi, are you alone here too?” you tried to ask smoothly after gathering the confidence to talk to the handsome dude in front of you. He turned his head and you almost jumped up from excitement as you thought he understood you. But alas, the handsome Japanese fella furrowed his eyebrows and tilted his head while looking at you. You seemed disappointed and almost wanted to walk away, but the smirk he gave you told you to stay. “Yuta” he smiled, holding his hand out for you to shake. A little smile made its way up to your lips as you introduced yourself and shook his hand. The firmness of it and the way he looked at you made you in for a challenge this evening.
He danced sensually with you, knowing from the start this would lead somewhere. When he nodded his head towards the exit and quickly typed a question into his translate app, you knew you were in for it. He turned the phone to show you his question in your language; Do you want to go back to my place?
And that’s how you find yourself here, underneath him. Not understanding a word the other says. His hips pistoling in and out of you with great rhythm. You open your mouth to tell him how good it feels, but you remember he wouldn’t understand. Instead, you show him and throw your head back, eyes closed and moan out. Yuta revels in the sight in front of him. He wants to praise you so bad, but only a broken “so beautiful” comes out of him. It’s enough to make your heart and your core flutter.
A/N: heyyyy it's my second request! yay! This one was also requested by @jenoleemonade, my dearest sister. "Hendery + fluff + carnival/amusement park date"
My take: cotton candy and kisses at the top of ferris wheels
The reader is not afraid of heights in this, but Hendery is. There are no graphic descriptions of the heights, but Hendery panics a little. If that triggers you, be warned! Also there's cotton candy consumed by the reader and Hendery.
The scent of warm sugar invades your nostrils as you pass by the cotton candy stand. You grab Hendery's hand and tug him to a stop.
“Wha-”
“I want cotton candy,” you explain, taking a bag of pink spun sugar off of the rack.
“At least get the good kind,” he says, rolling his eyes as he grabs the blue bag. You look at him, shocked.
“You like the blue better than the pink?”
“Yeah? Don’t you?” He opens his wallet and fishes out money for both bags.
“No? The pink is far superior.” The cashier, an old man with sagging brown skin but youthful eyes, takes the money and returns the due change. You call out a ‘thank you’ as you walk away, and he smiles.
“Well,” says Hendery, “I just paid for your cotton candy, so I don't think it's fair for you to knock mine.” He exaggerates a pout and you laugh. People jostle you as you walk, but it doesn't bother you. The pandemic is long over, and society has more or less returned to normal. You're grateful everyday for that fact.
“Maybe so,” you muse, “but the pink is better.” He sticks out his tongue at you and takes a big tuft of candy into his mouth. You open your bag and mirror him, enjoying the way the sugar melts on your tongue. It's gone too soon, and you take another bite as Hendery leads you to the ferris wheel.
“Aren’t you afraid of heights?” you ask.
“A little.” He looks down at his shoes. “But it’s on my bucket list to kiss the love of my life at the top of a ferris wheel, and I thought now was a good time.”
“The love of your life?”
He looks up, gaze meeting yours as the line moves up ahead of you. “Yeah.”
You give him a side hug as the ferris wheel grinds to life once more. “You think I’m the love of your life?”
“Nope. I don’t think so, I know so.”
The line moves up farther, and you’re at the forefront. You watch Hendery’s larynx bob and enclose his hand in your own. A minute later it’s your turn, and you’re pointed by an employee towards one of the gondolas. It shakes slightly as you get in but remains steady.
Hendery sits on one bench, and you sit on the other so that you can look at him. You think that may have been the wrong decision when the wheel starts moving and he whimpers a little.
“Hey,” you murmur, reaching across for his hand once more. “It’s going to be fine. You’re okay.”
“I’m okay,” he repeats breathlessly, clutching your fingers.
“Focus on me, baby,” you say. His eyes slowly come to rest on your face. “You’re being so brave.”
He exhales heavily, wetting his lips. “I didn’t- I didn’t realize how scary this is!” You glance out of the gondola as it pauses.
“You’re okay,” you repeat. “Do you still want to kiss me? Now is the time, if you do.”
He grins. “There will never be a time when I don’t want to kiss you.” He leans forward to meet you and presses his lips softly to yours. It’s a quick and chaste kiss, but his cheeks colour as he looks at you. “Thanks for helping me cross this off of my list,” he hums.
“No problem.” You smile. “What’s the next one going to be? Frogs?”
He shudders so violently that the gondola rocks as you descend. “No!”
<< P: NCT Yuta x gn!reader | WC: 490 | W: food, suggestive >>
networks: @ficscafe @neoturtles @nctcreations @kpopscape
“I saw mom and dad kiss”, your 12-year-old son’s confession caused you to loosen your grip on the fork, setting it down on the plate with a soft ‘clink’.
“WHAT???”, your daughter’s shock made you look at Yuta for help and unsurprisingly, he turned away from you, fighting the amusement seeping onto his face.
“Yeah, 2 days ago”
You racked your brain to remember what happened 2 days ago. Yuta left for work before your kids even woke up. What about the afternoon?? You were at work, you didn’t even return until nearly midnight, after the kids had gone to sleep.
Unless Shotaro woke up after midnight and saw the two of you-
Blood rushed to your cheeks as you remembered the events of that night.
“Yeah, I couldn’t sleep so I went to their room. The door was already open and when I looked in, dad was like”, he paused, bringing his hand up to enact Yuta cupping your cheek, “I love you no matter what”, he dramatically whispered, nodding his head and narrowing his eyebrows to finish the effect. Damn those Nakamoto eyebrows.
“Oh my god, no”, Soojin gasped, and you squeezed your eyes shut. What if you traumatised your son, what if he accidentally saw-
“I just went back to my room. I might not have been able to sleep because of the nightmare before, but after that I couldn’t sleep for a whole different reason”, he visibly shuddered, and you dropped your shoulders in relief. You glanced at Yuta who flashed you his Cheshire grin, not even willing to make an effort to calm them down.
“In all my 15 years”, your daughter turned to you, eyes sparkling in excitement, “never have I seen you kiss!”
“You don’t need to”, you hissed at her. You could see some of your husband’s more absurd qualities in her, like the uncontrollable urge to meddle in other people’s love lives, and it wasn’t something you were feeling very fond of at the moment.
“I only thought people in movies do those kind of things?”, Shotaro said quizzically as the two entered a conversation of their own. You faced Yuta when he nudged your leg with his own under the table, and complied when he nudged you again, asking you to lean closer.
“Guess we don’t need to hide anymore”, he whispered.
“No, they will never come close to being traumatised”, you retorted, still annoyed by his lopsided smile that only grew wider with every passing second.
“I locked the door, you know”, he added, orbs twinkling in amusement, “after that happened and before we-“
“BEFORE YOU WHAT??”, your daughter squealed, before clamping her mouth shut with her palms and looking away. You sat up straight, glaring at Yuta as you picked up your fork again and stabbing the salad on your plate for every word you spoke.
“Never. again.”, you seethed, and you watched as your husband’s face fell.
featuring: moon!haechan x human!reader, sun!mark, ocean!taeyong
word count: 11623
playlist: haunt you - x lovers, chloe moriondo // talking to the moon - bruno mars // moon - jonah kagen // toucher la lune - maheva // bon voyage - dreamcatcher // dreams come true - wjsn
summary — haechan is immortal. he’s lived a pretty long time, actually, just not as a human, but rather, the moon. for the first time in his existence, he has a chance to visit earth as a human, along with his brother mark, better known as the sun. but when they miss their chance to return to their rightful places, they find themselves temporarily trapped on earth, and haechan finds it’s a little harder for him to return than he thought it would be.
author’s note: it wasn’t meant to be this long i promise… i haven’t written anything this whole year, and i just wanted to write a little short drabble to get past the writer’s block, but sometimes the story writes itself. enjoy <3
At some point during the dinosaur’s reign, the earth split open, cracking all the way down to its core. The crust of the earth tore into two, smoke covered the skies, dust falling over the surface of the land. From the bubbling heat of the magma, the sun and the moon were borne, twins that revolved around each other.
One could not survive without the other, and they shared the hours of the day evenly. Twins, intended to live forever in peaceful harmony.
Both were beautiful in their own right; the sun quite literally shone in the sky, burning bright like the star that he was. He gave heat to life on Earth, lent his rays of sunlight to the living creatures, and was adorned by planets that encircled him.
The moon, on the other hand, glowed. With craters for eyes and the reflection of the sun’s rays illuminating his skin, he was the most beautiful thing in the universe. His stunning beauty was rivalled only by the stars, but even they never shone half as bright in the eyes of the sea dwellers.
They had their own jobs; the sun controlled the day and brought a new dawn with him when he rose from his slumber. To the creatures on Earth, he seemed to make a journey through the sky, turning it different shades of pink and orange when sunset or sunrise came.
The moon circled the Earth and orbited it, lovingly watching the humans dance their little dances, live their short lives while he watched from outside.
He controlled the tides and kept the balance, drawing it in more at low tide and less at high tide, and everything was right in the world.
Though the moon had lived in the galaxy for eons, never once growing bored of his duty, he did feel overshadowed from time to time. As centuries passed, he and his brother grew distant. While the sun grew full of himself and made himself the centre of the galaxy, the moon slipped into the shadows, overlooked; only a reflection of the sun’s light.
And so he turned to the stars that glittered brightly in the sky. Though far away, he longed to be like them, carefree and bright, assured in their worth. He heard traveller’s stories from the passing comets, heard them spin tales of diamond planets and gas spheres and rings. He lived in longing, and felt that his desire, his curiosity, might never be satiated.
Similarly, the sun was a restless spirit. He was an adventurous soul, and constantly wanted something more.
It was this desire that reunited the brothers, and they came to an agreement to visit their mother when the planets aligned, trusting that the short window would allow them to experience life on Earth.
All went well, with the brothers slipping easily into the confines of the human body, laughing gaily and passing the time away. Time slipped like fine sand through their fingers, and before they knew it, they had missed their chance to return to the skies.
The day the moon fell, stories spread like wildfire, lunar folk and earthen humans and spirits alike speculated what had happened to the glorious entity. The sun had his shell in the sky that continued to burn bright, but the moon had brought every single part of himself down to earth.
The moon was missing for three nights, and each night, creatures watched the sky with worried gazes and trembling hearts.
This is the story of how the moon fell in love with a human.
—
“Hyuck,” Mark whispered urgently. “Hyuck, it’s time to go.”
”Go?” Donghyuck drawled, sipping slowly on a blueberry mojito, the top two buttons of his shirt unfastened, his open shirt exposing the slight angle of his collarbones. The setting shell of the sun—Mark’s shell—moved slowly across the sky, turning the sky a mix of pink and orange, casting an unearthly glow on Donghyuck’s dark skin.
He blinked unworriedly, peering through long lashes at Mark. Not for the first time, he couldn’t help but be amazed by the curvature of Mark’s calves and how they differed from his. Much like how his brother was larger than him in his sun form, he continued to be taller than Donghyuck, with a broader chest, larger arms and legs, with sharp eyebrows and a presence that demanded attention.
Donghyuck hadn’t failed to notice how his brother drew gazes as they strolled through the streets of Sevilla in the heat, his platinum-blonde hair and warm smile making him seem friendly and approachable.
Donghyuck, on the other hand, was smaller, slighter, softer; the curves of his lips, what they called a cupid’s bow, were gentler, fuller. His curly hair and dark skin accentuated by the silver chain around his neck, accompanied by dangling crescent earrings, drew a cursory glance of appreciation, but no one dared to look too long at him, intimidated by his confidence and challenging gaze.
Sucking up the last part of his drink until it made a loud sound, turning a few heads, Donghyuck straightened up and headed inside the bar to return his glass. The cool air of the air-conditioning indoors felt like pure relief against his skin, and he snagged a couple of napkins to dab at the sweat beading at his hairline. He wiped his forehead and his face first with a napkin drenched in cold water, then once more to dry it, emerging from the bar only when he had disposed of both and wiped his hands dry on his khakis.
He kicked at Mark’s shoes, both of them wearing matching slippers, and Mark turned his worried gaze from the sky to Donghyuck. “There you are! We need to go, now, it’s going to be too late, I can barely see my shell–”
Donghyuck shushed him with a finger to his lips, reminding him to watch his volume, when the last remaining sliver of sunlight disappeared across the horizon, and night began to fall.
The sky was starless, and the darkness was striking. In the morning light, Mark was radiant, bright hair catching the light of the sun from every angle, reflecting it until he almost appeared to be the sun itself. His paler skin glowed in the daytime, almost white against Donghyuck’s dark skin, the soft warm palette of his clothes a stark contrast to Donghyuck’s.
In the daytime, Donghyuck’s skin reflected some of the sun’s light, but nowhere near as much as Mark’s. But it was even more apparent in the dark, the lack of light making it hard to distinguish the features on his face.
“¡Hola! Do you two need a place to stay?”
Donghyuck flashed a glance at Mark, whose friendly demeanour seemed to have vanished along with the sunlight, and a wave of confidence washed over him. “Yes, please.” Peering over the shoulder of the middle-aged lady who was offering them a place to stay, he caught sight of someone behind, dark hair a difficult colour to distinguish with the lack of light, but he was almost certain that it would be a vibrant shade of red in the daytime.
The middle-aged lady waved them inside. “I’m Carmen,” she said. “This is my child, Y/n.” She gestured at the person Donghyuck had just noticed, the two of you making eye contact as he tugged on Mark’s arm, pulling his brother along.
Donghyuck tried not to stop for too long, but he was still getting used to humans, and the darkness of your wide eyes and the smattering of freckles on your face—from being out in the sun too much, no doubt—caught his eye. He couldn’t help but stare even when you turned away, using a damp rag to wipe down the counter, watching the way your shirt shifted around your arms as they moved.
The fluidity of clothing fabric never ceased to amaze him. He followed Carmen up the wooden stairs, the feel of the grain distracting him from what she was saying. She showed them the room she was offering, a large bed in the middle that was large enough for both of them, a wardrobe with a few hangers, and a simple bathroom with a shower.
”We do need a place to stay, and this is really nice, but…”
“But?” Carmen cocked her head to the side, resting her hands on her hips, raising one eyebrow in question.
”But… we don’t exactly have enough money.” Donghyuck wondered if he should explain, but even when looking at the way Mark kept fidgeting with his fingers, picking at his nails the moment Donghyuck let go of his hand, he knew Mark would kill him in the morning when he got his confidence back.
For now, he decided it would suffice to say, “We’re just travellers, and we don’t have any belongings, just enough money for a few meals. We can offer help in exchange for a place to stay, but we understand if you’re not willing to take us in.”
Carmen’s eyes narrowed, her eyebrows furrowing together as she assessed the pair of young men standing in front of her. The taller of them had his head bowed, having never made eye contact with her, while the shorter one had a determined look about him, jaw set tightly, as if daring her to turn them away. At first glance, they looked completely different, with their different hair colours, skin tones and fashion choice, but when she looked at them closely, the curve of their lips and the shape of their eyes was too similar for them to be unrelated.
They seemed to her to be a curious, lost pair of brothers, and Carmen had never been one to turn away travellers. Even if they had no money or the rooms were full that night, she would find a way to make it work, and that wasn’t about to change.
”You can start work tomorrow morning at 8am sharp. For now, the two of you should get some sleep. Have you eaten?” Donghyuck nodded.
”There are towels in the bathroom, and you can borrow some clothes. I have a son just about your size, I think.” Carmen squinted, trying to gauge Donghyuck’s and Mark’s stature, then nodded.
She disappeared for a moment, and Donghyuck took the chance to take in the room in all of its glory. It was a small room, simple and cozy, and Mark collapsed into the lone chair by the window, running his hand through his hair.
”Mark, talk to me.”
“I’m scared. Mother said there was only one chance for us to go back, and we’ve missed it. What are we going to do now?”
Donghyuck reached for his brother, engulfing him in a hug. Mark buried his head in Donghyuck’s shirt, seeking comfort in his scent, which he had quickly come to recognise after a whole day being with him. There were too many sights and sounds in Sevilla to take in, and the overload of information would be more bearable if they were to return to space right that second, to be given the rest of their long lives in the galaxy to process and reminisce about their memories on Earth, but they didn’t.
Instead, they were stuck on the planet in an unfamiliar form of themselves, in a body that felt exhaustion and emotions more strongly than they would in their celestial forms. Bodies that had muscles that ached and a heart that longed for physical contact, so Mark stayed in that position without moving, feeling the way Donghyuck’s chest rose and fell with every breath, listening to the underlying sound of his heartbeat, counting them slowly.
The door opened, and both of them turned to see Carmen leave a set of a few clothes on the bed before walking out.
Mark released Donghyuck, and Donghyuck knelt down until he was at Mark’s eye level, holding Mark’s face in two hands so Mark was forced to make eye contact with him.
”We’re going to be alright. We’re going to ask Mother when the next time we can return is, and we’re going to stay here and help Carmen out in return for her generosity, okay?”
Mark nodded. “We’re going to have to go swimming if we want to speak to Mother. She said the ocean is our friend, right?”
“She did. I don’t know how to get to the beach, though,” Donghyuck said as he stood, grabbing a set of clothes from the bed and going into the bathroom. “Can we figure that out tomorrow? I’m really tired.”
Mark shrugged. “Sure. We just.. we just can’t leave it for too long. You saw how dark it was tonight, I told you you should’ve left your shell there too and not brought everything down with you–“
”Mark, please.” Donghyuck poked his head out from the door that he had closed. “If I hadn’t brought my shell, how would we have had money for food the whole day? Relax. It’s always dark at night, now it’s just darker, but it’s not like they don’t have light sources of their own. Humans are resourceful beings! You’d do well to learn from them.”
The sound of running water stopped Mark from replying, since he knew Donghyuck wasn’t going to be able to hear him anyway. Instead, he waited until the door opened again, rushing to speak.
”Thanks for providing the food for us, Hyuck.” Donghyuck wet the toothbrush they had been given, squeezing a bit of toothpaste on it. “I’m just worried about how we’ll get home.” Donghyuck began to brush his teeth. “But maybe you’re right. I just need to relax.” Donghyuck spit out the foam, rinsing the toothbrush and gargling with water. He splashed water on his face, wiping it dry with the towel, before finally emerging from the bathroom.
The damp clothes, which he had painstakingly scrubbed with hand soap and warm water, hung over the metal rack where towels were supposed to go, and Donghyuck had hung the towels on the hook behind the door instead. Donghyuck rubbed his sore back, walking towards the bed, where he collapsed with a sharp exhale of breath.
”It’s all good, Markie. I’m going to sleep, you should too. Remember to turn off the lights when you’re done, yeah?”
Mark nodded, but Donghyuck was already fast asleep atop the covers, the weather too hot for him to be underneath. He was sprawled across the middle of the bed, taking up half of Mark’s space, but Mark knew he would probably survive.
Refusing to think too much of it, he headed into the toilet himself, focusing on the sound of running water and the feeling of soap washing away the dried sweat from his skin. The rough texture of his calloused hands against smoother skin and the way his wet hair fell into his eyes when the water rinsed the soap suds away helped him feel a little better, and as he dried his hair with the towel, he stared at his reflection in the mirror before putting any clothes.
He let his eyes trail from the top of his head, the bits of his face he hadn’t known were there, recalling how Donghyuck’s face looked and realising they actually looked quite similar. He turned his head to the side, observing the shape of his ear, the way the veins in his neck popped out when he contracted his muscles, the curve of the skin against his muscles underneath on his biceps.
He ran his hand over the hair on his skin in wonder, until his eyes had taken in all of his human body, and he pulled on some clothes and washed his old clothes, hanging them up in a similar fashion to Donghyuck’s.
When Mark had completed his night time routine, he turned the lock, and the door unlocked with a satisfying “click”. He switched off the lights, making his way to the bed. Pushing Donghyuck’s unmoving limbs away, he made space for himself to lie down, staring up at the ceiling.
The sound of moving air and the warm summer breeze gusted over his skin, and he slowly shut his eyes, drifting off to sleep.
—
You knocked on the door rapidly the next morning, tapping your foot impatiently when there was no response. You turned your head, greeting the few awake guests at your hostel with a wide smile and guiding them with directions to the different attractions they had planned to visit, glad that there weren’t too many people up and about at such early hours of the morning.
It was 7.30am, and you needed to start work at 8am, but the young men that had come to your hostel around sunset the evening before weren’t opening the door. It was rude to simply unlock the door with the spare keys you had taken from the key wall when heading upstairs, but you were starting to feel like it might be the only way when the door swung wide open, and you found yourself speechless.
The man who had opened the door was not who you had been expecting. He had pale skin with a yellow tint to it, black eyes that didn’t match the rest of him, and platinum-blonde hair that was sticking up in all different directions. Noticing you looking at his hair, he touched it self-consciously, furiously messing it up until it fell from its spiked-up formation, falling messily over his head instead, bangs a little too close to his eyes.
”Good morning,” he greeted you. “It’s not 8am yet.” You briefly wondered how he knew that, considering you couldn’t see a watch around his wrist or a phone on the bedstand from your position, and you knew there weren’t any clocks in the room they had been given, since it wasn’t fully furnished yet.
In fact, the room wasn’t even open for bookings, which was the only reason your mother had let them use it the previous night.
”No, not yet,” you replied slowly, trying your best to subtly peer into the room. The man raised one eyebrow in amusement, stepping to the side so you could have a better view, and you turned away in embarrassment. You hadn’t realised you had been so obvious about it.
”Anyway.” You shook your head to clear your thoughts, doing your best not to focus on the way the silk pajamas shrouded the man’s figure. “We start work at 8am, so you need to be ready by then. There’s breakfast downstairs, but you have to make it yourself. I’ll give you more instructions when you come down later.”
Turning around, you left before he had a chance to answer.
Watching your silhouette disappear around the corner where the stairs turned to the next flight downwards, Mark raised a hand, dragging his palm across his face with a soft groan. Everyone kept leaving conversations without letting him speak! What was it with people and having the last word?
Annoyed, he shut the door and looked at the bed, where Donghyuck was just waking, groggily rubbing his eyes. He blinked more slowly than usual, slow enough that Mark wondered if he would win a staring contest against a cat. Then, he asked, voice raspy with sleep, “Who was that?”
“Y/n. Carmen’s offspring.”
Donghyuck laughed. “They call them children, Mark.”
Mark shrugged. “Same thing. Those words are what we call synonyms, see.”
Donghyuck rolled his eyes. “Alright, alright. Dial down on the sass. What’d they say?”
“Get ready and be downstairs by 7.45. We have to somehow make breakfast and finish eating before then, and then Y/n will tell us the rest of our instructions for today at 8am.”
”Huh. Okay.” Donghyuck climbed out of bed, running a hand through his hair to tame his curls before disappearing into the bathroom.
“Don’t hog the sink!” Mark said, rushing to enter the bathroom before his brother could lock the door, grasping a shirt and pants from the pile of clothes they had relocated to the chair the previous night. he changed into those clothes while Donghyuck brushed his teeth, the two of them taking turns before heading downstairs together for breakfast.
“Wait for me!” Donghyuck called as Mark rushed down the stairs at 7.43, scared that he wouldn’t have time to make breakfast, and Donghyuck followed with hurried steps and poorly masked laughter. The sound of his voice drew a few glares, but Donghyuck couldn’t care less. That was, until he reached the first step of the stairs, just a few strides behind Mark, at 8.00am on the dot, and his laughter stopped abruptly.
Standing in front of him was you, someone almost as tall as him with dark blue hair—so he had been wrong, it wasn’t red after all—and furrowed eyebrows that reminded him of Carmen’s, except these eyes weren’t curious, they were full of annoyance.
He opened his mouth to speak, but you were faster. “Put on these aprons,” you tossed them to Mark, unwilling to accept that they had gotten ready in a much shorter amount of time than you had expected. Mark donned the apron without complaints, but Donghyuck seemed irritated that you hadn’t so much as acknowledged his presence.
”I’m Donghyuck.”
”I don’t really care,” you replied, whisking a mixture of ingredients together.
”This is Mark,” Donghyuck barrelled on, jerking a thumb at the man helping him tie the back of his apron. “What are you making?”
“Pancakes. Mark, come here and help me with the pan.” Mark finished tying Donghyuck’s apron and was by your side in an instant, using a wooden spatula to poke at the butter you had asked him to place in the pan, watching it sizzle away into a yellow liquid.
You poured the batter into the pan, telling Mark to step aside as you showed them when the pancake was cooked enough for you to flip it, then demonstrated how to flip the pancake. Mark watched on with worry, not sure that he would be able to execute the movements with the same natural fluidity that you did it with. Sure, you had years of experience over him, but Mark had always had a competitive streak in him, and Donghyuck knew it far too well.
Which was part of the reason why when Mark failed to flip it the first time, splattering batter all over himself and the stove, Donghyuck was quick to take the pan into his hands. “Can I try?”
You pressed your lips together, unwilling to answer the stranger standing in your family hostel’s kitchen with silver earrings dangling from his ears, shining almost as brightly as his eyes that were filled with mischief, especially since it only served to rile him up further.
Still, you scraped the burnt batter off the pan and onto a plate. “You’re going to eat that,” you told Mark, placing another slab of butter on the frying pan and letting Donghyuck stir it in the pan before pouring more batter into it.
On his first try, Donghyuck also messed it up, but at least there wasn’t wet batter all over the countertop, just a little bit trickling down the side of the pan. You wiped it, then allowed Donghyuck to continue making pancakes.
You had to admit that he was good, and after two tries, his pancakes starting coming out a lot more nicely, and when he had made six, you placed them on three plates. You drizzled honey over them and added strawberries to both Mark’s and Donghyuck’s, passing them each a fork and telling them to sit down to eat.
”What about you?” Donghyuck asked.
“The breakfast for the guests isn’t going to make itself,” you told him. You set down your plate of half-eaten pancakes, still chewing as you started to make another pancake.
”Let me help you,” Donghyuck insisted, taking the pan away from you and expertly flipping the pancake.
You left him to it while you set up the rest of the breakfast set-up, slicing two loaves of bread and several tomatoes, along with olive oil for tostadas con tomate y aceite. Then, with the breakfast all set up, you took off your apron.
The two of them followed you like obedient shadows for the whole day, mimicking your every movement, all the way down to your accent and the way you talked. You would have thought they were doing it to annoy you on purpose, but for all his irritating tendencies, Donghyuck seemed genuine, and Mark couldn’t irritate you even if he tried to.
You let Mark join you at the reception counter, greeting guests as they walked in. Although Donghyuck was more interesting, Mark was the friendlier of the two. His smile was warm, not the plastered-on professional smile you had come to perfect over your years of experience helping your mother out at the counter.
He was awkward, not in an obvious way, but it was endearing to watch him struggle to find conversation topics. He was unfazed by the silence, and occasionally curiosity would strike him and he would ask something unexpected, like when a mother came in with her baby in a stroller and he asked why the father wasn’t helping her with the toddler tugging at her flowy dress.
He was observant too, especially when complimenting guests’ clothing. He had something to say about everything, from floral patterns to soft texture and fancy-looking accessories.
It created a welcoming atmosphere for the tired guests steadily streaming into the hostel, some of them having researched the place before visiting, and some of them stumbling across a place to stay while walking along the hot streets, much like Mark and Donghyuck themselves.
Donghyuck, on the other hand, had been assigned to more menial tasks. Clearly you didn’t trust him with social interaction, which he understood. He wasn’t exactly the most politically correct, and while Mark’s observant eye manifested in kind compliments, Donghyuck’s was more likely to result in impolite comments said too loudly to be socially acceptable.
He supposed people couldn’t all be perfect. Even if, by technicalities, he wasn’t exactly a regular human.
But he was a quick learner, just like Mark, quick to absorb everything he was taught. Donghyuck followed Carmen around for a whole day, doing everything from removing linen from messy mattresses and folding blankets, to placing the bedsheets in the washing machine and vacuuming the carpet.
Because it was a small, family-run hostel, the cleaning services weren’t extensive, neither were they undertaken by Carmen alone. There were other cleaners; one was of elderly age, grouchy and hunch-backed, but Donghyuck had a knack for striking up conversation with people in unlikely situations.
Much like how he had managed to secure a room to sleep in the day before, Donghyuck didn’t have to start the conversation for him to naturally be interesting, with his dark skin and black eyes, tall stature and youthful face.
Anyone would think that a cleaner would blend into the background, fading away into the unnoticed, a blur of movement that no one ever quite seemed to process. But Donghyuck attracted stares from guests and the other cleaners alike, with features that were distinctly not Spanish. After a while, the other cleaner who had been cleaning up the rooms on the same floor as Donghyuck grudgingly broke the silence with a question about where Donghyuck was from.
If Donghyuck was one of the earthen folk, he wouldn’t have been at a loss for words. As it was, he was the moon, and he couldn’t exactly explain that he was born from a volcanic explosion millions of years before.
His hand stalled mid-flick, and the blanket he was fixing fell in a messy heap back onto the bed as he racked his brain for a good answer.
He eventually decided on, ”I’m from far away.” It wasn’t exactly a lie, he convinced himself. It was up to interpretation what that meant.
The cleaner seemed to interpret it to mean that he was from a different continent, which led to him asking the follow-up question, “Are you Asian? You sound like it.”
Donghyuck didn’t know where Asia was. He didn’t know what the cleaner meant by “you sound like it”, either, since he had yet to grasp the concept of accents. He found it easier to nod and pretend like that was the truth, although in actual fact he wasn’t sure how people could sound different.
He learned a lot from following that cleaner around, hearing stories about the cleaner’s daughter, who had gone to some place called America to study, who came back to visit during her holidays. He learned that the cleaner had been working there from a long time, and heard about what Carmen was like—a motherly figure who had a tendency to care for people who were less fortunate, charging less for travellers who looked lost and in need of help.
He heard about you, too, how you’d grown from a young child following Carmen around to someone with enough authority to train new workers, confident and efficient, with a fiery personality.
By the time he was done with his work and the cleaner’s stories had been exhausted, Donghyuck had greeted what felt like a million people and cleaned more rooms than he could care to count. His back ached, his hands were unused to being in an unclenched position, and his shirt was drenched in sweat.
When Carmen dismissed him, he headed straight upstairs to get changed, noticing that the clothes he and Mark had washed by hand the night before lay folded and ironed on the bed, and he wondered when Carmen had noticed, and presumably sent it for someone to wash and iron.
He took a quick, cold shower, grateful for the cool water running down his face, startling him awake after a day of work in the lazy Sevillian heat.
When he emerged from the bathroom, Mark was sitting on the bed, humming an unfamiliar tune under his breath.
“Where’d you pick that up from?”
Mark looked up, startled by the interruption, shoulders visibly relaxing when he realised it was just Donghyuck. “Y/n kept humming it all day,” he said.
”Huh.”
”Are we going to find a beach?”
“Are you dismissed?”
Mark nodded. “Same as you. I’m pretty much done for the day. You hungry?” Donghyuck hadn’t eaten a proper meal since breakfast, since lunch had been a sandwich, haphazardly thrown together in a few minutes, the bread freshly toasted, containing bits of the ingredients that hadn’t been used at breakfast.
Neither had Mark, although Mark hadn’t even had the privilege of the brief reprieve that stepping into the kitchen offered, despite its suffocating warmth, for it smelled like spices and oil and comfort.
Mark just barely caught Donghyuck’s nod before disappearing into the bathroom, emerging moments later with a towel around his neck as he rubbed his hair dry, attempting—but failing—to wipe the drops of water dripping down his forehead before they formed wet spots on his shirt.
“I don’t know if there’s enough time to go out today. It’s late, and I’m way too tired.”
A day before, Mark would probably have been overcome with anxiety at the thought of waiting another day before returning, but after a long day of work, Mark was too tired to care. Instead, he simply suggested that they go down to help with the preparation of dinner.
Downstairs, Carmen was preparing tortillas de patatas to go with a salad, and it filled the kitchen with the aromatic scent of fried potatoes. Donghyuck was quick to help flip the fritters, a skill he had acquired earlier that morning, and you came downstairs not long after.
You sat down at the head of the table after Carmen politely declined your offer to help, leaning against your head as your eyelids drooped. Neither of the brothers moved to wake you until the tortillas were all cooked and plated, and Mark laid them out on a plate that he carried to the table while Donghyuck set the places with cutlery.
Carmen trailed out of the kitchen after them, having put the frying pan and spatula into the sink to be washed, carrying the large bowl of salad.
She gently tapped you on your shoulder and you jolted awake, fight-or-flight mechanism kicking in on instinct until you realised you weren’t on shift anymore. You covered your mouth with a hand to stifle your yawn, stretching out and turning around in your chair to crack your back.
Donghyuck was the first to speak.
”How was your day?” You were too tired to respond, staying silent in expectation of someone else answering first. But when all heads at the table turned to you expectantly, you realised that the question had been directed at you.
”It was alright,” you mumbled through a mouthful of tortilla. “There was this interesting guy we met, I think his name’s Taeyong? If I’m pronouncing it correctly. He’s from Korea or something, and he’s a sailor. He‘s attempting to sail all around the world, and he seems really interesting.”
“He’s got tattoos all over his arms,” Mark interjected. “His hair’s a little like yours, but he’s taller by a bit. He looks really experienced in what he does.”
Carmen laughed. “That’s an awfully polite way of calling him old.”
Mark cocked his head, confused. “I meant it, though.” His earnest expression made you laugh. After spending almost a whole day with him, you knew that was just what he was like.
”Yeah. It was pretty cool, though.”
Donghyuck nodded, humming to himself. In his head, he conjured up an image of a burly, fearsome guy with tattoos all along his bulging biceps and shuddered at the thought of ever having to meet him face-to-face.
—
Donghyuck watched as a gangster with tattooed knuckles and silver rings grinning devillishly at him before moving in to sling an elbow around his neck .What seemed like a friendly move had turned dangerous almost immediately as his air supply was cut off his air supply, causing him to choke–
Donghyuck sputtered as he jolted awake, drenched in cold sweat. His dream had felt all too realistic, and it took him a while to reorient himself, letting go of the bedsheets clenched in his fists. He glanced over at Mark with a sigh, rubbing his face tiredly as he looked around. He pulled the curtains aside to see that the sun was just beginning to rise, and he left the curtains open slightly to allow some light into the room.
There were three sharp knocks on the door, and Donghyuck reluctantly got off the bed, padding barefoot across the carpeted floor to open the door.
”Good morning.” Your face fell when you caught sight of Donghyuck, not quite sure what to say to him.
“Good morning,” He nodded curtly at you. “Come in, Mark hasn’t woken up yet. You can do the honours.”
You hesitated in the doorway, noticing the shoes neatly placed beside the door, wondering if you should remove your shoes before stepping inside.
Luckily for you, Mark seemed to awaken at the sound of Donghyuck’s voice and the influx of sunlight as Donghyuck drew the curtains open fully. One hand splayed across his face to block the sun, the other laid out across the empty side of the bed where Donghyuck had presumably been sleeping.
You left the two of them to wash up, heading downstairs to help your mother out.
—
Just as Donghyuck was about to leave the room, he caught a glimpse of a tattooed arm and stopped short, hand still on the doorknob, the door half-open. Snippets of his dream from the night before flashed before his eyes, and he stepped away from the door, holding one hand tenderly to his throat as if experiencing being choked in real life.
“What’s up?” By the time Mark came to the door, the stranger was gone, but Donghyuck was still stricken with fear.
That was what it was called—fear. Human emotions were strange to Donghyuck, but so far most of them had been pleasant, like happiness or curiosity or even exhaustion after a physically taxing day. Fear, on the other hand, was terrifying, a concept that was ironic in itself. It was paralysing, which Donghyuck came to know when he found himself frozen, unable to reply.
Mark gently pried his hand from the doorknob, and it was enough to break Donghyuck out of his trance. He shook his head to clear his mind, the hand at his neck falling to his side.
“I just– I had a bad dream last night.”
“What about?”
“It was about the guy Y/n mentioned yesterday, do you remember? You were saying he was covered in tattoos. In my dream he was this large, muscular guy, and when he reached over to sling his arm around me, he started choking me, and then I couldn’t breathe.”
Mark looked extremely confused. “Large? Muscular?”
Donghyuck nodded. “Isn’t he sailing all around the world?”
Mark tilted his head. “Well, I guess he is quite muscular, but he’s not really that huge. He’s quite lean, not much taller than you and I. He’s got a baby face, actually.”
What? Donghyuck would have asked more questions if you didn’t appear in the doorway, startling them both. He looked at you, eyebrows furrowed in confusion, taking a step back when you stepped aside to reveal the sailor they had just been talking about.
”He was looking for you. Well, actually, he was looking for ‘two men’, one with ‘platinum blonde hair and a nice smile’, and the other with ‘dark brown eyes that can be intimidating at first’. I’m assuming that’s you?”
Donghyuck nodded, wondering how this stranger had appeared, and why he was standing on the threshold of his room, staring so hard at the two brothers that Donghyuck felt oddly naked—another uncomfortable feeling to add to the growing list.
He took in the stranger’s tattoos slowly, as if breathing them into his own skin, noticing the waves that curved along with his muscles on his left arm, along with a stingray on his right arm. The stranger’s eyes were inviting, and despite how they seemed to see right through him, they were oddly comforting, like that of an elder with years of lived experience.
”Taeyong,” the stranger introduced himself. “But my friends call me Ocean.”
Donghyuck flinched at the word, immediately catching Mark’s eye.
You hovered in the doorway, unsure if you were intruding on a private conversation. You would have left, but Donghyuck reached out a hand, closing it around your wrist before you could go. “Wait,” he said, looking to Mark for confirmation. When Mark nodded, he looked back at you. “Please stay.”
”Let us in? I doubt you’ll be wanting to have this conversation in the corridor, of all things.”
Donghyuck nodded his agreement. “Shoes go over there,” he pointed. “Close the door behind you.”
As Taeyong closed the door, you looked anxiously at your phone, and then again at Donghyuck. “I’m not sure how long we can stay, my mother will be needing me soon.”
“Make it fast,” Donghyuck instructed Taeyong. Then, to you, “It shouldn’t take too long.”
“It might,” Taeyong corrected, leaning against the shut door. He tapped a finger against his chin. “Where do I even start?” He quirked an eyebrow at Donghyuck. “Have you two introduced yourselves to dear…”
”Y/n,” you supplied helpfully.
”Y/n here?”
Donghyuck glared at him, but it was Mark who spoke. “Sorry, we didn’t really intend to be going around exposing ourselves, but I guess we should probably explain. I’m Mark, and I’m the Sun.”
Donghyuck’s frown deepened. “I am Donghyuck, and I am the moon.”
Seeing your confused expression, Taeyong cut in. “They mean it literally. Notice how we’ve had two moonless nights in a row? It’s a little unusual, isn’t it? It’s actually because the dear moon and his brother, the sun, are here on earth with us. Mark had the foresight to leave his shell behind, but Donghyuck’s shell has been sold for money to help them survive here on Earth. He didn’t have many other options.”
He tossed a cloth drawstring bag to Donghyuck. When Taeyong threw it, it looked as light as a feather, but Donghyuck’s arms sagged with its weight. Pulling the drawstring open, he stared, mouth agape.
“My shell? But how?”
“I had to go through a lot of trouble to get it back. But I have more years on you, child. Keep it safe. You’ll be needing it if you ever want to go back.”
Donghyuck caressed it gently. He lifted it from the bag, and you saw that it was a necklace with a moon-shaped pendant. You almost wanted to touch it, but you refrained. He hung it around his neck, tucking the pendant behind folds of fabric until it looked just like a normal necklace, then folded the drawstring back and placed it in his pocket.
”So can we go back?”
Taeyong nodded. “It won’t be easy, though. You missed the chance when the planets fell out of alignment, which would have been the easiest time. To go back now will be difficult.”
“But there are ways, right?” Mark probed.
”Yes. You will have to go out to sea with me. Let the current carry you out to where the water is deep, and give up this human body. To return, you will have to sacrifice something.”
“What would that be?”
“Your life.”
Seeing Donghyuck’s conflicted expression, Taeyong quickly explained, “Not your real one. Just this human one. You will never be able to return again, but you will have your existence secured. Everything will just go back to the way it once was. With a sacrifice made, balance will be restored.”
Donghyuck fingered the pendant at his neck. “How much time do we have to decide?”
“I can give you today to think about it. Tonight is the last night that you can remain here with little to no consequences. The longer you stay down here, the larger the sacrifice you will have to make to return.”
“Even when the planets align again?”
“Even when the planets align again.”
Taeyong huffed a sigh as he straightened up, hand reaching for the door. “I suggest you think about it, Donghyuck. I think Mark has made up his mind. I will visit you again tonight, and I expect an answer.”
When Taeyong left, you glanced at your phone. It felt like eons had passed, waiting in that room with bated breath on every word falling from Taeyong’s lips, when in reality it had only been minutes. Taeyong had shared so much that you had not known before, but even now, you felt like you were witnessing a private moment not meant to be shared.
Donghyuck cast you a look with a forlorn smile. “So? What do you think of us now?”
For the first time, you noticed that despite his mischievous demeanour, there was a melancholic air about Donghyuck when he wasn’t smiling. You wondered if it had always been there, and you had just never noticed, because he was always smiling.
”I think,” you began slowly, choosing your words carefully. “I think you should do what Taeyong said and consider it carefully. There will be irreversible consequences to your decisions.”
Donghyuck let out a sigh. “You will return, won’t you, Mark?”
Mark nodded, wincing as he spoke, as if there was something sour about his words. “I know you like adventure, Hyuck, and you have a greater affinity for humans than me. But I’ve seen enough of this world and been curious enough for a lifetime. It would suit me to go back and to reminisce about this experience for the rest of eternity. I would enjoy that.”
You hadn’t expected that from Mark. He had seemed so good with people. But there was always that lingering awkwardness, you supposed, where he didn’t quite know what to say or what to do with his hands or his gaze, and there was a general air of unease about him that he managed to hide well.
“I need to think about it,” Donghyuck declared. “Don’t we have work to do?”
You nodded firmly. Finally, you could contribute to the conversation properly. “Donghyuck, join me today. I’ll be helping out at the bar at the front. Mark, why don’t you help with the cleaning? There’s less interaction with people.”
Mark smiled at you gratefully. “Thank you.”
—
“What’s space like?” you ventured to ask, pouring a generous amount of oil onto the sizzling frying pan while Donghuck prepared the potatoes for patatas bravas, a well-loved finger food that customers often ordered.
”It’s… well. It’s large and big and dark, except for my brother, of course, and the stars. They’re so far away, and yet when I speak to them I can hear their answers as if they’re right beside me. They all have names, you know, even the ones you guys haven’t named yet.”
“What do you talk about with them?”
“Mostly what they’ve seen. There’s so much to see, and stars have been around for so long. They have so many stories to tell. There’s a sense of permanence among us space-folk.”
The sizzling sound of potatoes as they went into the oil caused you to turn your attention to them, using a wooden spatula to move them about in the oil.
”Do you miss them?”
Donghyuck shrugged. “There’s just so many of them that it’s hard to ever form bonds with any one of them, because there are so many that I want to talk to. I usually only ever speak to each star once.”
“Isn’t that a little lonely, though? To not have any permanent companions?”
Donghyuck laughed bitterly. Taking the frying pan from you, he imitated the easy way you scooped potatoes out of the hot oil onto a plate to be served. You were coming to respect him more, with how fast he picked up new skills and the layer of depth that had come with him since that morning. Perhaps the first impression you had had of him wasn’t the best.
”Of course it’s lonely. Hearing all these stories and not knowing what it’s like to experience it for myself is the worst. I spend my days orbiting earth, a place I know to be full of life and adventures, and yet I have no stories of my own. Do you know how painful that is?”
Of course you didn’t. You might have grown up following your mother around, working in the same place all your life, but on days when you weren’t working you would head into the city centre and see the town square, market stalls set up all around the square. You would dart between people’s legs, worrying your mother until she spotted you, rushing over to you and telling you not to run off again. You would laugh, happy and carefree, glad to be out in the open.
Every so often, you would spend the morning preparing and packing lunch, which you ate in the car while your mother drove to the nearest beach an hour away. By the time you reached, it would be in the afternoon, and you would dive into the cold water to get away from the afternoon heat. In the evenings, you would build sandcastles while everyone left the beach, and wash up in a nearby toilet before heading home.
Those were enough for you, little bits of lively adventure to satisfy your craving for the outdoors. On other days, a walk with your mother along the street tourists frequented, in the late evening, while street lamps illuminated the cobbled streets, would have to do.
You knew so many stories of the people that came through your family hostel’s doors, but you had stories enough of your own that you had never felt jealous. You couldn’t understand how Donghyuck felt, but you imagined it must be a very troubling feeling, the kind that could hardly be expressed in words.
”I didn’t even know what emotion felt like until two days ago, and the first emotion I felt was joy. Then, today I felt fear, sadness, and I think I can now safely name the feeling I felt when I heard the stars share their stories. Jealousy. I could never satisfy my hunger if I had to live the rest of my life orbiting earth.”
Donghyuck’s words echoed in your mind as you went about your work. When the food had all been served and the lunch crowd had slowly but surely dissipated, you turned to him, a wet rag in your hand as you wiped down the kitchen stove and the counter.
”I will ask my mother if we can leave early today. There’s a place I would like to show you.”
Donghyuck’s eyes lit up in surprise. “Really?”
“Yes. You can bring your brother too, if you’d like. I’m sure they could spare the extra manpower for a few hours.”
—
“Iñaki, I’m borrowing your bike for a couple hours. I’ll be back before you get off work,” you called, Donghyuck and Mark trailing after you as you walked out of the building.
A sharp-faced man with freckles that made him look younger than his graying hair indicated poked his head out from behind the door that had been hiding him from view. He turned his head this way and that, in search of the voice, and his eyes landed on you. He shot you a thumbs up. “Have fun!” he called as he headed back in without waiting for a response.
”Thank you!” You showed Donghyuck and Mark a few bicycles, helping them to adjust the seats until they were a comfortable height. “It’s faster to cycle than to walk, but my mother won’t want me borrowing the car for such a short distance,” you explained.
They nodded in understanding, and climbed onto the bicycles. Getting on your mother’s bicycle, you were about to set off, when you realised that neither of them could cycle.
”Wait. Do you guys even know how to cycle?”
Mark shook his head, but Donghyuck had the determined sort of look in his eyes that you had come to associate with a few accidents and an eventual breakthrough when he finally learned the skill he wanted to.
”Hands on the handlebars, like this,” you demonstrated. “Make sure your kickstand is up.” Mark almost fell off his bicycle trying to kick the kickstand up, so you got off to help him. Donghyuck took a longer time to figure it out, but he got it before you had time to help him, and you shot him an approving thumbs up.
He tried to hide his smile, but you had spent enough time looking at his face to know that even though his dark skin hid the blush, the telltale rising of the corners of his lips meant that he was proud of himself.
You supposed he wasn’t used to hearing praise. You made a mental note to compliment him more often, then got hit by the realisation that depending on his decision, you might never get a chance to. You bit your lip, unwilling to think about it, getting back on your bicycle and kicking up the kickstand.
”Keep one foot on the pedal first, leaving the other foot to balance. It doesn’t matter which foot you use, as long as it’s comfortable.” You found it quite sweet how they both stared hard at you, trying to figure out which leg you were using, then imitated it as precisely as they could.
”Then, press your foot down on the pedal as you kick off with your other foot, and just keep pressing down on the pedals to keep moving.”
You started off ahead of them, trying not to go too quickly, and both of them wobbled precariously on the bicycles. Mark almost fell, but he put out a foot just in time, gritting his teeth together as he geared up to try again. Soon, they were cycling just fine, and you began to pick up the pace, turning your head back every so often to check on them.
”The faster you cycle, the easier it is to keep your balance. Just don’t go too quickly,” you warned them.
Mark stuck closely behind you, matching your pace, but occasionally Donghyuck would speed ahead in front of you, wind rushing through his hair, a grin on his face. You could practically feel the adrenaline rushing in his veins as you saw him cycling off into the distance, slowing down and putting a foot down to support himself while he turned back to wait.
You shouted directions at Donghyuck, and it wasn’t long before you arrived at the place you had been looking for.
Plaza de España.
The most famous square in Seville, it was shaped like a semi-circle with water all around it. Azulejos lined the street, and you found a place to park your bicycles near one of the boat rental shops, locking it up while you went to buy tickets to rent one of the rowing boats.
Each of the rowing boats could fit four people, and you had to wait a while for the queue to subside before you could finally get into one of the boats.
Birds spread their wings, silhouettes stark against the orange-red of the setting sun. The water was gentle and clear, and the only evidence of a nearing storm was the slight whistling of the wind as it rushed past your ears.
Luckily, you were only renting the boats for half an hour, so you should be able to get back before it started raining. At least, that was what you told yourself as you took one of the oars. Donghyuck reached for the other one, mimicking your movements as you began to row.
”Why are we here?” Mark asked.
You jerked your head at one of the buildings. “Do you want to know about their history? Iñaki used to work as a tour guide around here before he came to work with us, and he used to tell my mother all about the historical facts. It always impresses the guests, especially those that haven’t quite planned out the activities for their trip yet.”
Mark shrugged.
”Or,” you suggested, “I actually just brought you here to see. Look out, over the water, notice the people. It’s so much quieter when you’re out here. I like cycling along the semi-circle loop of the Plaza when there’s too many thoughts running through my mind. It helps to ground me, and time always seems to pass more slowly.”
Mark turned his head to the side, watching the footfall slowly decrease while the sun disappeared over the horizon, the ripples your oars created reflecting the light until it was almost as if the water was sparkling. Donghyuck followed your gaze, tongue poking his cheek as he put all his strength into rowing, trailing from the water’s surface to the tiles, and the few dwindling cyclists as they returned their bicycles after their tours.
Even the locals didn’t seem to be in a rush, blending in with the tourists leisurely strolling along the plaza, stopping to admire the architecture of the buildings. Families with young children fought to call them back, trying to get them to cooperate for a picture, while couples helped each other take individual photos. Occasionally there would be interaction between two groups of people as they requested help with taking a picture, and their smiles were small but genuine.
“Can you take a photo of us?” Donghyuck asked suddenly, and you were happy to oblige, calling Mark’s name, all three of you looking into the camera. You had to squint slightly, since you had to face the sun for better lighting, but the photo turned out quite nice. As you put your phone away, the brothers turned away in unison.
You placed a hand on Donghyuck’s arm to catch his attention, and he stopped rowing, intensely aware of the feeling of your skin against his, warm and calloused and fleeting. You removed your hand and he turned to look at you as you mouthed, “Turn,” and he followed your cue to turn the rowboat back to where you had come from.
When you climbed out of the boat, Mark was still quiet, pondering over the sights of the day. When cycling back, Donghyuck kept close to you, and Mark followed behind at a slower pace, such that you occasionally had to stop to wait for him to catch up.
”Y/n.” Donghyuck called your name, startling you out of your trance, and you looked at him.
”Hm?”
“Can you tell me one of your stories?”
”Was the boat ride not enough?” you joked.
He shook his head in full seriousness. “That was our experience. Now I’d like to hear your story. Please,” he added as an afterthought.
”Okay, I guess.” You hummed for a moment, thinking. “My story begins 20 years ago or so. I was 5 then, I think, and my father had just bought me this new bicycle, excited to teach me how to cycle.
”Obviously, I didn’t know how to cycle yet, so we drove here and my father managed to find a quiet stretch of the street—a feat I’m still not sure how he accomplished, given the high volume of tourists—and we began our lesson.
”It didn’t come to me as easily as it did to you. I fell many times, and was on the verge of giving up. Then, my mother, who has never been one for sports, got on my father’s bicycle and said, ‘I want to learn too.’
”I didn’t understand it then. She had just seen me struggle and fail, and she never liked to cycle anyway, so why would she want to learn? Now I understand that she wanted to show me that I wasn’t alone. So, with my father walking by our side, we slowly learned to cycle, picking up the pace until my father had to run to keep up with us.”
You let out a small chuckle at the memory, coming to a stop and glancing over your shoulder at Mark, who was still some distance away. Both you and Donghyuck stopped to give him time to close the distance, and you continued your story.
”I wasn’t yet comfortable with turning, so when I came too close to the edge of the water, I couldn’t turn away. I didn’t stop in time, so I fell straight into the water. My mother can’t swim, so she just stared helplessly while I flailed, and my father leapt into the water and wrapped his arms around me, trying to calm me down.
”He swam us to the side of the water and my mother helped me up onto shore, drying me with the fabric of her dress. My new bicycle, the one my father had just bought, sank to the bottom of the water, and there was no way to retrieve it.
”I imagine my father was probably disappointed. The bicycle couldn’t have been cheap, and he had so badly wanted me to have a good birthday experience. Yet, there I was, quietly shivering in my wet clothes, afraid he was angry or upset.
”So he wrapped his arms around me and gave me a big hug. ‘Let’s go home,’ he’d said, and the whole ride home he reassured me that he wasn’t upset.”
“I’ve never seen your father,” Donghyuck interjected. “What happened to him?”
A flash of emotion—sadness, Donghyuck decided—crossed your face. “He passed away when I was 18. Lung cancer,” you laughed bitterly. “He liked to smoke when he was younger, and he stopped when my mother was pregnant, but the consequences of our actions have a way of coming back to strike when we least expect it.”
”Oh. My condolences.”
You shook your head. “It’s been a few years. The ache never really goes away, but it’s much better now.”
You got off your mother’s bike, locking it up while Donghyuck and Mark dismounted their own bikes, and you helped to lock all of them up as well.
Inside, you made eye contact with Iñaki, jerking your thumb at the door. “Bike’s back, safe and sound.”
“Perfect timing,” Iñaki replied. “I was just about to leave.” He waved at all of you, and you headed into the kitchen, where your mother was pulling leftovers out of the fridge and reheating them in the microwave.
After dinner, Donghyuck and Mark retired to their room. Donghyuck had just finished showering when there were three solid knocks against his door, different from your quick, impatient raps that spurred him out of bed in the morning.
He opened the door to greet the visitor, and came face-to-face with Taeyong.
“Feels like you’re the Grim Reaper, come to collect my soul,” Donghyuck quipped, stepping aside to let Taeyong in.
”Where’d you pick that piece of mythology up from?”
“Sergio, the old cleaner. He’s quite afraid of death.”
“And you?” Taeyong looked expectantly at Donghyuck. “Are you afraid of death?”
Mark came out of the shower, taking a seat on the bed without waiting for Taeyong to greet him.
”I might be.”
“Huh.” Taeyong seemed surprised. “What changed? You were never threatened by the prospect of it. Death doesn’t apply to you. You’re almost practically eternal.”
“Almost practically, huh?” Donghyuck raised a cynical eyebrow. “That’s reassuring,” he said sarcastically. Then, on a more serious note, “I asked Y/n for a story today. They told me about a childhood memory, and mentioned their father for the first time. When I asked what happened to him, they said he had died of lung cancer, even though he had quit smoking for almost 20 years by then.”
”Are you worried that you’ll die?”
“I’m worried by the idea of it being unexpected. Human lives are already so short, but the fact that it could be shorter? That terrifies me. What happens if I die here?”
“Well,” Taeyong drawled. “Your human form will have to die if you intend to return tomorrow, if that answers the question.”
Donghyuck shook his head firmly. “No, what happens if I choose not to return? How long will I live? And if I die, what then?”
“So many questions. Let’s take those one at a time. If you choose not to return, please at least let Mark take the shell back, so that people will have a moon in the sky at night and we won’t all be condemned to pitch-black darkness because of your decision. You will live as long as a human does, which is to say, about 80 years, unless you die of causes other than old age. In that case, you will cease to exist. Your shell will remain, of course, but you don’t get to be reincarnated or any of that. You will just be like every other human, lost to the passage of time.”
Fear. Donghyuck remembered the feeling. The idea of being mortal, of being subject to a life of obscurity and insignificance, a huge contrast to his life in space, scared him.
“How about you, Mark?”
Mark stiffened, looking sadly at his brother when he spoke. “I think I will go back. Will I really never be able to visit again?”
Taeyong shook his head. “This is your only human life. By failing to return when you should have, you incur the cost. The price to pay is clear. You will never be able to return in human form to earth again.”
Mark scrunched the covers in his anxious hands, and they came away crumpled. “I will go. When do we leave tomorrow?”
“We leave at dawn.” Mark nodded.
”I will take my leave.” Taeyong bowed his head and excused himself.
Mark reached over to Donghyuck, gently tugging at his shirt. Donghyuck caved, coming over to sit in the bed next to him, allowing Mark to pull him into a hug.
”Could you ever forgive me, Hyuckie? For choosing eternity over staying with you?”
Donghyuck shook his head. “I don’t fault you. I don’t know if I would choose myself, if I were in your position. But you understand, don’t you?” he asked urgently, desperately searching Mark’s eyes. “I have to stay. I can’t go back, not after what I’ve experienced. There is so much more to life than pure existence, Mark. You understand me, right?”
Mark nodded, a frown tugging at his lips. “I understand, I really do. I know you couldn’t possibly go back. I just… I will miss you so, so much.”
Donghyuck wrapped his own arms around Mark, shutting his eyes as he inhaled, trying to memorise his smell, his shape, the way he felt in his arms. In his mind he conjured up an image of his brother, with his blonde hair and blonde lashes, skin a pale yellow colour, the way he smiled when he was talking to guests or the crease in his forehead when he was trying to comprehend something.
”Don’t forget me.”
”How could I ever?” Even in eternity I would remember you, you are half of my soul, Mark wanted to say, but he had not spent quite enough time listening to stories to know how to phrase the sentiment. “I couldn’t forget you even if I wanted to,” he said instead.
“I couldn’t forget you either,” Donghyuck said. “I will look to you each evening before you set, and tell you all about the stories I’ve heard and the experiences I’ve had. Even if you can’t visit. Even if I can’t live forever. Will you remember my stories for me?”
Mark had never been good at remembering. The one who liked to hear stories was Donghyuck, not him. But he knew that that was the only way he could preserve Donghyuck. The only way that it would ever be known that he had existed.
”I will remember. I promise.”
—
When Mark fell asleep, Donghyuck gently pried himself free from Mark’s grasp, leaving the room. He caught sight of light turned on downstairs at the dining table, and he hurried down the staircase before he could think any better of it. At the foot of the steps, he slowed upon seeing you there.
You were sitting at the dining table, scrolling through the photos of your phone you had taken that day, when Donghyuck came up to you and placed a hand on your shoulder.
”Hi,” he breathed out nervously.
”Hello.” You turned your phone so he could see what you were looking at. “Do you like this photo? I realised I don’t have a lot of you.”
“Why would you need photos of me?” Donghyuck asked quizzically.
”For the memories, obviously. If you—” you lowered your voice—“If you leave, I would want to have something to remember you by.”
“Would that help?” You looked at him in confusion, so he clarified, “Would that help you to remember better? If you were afraid that you would forget?”
“Definitely.”
Donghyuck considered this. If he had a photo of Mark, whenever he missed him he could just look at it, and he would never have to be afraid of forgetting his face. He had had Mark’s face for only a few days, after all, and he would have to go decades without it. Anything that could help him remember would be of use.
”They’re leaving tomorrow. Taeyong and Mark, I mean. They leave at dawn.”
You frowned. “They? Are you not going with them?”
“Of course I will, to see them off, but I’m staying. There’s too much here that I can’t bear to part with, too many things I haven’t seen or explored or discovered yet.”
”How long do you have if you stay?”
“The length of a human life.”
”What comes after?”
“Nothing,” Donghyuck replied. You had been expecting something like rebirth, reincarnation, or some resurrection of sorts. Surely the moon would have more time to live than the average human. “Death is final for me as it is for you. Taeyong was very clear about it. ‘The price to pay‘, he called it. The consequences of my actions, coming back to strike when I least expected it.”
“What actions?”
”The first night, Mark was urging me to go, but I took my own sweet time to finish my drink, unconcerned. By then his shell had set, and it was too late for us to return. By doing so I doomed us. Now I have to choose between a short, mortal life on earth, or an eternal existence.”
“And you chose mortal life.”
Donghyuck nodded.
”Doesn’t it scare you, though? As the moon you would have been revered, known throughout the world. Now you’re only one human among 8 billion, forgettable. Insignificant.”
Donghyuck leaned in. “But I have you, no? We have photos, and I will have you to remember me and see me and experience things together with me. I won’t be alone like I was among the stars. I will finally have a permanent companion.”
“But I’m mortal too. When I die, who will remember us?”
“Mark. And he will tell the stars about us, I trust him to. He promised to remember me, and by extension he will have to remember you too.”
“So you will stay here. With me. For the rest of your life?” you wondered.
”Yes,” Donghyuck whispered. “For the rest of my life. Tomorrow, will you help us all take a picture? I want something to remember Mark and Taeyong by, too.”
“I will. Though eternity is long and I doubt you will forget them. You have remembered so many stories over such a long course of time, I doubt you would forget them in just a few decades.”
“But you will,” Donghyuck pressed.
“I will.”
”Thank you.” His hands found yours. His eyes trailed to the photos still open on your phone, your eyes small as you squinted against the glare of the sun, and he caressed your hand gently. “It will be nice to remember.”
