Broken Souls
Title: Broken Souls
Pairing: Daehyun/Youngjae
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: highlight to read:[character death kinda..? More like dead characters...but not really. Er it'll make sense if you read it OTL]
Word Count: 4.2k
Summary: Just like a puzzle, souls are easier to take apart when one piece is missing.
A/N: pinch hit for kaixian for thebrowniebunch fic exchange! A gazillion thanks to dinodays (and to Ibuprofen) for resurrecting me while I was dying in order to finish this in time and for the hasty beta! Kai, I hope you enjoy and sorry I can't angst ♥ you are amazing and I hope this is worthy ;A;
He holds death in one hand and pieces of a broken soul in another. He hangs onto memories of a time so long ago they no longer matter, because he has been a Reaper long enough to relive his human memories time and time again. He does not know why he clings so fervently to them when they’re so insignificant. It may be because there is nothing else worth forgetting them for here.
Here, the silence is suffocating. He could probably hear his own blood flowing if he had a heartbeat, but that is the only thing he lacks. He even has a proper name, but since there is no one to call him by it, that doesn’t matter. “Daehyun,” he breathes out experimentally, wondering how much longer it will be before he hears it out of somebody else’s mouth.
When he first gained consciousness in the dark void, there had been somebody who called him Daehyun. Not anymore, though. That was a long time ago. Ever since Yongguk’s soul was reclaimed, he had been by himself, except for the few brief moments when he completed another soul. None of them ever lasted for long. Mostly, though, it’s ok. He’s not afraid of the dark.
In the dark is where the souls shine brightest, after all. They shimmer with all the colors on the visible spectrum as they flit from one spot to the next. They are beautiful. He wonders sometimes how such pretty soul fragments can end up evil. Well, not all souls are created equal. The one whose pieces he holds onto is far more dazzling than any other he has seen. Whenever he retrieves another departed soul, he always looks for a hint of the special soul that may have latched on, and today, after his lifetimes of scavenging, he has found the last piece. The last piece he needs, at any rate. There is still one piece of the soul somewhere out in the world, but that’s the piece the soul itself needs to find. Just like a puzzle, they’re easier to take apart when one piece is missing.
He molds the soul into its flesh form with practiced hands. The soul itself is helping him, shaping itself. For a moment, as the contours of its face solidify, Daehyun’s breath catches in his throat and he almost feels his dead heart leap. The soul is even more gorgeous in a body. Pale, blemish-free skin stretched taught over a firm, broad frame, slim, long legs, curved eyes framed by long eyelashes, elegant cheekbones, and full lips, the soul is far more beautiful than Daehyun ever dared to imagine. It’s taken the shape of a young man, just about his age.
Lowering his head, he lets a gust of his icy breath pass from his mouth into the mouth of the sleeping man. With Daehyun’s breath, the body starts to breathe on its own and its blood starts pumping. Daehyun puts his hand over its chest to feel the steady thump, thump. Its skin is warm, unlike his.
When he moves his hand up to touch the delicate face, the new Reaper opens his eyes. “Hello,” Daehyun says, staring intently into the deep brown eyes.
“…cold.” The man blinks a few times and starts to sit up. Daehyun’s doesn’t realize he’s holding his breath until he lets go of it. It can speak with him. He hopes this one will last longer than the others.
“I’m Daehyun,” Daehyun says, sitting back on his haunches. He watches the soul he had pieced together crack his neck and rub his arms briskly. “Who are you?”
Rubbing the back of his neck and getting used to the feeling of his new body, the soul frowns. “I don’t know,” he finally says. “My name is Youngjae, but I don’t know who that is.”
It has been a long time since Daehyun first woke up into this world. He tries to remember what it felt like, but he feels exactly the same as that first day. All his memories from his human life were embedded in him from the very beginning. He knew exactly what he was. “Do you remember anybody? Your family? Your friends? Your lover?”
Youngjae takes a few deep breaths. “I’m dead, right?” He reaches out and grabs Daehyun’s hands. He hides his discomfort at Daehyun’s icy touch. “You’re also dead. Did they take your memories too?”
Maybe it was because Daehyun woke up remembering everything like it had happened yesterday, so he had taken much, much longer to figure that out. Yongguk had to tell him, and he had refused to accept it. He is so surprised by Youngjae’s matter-of-fact analysis he forgets to speak. “No,” he finally finds his tongue. “I don’t have a heart.”
“Oh,” Youngjae says. “Where is it?”
Daehyun shrugs. “Same place your memories are. We’re not meant to be complete, or else we get reclaimed.”
“What happens if we get reclaimed?” Youngjae asks, more out of fascination than fear.
“Nobody knows,” Daehyun says. “You disappear.”
“I want my memories back.” Youngjae seems resolute, and Daehyun’s eyes widen. He hasn’t ever had motivation to find his heart.
“Aren’t you afraid of disappearing?” Daehyun’s afraid. That’s why he hasn’t ever gone looking for the last piece of his soul. He doesn’t want Youngjae to leave him too, like all the others.
Youngjae contemplates for a second. “Not really, what do you even do here?”
“Want me to show you?” Daehyun extends a hand out to Youngjae. Daehyun smiles encouragingly, and Youngjae takes it cautiously.
“Sure.”
*
Breaking through the thin layer between life and death, Daehyun leads Youngjae into the world of the living. The rush of sound hits him first, like always. They’re in Seoul, a large city teeming with life and never seeming to stop. It’s always a little overwhelming when he breaks the barrier. “Are we on earth?” Youngjae looks in amazement as the cars pass by. “What are these things?”
“They’re called automobiles,” Daehyun says. He had forgotten that Youngjae probably died a long time before they had been invented. Daehyun has been a Reaper long enough that he watched the humans develop the technology. “What time period are you from?”
“I don’t know, remember?” Youngjae laughs bitterly. “We didn’t have these, though.”
“How do you know that?” Daehyun is genuinely curious. After being dead so long, he still doesn’t know half of what it means to be dead.
Youngjae is taken aback and his mouth opens slightly. The blank look is endearing on him, Daehyun vaguely notices. “There are just some things I know, I guess, like how the world works. I can talk to you, for one.” He points at a tree on a street corner. “I know that’s a tree, but I don’t know what these automobile things are.”
As Daehyun digests Youngjae’s words, he thinks of ways to explain the new world to Youngjae. “Well, those just let people get from one place to the other faster than walking.”
“Like mechanical horses?” Youngjae’s eyes are wide with wonder. Smiling at the awe in Youngjae’s voice, Daehyun nods. He enjoys being able to show off this world to Youngjae. It’s not like he’s a part of it, but it still feels like it’s his, since he’s been wandering around in it for so long.
“Follow me,” Daehyun says, beckoning with a quick tilt of his head. They walk up the street, and stop in front of a building. “This is a hospital, a place where sick people come to get better.”
“Why are we here?” For the first time since he awoke, there is trepidation in Youngjae’s voice.
Daehyun raises an eyebrow and looks at Youngjae. “Not all of them get better.”
They follow a mother and daughter through the automatic sliding doors, and Youngjae pauses to watch them, curiosity etched in all his features. He yelps as the sliding doors close on him. They go right through him.
“Feels weird, right?” Daehyun says, laughing. He still hasn’t gotten used to the feeling of something passing through him, so he tends to avoid it.
Daehyun leads them towards the emergency operation room. He feels Youngjae tense beside him as they get closer. “I don’t think I can do this,” Youngjae says when they reach the door.
Having been through this before a long time ago, Daehyun smiles and takes a hold of Youngjae’s hand. “It’ll be fine.” He squeezes Youngjae’s hand and for a moment wonders if it is less of a comfort because he’s so cold. “We’re dead and it isn’t so bad, right?”
Youngjae bites his lower lip and nods, squeezing back ever so slightly. He opens his mouth to say something, but he’s interrupted by the rattling of a stretcher approaching from down the hallway. They watch as three paramedics wheel a body into the operating room.
“Drug overdose, probably,” Daehyun says as they follow the stretcher through the doors. “She’s not going to make it. Do you see the soul trying to get out?” The girl is shimmering around the edges.
Looking slightly queasy, Youngjae nods. Slowly, Daehyun guides their interlocked hands over the body of the dying girl, and gently lets go, placing Youngjae’s hand over her heart. At the touch, the soul shatters and the fragments shoot off in all different directions as they leave the girl’s body.
“We lost her,” Daehyun hears the paramedics say. Some of the soul remains in the room, floating and glimmering between pale shades of blue and green. Daehyun plucks one of the wisps from the air and holds it out for Youngjae.
Holding his breath, afraid to blow the fragile soul fragment away, Youngjae stares at the soul with wide eyes. Daehyun takes Youngjae’s hand with his free one and tips the spinning piece of soul into it. “Wow,” Youngjae says, cupping the soul carefully and finally exhaling.
Daehyun grabs another fragment, slightly different from the others, tinged purple in the center. “Sometimes pieces of other souls latch on, or break off. No soul is whole after it’s lived in a body. Our job as Reapers is to put them back together so they can be reclaimed.”
The white walls of the hospital room slowly fade into darkness as the veil of their dimension covers them again. The only thing left are the floating pieces of soul. Youngjae still has the same piece in his hands, and he tosses it gently back into the empty space in front of him. “You’re right, this isn’t so bad.”
For a moment, Daehyun imagines his heart leaping. When he goes to feel it though, it’s as still as ever. Youngjae’s right, it’s not bad at all, and now that he has a companion, it’s going to be much better.
*
“Tell me about your previous life.” Youngjae sits on the ground, his arms supporting him as he leans back.
None of the others had ever asked, maybe because they all had histories of their own. Or maybe it was just Youngjae who was special. “Okay,” Daehyun says, and the world around them shifts as Daehyun’s memories replace their surroundings.
Daehyun was born a servant, raised in the courts of the palace. It looks beautiful in his memory, the sun filtering through the trees to paint spots of light on the ground. “I know this place,” Youngjae says, surprised. “The imperial palace.”
Excited, Daehyun turns around to scan the scene of his memory. “Maybe you’re in here somewhere.” Youngjae doesn’t reply, but Daehyun can feel the hope emanating from Youngjae. “This is me, in my very first memory,” Daehyun explains. The two watch as a young boy around the age of 5 peers into a window to the royal family’s personal chambers.
Youngjae walks up behind the child and looks into the window as well. “There’s no one in there,” he says, a little confused.
“I’ve looked too,” Daehyun says, leaning against the wall next to the window. He’s gone through his memories so many times, but there’s just one person that he can’t remember. “It’s supposed to be the young prince of Korea, but I can’t remember what he looked like or how he sounded or even the way he acted.”
Peeling his face away from the window, Youngjae turns his attention on memory-Daehyun. “What are you doing?”
“I always wanted to learn how to read and write,” Daehyun says, the corner of his mouth lifting in a half-smile. “But I’m not sure if it’s because I wanted to learn or if it’s because I wanted to play with the prince.”
Youngjae nods and lapses into silence. Little Daehyun doesn’t move from his spot. “Did you ever get to?” Youngjae finally asks.
“Daehyun, come back in!” Daehyun’s memory-mother comes from behind them, and they turn around the same time that memory-Daehyun does. He takes his mother’s hand and follows her back to the servants’ quarters, throwing one last wistful glance behind him before he turns a brilliant smile towards her, face scrunched up in delight.
“That is for another memory,” Daehyun says, answering Youngjae as the scene around them fades.
Youngjae only looks a little disappointed that the memory was so short. “You never smile like that here.”
Daehyun looks at Youngjae and tilts his head. He hasn’t ever noticed. “Maybe there’s just no reason to here.”
*
The darkness of the world of the dead is no longer as silent with Youngjae there. When Youngjae’s not asking questions, and when they’re not talking, the steady thump of Youngjae’s heart and rush of his blood fills in the gaps.
While this sound is enough for Daehyun, who’s used to the nothingness, it makes Youngjae antsy. Eventually, he starts humming under his breath, and Daehyun listens.
“What song is that?” Youngjae asks, despite being the first to sing it.
“It’s a song my mother taught me,” Daehyun says. “It’s the story of two star-crossed lovers.” It reminds him of a memory. “It’s also the song that brought me to the emperor’s attention.”
The grand halls of the palace take shape around them as Daehyun’s memories take form. The boy sitting on his knees and scrubbing the floor is about 10 years old. Daehyun may not have gotten an education in reading or writing, but his mother taught him to do everything with a willing and subservient heart, so while he worked, he sang.
Daehyun can’t help smiling a little at his enthusiasm. He glances over, and Youngjae also has a fond look on his face. For some reason, this makes Daehyun feel a little more whole.
“What is this?” The emperor and his entourage approach from down the hall. Daehyun feels a little sorry for himself when he freezes, his grip on the washing rag tightening and the whites of his eyes showing as they widen. The emperor stops and smiles benevolently at the boy. “Can you sing for me, little angel ?”
A look of disbelief and wonder flashes across memory-Daehyun’s face and he smiles impishly at the emperor, bowing once before obliging. He sings about the poor cowherd Gyeonwu and Jiknyeo, the daughter of the heavenly king. He sings about how they fell in love, and how the king of heaven tore them apart, so they could only meet one day of the year. When he finishes, the emperor is wiping his eyes. Stunned, the boy bows again, sticking his forehead into the ground. “I apologize, please forgive me.”
Laying a hand on young Daehyun’s arm, the emperor pulls him up. “That was beautiful. What’s your name, little angel?”
“Daehyun,” the boy says, still looking down at his feet.
“Daehyun, would you like to sing for me every day?” The emperor is kneeling so that they are at eye level. Emperors don’t kneel.
Memory-Daehyun nods fervently, and the emperor pats him on the head. “Come with me.”
“I became the emperor’s favorite entertainer, and also bound to his son. From that day on, it was my duty to protect the prince.” The gleaming palace halls fade back into darkness as Daehyun explains the rest of the memory.
“The emperor looked like a kind man,” Youngjae says.
“He was.” Daehyun feels like this is significant somehow, but he doesn’t know how. “So was his son, if only I could remember him.”
*
Daehyun takes Youngjae to the countryside, to a place still largely untouched by man. “Doesn’t nature feel so alive?” Youngjae asks as they lie down side by side in the tall grass. The sun is at its highest point in the sky and the gentle breeze tousles their hair as it passes through them.
“It is.” Daehyun passes his hand through the grass and watches Youngjae’s reaction as the soul fragments inhabiting the plants and insects flit up and dance, uncoordinated but mesmerizing all the same, before they’re sucked back into their containers. “This is where I found the first piece of your soul.” It had been so pretty Daehyun couldn’t help taking it. “You must have some important memory here, just like I do.”
“This place looks like somewhere I would have wanted to go,” Youngjae says, unsure. “What did you do here?”
At the question, Daehyun sits up, prompting Youngjae to sit up with him. Daehyun points at a younger version of himself, maybe at 15 years of age. “I snuck the prince out of the palace.”
The expression on memory-Daehyun’s face is pure joy, as he runs through the field, his face turned behind him. “What are you, an old man ?” he taunts, but the way his eyes curve into closed crescents make the words lose all their bite. Daehyun always tries to imagine the prince struggling for breath as he tries to keep up, but he’s never been able to put a face to the image.
Youngjae leans against Daehyun’s shoulder while they watch memory-Daehyun get tired, and collapse in the middle of the grass. “It’s that smile again,” Youngjae says. “How come you don’t smile like that anymore?”
Daehyun puts a hand over his chest, where there is no sign of life. “Maybe because I can’t feel that happy anymore.” He doesn’t look at Youngjae. Instead, he watches his memory self lift up his hand over his head, sunlight sifting through his fingers. “We made a promise to come back again, but we got in so much trouble.”
“Did you ever go back?” Youngjae looks hopeful, like he can live through Daehyun’s memories.
“No.” Daehyun can’t bring himself to feel anything more than pity. He catches Youngjae’s eyes and the look in them beg for an explanation. “I died.”
Youngjae doesn’t say anything, but there are inexplicable emotions etched in the folds of his frown. He places a hand over Daehyun’s, and they remain in the middle of the field for a long time. The nice thing about being dead is that time doesn’t matter anymore.
Daehyun feels an unfamiliar warmth take over his cold body, but that’s probably from Youngjae. Youngjae is warm. His heart still isn’t beating.
*
There is a moment right on the border of life and death as the soul leaves the body that Reapers can slip in and take over. It’s the only chance they get to experience a bit of life, no matter how instantaneously it fades.
Daehyun finds a fatal traffic accident, and together with Youngjae, they pass through the bodies of the victims, releasing the souls at the same time. Daehyun shudders as the memories of the man whose body he’d borrowed rush through him.
When he resurfaces, his cheeks are wet. He can’t stop crying. “Are you okay?” Youngjae asks, concerned. Daehyun shakes his head. The man whose body he had occupied had a ring in his pocket. The last face that passed through his mind as his soul was taken was a beautiful young woman’s smile. One he’d never get to see again.
“I loved him,” Daehyun says, as the effects of the memories wear off. “I know I loved my prince, but I don’t remember what that felt like.”
Youngjae rubs the back of Daehyun’s neck. “It’s not your fault.”
“I gave up my life for him and I don’t remember what he even looks like.” Daehyun says, defeated. “I can’t even cry. Those weren’t my emotions, they were that man’s.”
Hand still at the back of Daehyun’s neck, Youngjae just sits with Daehyun. “Can you tell me how you died?”
Daehyun nods, and they are surrounded by a dimly lit chamber. Memory-Daehyun, who looks exactly like Reaper Daehyun, is on the bed. “With the prince?” Youngjae asks, and Daehyun nods again. He’s sleeping peacefully, his ribs expanding and contracting with every breath.
“Over there,” Daehyun whispers to Youngjae, pointing at a window that had cracked open. A figure drops down through the window, landing with a soft thud. The Daehyun on the bed stirs, and sleepily props himself up on his elbow.
He turns towards the empty space on the bed, and comes face to face with the assassin’s knife.
“NO,” he shouts as he throws his body over the empty space next to him. Daehyun closes his eyes as his doppelganger gets stabbed in the back, his body protecting the invisible prince. The assassin flees. Daehyun doesn’t like watching his death. It had been slow and painful, and he can’t even remember the comforting arms that held him in his last moments.
Beside him, Youngjae has started crying. Before Daehyun processes what is going on, Youngjae has crossed over to the bed. In place of his prince, Youngjae rests the dying Daehyun on his knees, his arm wrapped underneath his back. “No, no, no, Daehyun…” Youngjae sobs. Daehyun feels a painful twinge in his chest.
“I…” Youngjae leans in closer to listen. “Love…” Youngjae’s tears drip down on the memory’s face. The “you” comes out as one last soft exhale. Daehyun’s chest gives another painful leap and he grabs at the fabric over it.
All of a sudden his memories make sense. Peering into the window at a round-faced, chubby-cheeked boy who looked bored out of his mind while painstakingly writing out his characters, distracting him through the glass pane. A curious kid hiding behind his mother’s robes as he observes his father’s newest entertainer. A wild sense of elation, of freedom when he led his prince through the fields of tall grass. Relenting when his precious prince, his best friend, was red in the face. The arms that held him tightly as he passed away, and the perfect face marred by tears that was the last thing he saw, from behind his eyelids.
“Daehyun,” Youngjae says, and Daehyun meets his eyes. They both understand.
“You’re my prince,” Daehyun whispers, and he collapses with another sharp pull in his chest.
Youngjae rushes to his side. “No, not again,” he pleads.
“I found you again,” Daehyun says with a smile, and winces as his heart stutters. “I’m so glad I found you again.”
“Daehyun, stop.” Youngjae presses a soft kiss onto Daehyun’s lips, and Daehyun gasps as his heart finally starts beating.
“We’ll keep finding each other, okay?” Daehyun says, his voice breaking and his breaths short. He feels like he is about to faint, and Youngjae is getting blurrier and blurrier.
“Don’t leave me alone,” Youngjae sobs, hugging Daehyun close to his chest. “Stop, not again.”
Daehyun can’t feel his extremities anymore. “Find the rest of your memories,” he says, the words barely audible. “Then come find me.”
“You idiot,” Youngjae says, his shoulders shaking.
“I love you,” Daehyun whispers into Youngjae’s ear as he feels everything melting away. The last thing he remembers before everything disappears is Youngjae’s warmth wrapped around his being, and the erratic beat of their hearts thumping side by side.
*
Jung Daehyun sits anxiously in the modest TS conference room. It’s the first time he’s staying in Seoul for a longer period than something like a school trip. On top of that, he’s supposed to meet his new group members today, and he feels like throwing up. He wonders briefly what would happen if he threw up on Bang Yongguk, his already-almost-famous future leader, and he surprises himself by laughing.
His mirth only lasts a little, as the knot in his stomach re-tangles itself. It’s so bad he doesn’t even feel hungry, even though he hasn’t had lunch yet. It doesn’t make sense; he’s going to live his dream, debut as a part of an idol group, just like TVXQ-sunbaenims. He tries not to think about what would happen if he didn’t get along with any one of his future band mates. The other five members already know each other and trained together, and he’s the one likeliest to be dropped.
The door opens. The members, still in workout clothes from dance rehearsal, file in one by one, regarding him with expressions varying from critical to curious. Daehyun squirms under their scrutiny.
“Guys, this is Jung Daehyun,” Manager Kang says, and Daehyun bows 90 degrees. “He’s going to sing lead vocals along with Youngjae.”
The boy Manager Kang pointed out, Youngjae, meets his eyes and nods. “Nice to meet you,” Youngjae says, offering his hand. Daehyun's heartbeat triples in speed as he freaks out just a little about meeting the person whose role he is about to halve. "Thanks for helping me, I really don't know what I'd do without you," Youngjae continues, and all Daehyun’s fears of being treated like a rival disappear as he takes the offered hand. “Let me know if you need help getting settled here.” Youngjae smiles, and Daehyun can’t help but grin back widely as his stomach unknots.
Daehyun has a vague feeling that he knows Youngjae from somewhere, but he tucks that away in the back of his mind. For now, he knows everything will be okay, and that's enough.
Pairing: Daehyun/Youngjae
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: highlight to read:[character death kinda..? More like dead characters...but not really. Er it'll make sense if you read it OTL]
Word Count: 4.2k
Summary: Just like a puzzle, souls are easier to take apart when one piece is missing.
A/N: pinch hit for kaixian for thebrowniebunch fic exchange! A gazillion thanks to dinodays (and to Ibuprofen) for resurrecting me while I was dying in order to finish this in time and for the hasty beta! Kai, I hope you enjoy and sorry I can't angst ♥ you are amazing and I hope this is worthy ;A;
He holds death in one hand and pieces of a broken soul in another. He hangs onto memories of a time so long ago they no longer matter, because he has been a Reaper long enough to relive his human memories time and time again. He does not know why he clings so fervently to them when they’re so insignificant. It may be because there is nothing else worth forgetting them for here.
Here, the silence is suffocating. He could probably hear his own blood flowing if he had a heartbeat, but that is the only thing he lacks. He even has a proper name, but since there is no one to call him by it, that doesn’t matter. “Daehyun,” he breathes out experimentally, wondering how much longer it will be before he hears it out of somebody else’s mouth.
When he first gained consciousness in the dark void, there had been somebody who called him Daehyun. Not anymore, though. That was a long time ago. Ever since Yongguk’s soul was reclaimed, he had been by himself, except for the few brief moments when he completed another soul. None of them ever lasted for long. Mostly, though, it’s ok. He’s not afraid of the dark.
In the dark is where the souls shine brightest, after all. They shimmer with all the colors on the visible spectrum as they flit from one spot to the next. They are beautiful. He wonders sometimes how such pretty soul fragments can end up evil. Well, not all souls are created equal. The one whose pieces he holds onto is far more dazzling than any other he has seen. Whenever he retrieves another departed soul, he always looks for a hint of the special soul that may have latched on, and today, after his lifetimes of scavenging, he has found the last piece. The last piece he needs, at any rate. There is still one piece of the soul somewhere out in the world, but that’s the piece the soul itself needs to find. Just like a puzzle, they’re easier to take apart when one piece is missing.
He molds the soul into its flesh form with practiced hands. The soul itself is helping him, shaping itself. For a moment, as the contours of its face solidify, Daehyun’s breath catches in his throat and he almost feels his dead heart leap. The soul is even more gorgeous in a body. Pale, blemish-free skin stretched taught over a firm, broad frame, slim, long legs, curved eyes framed by long eyelashes, elegant cheekbones, and full lips, the soul is far more beautiful than Daehyun ever dared to imagine. It’s taken the shape of a young man, just about his age.
Lowering his head, he lets a gust of his icy breath pass from his mouth into the mouth of the sleeping man. With Daehyun’s breath, the body starts to breathe on its own and its blood starts pumping. Daehyun puts his hand over its chest to feel the steady thump, thump. Its skin is warm, unlike his.
When he moves his hand up to touch the delicate face, the new Reaper opens his eyes. “Hello,” Daehyun says, staring intently into the deep brown eyes.
“…cold.” The man blinks a few times and starts to sit up. Daehyun’s doesn’t realize he’s holding his breath until he lets go of it. It can speak with him. He hopes this one will last longer than the others.
“I’m Daehyun,” Daehyun says, sitting back on his haunches. He watches the soul he had pieced together crack his neck and rub his arms briskly. “Who are you?”
Rubbing the back of his neck and getting used to the feeling of his new body, the soul frowns. “I don’t know,” he finally says. “My name is Youngjae, but I don’t know who that is.”
It has been a long time since Daehyun first woke up into this world. He tries to remember what it felt like, but he feels exactly the same as that first day. All his memories from his human life were embedded in him from the very beginning. He knew exactly what he was. “Do you remember anybody? Your family? Your friends? Your lover?”
Youngjae takes a few deep breaths. “I’m dead, right?” He reaches out and grabs Daehyun’s hands. He hides his discomfort at Daehyun’s icy touch. “You’re also dead. Did they take your memories too?”
Maybe it was because Daehyun woke up remembering everything like it had happened yesterday, so he had taken much, much longer to figure that out. Yongguk had to tell him, and he had refused to accept it. He is so surprised by Youngjae’s matter-of-fact analysis he forgets to speak. “No,” he finally finds his tongue. “I don’t have a heart.”
“Oh,” Youngjae says. “Where is it?”
Daehyun shrugs. “Same place your memories are. We’re not meant to be complete, or else we get reclaimed.”
“What happens if we get reclaimed?” Youngjae asks, more out of fascination than fear.
“Nobody knows,” Daehyun says. “You disappear.”
“I want my memories back.” Youngjae seems resolute, and Daehyun’s eyes widen. He hasn’t ever had motivation to find his heart.
“Aren’t you afraid of disappearing?” Daehyun’s afraid. That’s why he hasn’t ever gone looking for the last piece of his soul. He doesn’t want Youngjae to leave him too, like all the others.
Youngjae contemplates for a second. “Not really, what do you even do here?”
“Want me to show you?” Daehyun extends a hand out to Youngjae. Daehyun smiles encouragingly, and Youngjae takes it cautiously.
“Sure.”
*
Breaking through the thin layer between life and death, Daehyun leads Youngjae into the world of the living. The rush of sound hits him first, like always. They’re in Seoul, a large city teeming with life and never seeming to stop. It’s always a little overwhelming when he breaks the barrier. “Are we on earth?” Youngjae looks in amazement as the cars pass by. “What are these things?”
“They’re called automobiles,” Daehyun says. He had forgotten that Youngjae probably died a long time before they had been invented. Daehyun has been a Reaper long enough that he watched the humans develop the technology. “What time period are you from?”
“I don’t know, remember?” Youngjae laughs bitterly. “We didn’t have these, though.”
“How do you know that?” Daehyun is genuinely curious. After being dead so long, he still doesn’t know half of what it means to be dead.
Youngjae is taken aback and his mouth opens slightly. The blank look is endearing on him, Daehyun vaguely notices. “There are just some things I know, I guess, like how the world works. I can talk to you, for one.” He points at a tree on a street corner. “I know that’s a tree, but I don’t know what these automobile things are.”
As Daehyun digests Youngjae’s words, he thinks of ways to explain the new world to Youngjae. “Well, those just let people get from one place to the other faster than walking.”
“Like mechanical horses?” Youngjae’s eyes are wide with wonder. Smiling at the awe in Youngjae’s voice, Daehyun nods. He enjoys being able to show off this world to Youngjae. It’s not like he’s a part of it, but it still feels like it’s his, since he’s been wandering around in it for so long.
“Follow me,” Daehyun says, beckoning with a quick tilt of his head. They walk up the street, and stop in front of a building. “This is a hospital, a place where sick people come to get better.”
“Why are we here?” For the first time since he awoke, there is trepidation in Youngjae’s voice.
Daehyun raises an eyebrow and looks at Youngjae. “Not all of them get better.”
They follow a mother and daughter through the automatic sliding doors, and Youngjae pauses to watch them, curiosity etched in all his features. He yelps as the sliding doors close on him. They go right through him.
“Feels weird, right?” Daehyun says, laughing. He still hasn’t gotten used to the feeling of something passing through him, so he tends to avoid it.
Daehyun leads them towards the emergency operation room. He feels Youngjae tense beside him as they get closer. “I don’t think I can do this,” Youngjae says when they reach the door.
Having been through this before a long time ago, Daehyun smiles and takes a hold of Youngjae’s hand. “It’ll be fine.” He squeezes Youngjae’s hand and for a moment wonders if it is less of a comfort because he’s so cold. “We’re dead and it isn’t so bad, right?”
Youngjae bites his lower lip and nods, squeezing back ever so slightly. He opens his mouth to say something, but he’s interrupted by the rattling of a stretcher approaching from down the hallway. They watch as three paramedics wheel a body into the operating room.
“Drug overdose, probably,” Daehyun says as they follow the stretcher through the doors. “She’s not going to make it. Do you see the soul trying to get out?” The girl is shimmering around the edges.
Looking slightly queasy, Youngjae nods. Slowly, Daehyun guides their interlocked hands over the body of the dying girl, and gently lets go, placing Youngjae’s hand over her heart. At the touch, the soul shatters and the fragments shoot off in all different directions as they leave the girl’s body.
“We lost her,” Daehyun hears the paramedics say. Some of the soul remains in the room, floating and glimmering between pale shades of blue and green. Daehyun plucks one of the wisps from the air and holds it out for Youngjae.
Holding his breath, afraid to blow the fragile soul fragment away, Youngjae stares at the soul with wide eyes. Daehyun takes Youngjae’s hand with his free one and tips the spinning piece of soul into it. “Wow,” Youngjae says, cupping the soul carefully and finally exhaling.
Daehyun grabs another fragment, slightly different from the others, tinged purple in the center. “Sometimes pieces of other souls latch on, or break off. No soul is whole after it’s lived in a body. Our job as Reapers is to put them back together so they can be reclaimed.”
The white walls of the hospital room slowly fade into darkness as the veil of their dimension covers them again. The only thing left are the floating pieces of soul. Youngjae still has the same piece in his hands, and he tosses it gently back into the empty space in front of him. “You’re right, this isn’t so bad.”
For a moment, Daehyun imagines his heart leaping. When he goes to feel it though, it’s as still as ever. Youngjae’s right, it’s not bad at all, and now that he has a companion, it’s going to be much better.
*
“Tell me about your previous life.” Youngjae sits on the ground, his arms supporting him as he leans back.
None of the others had ever asked, maybe because they all had histories of their own. Or maybe it was just Youngjae who was special. “Okay,” Daehyun says, and the world around them shifts as Daehyun’s memories replace their surroundings.
Daehyun was born a servant, raised in the courts of the palace. It looks beautiful in his memory, the sun filtering through the trees to paint spots of light on the ground. “I know this place,” Youngjae says, surprised. “The imperial palace.”
Excited, Daehyun turns around to scan the scene of his memory. “Maybe you’re in here somewhere.” Youngjae doesn’t reply, but Daehyun can feel the hope emanating from Youngjae. “This is me, in my very first memory,” Daehyun explains. The two watch as a young boy around the age of 5 peers into a window to the royal family’s personal chambers.
Youngjae walks up behind the child and looks into the window as well. “There’s no one in there,” he says, a little confused.
“I’ve looked too,” Daehyun says, leaning against the wall next to the window. He’s gone through his memories so many times, but there’s just one person that he can’t remember. “It’s supposed to be the young prince of Korea, but I can’t remember what he looked like or how he sounded or even the way he acted.”
Peeling his face away from the window, Youngjae turns his attention on memory-Daehyun. “What are you doing?”
“I always wanted to learn how to read and write,” Daehyun says, the corner of his mouth lifting in a half-smile. “But I’m not sure if it’s because I wanted to learn or if it’s because I wanted to play with the prince.”
Youngjae nods and lapses into silence. Little Daehyun doesn’t move from his spot. “Did you ever get to?” Youngjae finally asks.
“Daehyun, come back in!” Daehyun’s memory-mother comes from behind them, and they turn around the same time that memory-Daehyun does. He takes his mother’s hand and follows her back to the servants’ quarters, throwing one last wistful glance behind him before he turns a brilliant smile towards her, face scrunched up in delight.
“That is for another memory,” Daehyun says, answering Youngjae as the scene around them fades.
Youngjae only looks a little disappointed that the memory was so short. “You never smile like that here.”
Daehyun looks at Youngjae and tilts his head. He hasn’t ever noticed. “Maybe there’s just no reason to here.”
*
The darkness of the world of the dead is no longer as silent with Youngjae there. When Youngjae’s not asking questions, and when they’re not talking, the steady thump of Youngjae’s heart and rush of his blood fills in the gaps.
While this sound is enough for Daehyun, who’s used to the nothingness, it makes Youngjae antsy. Eventually, he starts humming under his breath, and Daehyun listens.
“What song is that?” Youngjae asks, despite being the first to sing it.
“It’s a song my mother taught me,” Daehyun says. “It’s the story of two star-crossed lovers.” It reminds him of a memory. “It’s also the song that brought me to the emperor’s attention.”
The grand halls of the palace take shape around them as Daehyun’s memories take form. The boy sitting on his knees and scrubbing the floor is about 10 years old. Daehyun may not have gotten an education in reading or writing, but his mother taught him to do everything with a willing and subservient heart, so while he worked, he sang.
Daehyun can’t help smiling a little at his enthusiasm. He glances over, and Youngjae also has a fond look on his face. For some reason, this makes Daehyun feel a little more whole.
“What is this?” The emperor and his entourage approach from down the hall. Daehyun feels a little sorry for himself when he freezes, his grip on the washing rag tightening and the whites of his eyes showing as they widen. The emperor stops and smiles benevolently at the boy. “Can you sing for me, little angel ?”
A look of disbelief and wonder flashes across memory-Daehyun’s face and he smiles impishly at the emperor, bowing once before obliging. He sings about the poor cowherd Gyeonwu and Jiknyeo, the daughter of the heavenly king. He sings about how they fell in love, and how the king of heaven tore them apart, so they could only meet one day of the year. When he finishes, the emperor is wiping his eyes. Stunned, the boy bows again, sticking his forehead into the ground. “I apologize, please forgive me.”
Laying a hand on young Daehyun’s arm, the emperor pulls him up. “That was beautiful. What’s your name, little angel?”
“Daehyun,” the boy says, still looking down at his feet.
“Daehyun, would you like to sing for me every day?” The emperor is kneeling so that they are at eye level. Emperors don’t kneel.
Memory-Daehyun nods fervently, and the emperor pats him on the head. “Come with me.”
“I became the emperor’s favorite entertainer, and also bound to his son. From that day on, it was my duty to protect the prince.” The gleaming palace halls fade back into darkness as Daehyun explains the rest of the memory.
“The emperor looked like a kind man,” Youngjae says.
“He was.” Daehyun feels like this is significant somehow, but he doesn’t know how. “So was his son, if only I could remember him.”
*
Daehyun takes Youngjae to the countryside, to a place still largely untouched by man. “Doesn’t nature feel so alive?” Youngjae asks as they lie down side by side in the tall grass. The sun is at its highest point in the sky and the gentle breeze tousles their hair as it passes through them.
“It is.” Daehyun passes his hand through the grass and watches Youngjae’s reaction as the soul fragments inhabiting the plants and insects flit up and dance, uncoordinated but mesmerizing all the same, before they’re sucked back into their containers. “This is where I found the first piece of your soul.” It had been so pretty Daehyun couldn’t help taking it. “You must have some important memory here, just like I do.”
“This place looks like somewhere I would have wanted to go,” Youngjae says, unsure. “What did you do here?”
At the question, Daehyun sits up, prompting Youngjae to sit up with him. Daehyun points at a younger version of himself, maybe at 15 years of age. “I snuck the prince out of the palace.”
The expression on memory-Daehyun’s face is pure joy, as he runs through the field, his face turned behind him. “What are you, an old man ?” he taunts, but the way his eyes curve into closed crescents make the words lose all their bite. Daehyun always tries to imagine the prince struggling for breath as he tries to keep up, but he’s never been able to put a face to the image.
Youngjae leans against Daehyun’s shoulder while they watch memory-Daehyun get tired, and collapse in the middle of the grass. “It’s that smile again,” Youngjae says. “How come you don’t smile like that anymore?”
Daehyun puts a hand over his chest, where there is no sign of life. “Maybe because I can’t feel that happy anymore.” He doesn’t look at Youngjae. Instead, he watches his memory self lift up his hand over his head, sunlight sifting through his fingers. “We made a promise to come back again, but we got in so much trouble.”
“Did you ever go back?” Youngjae looks hopeful, like he can live through Daehyun’s memories.
“No.” Daehyun can’t bring himself to feel anything more than pity. He catches Youngjae’s eyes and the look in them beg for an explanation. “I died.”
Youngjae doesn’t say anything, but there are inexplicable emotions etched in the folds of his frown. He places a hand over Daehyun’s, and they remain in the middle of the field for a long time. The nice thing about being dead is that time doesn’t matter anymore.
Daehyun feels an unfamiliar warmth take over his cold body, but that’s probably from Youngjae. Youngjae is warm. His heart still isn’t beating.
*
There is a moment right on the border of life and death as the soul leaves the body that Reapers can slip in and take over. It’s the only chance they get to experience a bit of life, no matter how instantaneously it fades.
Daehyun finds a fatal traffic accident, and together with Youngjae, they pass through the bodies of the victims, releasing the souls at the same time. Daehyun shudders as the memories of the man whose body he’d borrowed rush through him.
When he resurfaces, his cheeks are wet. He can’t stop crying. “Are you okay?” Youngjae asks, concerned. Daehyun shakes his head. The man whose body he had occupied had a ring in his pocket. The last face that passed through his mind as his soul was taken was a beautiful young woman’s smile. One he’d never get to see again.
“I loved him,” Daehyun says, as the effects of the memories wear off. “I know I loved my prince, but I don’t remember what that felt like.”
Youngjae rubs the back of Daehyun’s neck. “It’s not your fault.”
“I gave up my life for him and I don’t remember what he even looks like.” Daehyun says, defeated. “I can’t even cry. Those weren’t my emotions, they were that man’s.”
Hand still at the back of Daehyun’s neck, Youngjae just sits with Daehyun. “Can you tell me how you died?”
Daehyun nods, and they are surrounded by a dimly lit chamber. Memory-Daehyun, who looks exactly like Reaper Daehyun, is on the bed. “With the prince?” Youngjae asks, and Daehyun nods again. He’s sleeping peacefully, his ribs expanding and contracting with every breath.
“Over there,” Daehyun whispers to Youngjae, pointing at a window that had cracked open. A figure drops down through the window, landing with a soft thud. The Daehyun on the bed stirs, and sleepily props himself up on his elbow.
He turns towards the empty space on the bed, and comes face to face with the assassin’s knife.
“NO,” he shouts as he throws his body over the empty space next to him. Daehyun closes his eyes as his doppelganger gets stabbed in the back, his body protecting the invisible prince. The assassin flees. Daehyun doesn’t like watching his death. It had been slow and painful, and he can’t even remember the comforting arms that held him in his last moments.
Beside him, Youngjae has started crying. Before Daehyun processes what is going on, Youngjae has crossed over to the bed. In place of his prince, Youngjae rests the dying Daehyun on his knees, his arm wrapped underneath his back. “No, no, no, Daehyun…” Youngjae sobs. Daehyun feels a painful twinge in his chest.
“I…” Youngjae leans in closer to listen. “Love…” Youngjae’s tears drip down on the memory’s face. The “you” comes out as one last soft exhale. Daehyun’s chest gives another painful leap and he grabs at the fabric over it.
All of a sudden his memories make sense. Peering into the window at a round-faced, chubby-cheeked boy who looked bored out of his mind while painstakingly writing out his characters, distracting him through the glass pane. A curious kid hiding behind his mother’s robes as he observes his father’s newest entertainer. A wild sense of elation, of freedom when he led his prince through the fields of tall grass. Relenting when his precious prince, his best friend, was red in the face. The arms that held him tightly as he passed away, and the perfect face marred by tears that was the last thing he saw, from behind his eyelids.
“Daehyun,” Youngjae says, and Daehyun meets his eyes. They both understand.
“You’re my prince,” Daehyun whispers, and he collapses with another sharp pull in his chest.
Youngjae rushes to his side. “No, not again,” he pleads.
“I found you again,” Daehyun says with a smile, and winces as his heart stutters. “I’m so glad I found you again.”
“Daehyun, stop.” Youngjae presses a soft kiss onto Daehyun’s lips, and Daehyun gasps as his heart finally starts beating.
“We’ll keep finding each other, okay?” Daehyun says, his voice breaking and his breaths short. He feels like he is about to faint, and Youngjae is getting blurrier and blurrier.
“Don’t leave me alone,” Youngjae sobs, hugging Daehyun close to his chest. “Stop, not again.”
Daehyun can’t feel his extremities anymore. “Find the rest of your memories,” he says, the words barely audible. “Then come find me.”
“You idiot,” Youngjae says, his shoulders shaking.
“I love you,” Daehyun whispers into Youngjae’s ear as he feels everything melting away. The last thing he remembers before everything disappears is Youngjae’s warmth wrapped around his being, and the erratic beat of their hearts thumping side by side.
*
Jung Daehyun sits anxiously in the modest TS conference room. It’s the first time he’s staying in Seoul for a longer period than something like a school trip. On top of that, he’s supposed to meet his new group members today, and he feels like throwing up. He wonders briefly what would happen if he threw up on Bang Yongguk, his already-almost-famous future leader, and he surprises himself by laughing.
His mirth only lasts a little, as the knot in his stomach re-tangles itself. It’s so bad he doesn’t even feel hungry, even though he hasn’t had lunch yet. It doesn’t make sense; he’s going to live his dream, debut as a part of an idol group, just like TVXQ-sunbaenims. He tries not to think about what would happen if he didn’t get along with any one of his future band mates. The other five members already know each other and trained together, and he’s the one likeliest to be dropped.
The door opens. The members, still in workout clothes from dance rehearsal, file in one by one, regarding him with expressions varying from critical to curious. Daehyun squirms under their scrutiny.
“Guys, this is Jung Daehyun,” Manager Kang says, and Daehyun bows 90 degrees. “He’s going to sing lead vocals along with Youngjae.”
The boy Manager Kang pointed out, Youngjae, meets his eyes and nods. “Nice to meet you,” Youngjae says, offering his hand. Daehyun's heartbeat triples in speed as he freaks out just a little about meeting the person whose role he is about to halve. "Thanks for helping me, I really don't know what I'd do without you," Youngjae continues, and all Daehyun’s fears of being treated like a rival disappear as he takes the offered hand. “Let me know if you need help getting settled here.” Youngjae smiles, and Daehyun can’t help but grin back widely as his stomach unknots.
Daehyun has a vague feeling that he knows Youngjae from somewhere, but he tucks that away in the back of his mind. For now, he knows everything will be okay, and that's enough.