#103: I Saw You (Time and Time again)
Prompt: #103
Title: I Saw You (Time and Time again)
Pairing: Chen/Sehun
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Twists and inaccuracies to Greek mythology, angst, loopholes
Word count:4051
Summary: Remember me already.
Author's note: To my prompter, I can’t apologize enough! This is probably not what you wanted, but I tried my best, and this isn’t the final edit, so please give it a try! To the ever wonderful M, thank you for that constant shoulder! Without your optimism, I have no idea where I would be! And especially thanks to the mods for running this round, and for their infinite patience and understanding! I am so sorry for all the trouble, and again, thank you so much!
“You’ll damn us both.” He whispered, his eyes filled with tears, fearing what he knew was to come.
“Yes,” his lover said, beautiful in the moonlight, his hair shining no differently than that of the stars across the evening sky.
“Yes,” his lover repeated, moving closer still, leaning his head against his beloveds, “But at least then, love, I will have you.”
“A Greek mythology based love story?” Joonmyun asked, eyebrow raised as he skimmed Jongdae’s script.
“Yeah. I know that that genre isn’t anything new, but it just came to me and I couldn’t stop it. Didn’t really want to either.” Jongdae shrugged, balancing his pencil between his fore and middle fingers.
“Well,” Joonmyun began, leaning back in his chair, “I’ve gotta say Jongdae, that this is really good. Everything seems so real; the colours, the scenery, the emotions.”
“But?” Jongdae said, already having anticipated this.
“But,” Joonmyun said, resting his forearms on his desk, “What makes this different? This is the sixth story you’ve brought to me in less than that many months. But I’m not seeing any ending to any of these. And instead of focusing on trying to find an ending, you keep bringing me a completely different story.”
Joonmyun exhaled, before he asked, “How do I know-or better yet, how do you know, that this is going to be any different?”
“I guess-I don’t?” Jongdae sighed, leaning over the table to grab his script.
“It just-this feels more real than anything else.”
“Yeah,” Joonmyun replied, “Yeah, it does. What inspired this anyway?”
“Well, I finally got around to doing some spring cleaning, you know. A year late, but better late than never, I guess. One of the boxes had some of my old textbooks, one about Greek mythology. And after that, I guess it just happened?” Jongdae pursed his lips.
Joonmyun leaned against his chair, lips pursed and eyes furrowed, before he nodded.
“Just happened, huh.”
It was more than that.
It was a deep, aching feeling that echoed through him, leaving him tattered around the edges. That bone deep feeling of déjà vu raced through him, leaving him feeling irritated, and almost angry.
Sometimes writers become overly emotionally involved, is what Joonmyun used to say when Jongdae went on to try and describe the insane emotions he felt.
But it was so much more than that this time.
He could, to a certain extent, buy into whatever Joonmyun would say, even when his heart rebelled against it. But this was-this was too different.
This was too real. He could almost-he could almost taste the colours he saw in his head, and felt like he could touch the warmth that radiated in and around him.
He also felt as if his heart were drowning in the deep inky depths of fear.
But he couldn’t stop, not now.
Even though he had no idea where it would lead him.
He danced with such beauty, bewitching all who watched, setting flame to rumours of trades with the darkness, with evil itself.
Watching, as entranced as the people were, the singer felt something pull in him. Of course, glancing at the people around him, he was sure they felt what he did. Why wouldn’t they, when even the gods were entranced by this god, a silver haired dancer?
The Singer felt like lying under the starry night sky; imagining what it would be like to love someone as beautiful as that. To be loved by someone as hauntingly beautiful as he.
A dream never hurt anyone too badly, he was sure. No one would punish him for it.
The Singer felt himself shake, all the way to his heart.
The rumours must be true, about trades with evil. There is no other explanation as to why the Singer would be swayed like this. This god is as every other god, cruel and vicious, hidden beneath an ethereal beauty.
He will not be fooled.
“If you’re gonna spread your obvious misery, can’t you do it somewhere else?” A voice deadpanned, and Jongdae blinked.
“Sehun.” Jongdae acknowledged with a nod, looking up into the face of a disgruntled barista, before he turned back to glance outside the window, knowing that it would get on the young barista’s nerves.
“Listen, you’re being irritating. How about I give you a free coffee and then I’ll pretend to care about your feelings and pretend to listen to you. Will you stop then?” Sehun rolled his eyes, barely glancing at Jongdae, and instead staring at his phone.
If it were anyone else, Jongdae might have been offended. But it’s Sehun, who’s kinda allergic to his own feelings, and being outright caring might actually kill him, so he puts up this act instead.
(After smiling and turning his offer down several times before, Sehun stopped, but Jongdae didn’t really think about it again.
Not until the second barista, Kyungsoo, came to tell him about it, and how Sehun seemed visibly depressed about it.
Jongdae was amused, and a bit intrigued. Intrigued enough to pretend he was feeling down, and then asked if Sehun was free to have a chat.
Sehun sighed and rolled his eyes a lot, but his bright red ears said a whole lot more.
Jongdae decided that Sehun was cute.)
“So what is it now? Can’t pinpoint Prince Charming’s eye colour?”
Jongdae laughed, “When have I ever mentioned anything like that?”
“I dunno. I thought it might be something as dull as that.” Sehun shrugged, munching on a muffin he had absolutely no intention of paying for.
Jongdae sighed softly, before he flinched under Sehun’s scrutiny.
“So, I guess I kinda dropped my story. Again. And started a new one. Again.”
“How interesting. This has only happened, what, four or five times before?”
“Six.”
“Even better. What is it this time? Impress me.”
“Greek mythology.” Jongdae sighed, eyes on Sehun.
But Sehun seemed almost frozen, his eyes dark.
“Sehun?” Jongdae called, reaching across the table to flick Sehun’s hand.
Sehun blinked a few times before he smiled, and said “Predictable.”
Jongdae smiled in return, but knew that this wasn’t Sehun’s real smile. His real smile was much smaller than this, but it showed in his eyes. But now, his eyes were carefully blank.
And Jongdae had no idea what to make of that.
“Brother!” The Singer heard his brother’s jovial call, but carried on his way still.
“I apologized, my dear brother, am I to believe that I am still not forgiven?” His brother asked, resting his armoured shoulder across his shoulder.
“There is nothing to be forgiven for, Victorious One.”
Viktor sighed, running a hand through his hair, “Must we do this each time I leave, and each time I return?”
“Of course not.”
“I do not understand you at all!” Viktor exclaimed, frustration knitting his brows, making him look exactly like the Victorious One that sent fear running wild in the heart’s of his enemies.
“Father, Mother, the Emperor-the people-all of them look to me with awe, with pride. I bring this land peace and success, why is it just you, brother, who looks to me with such discontent? I have always envied you, and the beauty that is your song. You too, brother, would earn the favour of the gods if you were only to sing.”
The Singer laughed, a quiet mocking sound, “I have no such desire, brother. I cannot understand the blindness of you and of all the people of this town. The gods are cruel, do you think that they see you as anything more than a puppet in the game of our lives?”
“Brother.” Viktor warned, eyes dark.
The Singer shook his head, “You are all fools. And one day, we will all pay for it.”
“You’re being weird. Weirder than usual, anyway. Did Jongdae reject you again?” Kyungsoo asked as he cleaned the counter.
“I’m fine.” Sehun sighed, feeling as if each of his limbs were much heavier than they were before.
“Sure you are, and I’m a super rich uni student but I choose to work here for kicks.” Kyungsoo deadpanned, face blank.
“Nice comparison.”
“Thanks. I think so, too.”
Sehun laughed, before he sighed again. “It’s not that I won’t talk to you, hyung. I can’t. It’s too complicated to put into words.”
“But it has something to do with Jongdae?” Kyungsoo asked, face sympathetic.
Sehun snorted, “It has everything to do with him.”
He had so much evil within himself, that he could only see evil in everyone else.
Even in this world, where he was surrounded by so many like him, the Dancer felt all alone. He wondered if it was just a rule to never speak of it, of the evil that resides within all of them.
The mortals were sad and pathetic in their ways, but so were the gods. They do not see all that they have. Who could want this meaningless immortal existence?
What was he to do? He wondered, pacing the mortal realm, what purpose could here find anywhere? If he played by the rules of man, it would be more than clear that he was undeserving. Still, he craved something, just to remind him that he was... living.
And after years of feeling the way the Dancer did, he came across something so beautiful, he feared it might be a dream.
He sang amongst the temples built in Poseidon’s name, on a night blessed with a full moon. He sang so beautifully, it seemed as if nature, the flowers and trees, and even the gentle evening breeze, were enchanted.
But the Singer knew not of his lone admirer.
“Right, right. And let me guess,” Sehun said, lanky form leaning over the back of the couch, “He wore dashing blue suit with flashy stripes of gold.” Sehun ended with a smirk.
Jongdae rolled his eyes, not bothering with a reply as his hand raced across the page, trying to get the words down before they’re gone. He wrote for a few more minutes, before he leaned back, pleased.
“I gave up on that story, already. I couldn’t find any ending. And besides, they weren’t flashy gold stripes.” Jongdae said, moving to pack his things away.
Sehun blinked, “What?”
“Not flashy gold stripes,” Jongdae huffed, struggling with his bag’s straps, “They were intricate swirls, gold, but with silver slivers.” He said, with absolute certainty.
“You-how do you know that?” Sehun whispered.
Jongdae looked at him funny, before he snorted.
“They’re my stories, Sehun.”
You have no idea.
Jongdae’s annoyed.
Sehun is simply annoying.
He is; Jongdae knows he is.
He shouldn’t-he knows he shouldn’t be as affected as he is; despises that he is.
But when Sehun laughs or smiles all innocent, the sun hitting his face just right-something tugs deep inside Jongdae, forcing him to stop for a moment to breathe.
This-something wasn’t right.
Of course, he’s never going to let Sehun know.
But it wasn’t because he was afraid what Sehun would say, or what Sehun would do.
This was a different kind of fear. The kind that made him wanna run, but the part that left him feeling confused and unexplainably exhausted, was that he didn’t want to run away from Sehun. He’s running away for Sehun.
And that-that shook him with a fear that haunted his dreams.
The Singer remembered the first time he saw him, all alone, without awed crowds and gods.
Waist deep in water as dark as the midnight sky, the moon’s reflection casting a pale glow around him, stars reflecting across the water, dotting his skin in starlight. Amongst the almost complete dark, his pale skin made it seem as if he were glowing.
Ethereal.
“Will you join me?” he asked, raising a pale hand to run through his equally pale, wet hair.
No, the Singer thought, he would not join. This-this felt too dangerous, too-
“Will you?” he whispered again, stretching a hand towards him, his eyes dark, holding him captivate.
“Yes.”
And that was the beginning and end of it all.
“-But in his world, of gods and their boredom and their childish games, it was only fitting that he fell in love with the one he was not allowed to have.”
Something didn’t sound right.
“Everything okay?” Sehun asked quietly, eyes on Jongdae, unreadable. Jongdae frowned.
That’s been happening more and more often; Sehun closing off.
Sometimes are you okay? would be right on the tip of Jongdae’s tongue, but the way Sehun’s eyes darkened, the way he somehow looked older, scared him more than he was willing to admit. So, he pretended he didn’t see anything, just like he pretended that Sehun’s eyes were not losing their light.
It’ll pass.
And everyone tells their own little lies to help them sleep better at night.
“Everything’s fine.”
“You are quite beautiful, Dancer.” Kai whispered, trailing a hand along his shoulders.
The Dancer knew better than to antagonize another god, especially one such as Kai. He has so much worth losing now.
“Surely you have a... lover?” Kai questioned, his eyes as dead as night.
Does it matter? But no, he would not antagonize another god. Especially one such as Kai.
“I do not.”
“Well,” Kai said, smile predatory, “Is that not perfect?”
Suho, the Oracle, did not turn as he addressed the Singer.
“If you continue down this path, you will lose terribly. The gods are cruel, and unforgiving.”
“Yes.” The Singer whispered, afraid to say anymore, lest his tears fall.
“What have you come for, Singer?” Suho asked, setting a lit candle afloat in the pond.
The Singer considered lying, but what would there be to be gained, when the Oracle already knew his hidden heart?
“How-how do I save us?” He found himself asking.
“You cannot.” Suho replied simply, lighting another candle and setting it afloat, “You can save yourself, but you would be unable to save him. Or you could save him, but not yourself. You cannot both be saved. The gods aren’t kind.”
Of course, the Singer knew this.
“How do I save him?”
“You run.”
“Run?” He asked, confused. How does one run from gods? “How will I be able to?”
“That will depend on how well you play at the games the gods do. Be cruel, be unkind, and only then can you save him.” Suho sighed, turning to face him.
“Strange, is it not?” Suho asked, tilting his face in a wonder-like fashion.
“Strange?”
“You, I imagine there is no one who detests the gods more than you, Singer. Yet here you are, trying to save a god. Is that not strange, do you think?” The Oracle asked, looking as if he wanted to understand.
“It is, Oracle. I find it even stranger than you do.”
Joonmyun asked an odd question, every now and then. Or rather, it was perfectly normal questions, but it gave Jongdae a distinct feeling of unease.
How’d you meet Sehun? How long do you know Sehun?
Normal everyday questions, really, but not ones he had any answers to.
Which is more than a little weird. It’s not like Sehun just popped up somewhere. Jongdae knows he first met Sehun when he started frequenting the coffee shop a block over from his apartment, but the rest of the timeline, and everything else, is all messed up. And it leaves him feeling uneasy.
The Dancer ran under night’s cover.
He hadn’t seen him in so long, feeling as if he were holding his breath this entire time. He wasn’t a fool; he knew it was no accidental thing. He was hiding, hiding away from him.
But his lover takes him too lightly; he would take on all the gods to see him.
Kai wrapped his arm around his lover’s waist.
“How suspect.” He murmured against the soft skin of his shoulder.
“Suspect?”
“Yes,” Kai replied, pressing his lips fully against the skin. “Tell me, Dancer, how is it that no one has kept a bed with you?”
The Dancer wanted to laugh, at the small sense of pity he felt for this god. He was the same, not too long ago, bedding whoever appealed to him, before discarding them out of boredom. They immortals, with their immortal games, and their eternal cruelty. These poor immortals, even the immortal goddess of Love; how sad it is to live eternally, never having felt love.
Never having known love.
“The answer is simple enough,” he said instead, “There has never been anyone worthy.”
Kai smiled, and the Dancer had never seen a sight as beautiful as it was terrible to see.
“I should thank my stars, then.”
“Hm.”
“What?” Jongdae frowned as he watched Joonmyun frown reading his newest chapter.
“No, it’s just-your stories haven’t been this... dark before?”
“Is that a question?”
“Isn’t it? Doesn’t seem like it’ll have a good ending.”
Jongdae sighed, “I don’t think any of them has ever had a good ending.”
Sometimes, and Jongdae’s sure he doesn’t even notice, but sometimes Sehun would say something and he’d stare at Jongdae afterwards, a bit contemplative. It felt like he was picking him apart, looking for something specific, before he turned away, disappointment quiet in the way he stood.
And Jongdae felt, well, he felt confused.
Confused by his emotional response to this, every single time; a hollow kind of pain, followed by a quiet sadness, and then by an immense sense of relief.
But Jongdae’s a writer. As a kid, whenever he couldn’t make sense of what was what, he’d write it down, and somehow, it always used to help him clear things out. But each and every time he takes a moment to try and write it all out, he’s left with only two questions, glaring at him from the page, as if they were accusing him of a crime.
What does any of it mean?
And where does Sehun fit in any of it?
Suho sighed, “This is all-unjust. And one god cannot stand all that is unjust.”
The guardian fingered the many scrolls strewn across the marble surface, before he turned to glance back at the Singer.
“I have no confidence that she will help you or stand by you. I can only say that she will not overlook you. She despises these games they play.”
“You have caught the eye of the gods, Dancer.” He whispered, hand tracing the ruins of an old temple, struck down in a god’s rage.
The world has always been the gods playing field, but unlike his brother, he was not foolish. He will not play.
The Dancer looked furious, eyes darker than he ever remembers seeing. “I will not stand by idly, as you throw us away.”
The Singer glared in return, “You will go against-”
“I will.”
“Then you are just as foolish as everyone else. How would you stand against the greatest of them? What good would war bring?” The Singer laughed bitterly, furiously blinking away tears.
The Dancer shook his head, “I love you, and this love,” he whispered as he fisted the white draped across his heart, “is-is all I have. It is all I have ever wanted.”
The singer shook his head, stepping back further and away from him.
“Do you not,” the Dancer whispered, voice ragged, “Do you not love me, as I do you?”
“Please-” the Singer begged.
“Tell me,” the dancer whispered, trapping the Singer against a ruined pillar, “Do not lie.”
The Singer shook his head. His lover was much too beautiful. He found that no one shined as beautifully as he when he graced him with a smile.
But they would bring each other to ruin, by the gods hands, much like this temple.
He needs to lie. He needs to be cruel. Love is not enough.
But he cannot.
“I do.” He whispered, wrapping his hand around his lover’s neck, and pressing his lips to his. The smile he felt pressed upon his lips was all he could ever want. And in this moment, he allowed himself to believe that he could have it.
“Where have you been?” Sehun asked, his voice level, but his body trembled with a quiet anger. His eyes were hooded, but they couldn’t hide the deeply set fear.
“Around.” Jongdae lied.
Why? He wanted to scream it. Why is this happening? Why do I feel the way I do?
Why do I love you so much. But instead, he found himself lying, and watching the fight drain out of Sehun’s shoulders.
Why?
He ran.
As fast as his legs would carry him.
He ran.
As if Cerberus was at his heels.
He would not be caught, not again. He knows that this has already gone too far. He has allowed it for too long.
He refuses.
He will not be the death of him. His heart will simply not allow it. If he were to die, so be it.
But he would die alone.
So, he will run. Run far, far away, to a place where even Zeus cannot reach him.
He’ll run to a faraway place.
Even if it ended up killing him.
But then, he supposes, he should have known.
He would never allow it; this separation.
No, the Singer broke, seeing his beloved standing at the edge of the waterfront, between him and his boat to elsewhere.
“Why do you do this?” The Dancer asked, hurt and anger resonating in his words.
“You know,” the Singer whispered, eyes filled with the pain he refuses to be known.
“No,” he vehemently denied, refusing to acknowledge what was always meant to happen.
“Yes,” the Singer replied, eyes dark and cold as he said, “I will go. I will not stay here.”
“And I will die.” His lover replied, head held high, eyes clear as he spoke what he knew was true.
You play at the games the gods do. Be cruel, be unkind, and only then can you save him.
“Then so be it.” The Singer replied.
This god, Light, circled him, predatory and cruel in the way he smiled.
“Many others have taken an interest in you.” he murmured, his fingertips, beautiful as a rose and just as cruel, caressing his throat.
“I can see why. You’re beautiful, and alluring, even by gods’ standards. How strange.”
“My husband-has been captivated by your dance and beauty. It’s given him a desire-to own you. But what, am I to do with that, Dancer?” he smiled, tapping his fingertips against the Dancer’s throat.
“What is the point of this, Light? What is it you think I am doing?” The Dancer asked, watching Light carefully. He knew gods have gone to the edges of war for silly lust affairs, and he no longer has any interest in playing.
“Hmm.” Light hummed, reaching to finger the amethyst hanging around his neck, before he smiled.
“Let us keep it that way, shall we? I would be loathe to start a war against my own brother.” He smiled again, eyes as equally dead as his husband’s.
“As would I.”
“Wonderful.” Light said, before he leaned closer, “You are quite beautiful brother, a true pity. But I hope to never see your face again.”
“Light isn’t always good.” Jongdae felt the need to explain.
Joonmyun only raised his eyebrow, “I know. That’s a common misconception; that dark means bad and light means good. The only difference between the two is that people are a bit more hesitant to do bad in the light, where they can be seen. In the dark, they don’t have the same problem.”
“Yeah.” Jongdae mumbled, leaning backwards against his chair.
“You okay, Jongdae?” Joonmyun asked, eyebrows furrowed in way they do when Jongdae gets too quiet.
“Fine.”
Nemesis... was not as unkind as many believed her to be. She pitied the Singer; love was a dangerous game in the world of gods, especially if a god found one of the pair to be alluring.
She had been watching, quietly, but her heart grew heavier each day.
Yes, Nemesis has caused an indescribable amount of pain, but still, she was not unkind.
So she did the only thing she could think to do.
She hid his lover.”
Title: I Saw You (Time and Time again)
Pairing: Chen/Sehun
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Twists and inaccuracies to Greek mythology, angst, loopholes
Word count:4051
Summary: Remember me already.
Author's note: To my prompter, I can’t apologize enough! This is probably not what you wanted, but I tried my best, and this isn’t the final edit, so please give it a try! To the ever wonderful M, thank you for that constant shoulder! Without your optimism, I have no idea where I would be! And especially thanks to the mods for running this round, and for their infinite patience and understanding! I am so sorry for all the trouble, and again, thank you so much!
“You’ll damn us both.” He whispered, his eyes filled with tears, fearing what he knew was to come.
“Yes,” his lover said, beautiful in the moonlight, his hair shining no differently than that of the stars across the evening sky.
“Yes,” his lover repeated, moving closer still, leaning his head against his beloveds, “But at least then, love, I will have you.”
“A Greek mythology based love story?” Joonmyun asked, eyebrow raised as he skimmed Jongdae’s script.
“Yeah. I know that that genre isn’t anything new, but it just came to me and I couldn’t stop it. Didn’t really want to either.” Jongdae shrugged, balancing his pencil between his fore and middle fingers.
“Well,” Joonmyun began, leaning back in his chair, “I’ve gotta say Jongdae, that this is really good. Everything seems so real; the colours, the scenery, the emotions.”
“But?” Jongdae said, already having anticipated this.
“But,” Joonmyun said, resting his forearms on his desk, “What makes this different? This is the sixth story you’ve brought to me in less than that many months. But I’m not seeing any ending to any of these. And instead of focusing on trying to find an ending, you keep bringing me a completely different story.”
Joonmyun exhaled, before he asked, “How do I know-or better yet, how do you know, that this is going to be any different?”
“I guess-I don’t?” Jongdae sighed, leaning over the table to grab his script.
“It just-this feels more real than anything else.”
“Yeah,” Joonmyun replied, “Yeah, it does. What inspired this anyway?”
“Well, I finally got around to doing some spring cleaning, you know. A year late, but better late than never, I guess. One of the boxes had some of my old textbooks, one about Greek mythology. And after that, I guess it just happened?” Jongdae pursed his lips.
Joonmyun leaned against his chair, lips pursed and eyes furrowed, before he nodded.
“Just happened, huh.”
It was more than that.
It was a deep, aching feeling that echoed through him, leaving him tattered around the edges. That bone deep feeling of déjà vu raced through him, leaving him feeling irritated, and almost angry.
Sometimes writers become overly emotionally involved, is what Joonmyun used to say when Jongdae went on to try and describe the insane emotions he felt.
But it was so much more than that this time.
He could, to a certain extent, buy into whatever Joonmyun would say, even when his heart rebelled against it. But this was-this was too different.
This was too real. He could almost-he could almost taste the colours he saw in his head, and felt like he could touch the warmth that radiated in and around him.
He also felt as if his heart were drowning in the deep inky depths of fear.
But he couldn’t stop, not now.
Even though he had no idea where it would lead him.
He danced with such beauty, bewitching all who watched, setting flame to rumours of trades with the darkness, with evil itself.
Watching, as entranced as the people were, the singer felt something pull in him. Of course, glancing at the people around him, he was sure they felt what he did. Why wouldn’t they, when even the gods were entranced by this god, a silver haired dancer?
The Singer felt like lying under the starry night sky; imagining what it would be like to love someone as beautiful as that. To be loved by someone as hauntingly beautiful as he.
A dream never hurt anyone too badly, he was sure. No one would punish him for it.
The Singer felt himself shake, all the way to his heart.
The rumours must be true, about trades with evil. There is no other explanation as to why the Singer would be swayed like this. This god is as every other god, cruel and vicious, hidden beneath an ethereal beauty.
He will not be fooled.
“If you’re gonna spread your obvious misery, can’t you do it somewhere else?” A voice deadpanned, and Jongdae blinked.
“Sehun.” Jongdae acknowledged with a nod, looking up into the face of a disgruntled barista, before he turned back to glance outside the window, knowing that it would get on the young barista’s nerves.
“Listen, you’re being irritating. How about I give you a free coffee and then I’ll pretend to care about your feelings and pretend to listen to you. Will you stop then?” Sehun rolled his eyes, barely glancing at Jongdae, and instead staring at his phone.
If it were anyone else, Jongdae might have been offended. But it’s Sehun, who’s kinda allergic to his own feelings, and being outright caring might actually kill him, so he puts up this act instead.
(After smiling and turning his offer down several times before, Sehun stopped, but Jongdae didn’t really think about it again.
Not until the second barista, Kyungsoo, came to tell him about it, and how Sehun seemed visibly depressed about it.
Jongdae was amused, and a bit intrigued. Intrigued enough to pretend he was feeling down, and then asked if Sehun was free to have a chat.
Sehun sighed and rolled his eyes a lot, but his bright red ears said a whole lot more.
Jongdae decided that Sehun was cute.)
“So what is it now? Can’t pinpoint Prince Charming’s eye colour?”
Jongdae laughed, “When have I ever mentioned anything like that?”
“I dunno. I thought it might be something as dull as that.” Sehun shrugged, munching on a muffin he had absolutely no intention of paying for.
Jongdae sighed softly, before he flinched under Sehun’s scrutiny.
“So, I guess I kinda dropped my story. Again. And started a new one. Again.”
“How interesting. This has only happened, what, four or five times before?”
“Six.”
“Even better. What is it this time? Impress me.”
“Greek mythology.” Jongdae sighed, eyes on Sehun.
But Sehun seemed almost frozen, his eyes dark.
“Sehun?” Jongdae called, reaching across the table to flick Sehun’s hand.
Sehun blinked a few times before he smiled, and said “Predictable.”
Jongdae smiled in return, but knew that this wasn’t Sehun’s real smile. His real smile was much smaller than this, but it showed in his eyes. But now, his eyes were carefully blank.
And Jongdae had no idea what to make of that.
“Brother!” The Singer heard his brother’s jovial call, but carried on his way still.
“I apologized, my dear brother, am I to believe that I am still not forgiven?” His brother asked, resting his armoured shoulder across his shoulder.
“There is nothing to be forgiven for, Victorious One.”
Viktor sighed, running a hand through his hair, “Must we do this each time I leave, and each time I return?”
“Of course not.”
“I do not understand you at all!” Viktor exclaimed, frustration knitting his brows, making him look exactly like the Victorious One that sent fear running wild in the heart’s of his enemies.
“Father, Mother, the Emperor-the people-all of them look to me with awe, with pride. I bring this land peace and success, why is it just you, brother, who looks to me with such discontent? I have always envied you, and the beauty that is your song. You too, brother, would earn the favour of the gods if you were only to sing.”
The Singer laughed, a quiet mocking sound, “I have no such desire, brother. I cannot understand the blindness of you and of all the people of this town. The gods are cruel, do you think that they see you as anything more than a puppet in the game of our lives?”
“Brother.” Viktor warned, eyes dark.
The Singer shook his head, “You are all fools. And one day, we will all pay for it.”
“You’re being weird. Weirder than usual, anyway. Did Jongdae reject you again?” Kyungsoo asked as he cleaned the counter.
“I’m fine.” Sehun sighed, feeling as if each of his limbs were much heavier than they were before.
“Sure you are, and I’m a super rich uni student but I choose to work here for kicks.” Kyungsoo deadpanned, face blank.
“Nice comparison.”
“Thanks. I think so, too.”
Sehun laughed, before he sighed again. “It’s not that I won’t talk to you, hyung. I can’t. It’s too complicated to put into words.”
“But it has something to do with Jongdae?” Kyungsoo asked, face sympathetic.
Sehun snorted, “It has everything to do with him.”
He had so much evil within himself, that he could only see evil in everyone else.
Even in this world, where he was surrounded by so many like him, the Dancer felt all alone. He wondered if it was just a rule to never speak of it, of the evil that resides within all of them.
The mortals were sad and pathetic in their ways, but so were the gods. They do not see all that they have. Who could want this meaningless immortal existence?
What was he to do? He wondered, pacing the mortal realm, what purpose could here find anywhere? If he played by the rules of man, it would be more than clear that he was undeserving. Still, he craved something, just to remind him that he was... living.
And after years of feeling the way the Dancer did, he came across something so beautiful, he feared it might be a dream.
He sang amongst the temples built in Poseidon’s name, on a night blessed with a full moon. He sang so beautifully, it seemed as if nature, the flowers and trees, and even the gentle evening breeze, were enchanted.
But the Singer knew not of his lone admirer.
“Right, right. And let me guess,” Sehun said, lanky form leaning over the back of the couch, “He wore dashing blue suit with flashy stripes of gold.” Sehun ended with a smirk.
Jongdae rolled his eyes, not bothering with a reply as his hand raced across the page, trying to get the words down before they’re gone. He wrote for a few more minutes, before he leaned back, pleased.
“I gave up on that story, already. I couldn’t find any ending. And besides, they weren’t flashy gold stripes.” Jongdae said, moving to pack his things away.
Sehun blinked, “What?”
“Not flashy gold stripes,” Jongdae huffed, struggling with his bag’s straps, “They were intricate swirls, gold, but with silver slivers.” He said, with absolute certainty.
“You-how do you know that?” Sehun whispered.
Jongdae looked at him funny, before he snorted.
“They’re my stories, Sehun.”
You have no idea.
Jongdae’s annoyed.
Sehun is simply annoying.
He is; Jongdae knows he is.
He shouldn’t-he knows he shouldn’t be as affected as he is; despises that he is.
But when Sehun laughs or smiles all innocent, the sun hitting his face just right-something tugs deep inside Jongdae, forcing him to stop for a moment to breathe.
This-something wasn’t right.
Of course, he’s never going to let Sehun know.
But it wasn’t because he was afraid what Sehun would say, or what Sehun would do.
This was a different kind of fear. The kind that made him wanna run, but the part that left him feeling confused and unexplainably exhausted, was that he didn’t want to run away from Sehun. He’s running away for Sehun.
And that-that shook him with a fear that haunted his dreams.
The Singer remembered the first time he saw him, all alone, without awed crowds and gods.
Waist deep in water as dark as the midnight sky, the moon’s reflection casting a pale glow around him, stars reflecting across the water, dotting his skin in starlight. Amongst the almost complete dark, his pale skin made it seem as if he were glowing.
Ethereal.
“Will you join me?” he asked, raising a pale hand to run through his equally pale, wet hair.
No, the Singer thought, he would not join. This-this felt too dangerous, too-
“Will you?” he whispered again, stretching a hand towards him, his eyes dark, holding him captivate.
“Yes.”
And that was the beginning and end of it all.
“-But in his world, of gods and their boredom and their childish games, it was only fitting that he fell in love with the one he was not allowed to have.”
Something didn’t sound right.
“Everything okay?” Sehun asked quietly, eyes on Jongdae, unreadable. Jongdae frowned.
That’s been happening more and more often; Sehun closing off.
Sometimes are you okay? would be right on the tip of Jongdae’s tongue, but the way Sehun’s eyes darkened, the way he somehow looked older, scared him more than he was willing to admit. So, he pretended he didn’t see anything, just like he pretended that Sehun’s eyes were not losing their light.
It’ll pass.
And everyone tells their own little lies to help them sleep better at night.
“Everything’s fine.”
“You are quite beautiful, Dancer.” Kai whispered, trailing a hand along his shoulders.
The Dancer knew better than to antagonize another god, especially one such as Kai. He has so much worth losing now.
“Surely you have a... lover?” Kai questioned, his eyes as dead as night.
Does it matter? But no, he would not antagonize another god. Especially one such as Kai.
“I do not.”
“Well,” Kai said, smile predatory, “Is that not perfect?”
Suho, the Oracle, did not turn as he addressed the Singer.
“If you continue down this path, you will lose terribly. The gods are cruel, and unforgiving.”
“Yes.” The Singer whispered, afraid to say anymore, lest his tears fall.
“What have you come for, Singer?” Suho asked, setting a lit candle afloat in the pond.
The Singer considered lying, but what would there be to be gained, when the Oracle already knew his hidden heart?
“How-how do I save us?” He found himself asking.
“You cannot.” Suho replied simply, lighting another candle and setting it afloat, “You can save yourself, but you would be unable to save him. Or you could save him, but not yourself. You cannot both be saved. The gods aren’t kind.”
Of course, the Singer knew this.
“How do I save him?”
“You run.”
“Run?” He asked, confused. How does one run from gods? “How will I be able to?”
“That will depend on how well you play at the games the gods do. Be cruel, be unkind, and only then can you save him.” Suho sighed, turning to face him.
“Strange, is it not?” Suho asked, tilting his face in a wonder-like fashion.
“Strange?”
“You, I imagine there is no one who detests the gods more than you, Singer. Yet here you are, trying to save a god. Is that not strange, do you think?” The Oracle asked, looking as if he wanted to understand.
“It is, Oracle. I find it even stranger than you do.”
Joonmyun asked an odd question, every now and then. Or rather, it was perfectly normal questions, but it gave Jongdae a distinct feeling of unease.
How’d you meet Sehun? How long do you know Sehun?
Normal everyday questions, really, but not ones he had any answers to.
Which is more than a little weird. It’s not like Sehun just popped up somewhere. Jongdae knows he first met Sehun when he started frequenting the coffee shop a block over from his apartment, but the rest of the timeline, and everything else, is all messed up. And it leaves him feeling uneasy.
The Dancer ran under night’s cover.
He hadn’t seen him in so long, feeling as if he were holding his breath this entire time. He wasn’t a fool; he knew it was no accidental thing. He was hiding, hiding away from him.
But his lover takes him too lightly; he would take on all the gods to see him.
Kai wrapped his arm around his lover’s waist.
“How suspect.” He murmured against the soft skin of his shoulder.
“Suspect?”
“Yes,” Kai replied, pressing his lips fully against the skin. “Tell me, Dancer, how is it that no one has kept a bed with you?”
The Dancer wanted to laugh, at the small sense of pity he felt for this god. He was the same, not too long ago, bedding whoever appealed to him, before discarding them out of boredom. They immortals, with their immortal games, and their eternal cruelty. These poor immortals, even the immortal goddess of Love; how sad it is to live eternally, never having felt love.
Never having known love.
“The answer is simple enough,” he said instead, “There has never been anyone worthy.”
Kai smiled, and the Dancer had never seen a sight as beautiful as it was terrible to see.
“I should thank my stars, then.”
“Hm.”
“What?” Jongdae frowned as he watched Joonmyun frown reading his newest chapter.
“No, it’s just-your stories haven’t been this... dark before?”
“Is that a question?”
“Isn’t it? Doesn’t seem like it’ll have a good ending.”
Jongdae sighed, “I don’t think any of them has ever had a good ending.”
Sometimes, and Jongdae’s sure he doesn’t even notice, but sometimes Sehun would say something and he’d stare at Jongdae afterwards, a bit contemplative. It felt like he was picking him apart, looking for something specific, before he turned away, disappointment quiet in the way he stood.
And Jongdae felt, well, he felt confused.
Confused by his emotional response to this, every single time; a hollow kind of pain, followed by a quiet sadness, and then by an immense sense of relief.
But Jongdae’s a writer. As a kid, whenever he couldn’t make sense of what was what, he’d write it down, and somehow, it always used to help him clear things out. But each and every time he takes a moment to try and write it all out, he’s left with only two questions, glaring at him from the page, as if they were accusing him of a crime.
What does any of it mean?
And where does Sehun fit in any of it?
Suho sighed, “This is all-unjust. And one god cannot stand all that is unjust.”
The guardian fingered the many scrolls strewn across the marble surface, before he turned to glance back at the Singer.
“I have no confidence that she will help you or stand by you. I can only say that she will not overlook you. She despises these games they play.”
“You have caught the eye of the gods, Dancer.” He whispered, hand tracing the ruins of an old temple, struck down in a god’s rage.
The world has always been the gods playing field, but unlike his brother, he was not foolish. He will not play.
The Dancer looked furious, eyes darker than he ever remembers seeing. “I will not stand by idly, as you throw us away.”
The Singer glared in return, “You will go against-”
“I will.”
“Then you are just as foolish as everyone else. How would you stand against the greatest of them? What good would war bring?” The Singer laughed bitterly, furiously blinking away tears.
The Dancer shook his head, “I love you, and this love,” he whispered as he fisted the white draped across his heart, “is-is all I have. It is all I have ever wanted.”
The singer shook his head, stepping back further and away from him.
“Do you not,” the Dancer whispered, voice ragged, “Do you not love me, as I do you?”
“Please-” the Singer begged.
“Tell me,” the dancer whispered, trapping the Singer against a ruined pillar, “Do not lie.”
The Singer shook his head. His lover was much too beautiful. He found that no one shined as beautifully as he when he graced him with a smile.
But they would bring each other to ruin, by the gods hands, much like this temple.
He needs to lie. He needs to be cruel. Love is not enough.
But he cannot.
“I do.” He whispered, wrapping his hand around his lover’s neck, and pressing his lips to his. The smile he felt pressed upon his lips was all he could ever want. And in this moment, he allowed himself to believe that he could have it.
“Where have you been?” Sehun asked, his voice level, but his body trembled with a quiet anger. His eyes were hooded, but they couldn’t hide the deeply set fear.
“Around.” Jongdae lied.
Why? He wanted to scream it. Why is this happening? Why do I feel the way I do?
Why do I love you so much. But instead, he found himself lying, and watching the fight drain out of Sehun’s shoulders.
Why?
He ran.
As fast as his legs would carry him.
He ran.
As if Cerberus was at his heels.
He would not be caught, not again. He knows that this has already gone too far. He has allowed it for too long.
He refuses.
He will not be the death of him. His heart will simply not allow it. If he were to die, so be it.
But he would die alone.
So, he will run. Run far, far away, to a place where even Zeus cannot reach him.
He’ll run to a faraway place.
Even if it ended up killing him.
But then, he supposes, he should have known.
He would never allow it; this separation.
No, the Singer broke, seeing his beloved standing at the edge of the waterfront, between him and his boat to elsewhere.
“Why do you do this?” The Dancer asked, hurt and anger resonating in his words.
“You know,” the Singer whispered, eyes filled with the pain he refuses to be known.
“No,” he vehemently denied, refusing to acknowledge what was always meant to happen.
“Yes,” the Singer replied, eyes dark and cold as he said, “I will go. I will not stay here.”
“And I will die.” His lover replied, head held high, eyes clear as he spoke what he knew was true.
You play at the games the gods do. Be cruel, be unkind, and only then can you save him.
“Then so be it.” The Singer replied.
This god, Light, circled him, predatory and cruel in the way he smiled.
“Many others have taken an interest in you.” he murmured, his fingertips, beautiful as a rose and just as cruel, caressing his throat.
“I can see why. You’re beautiful, and alluring, even by gods’ standards. How strange.”
“My husband-has been captivated by your dance and beauty. It’s given him a desire-to own you. But what, am I to do with that, Dancer?” he smiled, tapping his fingertips against the Dancer’s throat.
“What is the point of this, Light? What is it you think I am doing?” The Dancer asked, watching Light carefully. He knew gods have gone to the edges of war for silly lust affairs, and he no longer has any interest in playing.
“Hmm.” Light hummed, reaching to finger the amethyst hanging around his neck, before he smiled.
“Let us keep it that way, shall we? I would be loathe to start a war against my own brother.” He smiled again, eyes as equally dead as his husband’s.
“As would I.”
“Wonderful.” Light said, before he leaned closer, “You are quite beautiful brother, a true pity. But I hope to never see your face again.”
“Light isn’t always good.” Jongdae felt the need to explain.
Joonmyun only raised his eyebrow, “I know. That’s a common misconception; that dark means bad and light means good. The only difference between the two is that people are a bit more hesitant to do bad in the light, where they can be seen. In the dark, they don’t have the same problem.”
“Yeah.” Jongdae mumbled, leaning backwards against his chair.
“You okay, Jongdae?” Joonmyun asked, eyebrows furrowed in way they do when Jongdae gets too quiet.
“Fine.”
Nemesis... was not as unkind as many believed her to be. She pitied the Singer; love was a dangerous game in the world of gods, especially if a god found one of the pair to be alluring.
She had been watching, quietly, but her heart grew heavier each day.
Yes, Nemesis has caused an indescribable amount of pain, but still, she was not unkind.
So she did the only thing she could think to do.
She hid his lover.”