Summer 3/3

Yongguk gently traced the petals of the white flowers before summoning a cloud over the patch and letting rain fall over the flowers. It had only been a few days since he had asked Haseul to teach him how to look after the plants, just as Junhong and Youngjae had learnt before, and she had agreed immediately, her eyes watery with tears as she stared at him with sympathy.

It had taken everything in him not to break down again when she looked at him like that.

Yongguk was determined to look after the small patch of flowers. If he could not save Junhong, he could at least look after what his nymph had loved the most during his life. Even thinking about Junhong still made his eyes sting with unshed tears. He did not think the pain would ever go away, but realistically he knew he could swallow his heartbreak.

It would take decades, maybe centuries, but he would manage. It would take time.

Time.

Their love did not span even a year. Yongguk could not believe that it had only been that long – three brief seasons had felt like an eternity to him, when he had fallen so hard, so instantly, for the nymph. When he was with his lover, time did not even exist.

But now that he was alone, every second felt like a decade. He could not see anything like he used to, without his bright nymph by his side. He only felt numb.

The cloud disappeared as Yongguk curled up in a ball, remembering how excited Junhong had been when Haseul first told him that he could grow flowers without magic. He had been so energetic, so thrilled that Youngjae could learn a new skill alongside him. Junhong would always be remembered by Yongguk as that selfless, loving nymph.

The god’s nails curled into his palms, drawing crescent-shaped marks of blood, but he could not feel it.

He heard footsteps near him but did not react.

“You’re pathetic,” a familiar deep voice growled from above him. Still, the god did not bother looking up.

“Leave, Yongnam,” he spat, eyes dark with sorrow. When he spoke, his voice sounded strange, like he was listening to someone else speak. He had not heard his own voice in days – he hadn’t needed to.

Instead of following his words, his brother sat down in front of him, his usual smirk nowhere to be seen. Yongguk visibly tensed when he realised his brother’s seriousness, but he snarled threateningly, “If you are here to gloat, I will not hear it.”

Yongnam put up his hands in a mock-surrender.

“You need not speak for me, brother,” he said, crossing his legs elegantly. Yongnam sighed, gazing over the patches of flowers that Youngjae and Junhong had planted. “He died here, did he not?”

Yongguk’s anger flared, and he glared at his brother, not bothering to reply. “What are you doing here?” he demanded, and Yongnam lifted his shoulders in a casual shrug.

“Waiting.”

Yongguk stared at him distrustfully but did not ask for more. He would not waste words on his brother, regardless of how strange he was acting. To his annoyance, Yongnam simply sat back and relaxed, his eyes trained on his brother. He did not move, even as Yongguk’s eyes stared at him for minutes on end.

Yongguk clenched his jaw, upset that he had been disturbed, but too stubborn to request Yongnam to leave again.

He had been sitting next to Junhong’s white flowers for days, and he couldn’t remember the last time he had gotten up to walk around. A few metres away were the flowers that had grown from Junhong’s blood, but they had not needed the same care that the white flowers needed. Even as the burning sun beat down on their fragile petals, they had not wilted.

Yongguk had watered them too, but even looking at them reminded him of memories he had tried to cast away.

He should have treasured Junhong more, protected him from everything and anyone. It was his fault that Junhong was trapped in the Underworld the first time, since he had not warned him of Yongnam. It was his fault that Junhong was killed by Sanghyun, because he was too late to save him. It was his fault that Junhong felt pressured to live an eternity dead in the Underworld. Everything was his fault.

If Yongguk had not interfered with Junhong’s life at all, if he had not seen him that day when he was caught in the human trap, he would not have fallen so hopelessly in love with the nymph – Junhong would have been happy.

The red flowers were only a bitter reminder of the future Yongguk had stolen from his lover.

Absorbed in his own thoughts, Yongguk did not notice Yongnam’s back straightening until he sensed something else.

“What did you do?” he asked Yongnam, his heartbeat quickening. He had not felt this sensation in millennia – the sensation of death receding. On the Surface, death always followed him, especially around plants and animals – but now, he could barely feel its presence at all.

He climbed to his feet, holding onto a nearby tree for support.

Yongnam did not say anything, even as Yongguk stumbled a few metres away, to the patch of blood-red flowers. Yongguk’s heart stopped when he realised they were fading, along with the aura of death that always surrounded them.

His hands desperately grasped at their stalks, but his fingers slipped through their image, as if they were only his imagination. Before Yongguk could cry out, they disappeared between his fingers, like they had never existed. His breath rushed from his body, and he stilled as he stared at his empty, shaking hands, holding nothing but air.

The flowers were Junhong’s last creation.

A strangled moan tore from his throat, and he collapsed on his knees. He could not even protect Junhong’s flowers.

The god was too distraught to register the distant feeling of death fully pulling away from his surroundings, until all he could sense was life bursting forward, ripping through the path between the Underworld and the Surface. A beam of light blinded his sight, and words died on his tongue.

All he could feel was Junhong. All around him was the feeling of his lost lover, crossing the boundary between death and life, struggling to be set free.

He could not see anything, but his hands reached forward nonetheless, until he felt the soft fabric of Junhong’s tunic. A body surged forward against his and two hands cupped his cheeks, before he felt a kiss press on his lips.

“Junhong,” he whispered in disbelief. “My love.”

“Yongguk,” a broken voice replied, and Yongguk’s arms immediately circled the nymph’s. The light disappeared, but all Yongguk could care about was Junhong, Junhong, Junhong.

His nymph was in his arms.

Alive.

“You are here,” he said shakily. He held Junhong tightly against his chest, the nymph’s form skinnier than he remembered. The god inhaled, taking in his sweet and floral scent. He could not believe he was not hallucinating. “My precious nymph,” he breathed, not believing his senses. “It’s really you.”

“You bastard,” Junhong sobbed into his neck. The pain in his voice struck Yongguk like a whip. “You let me go.”

Yongguk’s chest constricted and his arms tightened, “I made a mistake, my love. I knew it was a mistake as soon as I did it. I could not live without you.”

“Then why?” Junhong’s voice broke. “I loved you, my lord. You said... you said we were meant to be together. You promised.”

“We are,” Yongguk said fiercely, his fingers holding onto Junhong’s arm protectively. “We still are. Give me a second chance, Junhong. I will prove it. Nothing like this will ever happen again.”

It seemed the nymph had already forgiven him, since he wasn’t releasing the god from his hold. He embraced him tightly, so emotional that he had no control over his powers. Hundreds of bright, colourful flowers spread from the grass where they were sitting, reaching out to metres away, where Yongnam was – but neither Yongguk nor Junhong looked up from where they were staring at each other.

“I love you so much, my lord,” the nymph cried, pressing himself into every space between them, until there was not an inch between them. Yongguk could feel the warmth of Junhong’s skin, his chest lifting and rising with every breath.

He was a god, but he wished there was somebody he could pray to – somebody he could thank for this gift.

“You are alive!” he whispered, still not over his shock. “I... cannot believe it.” Yongguk had truly exhausted all of his connections trying to find a way to heal Junhong from death – but even Himchan, the best healer in the universe, could not.

Junhong gasped softly, as he finally pulled back to see the flowers swirling around them. At the same time, a gust of wind flew by them courtesy of Yongguk, ruffling their hair and cooling them from the extreme heat.

The nymph looked incredulous, staring at his hands as a flower crown appeared – the same one with pink and white flowers that he had gifted Yongguk so many moons ago. Junhong stared at his hands for a moment, feeling the rush of nature around him, welcoming him back home.

Yongguk lowered his head as Junhong laid the flower crown in his hair. “You must not blame yourself anymore,” he whispered softly, and Yongguk’s heart clenched. Junhong would not trust him as easily as he did before – but he deserved it. He would work tirelessly to make sure that he could protect Junhong and gain his trust back.

“Make one for yourself, nymphling,” he murmured, unable to help himself from leaning forward and connecting their lips once again. He had missed everything about Junhong, but the taste of his kiss was something he had missed the most.

When he pulled back, a flower crown was resting on Junhong’s head. He lifted his hand to admire it, before cupping the nymph’s face.

“You are a miracle,” he told him earnestly, watching as the nymph’s eyes, wide and innocent, met his. Junhong’s face was flushed pink from when he had cried earlier, but he smiled at Yongguk’s words, eyes softening.

“A miracle made from sacrifice,” Yongnam scoffed from behind him, finally speaking. Yongguk had forgotten his brother was even present, too absorbed with his beloved nymph. The lord of the Underworld turned slightly to face Yongnam but did not move. Junhong was still perched on his lap, and both of them were unwilling to part.

Yongguk gave his brother a questioning look – although it quickly dawned on him that Yongnam had played a part in returning his lover. He had mysteriously appeared moments before Junhong was resurrected, after all.

“You must thank your healer,” the Sea God said coldly, crossing his arms.

“Himchan did this?” Yongguk’s eyes widened, and Junhong nodded into his neck, snuffling slightly. The god hugged him tighter, and Junhong mumbled into his skin.

“He sacrificed himself,” Yongnam said, but he could not keep the tremor out of his voice. He could not even meet his brother in the eye. “He sacrificed himself to save your nymph. To save you, Yongguk, and the thousands of humans who were haunted.”

Yongguk stared at him in confusion. His arms were still wrapped tight around his nymph, who was suddenly quiet.

Yongnam said finally, “Himchan is dead.”

Junhong’s head lifted from Yongguk’s skin, tear tracks down his face. Yongguk had frozen beneath him.

“He healed Junhong from Asphodel,” the Lord of the Underworld said, watching as Yongnam nodded solemnly. “No... He could not have. Jongup...”

“Is in mourning.”

Yongguk looked horrified, clutching onto Junhong tighter. The nymph swallowed, looking confused.

“That cannot be,” Junhong finally spoke, his voice scratchy. Yongguk lifted a gentle hand to the nymph’s shoulder, worried that he would feel guilty.

“Junhong...”

“No,” Junhong’s voice rose, staring directly at Yongnam. “It is impossible.”

Yongnam snarled, sick of the nymph’s denial, “You would have seen him enter Asphodel, nymph! He healed you!”

Yongguk tensed at his raised voice, but he did not stop the fight. Yongnam had been overly-obsessed with Himchan for centuries, but he had been infatuated with him. Even if it was unhealthy, it would be unfair of Yongguk to criticise his brother for lashing out.

“He did not enter.” Junhong stated firmly, gaze levelled with the God of the Seas. Yongnam opened his mouth to argue, but Junhong cut him off, “I had been weeping on Asphodel’s docks for days. I had not left to find my nymphai nor play in the meadow, because I had waited for Yongguk to come back and fetch me.”

Yongguk flinched. He could not have entered Asphodel, nor forced Junhong back on the boat, even if he had tried.

“That is not the issue,” Junhong dismissed his lover when he tried to tell him so. He turned to Yongnam instead. “So if he reached out across the docks to heal me, but did not leave the boat, would he have been accepted by Asphodel?”

Yongnam’s mouth was open, and he looked at Yongguk for an answer.

“The Underworld loves technicalities,” the Lord murmured, looking worried. He looked at Junhong, whose eyes were wide with hope. “If he did not enter Asphodel, I believe he should still be alive.”

“I saw him return,” Junhong said, nodding in agreement. “He turned back and told me he would see me again.” Yongguk brushed his lips against the nymph’s cheek, grateful that he had managed to calm Yongnam down.

Barely a second passed before Yongnam had straightened and stared down at the two lovers.

“Bring me back,” Yongnam said instantly. “Take me to the Underworld to see him.”

Yongguk glanced at Junhong, unsure if the nymph would want to return to Hell, but his lover only nodded in agreement. Like always, Junhong was selfless and loving, caring about others before himself.

The god removed both of their crowns, not wanting them to disintegrate, and in an instant, they were in the Underworld.

When Yongguk oriented himself, he was met with a shock.

“What...” Junhong immediately breathed, seeing the destroyed rubble around them. The castle had completely collapsed, the black stone crumbled and shattered. Some had even fallen into the water. Yongguk’s castle was unrecognisable – it was no longer the tall, proud palace it had once been.

 His heart rate picked up and Yongguk squeezed his hand, knowing he was frightened. The castle was the least of his worries right now – his gaze immediately narrowed onto the kneeling messenger god by the docks, who was heaving dry sobs.

He released Junhong’s hand.

“Jongup,” Yongguk called, striding over to where the crying god was kneeling. The messenger god did not look up, his fists clenched into tighter fists where they were beside him.

Yongguk swallowed. It pained him to see his best friend like this, when he was usually so stoic and proud. He had never seen him in so much pain.

“He isn’t dead.”

Jongup did not move.

His shoulders did not relax, nor did he look up. He was still, and silent, if not for his uneven breaths.

“Junhong told me that he saw Himchan return on the boat,” the god continued. “He did not enter the island but healed him from the boat. He should be alive.”

Jongup shook his head, still not looking up.

Behind them, Yongnam’s arm knocked into Junhong’s, and he raised a shaking hand. The nymph followed the man’s pointed finger to the river, where the only thing they could see was an empty boat, floating back to land.

Junhong gasped quietly, stumbling back in shock. Yongguk was frozen still, unable to react.

“But I saw him... he said he would come back,” the nymph whispered, and Yongnam set a hand on his shoulder, silently telling him to be silent.

In front of them, Jongup released a pained wail, curling into himself.

His lover was gone.

Junhong could not remain on his feet, to watch the boat return. He sunk to the floor, unable to stop choked sobs from escaping him. Yongnam had gone deathly silent, and Yongguk was frozen still.

Yet, despite their sorrow, all four watched as the boat rocked back to the docks, until it hit the wood with a loud noise, shaking the ground that they stood on.

Junhong watched in confusion as Yongguk immediately stiffened, and Jongup shot up as well. He had no time to question what was going on when the messenger god rushed down to the boat, but he knew that both Yongguk and Jongup had a sense for everything that happened on the Underworld’s main island.

Seconds later, Jongup emerged, picking up a body from the boat. In his arms lay Himchan, limp and unmoving.

The nymph gasped – he had immediately assumed from the empty boat that Himchan had disappeared, but he had not thought that the half-god was lying on the bottom. To his relief, the Atlantean was still breathing, although he was unconscious.

Jongup held his lover tightly, but he cleared a spot on the ground before he laid his lover down. Himchan’s head rolled to the side, and the messenger god parted his hair away from his eyes.

“Will he heal?” Yongnam asked worriedly, hovering behind them. He knew better than to come too close, especially when Jongup was emotional.

Yongguk bit his lip and nodded. “He is exhausted, but healthy. He will heal easily.” He walked over to Junhong’s side, as the nymph wrapped his arms around his middle. They both breathed a sigh of relief.

Jongup did not know what to do, other than place his hands on Himchan’s chest, feeling him breathe slowly. He took comfort in the fact that his lover would be safe, but he could not stand by and do nothing.

He looked at Yongguk whilst silently pushing the boundary between the Underworld and the Surface. The Surface was Himchan’s home, and Jongup frankly felt uncomfortable keeping him in the Underworld, around sharp rocks and broken brick.

At Yongguk’s single nod, they all returned to the Surface, back to the Junhong’s meadow. Jongup had not spared much thought to their location, but knew that this place, hidden by thick forests, would be the safest.

The messenger god ensured that Himchan was comfortable and pillowed his head on his lap.

Junhong twitched, as if unable to stop himself from trying to help out – at once, he created leaves and folded them until they formed a cup, trotting over to Yongnam to fill it up with water.

The water god did so without any hesitation, and Junhong’s eyes softened as he saw the water flowing from his hands. He was reminded of his mother’s powers as a water nymph, and how she used to splash cold water on him whenever he acted up as a child.

Once the cup was filled, the nymph gave the cup to Jongup, before creating a fruit and giving that to him as well.

“Its sweetness will give him energy, when he wakes,” Junhong said, his eyes showing his sympathy. Jongup took his gifts gratefully, and Junhong returned to Yongguk’s side.

Together they waited, until they saw the first signs of Himchan waking up. It may have taken a few minutes or an hour – but time stood still for all of them. Slowly, the half-god’s eyelids fluttered open, and a weak groan escaped his lips. All of them stiffened in an instant when he tried to speak but could only cough.

Jongup supported him, cupping his cheek and bringing the cup of water up to his lips. The Atlantean drank greedily, finishing the water in seconds, but Junhong readily provided another cup, which Yongnam gladly filled, before giving it to Himchan.

Jongup set on peeling the fruit – it seemed to have inedible skin – whilst Junhong kneeled down next to the half-god.

“I cannot thank you enough,” he whispered gratefully, as Himchan’s grip on his hand tightened. The half-god smiled weakly at him but did not have the energy to speak yet. Slowly, Yongguk moved forward as well, resting a hand on the Atlantean’s shoulder in thanks.

Jongup brought a piece of the fruit up to his lips, and he ate slowly, slumping against his lover in exhaustion. The messenger god ran his spare hand through Himchan’s hair as he fed him, finally smiling as Himchan hummed happily.

“I love you so much,” was all Jongup could say, his voice broken – and Junhong suddenly felt like he was witnessing a very intimate moment, one which he should not see. He averted his eyes as the two lovers kissed, but he could sense the relief in their affection.

“Let us leave them alone,” Yongnam said suddenly, and Yongguk looked at him in surprise.

The water god seemed much more mature than he did mere months ago, and when Yongguk looked at him, he could see his brother smiling sadly at the two on the floor. Neither Jongup nor Himchan protested, simply content in each other’s presence.

Yongnam looked up, back towards Junhong. “I actually have two people who would love to see you, nymph.”

Junhong’s eyes widened, and both brothers looked at him in amusement.

“JUNHONG!”

“YOUNGJAE!”

Yongguk beamed as he saw the two rush towards each other, embracing each other in the middle of the beach. From behind Youngjae, Daehyun emerged from the rock pool, watching the two best friends interact with the same affectionate expression.

“He is the mastermind behind Junhong’s resurrection,” Yongnam told Yongguk, and the Death God blinked. “He ordered me to retrieve Hyunwoo and teach Himchan how to heal Junhong from death.”

Yongguk’s lips quirked with a smile. That sounded like Youngjae as well – loyal to Junhong, even past death, and scarily intelligent.

Daehyun walked towards the two brothers, before he came to a stop. “I... I would like to thank the both of you. For returning Junhong...” He bit his lip, unsure of what else to say. He knew that Yongguk disliked him greatly, and Yongnam could not care for him – but he wanted to thank them for returning Youngjae’s happiness as well.

To his surprise, Yongguk simply rested a hand on the human’s shoulders, having forgiven him after all that had happened. “You must take care of Youngjae,” he said warmly, looking upon the two friends who had not yet released each other. Daehyun followed his gaze, smiling at the sight of his secret love being happy.

“I will,” he promised.

Tucked in Junhong’s embrace, Youngjae tilted his head when he heard Daehyun speak, but he was quickly distracted by Junhong. It had been a little over a week since they saw each other, but it definitely felt like too long. Their eyes were watery with unshed tears, and their smiles were as wide as their faces.

“So, are you two together yet?” Junhong whispered in his ear, and Youngjae blushed.

“No... but soon, hopefully,” he said shyly, his cheeks a dusty pink. Junhong cooed, and Youngjae looked down, “I think he likes me back, Junhong.”

“I know he does,” the nymph laughed, looking up just in time to see Daehyun staring at the human, before his eyes flickered away. “He definitely does.”

Youngjae blushed yet again, eyes shyly meeting Daehyun’s. Junhong could barely contain his squeal – he felt so proud of Youngjae, who had grown up from an outcast in his town, to someone who had fallen in love with his childhood prince.

“You will be courted by a prince,” he said dreamily, already imagining their future. Youngjae had grown up so fast.

“And you have been courted by a god,” Youngjae in return, and the both of them smiled brightly at each other, almost in disbelief. It had been a year since they had just been two best friends, separated by species, but now they were free to see each other whenever they wanted, and free to be with their respective lovers.

“It has been a long year,” Junhong said finally, eyes tearing up as he spoke what was on Youngjae’s mind.

“It has been a year’s worth of experiences, to say the least,” the human answered, head turned slightly to look at Daehyun, where he was standing with Yongguk and Yongnam. He turned back to Junhong, who hugged him tighter.

It may have been a long year full of trial, darkness and death, but it was also one of friendship, freedom and love. And throughout it all, they always had each other.

Thank you for reading!

I do have an idea for an epilogue, but I'm not sure if I'll ever write it. I do really like how this ends, as it is, because Youngjae and Junhong are honestly my favourite relationship in this fic!

Keep an eye out for any other fics I might write, I definitely have a few lined up for banglo in the future :) Follow me on tumblr or twitter for some updates!