Before Heechul met Han Geng, he would have claimed—boasted, even—to anyone that he was far too worthy for the touch of a mortal’s hands, or their affection. How wrong he was, he realized when he happened to spare a fleeting glance down at ancient China and spotted him, an impossible perfection in a world so imperfect.

He had descended at once, with every intention of charming Han Geng into his bed; little did he suspect that the other man would have lured Heechul right into his very heart.

Han Geng adjusts quite quickly to having a god for a boyfriend, and frequents Heechul’s palace far more often than any of his previous lovers. As a result, Heechul often finds himself taking on a mortal form in order to properly love and become closer to his human paramour. This becomes such a prevalence that Heechul makes a habit of walking around his home (which he remodels to better suit Han Geng’s accommodations) as a mortal, even when Han Geng isn’t there.

"Be wary, brother," Jongwoon warns him solemnly. "You are becoming too human, and too detached from your status as a god. You may lose your powers if you keep consorting with the mundane."

"He’s not as mundane as you,” Heechul retorts. “And don’t tell me how to live my life!”

It isn’t as worrying to him as it should be, the thought that he might become completely human; after all, is being mortal really such a bad thing?

"What in Jungsu’s name has he done to you?" Kyuhyun asks, thunderstruck, when Heechul poses the very same question to him. "Before you met Han Geng, you wouldn’t even look twice at a mortal, let alone consider becoming one!"

It’s true, and there is no denying it. Han Geng is an incredibly humbling presence, often pointing out that gods are very much like humans in their actions and desires.

"Is it true that the first humans were made in the images of gods?" Han Geng asks one day. He’s unclothed and stretched out across Heechul’s bed unabashedly; an equally Heechul lies on his side, loving fingers through Han Geng’s tousled hair.

"Of course not," Heechul snorts. "The first humans were rejected gods, those who were too weak to remain in the sky and instead fell to the earth to worship those who had once been their comrades. Besides, gods have more than enough to worry about without deliberately creating a whole new species to wreak havoc in this world."

"Does it work the other way around, then?" Han Geng says. "Can a human become a god?" He hesitated for a fraction of a second. "Could I?"

Heechul hasn’t thought of that. “I haven’t the slightest clue.”

"I thought gods were supposed to be all-knowing," Han Geng smirks.

"Humans have overestimated us so much," Heechul replies with a long-suffering sigh. "Just because we send hurricanes when we’re angry doesn’t mean we’re privy to the secrets of the universe! Honestly."

But Han Geng’s question lingers in Heechul’s mind for weeks, and finally one day, overwhelmed with curiosity and an insatiable longing, he requests a meeting with the supreme god, Jungsu.

"Well, I don’t see why not."

Heechul, who had been prepared for the worst, looks up at him, almost not daring to believe it.

"I’ve been watching you two for a while," Jungsu says, eyes twinkling kindly, and Heechul feels hope welling up in his chest. "Han Geng does seem to have more of a god left in him than most humans. I’ll see if something can’t be arranged."

The transition is both heart-wrenching and hysterical—Han Geng experiences unpredictable mood swings, lashing out at Heechul one moment and kissing him senseless the next. He learns to control his emotions in a few weeks, his strength in a few months (Heechul loses track of how many cups he breaks after the seventy-sixth one shatters two inches from his ear when Han Geng hurls it at him during one of his meltdowns), but what takes the longest for Han Geng to get used to is embracing his new status as an eternal being. Heechul has to urge him again and again not to go down to Earth and tell his former friends and family that they don’t have to pray to him for answers, that he’s still the same Han Geng as before.

"But you’re not," Heechul tries to explain yet again, struggling to keep the exasperation from his voice. "You’re a god, and you can’t tell them not to pray to you, when everyone else still has to. That’s called favoritism, which is already really annoying in itself, but it’s basically illegal here. You’ll lose your immortality and Jungsu might lose faith in you. I don’t know if he’d give you a second try."

He bites his lip. “That’s what almost happened to me, don’t you see? I very nearly became a mortal because I gave you too much of myself. And if you became a mortal again, we wouldn’t be able to see each other anymore because I vouched for you.”

Heechul has to stop speaking so that Han Geng won’t hear the tremble in his voice, won’t guess the crippling fear that’s been eating at Heechul for days now, maybe even longer without him realizing: the dread that Han Geng, now entrusted with the abilities of a god, will tire of Heechul and be encumbered with the idea of spending an eternity with him, when there are so many other gods and a hundred times as many humans, literally an infinite number of possibilities, and he doesn’t want to think what would happen to himself if Han Geng—

"You idiot," and Heechul feels Han Geng land a carefully controlled punch to his gut that sends an entirely different sensation—something like painful joy—coursing through the same region. "Have you forgotten that I can read your mind now?"

"You—oh."

"Yeah, oh." Han Geng punches him again. "And I wouldn’t leave you for the world. This one, or any of the other worlds in the universe."

"You sure? I don’t know if I’m worth that much—"

"Liar," Han Geng replies, pulling him in for a kiss.