Archive of Our Own

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yoongi’s hair is of an icy rosé tone, fainter than a blush, as delicate to the eye as first snow melting on its way down, when they first meet. jungkook’s is black, as it’d always been, and he liked it that way. it helped when he needed to hide in the shadows, it didn’t sparkle in the gentle orange flame like yoongi’s. but it wasn’t nearly as beautiful, either. in the life of a demigod on the run very little was about beauty. very little could be when all was life and death, despair and loneliness. still, with the promise of a home came colorful hair and bonfire songs, he supposed. not that he took any part in it at first, not that he let others notice him hiding in the shadows, owl-like eyes sparking, swallowing the fire in desperate need for any warmth. but it never did quite work with yoongi. to him, jungkook was never invisible - he was seen, watched, cared for. yoongi caught him off guard most of the time - like when he parted with his friends and scooted over to the edge of the forest, offering jungkook a welcoming smile so tempting it almost lured him into the light. ‘hey there.’ the voice is almost a echo in the night, but it's also soft and deep, friendly and kind above all. jungkook feels tears prickle his eyes, partly because he thought he had been sneaky enough and it hurt his pride to be wrong, but mostly because no one had ever been kind towards him. ‘hi.’ and it starts like that, with yoongi offering a hand and jungkook considering to run. because it’s easier, he tells himself, because it’s always been so. because if he doesn’t run then he doesn’t know what to do. because staying is scarier than walking into a convenience store in the middle of the night, looking for anything that’ll fit inside his pockets and seeing a monster lurking in the shadows of a aisle, or in the corner of a mirror. staying is scarier than the fatigue of fights, than the possibility of death because if he stays he might find meaning to things, to himself. and it starts like this - yoongi seeing the reluctance in jungkook’s eyes and stepping back, giving him more than enough space to make a run for it. jungkook really considers it because he has never known otherwise, but something in yoongi’s stance is calming. now more than just welcoming, it’s inviting. it tells him he doesn’t have to stay, but if he does, good things might happen. and so it starts - jungkook thinks of running, but doesn’t. instead, he shakes yoongi’s hand and lets him show kook around, although it's a hurried affair at the late hour because there is a curfew and apparently this place comes with harpies that are allowed to eat you if they catch you out of bed at the wrong time. altogether it’s not the strangest thing jungkook has ever heard. no, of course it isn’t. it starts like this, but in some sense it started long ago. it started in ancient greece, where gods were reflection of men, where their flaws were amplified and multiplied, where rules were made to be followed but could bend quite well too. it started in the 90s with jungkook’s mom chasing a handsome stranger down the street, demanding his attention, and flirting to the best of her shameless ability. it started when he was born, and started when he first ran - the night his mother had parted with this world she told him, in confidence, just a weak whisper, that he was special because he was her precious son, but also because his dad had been special. she didn’t have the time to explain much, but life caught up with him in the south of tennessee and somewhere between the ten monsters trying to murder a homeless kid, he figured most of it out. someway, somehow, he made his way through the country to the only place where people like him could be safe. someway, somehow, that means yoongi drops him off at the door of cabin eleven and calls for a certain taehyung. the guy has electric blue hair and a glazed look to his eyes, but above all he’s a hugger and that’s the oddest thing jungkook finds about him. he welcomes jungkook to the cabin of hermes, messenger of the gods, god of thieves and travellers, where all unclaimed kids end up when their parents forget about them. yoongi doesn't belong in there, of course he doesn't, but taehyung works hard to make kook feel at home, or as close to it as they could - even offering to share his bed because as counselor he had the best mattress, with the least bed bugs. jungkook has no problem sleeping in the floor, it wouldn’t be the first or the last time, but he does take the offer of warm water for a shower and constant food. he gets used to it slowly, like he’s afraid he’ll blink and suddenly that comfort will be gone and he’ll be back in harm’s way. it’s not that easy to adapt to something he refused to let himself have, despite the nice meals and the laughs that started blooming out of his chest at the antics of his crazy, dangerous, new acquaintances. without him noticing his bruises heal into scars and his scars start fading. he’s better at sword fighting all day than carving a space for himself among the calm, silent moments. he never sings at the bonfire either, despite taehyung encouraging him to, and even yoongi raising a brow at him in challenge every once in a while, from where he stands in the company of his brothers and sisters. jungkook’s hauled a prodigy at sparring, archery and everything physical because he can work for it, because it’s easy to do so, but unless he’s coaxed he still speaks no more than a couple words. people start whispering about his father being the god of war, wondering, because surely his prowess with weapons has to be a gift from ares himself. but the god of war doesn’t claim him, even as he claims latecomers much younger, a lot clumsier. it’s a cloudy afternoon that has yoongi finding him by the strawberry fields, playing with the grass blades and sulking. yoongi’s hair is of an explosive pink, stronger than a mending bruise, as hypnotic as a kaleidoscope under the sunlight, when he sits by his side and softens the ailments of jungkook’s heart. ‘you know, for the longest time i wished my mother to be athena.’ he speaks well, has a nice, enticing voice to listen to. ‘because jin hyung was my first friend here, and i wanted him to be my brother. but i think i was just desperate to belong somewhere.’ ‘you do belong.’ jungkook points out, motioning his head to the younger aphrodite kids running around in the valley, all his siblings through the godly side. ‘but my point is, it took me a while.’ yoongi was the counsellor of cabin ten, respected and seasoned in the camp, he had enough power to bargain with for contraband and trade shower slots with other counselors for chores, acting like a legitimate son of hermes sometimes. which, perhaps, explains why taehyung's so fond of him. jungkook is still trying to figure out why he's so fond of yoongi, when they have virtually nothing in common. ‘even when it feels like it shouldn’t, it takes a while. i can’t begin to fathom what it’d feel like to be a god, but i bet it’d be a very busy ordeal. think of it like a 9 to 5 office job, only it lasts for eternity.’ jungkook frowns at that, not used to the inertia of sitting still, figuring things out, watching. he was a man of action, as every demigod was made to be so they could survive out there. not in a million years would he like to work in a closed office, even if that office was the entire world.   ‘but if he loved my mum…’ jungkook nearly whines, because it’s almost childish but these days it's the only thing he still clung to. ‘i think they do, all in their weird immortal ways. but time flows differently for them, you know. we’re humans too, we’re always on a rush to go somewhere, do something, achieve things. deities aren’t.’ yoongi shrugs. ‘my dad...he still writes pieces about my mum, and he plays them in the piano when he thinks i can’t hear him. it’s all so sad, so longing.’ and there is longing in his voice too, but he doesn't bother to hide it like he's not ashamed of it. jungkook knows nothing of yoongi’s family,  had just assumed he was one more lonely kid in their bunch, but it warms his heart to know yoongi had somewhere to turn to - someone else who could understand the hollow beat of his heart, someone who had loved and lost, therefore understood how yoongi felt at the unknown, uncertain thought of his mother. ‘he says she’s the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen, and he cries and never talks about it.’ yoongi shares without being asked to, because he knows jungkook needs someone to reach out again, because he can read people and because he can allow his heart to hurt a bit more if it means someone's heart will be hurting less. ‘i was really happy when she claimed me, vowed to myself i’d make her proud, but the truth is, jungkookie, i can’t even picture her in my mind.’ ‘how come, hyung?’ jungkook asks in a tiny voice, the same curiosity he had whenever his mother would read him a bedtime story and it made no sense because sometimes logic doesn’t matter, not in a world of monsters and gods, sometimes all that matters is belief. he’d believe any word coming out of yoongi’s mouth - and jungkook knows it has nothing to do with the rumored charm some aphrodite kids have, where they could convince you to eat your own shoe if they wanted to, if they were bored enough to do it. he’d believe any word coming out of yoongi’s mouth simply because he knows yoongi would never lie to him. ‘she’s supposed to be the most beautiful woman in the planet, but every person has a different image of that. i can’t picture her, because i have a feeling that maybe she’s lost track of how she looks like. i mean, when no one’s looking, you know? how does the goddess of love and beauty look like when she’s alone in a room, mirror in hand? what does she see? what even is beauty when no one's looking? how lonely must it be to be a thousand and one different versions of yourself throughout time and space. i think my mother is very lonely, jungkook-ah, and i pity and miss her, even though we’ve never met.’ that makes jungkook think - he thinks that to him aphrodite might have the same hair dyed a shade of horribly bright pink, just because it’d be cliché, cute and it’d suit the concept of love and beauty. but he gets where yoongi is coming from, he understands what being overlooked and written off by others means and he promises to himself to throw some food in the brazier for yoongi’s mother too, because she might be lonely and that hurts yoongi. jungkook doesn’t want the goddess of love and beauty to be lonely, even among other deities, and he doesn’t want her son to be sad. ever. ‘hyung, i don’t know what my father is like, but i think i got my dimple from him. my mum didn’t have it.’ he says the first thing that comes to his mind because being reminded of his mother is soothing to his soul, and hopefully he can share some of that with a boy who longed for a mother he’d likely never meet. ‘he must have a pretty smile then.’ yoongi declares like it’s simple, and maybe for someone born out of an act of love, surrounded by it, empowered by it, maybe it is that simple. but it freezes jungkook’s blood in his veins because. because he can’t deal with compliments, because it’s not that simple, because he doesn’t know how to put into words how fond he is of yoongi’s hair. so he retorts to being a brat, naturally. ‘must’ve been quite the looker, ‘cause my mom chased him around town.’ ‘what?’ yoongi laughs and it’s the quiet, contained sound that shakes his body but barely leaves his throat. ‘yeah, she chased after him. my mom had a lot of attitude and she always knew what she wanted.’ jungkook brags because dead or alive his mom was something to brag about. oh the stories he had about her - and he would share them all with yoongi any day, if only he wanted. if only he asked for it. ‘well, then let it be clear i don’t care who your father is, jeon jungkook, because your mother is the real badass.’ yoongi smiles at him and the little strawberry blossoms growing shyly around them seem to respond to it as much as the ones inside jungkook's ribcage. that night, he nearly begs his father to claim him, but he also spares aphrodite some thought. when the smoke rises, it smells of honey and melon, with just a tinge of citrus - like yoongi’s aftershave, and jungkook knows that she heard him from whenever she was, whatever she was doing. he smiles at that - at his makeshift pact with an immortal deity to take care of her mortal son, have his back and make sure he’d never suffer. jungkook would hold her accountable for it too. and maybe she feels similarly, or she has pulled some strings in thanks, because a week before capture the flag he’s claimed. it goes like this: he’s doing archery with his cabin mates, all the younger hermes kids practically gawking in admiration at him, one of them surely responsible for his missing socks, when he starts smelling rain. no, not properly rain, but that overwhelming smell of wet grass and still the sky remains clear above his head, magically so. down, however, he can see the ground beneath his feet and he can see more - he can see it like he’s stepping on glass, like nothing’s been clear before. he looks down and he faces the abyss, the darkness, he looks down and he faces death. and it claims him. for sooner than he realized the whole camp is around him, shouting ‘hail jeon jungkook, son of hades’ and he’s still stuck trying to figure out if the shiny gems underground could be considered stars to the souls in the underworld. he’s hesitant and afraid, of course he is. first because it means moving, and that means leaving behind taehyung and his cabin eleven friends. it means packing everything he now owns - all that was given to him, stolen from the camp shop by his cabin mates or acquired through dubious means when they realised that he had nothing to his name except the clothes on his body. and saying goodbye to, some sort of it. taehyung hugs him tightly, whispers him good luck and promises extra sauce on taco night if the cabin of hades sides with hermes during capture the flag. it’s then that it dawns on him he’ll be alone. he’s not the only inhabitant of cabin thirteen, but his half sibling is far too important, a hero made and proven, and he's more often than not out in the world saving it for the gods. he, like jimin and namjoon, had family, but would sleep alone in a cabin way too big for a single person. when he first enters cabin thirteen he finally understands jimin and namjoon, the two demigods he’d avoided at all costs so far. jimin was a son of poseidon, hot tempered and competitive, and namjoon was the son of zeus, smart and worthy of a leader. and both were so, so, so lonely. being a child of the big three was seen as a privilege to some, but as jungkook creeps in through the door of his new cabin, he thinks it's more akin to a sin in itself. everything was dark, and two months ago he would’ve felt comfortable hiding in the shadows, but since he’d come out, since yoongi offered to shed some light, he hadn’t been the same. still, he tried to tell himself that the bed bugs would probably be too scared of the aesthetics to bother him much. it’d take him a while to get used to it and all it meant - his powers, his heritage, his destiny. now he's the third child of the three oldest gods residing at camp half blood, and he can feel a different electricity running through his veins, something edging him on and telling him to challenge namjoon and jimin for power, to make his father proud because he'd been humiliated, casted aside and forgotten by the other gods, by his own siblings. it's a lot to take in, that urge to be the best that got amplified tenfold ever since he got claimed, ever since the black aura shone upon him. jungkook doesn't want to be evil. he just wants to be - happy, safe, alive, himself. ‘way to shake things up, jeon.’ yoongi knocks on his door and invites himself to inspect the inside of jungkook’s new crib. ‘i wonder if that means jimin and namjoon will stop going at each other’s throats to focus on you now.’ ‘that’s about as likely as jin hyung suddenly giving up on trying to flirt with mr. D.’ jin made it clear to all willing to listen that he thought life at camp was too boring without trying to get into a deity’s pants, and namjoon and jimin bickered because it was a weird dance between them, either that or actually fighting. that’s just how it is, how it’d always been. and jungkook's not a part of some grander scheme of things, not now, not ever. he isn't special, despite what his mother thought. ‘it’s cozy here.’ yoongi concludes and for a while jungkook is tempted to throw a pillow at him, but then he gives him a lopsided smile that is all gum and that, mayhaps, makes the place a bit cozier. ‘hyung, i-’ jungkook starts, then stares at the ceiling and remembers the gemstones glistening underground. he starts without knowing how he’ll finish, much like how all of it started. ‘i don’t wanna be evil.’ yoongi is on his feet in an instant, coming closer, reaching out and catching the tears jungkook hadn’t known about, but that felt like fallen stars from the sky of his eyes. ‘you’re still the same, jungkookie.’ ‘but my father is the god of the underworld and the dead.’ ‘by chance, not by choice. hades is not evil, he punishes evil and rewards good people. have you ever heard of the elysium? some end up there, surrounded by beauty and good. your father rules the land where souls get their eternal rest and he oversees the judgements because he's there to make sure every mortal has a just and fair trial, because that’s what everyone deserves after death.’ yoongi’s hands are warm on his face and his words make sense, and jungkook remembers his certainty - yoongi would never lie to him. it’s just not in his nature, even when comforting someone, because yoongi knows there is no comfort in a lie, only hurt, and maybe that’s because his mother is who she is or maybe that’s just yoongi. but it’s precious nonetheless and makes kook stop crying. ‘don’t be sad, jungkook-ah. hades must be very proud of you, you’re brilliant and powerful and -’ yoongi stops and stares deep at his soul. ‘you don’t even know, do you? ever since you came into this place, you made it brighter. you made it home. not only to yourself, kook-ah, but to others too. you made space for yourself in a lot of hearts without even meaning to, and you belong. believe me. you’re fair like your father, you gave good to the good people here, some light, some warmth.’ ‘hyung how can i-’ jungkook tries, but chokes on a sob knowing that he had, much to his dismay, much against his will, made a home for himself somewhere, gave some meaning to some people, to himself. it hurt, it was too difficult, he wanted to run again. ‘besides, jeon jungkook, did you forget what hyung told you? i don’t care who your father is. your mom is the real badass.’ that brings a small smile to jungkook and calms his heart a bit, helps him keep his footing. his dad couldn’t be evil, because his mother had loved him to her last breath. and he isn’t evil, because he's loved, and he loves deeply too. he isn't evil because he doesn’t want to be, and because he now he had people to help put him on a straight path if he was ever astray, too lost in the darkness. hades, however, did not. sure, he had a wife and a bunch of relatives, but he ruled over the passing between physical and metaphysical, matters of life and death in all its extent, and his only companions were desolate souls that hated the place as much as he did. hades was a prisoner in his own realm, and he too was lonely. lonely like yoongi thought aphrodite was. lonely like jungkook had been before he got to camp half blood. that night, by the brazier, jungkook doesn’t beg. he asks for nothing. instead, he gives as little as he has. he closes his eyes and wishes to be heard, he closes his eyes and whispers ‘to hades, so that the lord of the dead knows he has not been forgotten by the living’. the smoke smells like his mother’s lavender perfume and brings tears to his eyes, but when jin asks about it he claims it got in his eye and changes the subject. and that’s it - sort of. now that he’s claimed there is more respect from his peers, like suddenly he’s no longer dirt under hermes’ shoes but someone worthy of the space he occupied, and in a way it makes him angry for all the shy, small unclaimed kids he had sort of adopted during his stay, but it's undeniable it does wonders for his ego. in a week, he grows two inches. and more than that, he’s comfortable in his skin. he not only grows taller, but more confident. he stops trying to make himself feel and look smaller, and instead embraces the whole ‘son of the abyss’ aura that seems to come with it. he’s still the same brat he was, but now he lets others see it too. he stops swerving when namjoon and jimin pass him by, instead giving them looks of forced cordiality that speak volumes - it means they don’t have to avoid him either, but he’s quicker on his feet than they’ll ever be and none of them are fools. it comes down to capture the flag and suddenly jungkook is in charge of cabin thirteen’s decision on who to side with - athena or ares. and much to taehyung’s dismay, he chooses to follow aphrodite’s decision to follow ares, because it balances the scales and because it earns him extra points with yoongi, sweet, saccharine smile meant only for his eyes. technically, he’s siding with the losers. magically, or through his sheer stubbornness and chaotic fearless attitude, seokjin is the only one who can make namjoon and jimin team up and agree on something. and it’s hard to compete with it - the goddess of wisdom and strategy siding with the god of the sea and the lord of the skies. their strategy is always the same - jimin and namjoon on defense, jin and his siblings in patrol and taehyung in offense, set not to capture, but to steal. jimin and namjoon always stay by the river, and whenever someone from the opposing team comes closer, jimin raises a wall of water from the stream and namjoon calls down lightning. anyone who steps on that water is fried goods. although jungkook is not sure if they’re actually allowed to kill their peers he isn’t willing to bet his own life on it. it’s worked so well all these years they don’t even bother moving spots, always near the water, flag very visible, almost taunting. on their side they got ares, apollo, hephaestus, aphrodite and well, him. jung hoseok, son of ares, thinks jungkook is a game changer. yoongi thinks they’ve got a chance, and some hephaestus kids are just in it for petty revenge against something taehyung did to them. it’s not the best combo, and they’re too loud most of the time, but they’re more than just the underdogs. the kids from hephaestus come up with all sorts of boobytraps and they cover a good area with it. hoseok goes for a more offensive approach with ares and apollo, although they’re still trying to figure out the finer details on how to deal with gallons and gallons of conductive water coming to drown and fry them at the same time. seokjin is really smart for someone who spends half his time trying to be the god of wine’s sugar baby. yoongi, surprisingly, convinces his siblings to go for offense too. apparently they can use their charm to dismantle part of seokjin’s line of defense. and that leaves jungkook to guard the flag. he’s not too sure he’ll be good at it, not when his biggest talent is swinging a sword and sending monsters to meet his father, but yoongi smiles at him and pats him in the shoulder before taking off, and jungkook is filled with this immense need to do well and make him proud. he hears shouting and some battle, but from where he’s standing it’s all quiet. too quiet. that’s how taehyung comes - like a snake, cunning and light on his feet. if not for the of electric blue that had refused to fade in all the time jungkook knew him, he would’ve missed him altogether. taehyung, however, doesn’t miss him. he leans against a trunk behind jungkook and smirks like he’s already won. ‘hello there, old friend.’ ‘tae.’ jungkook grits through his teeth because there is nothing standing between taehyung and the flag. ‘i thought they’d send you to deal with jiminnie and joon hyung.’ taehyung muses. ‘i was half expecting the hephaestus kids ready to throw eggs at me.’ ‘oh they are. do you want me to call them?’ jungkook bluffs and that makes taehyung laugh. ‘you’re so cute, kookie. but we’ve got no time, your team will have a lot of dishes to wash before dinner, so we better hurry with this.’ that’s their weakness - jungkook realizes. and maybe being the son of the underworld, the place of judgement, where all comes to surface, makes him see clearer than before. but now he knows that the other team is too confident, they don’t even consider losing a possibility, they failed to consider him a threat. this is fun a game to them, one that they’ve played and mastered long ago. one that can’t and won’t betray them. that’s why hoseok was so hopeful he’d be a trump card. because he’s different, because he’s never played before, because his team knows how their rivals play, but they’re in the dark about jungkook. jungkook is in the dark about jungkook too, and maybe that’s a good thing when he’s half made of darkness. if he gives in to it, just a little, he’s just as dangerous as namjoon and jimin, maybe more. taehyung pats him in the head when he passes jungkook by, and jungkook follows him, but makes no motion to stop him. he lets taehyung take the flag, walks by his side and lets him think he’s double crossing his team, hoseok and yoongi. taehyung promises to cut him some slack and they near the edge of his team’s land to cover. across the line that separates both territories, taehyung and jungkook stop to admire the mayhem. it’s beautiful to see - the water rising and thunder answering the call, but at the same time he sees his friends climbing on trees, apollo kids shooting arrows behind the flag and well above the water, a makeshift zipline for ares kids to put their game faces on and try to brave the wall of water, everyone else watching. hoseok makes it, brows furrowed in concentration, knife in his mouth. he gets the flag in one swift motion and hits namjoon hard in the head with the hilt of his knife. namjoon flops down like a sack of potatoes and the sky clears, and then it’s just hoseok versus jimin and the whole world watching. hoseok isn’t afraid, and seokjin stands with his arms crossed but seemingly not too worried, as he's quick to spot taehyung already carrying the flag in his hands. just a few steps and they’d win again, then regroup and think of something new because this year had been a close call. but they underestimate hoseok, and they underestimate jungkook. that costs them the whole game. hoseok doesn’t even pay attention to jimin, just holds his breath and dives into the water, and then two things happen: he activates a helmet that allows him to breathe underwater, much to jimin’s dismay and the collective cheers of hephaestus kids, and taehyung unfreezes. he begins to move thinking he’ll have a slight advantage walking on ground and not swimming against the current, but jungkook finally puts himself in his path and taehyung is confused for long enough to allow jungkook to pull through. jungkook closes his eyes and feels a pressure at the bottom of his stomach, and then his soul is no longer in his body - he is floating between the gemstones, in his makeshift sky, and his voice rings everywhere when he calls, bossy and rightfully like a king: ‘kim taehyung.’ when he opens his eyes, he’s not alone. the whole camp gasps, sans hoseok who’s still too busy trying to make his way to their territory with the enemy flag. the whole camp gasps rightfully because standing in front of taehyung is the spirit of an old lady with a kind face, arms open waiting to be hugged. and tae tries, it hurts to see him try, but the spirit is not a physical manifestation, and she feels like smoke, volatile, between his arms. he drops the flag, and jungkook grabs it, sending it faraway through the shadows here and there, and before they know it hoseok has made his way and taehyung is crying. there is cheer, especially when seokjin begrudgingly admits defeat and shakes their hand, half carrying namjoon on his back to the infirmary, and more cheer when it’s officially announced they won’t have to do the dishes. there is cheer, but taehyung is still crying quietly in a corner, consoled by jimin, and jungkook doesn’t even hear jin telling hoseok next year they’ll build a water dome, good luck with that. he doesn’t even hear hoseok replying with a good natured ‘we’ll wear a lot of latex, hyung.’ dinner was supposed to feel better, to taste better, but it all tastes like sand and ash in his mouth. yoongi’s hair is of a bright salmon color, happier than a sunrise on a cold morning, as orange as a sunset on a warm day, when jungkook first lets him down. to be fair, he'd let himself down too. he'd seen taehyung’s weakness, and he'd used it to his advantage to win on some stupid, silly, meaningless game. he had tried to avoid being evil, only to end up at rash cruelty instead. jungkook wondered how his father would judge him at the end of days, because no punishment could hurt more than yoongi’s frown and taehyung’s absence. jungkook skips on dessert to find taehyung by the lake, watching the long island shoreline at far and weeping. he had clearly meant to be alone, if jimin’s threatening glares at jungkook over dinner had meant anything, and jungkook honestly wants to run and hide in the shadows, but he doesn’t approach taehyung to atone for his mistake, instead he does it because taehyung doesn’t deserve to be hurting. he thinks that’s what yoongi would’ve done. ‘hey taetae.’ jungkook’s voice is like a prayer in the night. he gets silence in response and winces at that - because it hurts and because he deserves it. someone as warm and kind as taehyung shouldn’t be crying, and of course jungkook would be the reason behind it. he’s the son of darkness, everything he touches will rot. ‘i’m sorry.’ there’s not much he can say, not much more he knows how to say. ‘that was my grandma.’ tae says after a silence that stretches for an infinity. ‘she raised me but she passed away recently. i miss her, it’s all. don’t worry, jungkookie.’ even when he was suffering, he made sure to lift that weight off of jungkook’s back. it only makes jungkook feel worse. ‘she was the first…’ jungkook says ‘i mean, when i projected my soul to the underworld and called your name, she was the first to answer the call. i think she misses you too.’ that makes taehyung cry more, and jungkook offers him a tight hug to smother all that pain, because his friend doesn’t deserve to feel like that, because no one does. taehyung cries like he does everything - he puts his soul into it, even when it’s happy, even when it’s sad. he doesn’t do things in halves, he has to pour all of himself into something to make it count. he bends over backwards for his friends and he never ever loses hope in the people around him - even the strangers. he sees the world and he understands it and above all he likes it. he is the last person the world should be cruel to. he is the last person deserving of that. ‘i miss her so much, kook-ah. we used to grow strawberries in our farm in wisconsin and even now the camp smells like her.’ taehyung sobs again and there is little else jungkook can do but hold him, ground him. ‘there’s so much i never told her because i thought i’d see her again and i just want to- can you?’ he asks suddenly and it takes jungkook awhile to understand what he means. ‘yeah, hyung. i’d do anything for you.’ and he means it, truly. because taehyung took him in under his wing. because taehyung taught him for the first time in his life what friendship meant. so he does - he projects his soul to the underworld again and taehyung’s grandma is already waiting for him, impatient to see her grandson once more. and then she’s there. jungkook gives them space, lets them sit together and talk for awhile. taehyung cries, he cries some too, alone in the night, and when the time comes he guides her to the afterlife again, promising taehyung to call for her whenever he wants to see her. taehyung nods, understands the importance of that in his process of grief, but doesn’t ask again. not before summer is over, at least. jungkook still hasn’t made things right with yoongi - they talk, but there’s a distance between them that wasn’t there before, and it’s stilled and formal and doesn’t happen quite as often. despite taehyung’s forgiveness, yoongi still had his reservations, and so jungkook ends up spending the last week of summer in the company of seokjin, who treats him much like a fascinating specimen to be dissected at a lab and he kind of just goes along with it. it's fine and dandy, really, that he'd made a friend outside of yoongi’s influence of introducing him to new people, and it was great seokjin would be staying over for the whole year, not having a home to go back to in the fall, just like jungkook. but most people leave, and that includes yoongi. taehyung leaves with a flourish and a promise to send him iris messages all the time, to update jungkook on the growth of his favorite plants and the eventual downfall of his grades. yoongi leaves quietly, with a nod towards jungkook and ride to new york city. and it bothers him, of course it does. because yoongi was the first person to tell him that he needn’t run, the first one who made him feel like it. yoongi was welcoming, warm, summery, sweet. yoongi was all the good things about camp, about life. he, like his mother, was beauty and grace and light and love. and without him, jungkook felt a bit hollow again. he began to understand how yoongi’s dad must’ve felt - chasing aphrodite’s light through musical notes that could never do her any justice. it gets to the point seokjin notices and teases him about it. but that’s nothing compared to when namjoon notices it. not because namjoon is the son of zeus and jungkook is prideful and stubborn, but because namjoon spends most of his time with his head in the clouds, doing gods know what inside his cabin. he sometimes forgot to eat, which caused seokjin to barge through his door, insult the big zeus statue inside and practically carry namjoon out to dinner. jungkook hasn’t asked exactly what those two are, or what jimin means to them, he just laughs when it happens and pretends his own heart doesn’t hurt. except it all goes down the drain when namjoon notices. it’s a shy knock to his door on a boring thursday afternoon that has his world tilting on its axis. namjoon and him aren’t quite close yet, because they’re not as shameless as seokjin, and everything is very civil. namjoon knocks, jungkook invites him in. namjoon looks around once, not judging, and jungkook offers him a seat. ‘jungkook-ah’ namjoon starts ‘seokjin thinks i should talk to you.’ ‘for a son of athena seokjin has some questionable ideas.’ that makes namjoon laugh a little, but then he blushes and says ‘he’s smarter than all of us together. part of me thinks he can see the future and that’s why he’s so ahead of everyone.’ ‘if he could, we wouldn’t hear the end of it.’ ‘true, but that’s beside the point. i agree with him. you haven’t been yourself lately, jungkook.’ jungkook shrugs and gives namjoon the same excuse he’d given seokjin weeks ago. ‘it’s just camp feels very different now, emptier. i’m trying to get adjusted to it.’ ‘yeah.’ namjoon says, though they both know he doesn’t believe a word coming out of jungkook’s mouth. it dawns on jungkook that although demigods don’t really count kinship beyond their siblings, he and namjoon are cousins. sort of. he wonders how that family dinner would be like. if namjoon was anything like his father, or jungkook anything like his. ‘you can write to him, you know? we don’t have his address, but mr. D has it filed somewhere and it’d take seokjin literally no convincing to get it for you. you could write. if you miss him.’ ‘do you?’ jungkook asks. do you mean it? could he?, but instead he asks ‘do you write to jimin?’ ‘every day.’ namjoon shyly admits. ‘he gets on my nerves when he’s here, but it’s not the same without him. and he writes back, you know, tells me all about california and his school and his life. it’s not bad. shortens the distance a little bit. sometimes when he's ranting i can even read the words in his voice.’ ‘what if yoongi hyung doesn’t reply to me though?’ ‘write again.’ namjoon speaks from experience. ‘what if i bother him? he hasn’t written either, and he knows where i live.’ ‘yoongi is...unique. he’s the son of the aphrodite, but he’s not that good with his words, you know? not when it’s about how he’s feeling, though he is incredibly good at figuring out how most people around him feel. what’s right in front of him...he’s blind to it. and that may be a curse from his mother, or a form of entertainment to her, but it is how it is.' ‘i think he’s good with words. he always knows what to say to me.’ jungkook defends yoongi because it feels like he should. namjoon regards him with a thoughtful look and then nods, approving. ‘then what do you think he’d tell you?’ and namjoon is right, of course he is. yoongi would tell him to be a brat, to make noise until he was heard, to show people there’s more to him than just face value, a scary reputation or a mistake. yoongi would tell him his mother chased a god around town because she wanted to, because she could, and yoongi would tell him to write. to chase that light. so he does. seokjin gets caught checking the campers’ files, but he scams his way out of it with only mild punishment from mr. D, who despite turning down his advances is oddly fond of his antics, and then jungkook gets a thick stack of paper and a dozen real fancy pens on top given to him by namjoon. he doesn’t know what to write at first - but he writes all the same. he lets it all pour into the paper, all his messy, scrambled thoughts spilling into words that are only half right. he apologizes for it, for everything, for something. he tells yoongi about the shadow travelling he’s been doing, experimentally and under seokjin’s and namjoon’s careful supervision. he tells him how tiring it is, how ambrosia tastes then, he even tells yoongi about the weather, even though they’re not that far apart geographically, only 47 miles give or take. he doesn’t know what to say, how to say it, so he says everything. jungkook tells yoongi about taehyung’s constant iris messages, but only briefly, only in passing, because he doesn’t want yoongi to think he’s flaunting taehyung’s forgiveness at him like yoongi owes him the same thing. he doesn’t want yoongi to think he owes jungkook iris messages, either. jungkook doesn’t want yoongi to think he owes him anything, instead he wants to focus on giving. he gives yoongi tids and bits about his life, training and even seokjin’s shenanigans. he asks a lot too - because he knows virtually nothing about yoongi’s life away from the safe comfort of camp. so he asks about school, about yoongi’s favorite subjects, about traffic in the city. he pours his heart into it and it still doesn’t feel like it’s enough, but he signs his name and writes yoongi’s address - wondering how long it’d take for the letter to reach him in yorkville. jungkook wonders what yoongi would be doing the when he got the letter, how he’d react to the words on the paper. it was a lot of wondering and worrying and not a lot of knowing. his friends try to take his mind off of it and it works well enough until one of the angry harpies drops an envelope on his face during archery practice. he practically skips to his cabin, ditching class with a shrug, and allowing his heart to hope. he opens himself to what could be heartbreak, curt and cold. it’s a leap of faith, yet sometimes it’s not about logic, but belief. and he believes in yoongi. in the end, heartbreak doesn’t come. yoongi writes that it’s the first letter he’s ever gotten in his lifetime, and teases jungkook for being as old as their godly parents. the language is still a bit stilled, like yoongi hesitated and rewrote a lot, but jungkook’s happy to get an answer, even if it wasn’t as lengthy or detailed as he had hoped. he swallows all of the words and tries to make sense of them in the infinity within himself, and then immediately writes a reply. they fall into this sort of routine, writing back and forth through the seasons and months. monsters don’t bother yoongi much, even though jungkook worries, and when jungkook comes down with a flu yoongi sends him a lovely herbal tea recipe to make him feel better. it works, and it makes seokjin scoff and say he and yoongi flirt through intricate letters like two unlikely suitors in the 18th century. still, they wish each other merry thanksgiving, christmas and new years. and maybe holiday season changes yoongi a bit because he writes more cheerfully then, telling anecdotes of his drunk aunts and distant relatives. jungkook has no family to celebrate with, except the one he has found, so he writes about seokjin pranking mr. D by exploding his turkey on thanksgiving and getting away scot-free, and the mistletoe incident he orchestrated during christmas that earned namjoon and seokjin a very angry, very pouty, very jealous iris message from jimin. jungkook had decided jimin was not one to have on his bad side, least of all when he couldn’t pacify him by promising a summer filled with kisses and cuddles like namjoon and seokjin now could. in february, all campers come together, clustering inside the big house, to send hoseok a beautiful, messy, heartfelt birthday message that makes him cry on the other side of the country. they eat cake as though he’s there and it’s lovely, until one comment from seokjin has the stilled time away from yoongi suddenly start running at the speed of light. ‘hobi’s birthday is done, next is yoongi’s.’ it comes off bragging, like he’s happy all his careful planning worked out perfectly, but also demanding, like he was raising his own standards and expectations for next time. honestly, jungkook didn’t know yoongi’s birthday was coming. he didn’t know the date, had never thought much about it, and he only finds out yoongi is a pisces because one morning during breakfast namjoon reads the horoscope out loud, regarding the words carefully, and jungkook is too ashamed to ask for more, for any information, detail or clue. it takes a lot of convincing and a month of cold showers because all his hot water has gone to the kid from hephaestus’ cabin he managed to bribe. he doesn’t have the expertise or the ability to make the gift he envisioned, but after a lot of nagging it’s finished by mid march. on the very last day of pisces season, jungkook takes a gamble and convinces seokjin to cheat on a game of cards against mr. D, earning him the privilege of a unsupervised visit to the city. mr. D simply tells him that he’s on his own and if he dies there’ll be no funeral, and jungkook shrugs and says that as a son of hades he doesn’t need one. he ends up in the van with argos, the security guard with a thousand eyes over his body, and he has to deliver strawberries throughout the morning, but when he gets on a bus to yoongi’s apartment he feels strangely free. jungkook, despite all the constant training and how jumpy he’d been before the safety of camp, doesn’t even think about monsters who might try to murder him. all he can think about is yoongi. when he rings the intercom of yoongi’s apartment, his voice is shaky with anxiety but cheerful with relief. ‘yoongi hyung? it’s me, jungkook.’ yoongi is obviously surprised, but buzzes him in while simultaneously asking if he was alright, if he was in any danger, if he needed anything. yoongi’s hair is of a pastel pink, daintier than planned spontaneity, as amusing as the wit behind a naughty smile, when jungkook sees him after months and the sight of him is the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. he feels the urge to hug, but he doesn’t. yoongi looks him over in search for bruises, and tells him off for worrying him, but lets him in once jungkook mentions he came bearing gifts. ‘for your birthday, hyung. i didn’t want to come sooner in case you had family and friends around, i didn’t wanna intrude and disturb, but i couldn’t let it pass by.’ yoongi smiles at him and it’s pure, delicate, sincere. ‘you’d never disturb anything, kook-ah.’ yoongi reassures him. ‘i would’ve loved to have you around, since no one came.’ jungkook pouts at that, because yoongi deserved a big party and lots of friends and gifts. ‘now, do you have any surprises besides your hair?’ yoongi asks. jungkook’s hair had been black his whole life, but then on a chilly day taehyung had gotten drunk and made kook seriously worry for the wellbeing of the entire midwest, he’d also challenged jungkook to bleach and dye it. and jungkook had been bored and anxious so he’d done it. it was still bright red, the box dye had claimed the color as cherry, and how one of taehyung’s younger siblings smuggled that into camp he doesn’t know, but he trusted seokjin to not majorly fuck up his hair - considering seokjin had been giving him periodic haircuts that weren’t too terrible. soon, it’d probably fade to pink. a beautiful pink. pink like yoongi’s. jungkook gives him the small box and watches as yoongi’s long careful fingers undo the pink bow to reveal the small, heart shaped mirror. it was designed like something out of sailor moon, because that was one of the only things jungkook remembered of his childhood, and because yoongi was his warrior of love and justice. once he opened it, though, yoongi saw a bunch of distorted reflections. because inside it held a pink kaleidoscope. every reflection of yoongi was slightly different than the other, the good and the different exposed in magical girl form. ‘once you told me, hyung, that you thought your mother was really lonely. that she had forgotten her own appearance because she looks like others want her to, so i wanted to give you this for you to know that regardless of how you look like i’ll be right by your side.’ yoongi is careful not to drop his gift, but he hugs jungkook by his neck and buries his face in jungkook’s personal space, a little more teary eyed than he would’ve thought. it’s more of a conclusion - an epiphany that comes to jungkook. he understands then, in the arms of a son of aphrodite, that the goddess of love and beauty is the most powerful olympian. the one everyone should fear the most. zeus rules over the skies, and poseidon over the seas, and his own father was a beacon of power, ruler of the underworld, but none compared to aphrodite. she was above and beyond everything, because while she didn’t rule over nature, she controlled something intrinsically human. she defined human nature. she ruled over love, and humans would die and kill for it. start and end wars. they’d do anything in the name of love, because love could move them like a thunderstorm could never, and they’d drown and sacrifice life itself for it. other gods controlled the environment, the seasons, important things like food and weather, but aphrodite - she controlled the humans themselves. jungkook thinks of helen of troy, and how that’d been all of aphrodite’s doing, and medea, who’d been cursed to fall in love with the foreigner on her father’s shore and betray her family for him. he thinks of his own beating heart and the cold dread that comes with his realization - that he should fear love, especially when it feels so fearless and freeing in yoongi’s embrace. aphrodite wasn’t given to violence - she charmed her way, manipulated, played with people. unlike ares, her lover, or hephaestus, her husband, or any other olympian, she could sit back and watch it unfold because love was organic, it might need a catalyst every now and then, but nothing more. people, even when left umprompted, were susceptible to fall in love.  humans were prone to love. the same way they were prone to make mistakes and maybe learn from them. love could be a curse, especially when it least felt like it. aphrodite was powerful, and he was properly afraid of ever facing her, but yoongi...yoongi was different. yoongi was welcoming, truthful, warm. he didn’t treat people like chess pieces. he understood love for what it was - lonely, dangerous, maddening. he knew the power he had, but he never forced anyone to love him, he didn’t even ask for it. he didn’t wait for it like it was his birthright to be loved by everything and everyone. instead, he worked hard to be worthy of such honor - of such horror. he worked hard to be worthy of someone starting wars for him. he was devoted to his mother, and to himself, and to the world around him. though he knew the burden of loving, he loved everyone unabashedly. he loved like it was his duty as a son of aphrodite, but also because he wanted to. because he knew that, beneath the terror, there could be joy. he loved because he could. ‘thank you, jungkook-ah. i love it.’ and there it was: easy and simple. and maybe, despite being very complicated, jungkook had found a way to simplify it too. yoongi invites him to stay over, and jungkook blushes like the victorian maiden seokjin had accused him of being, and insists on sending an iris message to camp to let them know he was being taken care of and not dying in a ditch somewhere. there’s tea and cake, and he finds out yoongi loves baking. they talk, more than they did on the letters, and jungkook learns about little details that make yoongi’s life more palpable, realer - he hates maths, loves arts, knows how to play piano but doesn’t dare because he can’t compare to his world-renowned pianist dad who'd played so beautifully he'd caught aphrodite’s eyes. so he bakes, instead, because he tried painting by taehyung’s suggestion and that had been a disaster and a waste of money. namjoon lends him poetry books every summer, and yoongi has considered getting into poetry, but he’s not so fond of english as a subject either. he blabbers about his prep school, and talks shit about his trust fund classmates. he tells jungkook about the things he loves to do around town, the places he likes - like that very small, hole-in-the-wall café by central park that has the meanest, bitterest coffee he absolutely hates but downs like shots during exam season. time passes like they haven’t been apart for a single second, like nothing’s been in the way of them. suddenly it’s night, mr. min is nowhere to be seen, rehearsing for a recital on the other side of town, and yoongi’s white cat comes out of hiding to smell and judge jungkook. kook teases yoongi about being a real life sailor venus, and gets a pillow to his face for it, but he likes holly, he likes new york and he likes yoongi. he doesn’t mind staying up late, even though he tends to be very strict about his routine, and he doesn’t mind the mattress of the guest bed in yoongi’s bedroom. when he closes his eyes, there is light from the fluorescent stars in the ceiling and there is light coming from yoongi, and jungkook has never felt warmer, more comfortable or at ease. when he falls asleep, he doesn’t need to dream of home because he’s there already - by yoongi’s side. he has no urge to run, or to go anywhere. and when time comes for him to leave in the morning, argos honking downstairs, yoongi parts with yet another hug and a kiss to jungkook’s cheek. it’s a barely there, feathery, ghost of his lips on jungkook’s cheeks but it’s everything jungkook thought he could never have in life. it makes his skin tingle and bubbles filled with flowers in full bloom burst inside his ribcage, and he smiles all the way to long island. he smiles even as seokjin calls him lover boy and namjoon makes innuendos about whatever happened in new york city. he smiles even in his sleep. he smiles until the very first day of summer, when other campers start arriving, and yoongi is once again in his line of sight, dark circles and tired expression clearly relieved school's over - because a camp with real monsters is nothing compared to calculus, obviously. jungkook walks on the clouds until he reaches yoongi, and he gives him a hug that’s just a tad tighter than the one he’d given taehyung earlier. ‘i missed you, hyung.’ he whispers sweetly in his ears, and thinks yoongi’s cheeks are dusted as pink as his hair when they part. that makes jungkook giggle in excitement. ‘missed you too, kook-ah. sorry i couldn’t write much lately, but school has been eating my ass.’ yoongi plays with his hair absentmindedly. ‘what ass?’ seokjin yells and jungkook wonders how he can ever hear them from afar, but he laughs nonetheless. ‘kim seokjin, shut your lying mouth right now. i know what happened during christmas and i’ll tell taehyung about it.’ yoongi threatens with a finger pointed at him, somewhere behind them. that seems to work because even the fearless seokjin can’t handle taehyung on his worst behavior. ‘don’t you dare.’ seokjin calls back, but his voice is smaller, almost like he’s hiding behind namjoon. which he probably is. ‘welcome back, hyung.’ jungkook hugs yoongi once more, welcoming him to camp like yoongi had welcomed him the first time. at the start. ‘i’m happy to be here, kook-ah. we have a lot of catching up to do.’ and they catch up. they’re more attached at the hip than the now officially together poly boyfriends seokjin, namjoon and jimin. everyone is glad they got over their tension, or started to resolve it in a different way, even though some couples rightfully resent the three of them for the new, stricter measures mr. D implements after seeing something he wasn't supposed to. jungkook just shrugs, because while mr. D stares at him hard when he and yoongi go around camp inspecting the cabins and sometimes whispers something about junglebook being trouble, he mostly leaves them alone. it’s just another day of yoongi and jungkook being one step closer to yoongiandjungkook.  because it terrifies him and makes his heart beat much faster than the healthy amount, jungkook knows he has to do something about it. he just doesn’t know what to do, and his friends aren’t much help. namjoon tells him to write a sonnet for yoongi and read it by the bonfire, and jungkook’s just really glad he put a mistletoe above his head to get him to finally kiss seokjin and saved everyone of a similar fate. taehyung, surprisingly, is the most helpful. he tells jungkook that maybe yoongi is just as scared as he is, and that maybe his hints haven’t been good because no one ever taught jungkook how to properly flirt. it goes downhill after that - when he tries to teach jungkook anything about the art of seduction, as he calls it. it'd be fair to say taehyung hadn't been blessed by aphrodite, but apparently hadn't been cursed by her either. hoseok just smiles at him when jungkook goes to him, a knowing smile that says a lot and nothing at all. so summer is flying by, and jungkook still doesn’t know what to do. it comes to him in late august, at 2 am because that's the most convenient time to roll around in bed and overthink everything. and since he’s wasted a lot of time already, he bends the rules a bit and travels through the shadows of his cabin until he’s officially trespassing into cabin ten, staring at yoongi’s sleeping form on top of a bunk bed, curled on himself like a baby. it’s the cutest thing he’s ever seen, and he nearly coos, but then he remembers he’s definitely not supposed to be there and the harpies would have ground to feast on his flesh if they found him. so he just climbs two of the steps and tries to wake yoongi up by poking him in the cheek repeatedly, something he always wanted to do but never had the nerve to. and yoongi, for all it’s worth, puts up a fight. he fights for his right to sleep like an hungry lion would fight for food. at one point jungkook stumbles backwards and nearly falls, causing a ruckus, but suddenly there’s a pair of hands in his neck choking him and he remembers that yoongi is a skilled fighter, and has trained for way longer than he has. and truth be told, if he was a monster it’d be a good way to go - by yoongi’s veiny hands squeezing the life essence out of him and sending him back to the abyss. jungkook didn’t know if monsters could crush on the demigods that killed them, but as a monster he definitely would. ‘calm down, hyung. it’s just me.’ jungkook whispers and puts his hand on top of yoongi’s. ‘i want to take you somewhere.’ yoongi opens his eyes only slightly, then groans and considers going back to sleep. ‘can’t this wait ‘til morning, kook-ah?’ ‘no, hyung. in the morning they’ll notice we’re gone.’ yoongi sits up just slightly, then looks at jungkook and his sleeping siblings. ‘okay. gimme a minute to change.’ ‘no time, hyung.’ jungkook grabs his hand once yoongi comes down the ladder and though he wants to make a comment about his choice of pyjamas, he stays quiet. jungkook doesn’t want to ruin the moment. not even for the little lambs does he dare ruin it. ‘where are we going, kook-ah?’ ‘you’ll see, hyung.’ and that’s how they trespass into central park in the middle of the night, shadow travelling all the way there. jungkook takes a few moments to breathe in deep because it takes a toll on his body, all those miles and with someone in stride, but he pretends to be fine just in case yoongi worries. ‘you wanted to take me here?’ yoongi looks around frowning, way more familiar with the city than jungkook would ever be. ‘this is just a quick stop, hyung.’ jungkook teases. ‘i just need to find our entrance here somewhere.’ so they walk around in silence until jungkook sees the odd group of rocks and starts singing. it’s soft, unrehearsed, and he can’t remember the words to most of it, but the sound carries in the night and his voice is like a sweet flute, delicate and melodic. it makes yoongi stop in his spot and jolt awake, hit by a lightning bolt not even zeus could conjure, and it causes the passage to reveal itself. jungkook steps further into the darkness and invites yoongi, reaching a hand out to him. ‘coming, hyung?’ it’s then that yoongi seems to realize their final destination. ‘uh, are you sure?’ jungkook doesn’t blame him. living things don’t belong in the underworld, and certainly not someone as lively and bright as yoongi, but he has a plan and a purpose and it might be crazy, but it’s the best he’s come up with as of yet. ‘trust me, hyung.’ jungkook mirrors yoongi’s movements from the night they first met. he gives him space to run, but lets yoongi know there’s no real reason to. ‘back in march you let me into your house and showed me hospitality. i don’t have a house outside of camp, hyung, but i wanted to show you around this place that might be the closest thing to it i’ve yet to find.’ that softens yoongi’s expression and he’s so fond jungkook blushes under his gaze. ‘are you sure it’s safe, jungkook-ah?’ ‘i’ve come here before. i can shadow travel to hades.’ jungkook reassures him. ‘i did it a lot last winter. and you should be safe by my side.’ ‘okay.’ yoongi concedes and takes his hand. they descend into darkness using orpheus’ passage to the underworld, and they go together. naturally, jungkook chooses to take the son of aphrodite to the place where romance goes to die. where everything goes to die, really. because it’s fitting in all the ways it’s not, and above all in all the ways it is. being a son of hades had taught him not to fear death, because it isn’t the end, but a new beginning. and sometimes that means something bad, but sometimes it means something good instead. death isn’t the final destination, just one more stop in the tracks. it isn’t something to be afraid of, like love that made you vulnerable and willing. death just is.  they converge at the end of the stairs to a tall dome of a cave, earth itself bending to accommodate that place, and the river styx that separates the realm of the living from the realm of the dead. the shore isn’t steep, the little black rocks almost massage his feet, and it doesn’t smell bad - but it doesn’t smell good either. he’d sat there before, watching souls passing and dumping things into the river - regrets, unfulfilled desires, all their what ifs and paths not taken. this time yoongi sits next to him, careful not to touch a drop of that water. ‘it’s beautiful,’ yoongi says ‘but sad.’ and in every way he's right. jungkook could look above and see twinkling stars made of diamonds, he could look beyond the river and see the lights of the underworld, though brief and low, and he could see beyond, to the elysium and his father’s palace. it was noisey, with all the rustling of souls and judgement taking place, and it was quiet the same way it was lonely. ‘the river styx is made of things we dump on it.’ jungkook tells him, even though he’s sure yoongi paid attention to that bit in mythology class. when someone teaches you about a river that can separate your soul from your body if you accidentally come too close, you are bound to pay attention. ‘look there, hyung.’ jungkook points at a mass of something that seems like ragged graduation caps. upstream there was a current that whispered, sighed and lamented for all the loves that never had a chance. ‘you’re right, it’s sad. but also it isn’t.’ ‘how come, jungkook-ah?’ ‘because the styx never touches the things you accomplish. whatever you do up there, the people you touch, the people you love and who love you, the river washes none of it away. in a way, when you dump things into it you’re dumping all of your regrets to be freed of them in the afterlife. because, in the end, what you didn’t do doesn’t matter as much as what you did do. that’s what the underworld taught me.’ ‘you’re not judged and sentenced based on what you didn’t do.’ yoongi agrees, eyes roaming the river once again, seemingly lost. ‘and i thought to myself what sort of things i’d have to dump once my time upstairs was done.’ jungkook continues. ‘a diploma, maybe, because i dropped out of school and ran.’ that makes yoongi laugh. ‘i can’t predict all of what’s to come, and all of the regrets i’ll have in the future, but i knew one thing that i didn’t want to regret: you, hyung.’ he confesses in a mere whisper, afraid of the words, and yoongi just watches, pleads him to continue. ‘i didn’t want to have to dump the memory of you into the styx, yoongi hyung, because you don’t belong with all that sadness. you’re too beautiful, too precious to be discarded like that. you belong in the sky, in the elysium, in statues and myths. this might be my place, but it’s not yours. so i told myself i had to do right by you, i had to find a way not to regret you. that’s why i’ve got to say it.’ ‘say it, kook-ah.’ yoongi is gentle, like he is half expecting it. and maybe being the son of aphrodite he can tell, could tell all along, but he lets jungkook take his time and come to terms with it anyway. ‘i like you, hyung. i like you a lot. not in the way i like taehyung hyung, who’s like a brother to me although the whole family dynamics is very complicated. i like you the same way joon hyung and jin hyung like jimin hyung, or the same way paris liked helen. and this thing that you’re made out of - love - can be a curse, but it doesn’t feel like it when i look at you.’ jungkook avoids his eyes and stumbles on his words, and there’s no one to tease him or to laugh, most of the souls too caught up in their own business, not even the moon prying on his confession, and yet he feels so exposed and naked it’s nearly too much. he hadn’t felt this uncomfortable in his own skin ever since he first arrived at camp, ragged and dirty, feral and cynical. ‘it scares me too, you know?’ yoongi says after a heartbeat too long. ‘how powerful this feeling can be. and i know it’s silly because my mom rules over it, and i shouldn’t be afraid of her or of what i can do myself, but it’s still weird.’ ‘it’s weird how you can be willing to give so much of yourself to someone, so easily. it’s the type of thing that sneaks on you, isn’t it? one day you’re fine and then colors are brighter and the air smells differently. and it’s terrifying.’ ‘it is.’ jungkook agrees, heart beating fast in his ribcage because he’s doesn’t know where yoongi is going, but he agrees with all of it. he’d been so detached, so lonely, until he found the camp, until he found a home. until he found yoongi. ‘it scares me because love, unlike death, doesn’t judge. and maybe it should. maybe it’d so well with some common sense, and some logic to it, but there’s no place for it in the hollow chambers of my heart.’ yoongi enunciates slowly, tasting the words in his mouth. ‘it’s scary because i’ve seen your cruelty, even if accidental, and i didn’t like you any less. i should’ve, but it only made you real. your flaws, they’re part of you too and it felt like a privilege to see them, to see more of you, even when it shouldn’t have felt like that. and yeah, it feels like a curse sometimes, but only when you’re not around and my thoughts start to try and make sense of it because being the son of aphrodite i guess i should’ve learned already that love doesn’t make sense.’ ‘it’s a leap of faith.’ jungkook whispers, remembering how he’d first felt. ‘yeah, kook-ah. in many ways, that’s what it is.’ ‘what does that mean, hyung?’ jungkook pleads, a giant in this realm but small in the silhouette of yoongi's thoughts. ‘what does any of it mean, kook-ah?’ yoongi retorts. ‘we’re taking a field trip to the underworld, and we’re not dead, and we’re mortal but half our parents are not. life matters, and so does death, and love is complicated and makes no sense. what does it mean, when it’s you and me and the hades in front of our eyes?’ jungkook feels like crying, because it’s not a rejection, but it’s nothing proper. he bares his heart just because he doesn’t want to throw it in the styx either. it doesn’t seem fair. ‘to me, hyung, it means everything. and maybe it shouldn’t, but it does.’ jungkook feels warm tears coming out, uninvited. ‘and i’m sorry, i’m sorry for not being perfect, for being made of darkness when there’s so much light to you, but maybe that’s a good thing. maybe we can learn from each other, right? because light and darkness make shadow, and they meet halfway more often than not.’ ‘it’s a leap of faith.’ yoongi echoes, and his deep voice travels to the sky far above and beyond. ‘you’re right, that’s what it is.’ ‘so will you finally put me out of my misery and kiss me, hyung?’ ‘not unless you ask nicely.’ jungkook huffs, because he’s never been kissed before, because he only has a slight idea of what it should be like, but he knows he wants his first kiss to be with yoongi, in the middle of hades, while they’re both wearing pyjamas and trying to make sense of things much bigger than their entire existence. yoongi laughs at his impertinence, and his impatience that’s so youthful it doesn’t belong among the dead, and thinks he wants to do things properly too. yoongi’s hair is of an explosive pink, freshly dyed, stronger than a mending bruise, as hypnotic as a string of tears falling down uncontrollably, when he leans down and kisses jungkook for the first time. it’s only the first of many, and they have time to get it right, but yoongi tastes like the cherry jelly they had for dessert, some minty toothpaste, and a long awaited homecoming. he kisses gently, like he wants every second of it to be good, like it’s his duty to sync his lips with his heartbeat and make jungkook feel all that he’s feeling. it explodes in jungkook’s lips, his mind, his heart. he’s a sloppy kisser, but yoongi doesn’t seem to mind that. jungkook’s eager to make up for it, and he accidentally calls a legion of british alliance soldiers to celebrate their kiss with a bunch of horrays louder than 1945 london, and it’s okay because it makes them part to laugh, but then they go right back to kissing. it makes time stop, gravity cease, and nothing else matters except for where his mouth connects to yoongi’s, and they’re two people, whole, but also halves of something more. they have to talk, discuss things, jungkook still feels the need to apologize again for any and every thing, but it’ll be okay. it’ll be okay because this kiss, like the one before and so many to come, means they’re willing to sit down and listen, to talk through their problems, to communicate instead of hiding and running. it starts like this - with a string of kisses nearby a soul eating river, surrounded by the dead, only two hearts beating loudly for each other. and it’s good, better than jungkook would have expected. because when they go back to camp, they have time to talk, but he can also start stealing kisses from yoongi every morning at breakfast, and when seokjin pretends to gag over it, he can do it even more enthusiastically. and yeah, it makes mr. D pay extra close attention to them and their afternoon inspection of cabins, but jungkook doesn’t mind that because kissing yoongi never feels less thrilling, and he’s inconsequential enough, madly in love enough, to risk the ire of an immortal being for it. when summer is over and it’s time for yoongi to go back to the city, jungkook gives him a goodbye worth of romance movies. he picks him up and swirls him around, much to his dismay and embarrassment, and kisses the hell out of him in front of the whole camp. the aphrodite kids cheer, but seokjin boos because that turned out more dramatic than what he'd planned for jimin and he’d taken it personally. jungkook stays atop the hill watching as yoongi’s car drives away, and he waves until it’s out of sight. the moment he comes back to his cabin, however, he finds yoongi had done something for him too. his cabin had been filled with little notes, everywhere, that told him to remember to eat properly, to not oversleep, and to steal namjoon’s cell phone and call every day. every little note had happy faces drawn into it, and even little hasty hearts, and yoongi wasn’t the best with romantic gestures, but it made jungkook’s heart swell all the same. a little deed that went a long way to make him fall even harder. and they talk everyday. through letters, iris messages, video calls on namjoon’s fancy brand new iphone that goes missing for hours on end while he pretends not to notice. when the winter solstice rolls over the horizon, jungkook meets yoongi in front of the empire state building. yoongi looks tiny in his extra thick snow coat, and he’s hiding his pink nose in the white wool scarf, and he looks the best he’s ever looked because it’s been too long since jungkook could sniff his perfume and taste his lips. he practically runs out of the camp van, leaving jin and joon behind to complain, and throws himself into his boyfriend’s arms. that winter solstice, the cabin counselors had been invited to the summit of the gods, and there they were. taehyung, instead of a beanie, wore proudly what jungkook could only describe as the winter version of a cowboy hat. hoseok was there too - he’d flown in from oregon in the morning, and he hugs everyone tight, like he missed them all terribly and jungkook believes it. jimin, ever the drama queen, throws himself at his boyfriends theatrically, because apparently seokjin still held a grudge against jungkook and they had to outdo any romance between mister congeniality olympus and his 2005 pete wentz emo boyfriend, as the trouble trio had lovingly started to call them. other counselors are there too - people from hephaestus, demeter and minor deities like hecate - and it feels like a merry gathering, even with all the gushing and jungkook trying to bite and chew yoongi’s rosy cheek like a marshmallow. mr. D, begrudgingly, guides them to the elevator and presses the button for the 600th floor. once the doors open, jungkook sees mount olympus for the first time. it’s the top of a mountain floating a few thousand feet above manhattan, where everything is harmonious, there's music playing, people singing, and fire everywhere to keep them warm. it's pretty much the opposite of his father’s realm, and he twists his nose at it, but holds yoongi’s hand tighter because at the end of the day he's there for him. it’d be the first time yoongi ever came close to his mother, and it's an important moment and yoongi wanted jungkook around. so even though jungkook had felt tempted to skip on the summit and take taehyung to the underworld in exchange for the liquor he’d smuggled on his car, he still showed up on time, all proper in front of the gods. in reality, the demigods aren’t allowed in the actual summit, so they sit outside and stuff their bellies until it's all over. then, their parents could decide to see them - if they remembered they had kids - and that's it. jungkook didn’t think his father would be the first out of the door, looking for him, but hades had always managed to surprise him. he didn’t even consider his father would want to meet him, but there he stands, dressed all in black, shoulder-length dark hair, five o’clock shadow and the same smudged eyeliner jungkook had been partial to in the past months. and his past self had been right - because once hades smiles he can see the dimples in his cheeks. it’s not something he would’ve expected of the god of the underworld, but it soothes the manic look in his father’s eyes and almost makes him look like a normal man in his early 30s, perhaps still too hopeful and naive but ready to try and take on the world. ‘jungkook!’ hades comes close enough to hug him, but he’s 6’ 4’’ and virtually a stranger. sensing his son’s discomfort, he simply extends his hand. ‘it’s a pleasure to meet you.’ ‘likewise, sir.’ jungkook’s voice sounds out of place, like he can hear it in the distance but it doesn’t come from within him. it’s then he realises he’s shy. ‘uhm, mr. hades, this is my boyfriend, yoongi.’ ‘nice to meet you, sir.’ yoongi addresses him with charm, polite and formal, like one should when addressing a deity they were not related to. ‘and you.’ hades seems to be just as polite. ‘might i have a word with you, my son?’ jungkook feels trapped, and all sorts of wrong, because if his father is nothing like he expected and then maybe he’s nothing like his father expected either and he hates to disappoint people, and he’s scared, but yoongi smiles at him and jungkook finds the courage to speak in private with hades. well, as private as it can be in a conference room filled with people. and jungkook tries telling himself it can’t be all bad - not when hoseok’s smile is the only thing keeping ares from starting another world war, and the god of war seems legitimately interested in hoseok’s tale about his new diamond edition blu ray of the little mermaid. it can’t be all bad when taehyung is upside down, flying above their heads with winged chuck taylors, being chased by hermes’ caduceus’ snakes, making his father laugh in much the loud, boxy way he did. it can’t be all bad when seokjin is deep in argument with his mother, and seems to be winning. and jungkook thinks that he’d hate to argue with athena, goddess of wisdom, but he’d like even less to argue with her witty son. so he turns to hades and tries to smile, because it can’t all be bad, and because maybe his mother had reasons to fall for him. because maybe the gods didn’t completely ignore their children, and even, dare he say, cared for some of them. ‘i’ve got a gift for you, son.’ hades announces in a very regal voice that’s used to command and it’s still trying to figure how to smother and soften its edges to address his child. and jungkook really appreciates the effort. ‘i’m sorry i don’t have one for you, dad.’ he tastes that word in his tongue and it feels foreign, but not all bad. ‘you are a gift already, jungkook-ah. a gift your mother gave me years ago.’ hades pats him in the shoulder. ‘you’ve made me really proud. you’re a great swordsman, son, and i wanted you to have this to remember that we’ll always have your back.’ hades hands him a weird sort of bracelet - it fits around his wrist but once he puts it on, it expands over his hand, in the shape of his bones, and hugs each of his fingers. very stylish, admitelly a bit morbid, but still cool. only he doesn’t know what to do with it. ‘like this.’ hades extends three of his fingers and presses them over his heart. jungkook follows. once he touches his heart, a shield made of black stygian iron comes to life in his hand, big enough for him to crouch behind and be safe. it’s heavy, and the metal has a fearsome reputation that no doubt would scare away a lot of monsters, but once he flips it over it brings tears to his eyes. it’s not the figure of a demon, or a skull, there to protect him and chase away the perils. it’s his mother. she’s smiling, the same bunny teeth as him, hairs moving in the wind magically, and she looks so real it’s almost like she’s alive again. hugging her from behind is his father, and they seem good together - happy. ‘three fingers to activate it, son. one for each of us.’ hades squeezes his shoulder and maybe it’s a trick of the light but his eyes are glossy too. ‘you, me and your mom. when i claimed you, you paid tribute to me so that the lord of the underworld would know he hadn’t been forgotten by the living. this is our way or telling you that neither the dead nor the immortal have forgotten about you, little one.’ it’s on instinct that he hugs his father, much taller than he’d ever hoped to be, and it’s weird with all that iron in between them, but hades hugs him tight too and it feels strangely good. comforting, like his mom’s bedtime stories had felt all those years ago. safe, like camp feels. loving, like yoongi’s careful touches. ‘is she alright?’ jungkook asks once they part and he realises he never tried to reach his mom, or seek her in the afterlife, because a part of him was not yet ready to accept she was truly gone. ‘she’s in the elysium.’ hades tells him. ‘she sings, cooks, and gives her neighbors a hard time. it’s all she could want for eternity.’ he guarantees jungkook. ‘sounds like mom.’ ‘yeah, sounds like the woman who chased me around because she thought i was a catch.’ hades laughs and jungkook follows. ‘she’s special, and so are you, my son. i’ll always be watching you, and if you ever need anything, don’t hesitate to ask. you are born of love, made of it, and you are loved by your father. don’t ever doubt that.’ ‘i don’t.’ jungkook said. ‘not really. i’m glad you’re my dad. i think we’re doing well for ourselves, right?’ ‘that we are.’ hades nods and it feels strangely like a goodbye ahead of time, so he adds: ‘do you happen to like dogs, jungkook?’ ‘i do, why?’ jungkook doesn’t think hellhounds would be allowed at camp, but he’s sure no one can deny his father anything and for once in his life he’s ready to be a little spoiled. ‘because cerberus would love some company. he has a bad reputation, but he’s really playful, you know, just three heads the average dog.’ hades scratches his neck. ‘so if it ever gets lonely up here, you can visit. you already know the way.’ and jungkook understands it goes both ways - because his father is lonely down there too. after a while, it's much of the same. and though living things didn’t belong in the realm of the dead, it's part of him too so jungkook smiles honestly and thinks it'd be nice to sneak into his dad’s palace sometimes instead of doing chores at camp. ‘i’ll visit, dad.’ jungkook promises him. ‘and maybe you can show me around the place some more.’ ‘i would love that.’ hades admits and it feels like there’s much more for them to talk about, but zeus calls for him and he parts with another hug, kinder this time. jungkook fumbles a bit with his brand new shield, but eventually finds a way to turn it back to a bracelet, and skips to where yoongi is very seriously staring at a wall. ‘hey there, min yoongi.’ ‘hello, jeon jungkook.’ yoongi kisses his cheek with his eyes closed. ‘how was the dad lecture?’ ‘he’s really cool, actually. doesn’t get a lot of visitors, so i told him i’d stop by some time. maybe you could come with me.’ ‘you don’t need to trick me with a fruit of the underworld to keep me by your side, spawn of hades. i’m already yours.’ yoongi shows him his tongue and it’s extra pink, so jungkook kisses him in the mouth like they’ve been apart their whole lives. ‘you two are the sweetest!’ a female voice comes from behind them and yoongi shakes a bit in jungkook’s arms. his eyes stay closed from the kiss, because that’s how he wants to do it, but jungkook allows himself to take a look. and there she is - aphrodite. goddess of love and beauty. yoongi’s mom. the most beautiful woman ever to be. she looks differently to each person, and to him, she looks a bit like yoongi. jungkook thinks the cat-like way they move is similar, and the shape of their nose and curve of their mouths is the same. she has the same delicate collarbones he loves to touch on yoongi, and even the hair - holy hades, she has pink hair. like yoongi. like jungkook. hers flowed in a french braid down her back, cascading and shimmering, and she is beautiful, absolutely, undeniably. dangerous, too, but too beautiful to focus on anything else. there they stood - three people with pink hair meeting for the first time. ‘hi, mom.’ yoongi sounds shier than ever before. like he’s afraid of offending her by keeping his eyes closed, but he’s too stubborn not to do it anyway and jungkook squeezes his hand to reassure him. she doesn’t seem mad. ‘hello, yoongi.’ her voice is feminine, enticing and timeless, and she looks not a day older than 20. ‘my smart, smart son.’ she reaches out and caresses his face, and jungkook bets her hands are every bit as soft as they look. ‘i don’t want to see you because i don’t want to have a biased image of you, mom. i just wanna treasure this moment.’ yoongi tells her through choked sobs that sound a lot like one of his father’s longing piano pieces, and jungkook should feel like he’s intruding, but he doesn’t. because aphrodite doesn’t think he’s intruding. he realizes, belatedly, that to her it’s not yoongi and jungkook, but yoongiandjungkook. and maybe he loves her for it a little more than he fears anything she could do. ‘i know, my son. i’ve heard you, all of this time.’ she hugs him and yoongi looks tiny next to her, but buries his nose into her perfumed neck and cries his sorrows away. ‘in eons, you’re the only one who truly understood my essence, son, the burden i bear, and the true extent of my power. you might not be a hero proven in battle, or much of a fighter compared to others, but you are smart, loyal and loving. you are the essence of what i am, of what it means to love. which is why i wanted to give you someone special too.’ aphrodite looks at him and it’s not intimidating at all. she’s still the olympian jungkook fears the most, but she’s also sort of his mother in law and for now she seems happy enough with him, so they’re in good terms. ‘i love you, mom. and i’ve missed you all along.’ ‘i love you too, son. i’ve been keeping an eye on you, always.’ she makes it sound like a promise she has never broken and will never break, and jungkook believes it. he believes she smells of river lilies, his mother’s own lavender perfume and sweet winter peaches. he believes she has the softest skin, he believes she fell without restraint for a mortal who could make her cry using musical notes, and he believes that she’s loved yoongi before she even knew him. because that too is the essence of love - that fearlessness, that unrestrained willingness, that wholeheartedly feeling that consumed you like flames, but never burned, only lighted the way. aphrodite loves yoongi like a mother loves her son, like a mother should love her son, and jungkook thinks that in the end all sorts of love are much the same, though they might look different. she’s one, but she’s seen as a kaleidoscope by those who experience love differently, and she shows herself differently through the ages because the human notion of love changes, evolves, but - that’s what she is, the desire to do anything for a loved one. maybe that’s why she was so attracted to ares, as different as they were, because she’d go to war for her children, and she’d watch them go to war for their loved ones. so she doesn’t take it trivially, she knows it matters, she understands. and yoongi is much like her - he understands the trials of loving, but doesn’t let them stop him. he fights for it, because he believes in it. jungkook thinks quietly, just to himself, that maybe that’s her real form - the one in which she looks like yoongi in the tiny details, because maybe he’s made to her image, her true self, a blessing and a curse, her favorite child. and it’s a nice thought to have, even if it goes away quickly. ‘your mother will always be looking out for you, yoongi.’ she tells him once more. still, he keeps his eyes closed. ‘i’ll see you one day, mother’ and it’s a promise he’s not sure how he’ll keep, but he’ll keep it anyway. ‘you two take care of each other for when us immortals are too busy, alright? remember to love, and how it feels like.’ she tells them, and when she stares directly at jungkook it makes his heart bloom. not in the same way yoongi is capable of, because not even she could compare, but it’s nice. it’s sunflowers in his lungs and a breath of fresh air. she’s really beautiful and he’s just really glad she heard a melody and followed it to a tiny man playing on a big stage, because together they loved and they made something even more beautiful - yoongi. ‘you have my blessing.’ she says as a manner of parting. and when yoongi kisses him, it’s all more intense than ever before. and so it ends much in the same way it started. with gods and monsters and young teenagers out of their depth, caught in between. it ends just like that - without a proper ending, just another stop on the tracks. and it ends like this - with laughter and kissing that changes the world and makes the earth go round. and like this - jungkook’s hair of a faded pink instead of black. and this - yoongi’s hair is still of an icy rosé tone, fainter than a blush, as delicate to the eye as the blossom of cherry trees, when jungkook realises he’s never been happier.