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“It’s almost time, Donghyuck. Did you sleep well?“ The reverend lingers at the doorway, floorboards creaking beneath his weight as he watches the man currently perched on the edge of his cot. Donghyuck always knew this day was going to come, from the moment he was born it was his blood that was to be shed upon the altar when the time was right. Now Donghyuck is 23 years old, innocent and pure, untouched and as beautiful as the Sun his skin is kissed by—As beautiful as the Sun he will be sacrificed to come morning— and the clock has finally caught up to him. Every year he has watched the lambs before him walk upon the altar and bare their throats, has watched their blood pour down the marble and their silk robes stain like wine, and wondered what it would feel like when it was finally his turn. Every year a sacrifice is made to the Sun Goddess, and in return she brings the village a bountiful harvest, another year graced with Sol’s Blessing. The summers are long and filled with her all-encompassing warmth, the winters bright and short-lived before the thaw sets in and the crops can be planted again. Donghyuck nods solemnly, swallows past the lump that has made itself a home in his throat before slowly lifting his gaze to look at Taeyong. He’s always known this day was going to come, and maybe the majority of him has come to peace with his fate, that he’s been dead since the very beginning, but there is still the fear that sits heavy in his stomach like a stone. “Yes, father. I slept okay.“ It feels weird to refer to Taeyong as such, considering the man is only a few years older than him, and they’d grown up alongside each other — but it is still a title to be respected, one that Taeyong has earned with his years in the church. Both of them orphaned and taken in by the church, Taeyong has been the only pillar Donghyuck has had since the moment he was dumped onto the cobblestone steps outside this house of worship. Always present, always kind, always understanding, always near and never far — Donghyuck doesn’t know what he’d do without the reverend just in arms reach. Taeyong holds out his hand, offers his palm to Donghyuck who eyes it cautiously for a moment, before he rises from the edge of his bed. Slipping his hand into Taeyong’s, the priest floats through the corridors of the church like he has many times before, a ghost haunting its halls with Donghyuck on his heels. “They wish to purify you in the sea before the ritual. I told them I would oversee it, since I would be the one… You know.“ There is an elephant in the room with them that neither of them want to look at, and Donghyuck’s breath hitches because everything is starting to feel increasingly real. Taeyong is to perform his sacrifice, to hold Donghyuck steady as he brandishes the blade that will bring promise and good fortune to their village. Donghyuck wonders what Taeyong tells himself to help him sleep at night the closer his execution draws nearer. Taeyong leads him outside, the chill of the night resting deep in Donghyuck’s bones. It’s too cold to even think about slipping into the sea, but it’s not like he has much of a choice. This is his destiny. Donghyuck lifts his head and stares at the wide expanse of the stars, and searches for a higher divinity that isn’t there, at least not for him. Not tonight, and not ever. “Will you bathe with me?“ The question is quiet, slowly turning to look at the priest standing by his side. “I shouldn’t.“ “But will you?“ Taeyong doesn’t answer him, leaving Donghyuck alone as he continues down the footpath towards the church’s private entrance to the beach. Donghyuck is quick to follow after the reverend, stumbling over his own feet. The water laps at his feet when he comes to a stop, growing increasingly numb with the cold. He hadn’t even thrown on a pair of shoes before he left the warmth of his chambers. “I won’t look at you as you strip, Donghyuck.“ Donghyuck feels a flush crawl up the back of his spine, shaking hands raising to the buttons of his shirt as he listens to the rustle of Taeyong’s rosary beads. Every little sound around them feels like it’s amplified, like they’re the only two people in the entire world. Donghyuck wonders if even the Gods are watching them in this moment, or if they’re tucked away in their own alcove of the world, finally alone. Donghyuck tells himself that’s silly, because they’re always watching. Donghyuck has never been able to escape their keen eyes.
“Lord, Holy Father, look kindly on your children, redeemed by your Son and born to a new life by water and the Holy Spirit. Grant that those who bathe in this water may be renewed in body and spirit, and may make a pure offering of their service to you. We ask this through Christ, our Lord.“
“Amen.“ Donghyuck feels the word spill past his lips before he even realizes Taeyong has finished his prayer, fingers still hooked in the waistband of his trousers. He tugs them down the long line of his legs, arms wrapping around themselves out of instinct to try and shield himself from the chill. He can’t tell if it’s from the weather or the absolute vulnerability of being so exposed like this in front of somebody else. Pulling in a deep breath, Donghyuck moves into the waves without giving himself a chance to think any better of it, plunging himself into the darkness beneath the surface. Down here, everything seems so simple. His ears flooded with water, feeling completely weightless, it’s easy to forget what Donghyuck’s duties are in just a few hours' time. Donghyuck stays submerged for as long as he can take it, until his lungs scream for air and panicking is close to setting in. Will it feel like this when he chokes on his own blood? Will the people of his village look at him with pity, or will they look away in disgust? Will they be able to stomach it all when his bleating cries cease to nothingness? Will they remember Donghyuck’s kindness, offered like wool to anybody who needed his warmth and comfort, his selfless love to sustain their hunger for compassion? Will they be impressed with how obediently Donghyuck takes to the altar, docile and sweet and trusting as he fulfills something much bigger than himself? Will they watch the lamb led to the slaughter and look kindly upon him as his guts unspool like beautiful, shining yarn all over his linens? Donghyuck can only hope. When Donghyuck breaks through the surface again, the first thing he processes is Taeyong standing before him in the water, his face twisted into an unreadable expression. Donghyuck smiles, an impish little thing as his heart pounds in his chest. Is it sin to stand here with Taeyong, both of them bare and exposed past just their skin — Donghyuck’s heart lays out before the reverend, beating wildly in the palm of his hand, untamed. Can they disguise this as just two best friends linked by a bond as thick as blood — or can the God’s sense the temptation Donghyuck has been deprived of all of his life, permeating off of him in waves as he gazes upon Taeyong’s face. Every sharp feature and dip, Donghyuck lingers on the mole at the corner of his mouth, before quickly averting his gaze elsewhere. “I’m scared.” It’s the first time Donghyuck has admitted it out loud, staring at the colours rising over the horizon, painting the skies in a beautiful hue. The sun has only just begun to peak, bathing Taeyong in a beautiful glow that Donghyuck will hold to keep himself warm in whatever afterlife he goes to. Taeyong gently lifts his hands to cradle Donghyuck’s face, thumbing over the ursa minor constellation on his cheek. “There’s nothing to be afraid of, little lamb. I will make sure that death will be kinder than any man. I’ll make sure the brightest sunflower’s sprout from your grave every year. I’ll feel your warmth kiss my cheeks every summer day, I’ll see your reflection in every riverbed. I’ll tend to your tombstone and make sure you are never lonely. You will become one of the Gods I pray to every night until my knees are raw, seeking out your guidance when I feel lost. I will hear you in every hymn we sing. For as long as I live, you will live inside me, Donghyuck. I will promise you this.” Taeyong holds him so tenderly, there’s no more denying that this is a confession , toeing the fine line between a brotherly bond and something so, so much more — something neither of them will ever be able to obtain. Donghyuck will slip through Taeyong’s fingers like grains of sand, and Donghyuck will bare his flesh to the reverend’s dagger in a proclamation of his love. Is there any hiding what they’re doing? Does it count when no real intimacy has been consummated between them? Where does Donghyuck begin and Taeyong end, because the sacrificial lamb isn’t all too sure anymore. Donghyuck doesn’t believe in God anymore, but he does believe in Taeyong. He believes Taeyong will be gentle, and lay him to rest with as much love as he can muster. As long as Taeyong is alive, Donghyuck will be loved — and he believes it. Donghyuck pulls back from the touch before he can get too overwhelmed with the things he cannot have, and the reality of a situation that is less than hours away at this point. His breath stutters in his throat, doe eyes glazing over with tears as he looks up at Taeyong. “I wish… I wish things had been different. I wish we had more time.” Donghyuck wades out of the water before he can let Taeyong reply, shivering all the way down to his marrow. Maybe it’s better this way. No, it’s most definitely better this way. They dress back into their robes in silence, leaving their blinding devotion floating in the waves where Taeyong had held him. ~ ☀ ~ It is not Taeyong’s first sacrificial ceremony, and it will most certainly not be his last either — but none of them have mattered up until this very point. Taeyong has grieved the life of every lamb underneath his blade, has shed his tears behind the closed doors of the church, but none of them will compare to the loss of Donghyuck — and he’s not even dead yet. A pitch black void has settled in his stomach, mourning somebody he hasn’t even lost quite yet. He doesn’t know what he’ll do when Donghyuck is gone, even if he’s known this day was always going to come. Never a matter of if it would happen, but a matter of when. The beginning of the ceremony goes by without a hitch, watching the villagers huddled together in the pews and sharing body heat. It’s almost springtime, and the sacrifice must be conducted before the first thaw to ensure the coming summer will be bountiful. As Taeyong leads the sermon, he distantly wonders if Donghyuck is cold and alone in the winding corridors of the church, waiting for one of the sister’s to let him know when it’s his cue. When Donghyuck steps out from behind a door, silence settles over the entire room. He is dressed beautifully in stark white linens, his hair hanging over his forehead and obstructing those big, tragic eyes. He looks scared, and Taeyong doesn’t blame him — but he seems to visibly relax when he locks his gaze on the reverend standing at the podium. It does little to calm Taeyong’s nerves. He is a sight to behold, and if this is the last Taeyong will see of him, he will commit it to his memory until the day he dies. Taeyong offers his palm like he had when he retrieved Donghyuck from his room in the early hours of that morning, leading him up to the marble altar. Donghyuck goes willingly, docile and sweet and never puts up a fight. He has accepted his duty, and has welcomed his own sacrifice for the greater good of his people as he steps up to the altar. He does not need to be tied down, and he holds so very still as Taeyong wields the ceremonial dagger. Donghyuck’s eyes flutter shut, heart shaped lips parted softly as he expels out a controlled sigh. He offers no resistance when Taeyong presses the knife to his throat, tipping his head back to bare more of his neck to the priest. Taeyong wishes he had kissed it when he had the chance, that he had never taken Donghyuck for granted and had him when he could. This will be his life's greatest regret, for as long as he may live. Fuck the God’s and what they deem as good and or wrong, Taeyong just wishes he had Donghyuck. He wishes he could save the lamb from the slaughter, but he does nothing of the sort as the blade glides cleanly over Donghyuck’s throat.
“Swift and all beautiful, Sol, maker of sacred light, illumining this, your radiant realm. Please accept our mortal offering, and carry our beloved Lee Donghyuck into your realm of warmth in return for a bountiful harvesting season. Rising this day farseeing one, Sol, deliver us from disease, trouble and dishonour, and fill us with truth and beauty, just as you fill Earth and Heaven with your light.”
There’s a chorus of Amen’s throughout the church as Donghyuck bleeds beautifully, a flower flooded with blood that stains everything with red. Donghyuck’s insides are as warm as his outside demeanor, searching for Taeyong in a final flurry of panic as his life drains from him. In Donghyuck’s final moments, all he wants is Taeyong. Taeyong threads their fingers together, holding their entwined hands against the rapid pumping of his heart. It beats fast enough for the two of them, letting Donghyuck watch him for as long as he can manage. Blood seeps from the corners of Donghyuck’s mouth, as he gurgles and chokes on it and tries to grasp at Taeyong’s ceremonial robes. “It’s okay, little lamb. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” His words are for Donghyuck and Donghyuck only, his free hand thumbing through the sticky crimson on the lamb’s cheek, cradling his jaw. Donghyuck had already forgiven him, before he had even laid himself down on the chopping block. Taeyong was just doing his part, much like Donghyuck was doing his. When the ceremony is over and the pews are empty, the townspeople having returned to their homes in a heavy, grieving silence — Taeyong is the one that cleans the altar. He is the one the carries Donghyuck’s body to the already prepared grave behind the church, Donghyuck’s name engraved beautifully into the headstone. If any of the sister’s notice Taeyong cradling Donghyuck’s limp body longer than necessary, they all seem to turn a blind eye to Taeyong’s grief. He goes back inside the church covered in the lamb’s blood, the scent thick underneath Taeyong's nose. No matter how hard he scrubs, Donghyuck is everywhere — embedded into the fibers of his robes, underneath of his nails, dried upon his skin. It feels gross, wet, nauseating. Taeyong wails as he cleans the altar, grieving for what it is that he once had and what it is that he has lost — what has slipped by him before he could realize just how badly he craved it. He wonders if they could’ve run off together, found a new village to start a life in that Donghyuck wasn’t doomed from the beginning in, or if Donghyuck’s destiny was simply inescapable. Taeyong wants to believe that’s true, but Taeyong is a man of the Gods, and he knows that the fates will find you no matter what. But Sol must be pleased with the village’s diligence in it’s offering of Lee Donghyuck, because the summer is sweltering in its heat and good fortune has befallen over the townspeople. A plentiful harvest, healthy livestock, gold, no illnesses plaguing through their people — it’s the best season they’ve had in ages. Taeyong likes to believe this is all Donghyuck’s doing, not Sol’s — watching from somewhere beyond and making sure his people carried on where he could not. It helps Taeyong sleep at night. He makes sure to water the sunflowers at Donghyuck’s grave, and to trim their spent blooms. If it is all he has left of Donghyuck, he will tend to them with the utmost of care.