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The shivelight filters through the pastel crumbs of clouds glittering up the ivory marble he is trudging on. The carmine robes obscuring him from the shoulders below cast a seamless contrast as it trails behind him. His locks, brown and neat, brush past his ears caressing his cheeks. The ambiance is serene and the sun, gently fiercer.
It is indeed another good day.
Jeongguk hates it.
You see, he had to wake up at the asscrack of dawn—no, in fact, he doubts he got even 15 minutes of sleep before his mother performed her usual routine of screaming like a banshee at around daybreak right outside his room to wake him up.
If his mother wasn’t the goddess of spring, she’d be an alarm clock and the persistent non-digital alarm at that. Jeongguk once again almost lost his voice screaming back in reply to assure her that he was awake. Mothers, heavenly or not, do not come in variety.
At least his father lets him sleep in. Which brings us to why he’s dolled up this early.
It is the oh-so-illustrious end of the first half of the year and the oh-so-not-illustrious beginning of the second half. That is, in mythological terms, the day Persephone rests her duties in the heavenly realm to return into the awaiting arms of her husband Hades, the god of the dead for the next six months. Climatically, the transition from sunny to cloudy.
For him though, it means a full 6 months of going batshit crazy in his father’s realm and not getting in trouble for it. These heaven people can’t have fun for the life of them.
His mother, Persephone—if you still haven’t figured out—will follow him a week later because of some official reasons Jeongguk could care less about. As for now, being gentlemanlike can go to hell, he picks up his god-forsakenly long peplos and stomps forward in search of the subordinate assigned to pick him up.
He turns around another white-walled corner, attention more on the wet strands of his hair freezing his neck when—you guessed it—another body dashing towards him crashes right into his face.
He doesn’t fall, of course not, he’s his papa’s baby after all, and barely manages to keep his ground holding onto the corner with one hand. The other hand, as it comes to be, balances the body that crashed into him, in his arms by securing onto the other’s waist.
It is something out of a fairytale, if we ignore how awkwardly the other man is bent but who cares about details anyway. Or well, it would have been if Jeongguk had noticed the man himself before the tawny brown ball of all things cute clutched in the man’s arms.
Noticing it has caught an unprecedented interest, the dog barks at him. He melts on the spot.
“Oh my sweet ever-loving fuck!” he exclaims, straightening the man up in one go and shoving him away to face the puppy. The man tightens his hold just slightly.
“What’s his name?” he gushes over him as the puppy nuzzles his wrist without a fuss.
“Yeontan, and... the language, my master,” a baritone of syllables rumbles suavely at him.
His eyes widen as his pulse resounds in his ears inexplicably at that. He glances up. He believes that to be his best mistake in all his years to come.
The tanned cheeks, dazzling brighter than any jewel should dare to shine, are puffed up in distaste at the language used, making a faint embarrassed blush evident. His lashes cast an ideally long shadow over eyes so hazel and poised, that he finds himself gravitating inherently.
And the lips—god, he has never seen a lip, fuller and prettier than his mother's in all his life and yet here he is.
As Jeongguk is occupied with questioning the existence of such a fine deity, the man understanding of the fact that he isn’t going to get an answer, proceeds to get down on one knee. Jeongguk's eyebrows shoot up through his hairline.
“This servant shall beg thy mercy for I have committed a felony loftier than mine being. I shall dutifully resound to any chastisement thee bestow upon me,” he says, bowing his head. The puppy merely stares at him with a tilted head.
Jeongguk is jaw-slacked.
“Dude what,” he says. He can see him pressing his lips into a thin line; he supposes it’s probably his vocabulary.
“The punishment, my master,” he replies earnestly.
Jeongguk can’t make a head or tail of wherever the hell that came from. This is literally the most respect he has been given in all his 19 years of existence, but this isn’t about that.
“For?” he asks.
He gazes up and if the ethereal man wasn’t acting as inferior as he is, he would’ve definitely given Jeongguk a ‘look’.
“What?” Jeongguk says half-coolly, offended at that stare.
“For daring to pusheth thee off thy feet and requiring assistance to stabilize myself furthermore, my master.”
Jeongguk looks at him as if he has grown two heads. The ethereal being opens his mouth to verbalize his meaning more clearly but Jeongguk stops him with his hand. He breathes softly through his nose and shows him the index finger indicating he needs a second.
He crouches down to take the mushy fluffball in his arms, which it readily climbs into, barking some more as the ethereal man looks at them blankly.
“Now look here my dude—,” Jeongguk starts but the subtle narrowing of the ethereal man’s eyes displays his annoyance clearly.
“My man—,” the eyes narrow some more.
“My mate—,” a little more.
“Oh divine being? What do you want me to call you?” Jeongguk huffs out.
The ethereal being looks down again, “Whatever thee wishes.”
Jeongguk is getting a headache.
Well, two can play this game. He is the son of the devil himself in the end.
He’d have gotten himself killed for what he’s going to be doing for the rest of the journey if his mother was here. Too bad, she isn’t.
His heels click against the marble as he circles past the ethereal man with an armful of puppy and goes to stand right behind him. The man scrunches his eyebrows and is about to question his intentions when Jeongguk speaks.
“Did you sit in a pile of sugar?”
It’s the ethereal man’s turn to look at him as if he has grown two heads. Jeongguk smiles.
“’Cause you got a pretty sweet ass.”
The man’s situational expression could be used as a dictionary example of one’s soul leaving their body. Yeontan barks happily.
How cute.
Jeongguk bends his knees, takes up the ethereal man’s left hand, and slowly pulls him to his feet as the man plainly gawks, mouth opening and closing in speechlessness.
“Your hand looked heavy, let me hold it for you,” Jeongguk says innocently and starts dragging him towards their palace’s entrance. He could hear him splutter behind him.
This is so fun.
They reach the charcoal black carriage, lined with a plethora of feathers and diamonds that has been parked right in front of the threshold stairs. The coachman looked bored out of his mind but professionally flashes them a courteous grin as he sees them approaching. Jeongguk returns one in tandem.
He lets go of the man’s hand as he peeks inside, catching sight of the goods they’re taking to the Underworld, and smirks. Jeongguk turns around. The ethereal man gulps.
“Are you a banana?”
The man doesn’t dare breathe. The coachman is peeking not-so-subtly to see what’s going on from his seat.
“Because I find you a pealing.”
The ethereal man blushes past his neck and stiffens up in a way he never thought was possible. The coachman acquires a violent coughing fit at being caught off guard and decides that’s his cue to become momentarily deaf.
“I-I-Wherefore wouldst thee-I-I’m—,” he stutters in a tone so adorable, it completely diverges from his usual baritone.
“I like your last name. Can I have the honour of conquering it?” Jeongguk asks, leaning against the carriage lazily and curving his head. The coachman in the front totally loses it at this point.
“Thee—thee—,” he just can’t seem to get any words out.
“I—I?” Jeongguk teases.
“Thee not knoweth mine last name!” he cries out as if in despair. The brazen blush and the stirred-up glimmer in his eyes imply something entirely different.
Jeongguk raises a brow.
“Yeah? So can I call you mine?”
The man is very seriously about to combust. His bangs do little to cover his eyes as he fails miserably at masking the tsundere body language (or he's just that painfully shy).
“Prithee ju-just calleth me Taehyung, my master,” he breathes out.
Jeongguk chuckles and walks forward until he’s standing right in front of him. Taehyung shuffles back a step. Jeongguk brings his hand up as he audibly gasps.
“W-what—,”
Jeongguk folds and smoothens out Taehyung’s collar that had turned itself in and pats his shoulder.
“What?” Jeongguk stares naively. In the meantime, the coachman is having a self-proclaimed heart attack.
“Wherefore art thee doing this?” he squeaks out, looking anywhere but him (& Yeontan). The puppy whines at his owner, not liking that.
“Oh dear, I’m merely carrying out your wishes,” Jeongguk says and walks towards the carriage.
“My... wishes...?” Taehyung whispers to himself, but loud enough for Jeongguk to hear.
He stops before going aboard and glances past his shoulder.
“Your punishment.”
Jeongguk lets out a hearty giggle as he enters the carriage with Yeontan, very much satisfied with his brilliant plan. He coos at the Pomeranian and sits him right beside himself, where he obviously doesn’t stay too long and starts jumping about.
He hums amusedly and is about to start thinking up the next pickup lines when Taehyung enters the carriage as well. He pointedly avoids him and beelines his vision onto Yeontan.
“Taehyung—,” he starts in a sing-song voice.
Taehyung catches Yeontan as he jumps onto his side and smiles for the first time since he has been here. Jeongguk stops and pouts. It’s pretty angelic for an Underworld subordinate and all but he doesn’t even look at him.
He sighs, knowing it’s impossible to make him open up this early anyway, accepting what he had signed up for.
Doesn’t mean he’s quitting anytime soon.
“This looks so much easier in human movies, what the hell,” he mutters absentmindedly and stretches.
“How about I taketh thee to one then?”
Jeongguk stops mid-stretch.
He catches Taehyung staring at him after shyly mumbling the words, and gapes.
Wow, he’s at a loss for words now that he’s the victim. It’s his turn to blush up to his neck and he suddenly decides he hates the atrocious reality of pick-up lines.
“Um woah, to the movies? Well… that—I'm pretty wild, I wouldn’t take myself out if I were you,” he teases, trying to regain his cool composure and cringes internally. Lord save him.
“Oh, thy uh, standards must beest handsom'r and higher than mine then,” Taehyung says softly.
Pin-drop silence.
What in the actual hell happened in the 10 seconds he left him outside? Imposter alert?
Jeongguk has dug up his own grave, hasn't he? He’s not going to survive this. He hopes to see his parents one last time before he passes away in pure bliss. He hopes he rebirths as Yeontan’s baby. May his soul rest in peace.
As Taehyung gently offers Yeontan back into Jeongguk’s arms and brushes his fingers against his shyly—welp, bye bye to resting in peace. He's one more surprise away from flinging himself out the carriage window.
This is going to be one long ride.
(Not that he’s complaining.)