fantasia

cw // slight making out.

---

Satu minggu.

Total seminggu Harris tidak ada mendengar kabar, maupun melihat dan mengetahui kondisi Shaka.

Sejujurnya, mereka pernah melewati ini sebelumnya, bahkan jauh lebih lama— Harris ingat mereka hilang kontak selama hampir sebulan, dan ketika akhirnya putuskan untuk bertemu, berdua sontak berubah layak orang gila yang baru saja menghirup udara segar setelah terkontaminasi harum rumah sakit sesaat saling lihat.

Tentu tidak ingin mengulanginya.

Harris sekarang sudah cukup menderita— terlalu menyibukkan diri dengan mendadak anggap serius pekerjaan, sampai-sampai membuat Karline, asistennya, geleng kepala saat kunjungi.

Walau Karline diam saja selagi memasuki ruangan, Harris tetap tau— tidak sebodoh itu sampai tidak sadar apa yang Karline coba ucapkan tanpa berkata sembari taruh tumpukan dokumen yang diminta diatas meja.

Hela nafas pelan, Harris kasih kembali jawaban berupa tatapan yang menyuruh Karline untuk tidak mengkhawatirkan apapun, satu tangan ambil satu kertas sebagai properti pura-pura.

Sunyi semakin lama semakin berubah layak pisau, lantas buat Karline akhirnya mengendikkan bahu sok acuh dengan badan berbalik ke arah pintu, “Mending pulang, Ris.”

Pulang, ya?

Kemana Harris harus pergi berpulang, jikalau rumahnya saja mengunci pintu dan tidak memperbolehkannya masuk?

Persetan. Sudah tidak peduli entah sudah waktunya atau belum, tangan sontak ambil kunci mobil yang tidak tergerak di atas meja selama berhari-hari— Harris putuskan untuk datangi Shaka sekarang juga.

---

Dari sekian banyak skenario yang Harris telah bayangkan akan terjadi, ini yang tidak ia bayangkan— Shaka didepan pintu tepat setelah masukkan pin, mata berkelubung merah nan kosong dengan gestur tubuh seakan mempersilahkan masuk.

Tidak, sama sekali tidak dikira. Harris pikir Shaka akan berteriak, akan mengusir— oh, pantas saja tidak seperti itu, Harris sadar disaat ia masuk ke dalam; Shaka sama sepertinya, sama lelahnya, ingin cepat selesaikan apapun yang sedang terjadi diantara mereka.

Maka akhirnya disinilah mereka berhadap-hadapan di tengah lorong, ada ringisan yang Harris tahan kala lihat jelas pipi Shaka sedikit menirus, pun Shaka juga tahan isak lihat bagaimana rambut Harris yang tidak karuan— berdua sebanding kacaunya.

Harris keluarkan dehaman serak, tangan terkepal gemetaran di sisi tubuh, “Shaka,” panggilnya lembut bak takut melukai lebih lanjut.

Yang dipanggil diam saja, bibir ditipiskannya jadi satu garis— entah sebagai tanda ia dengarkan, atau agar tangis tak mengalun bebas.

Tangan Harris masih tidak berhenti gemetar, apalagi begitu dinaikkan perlahan guna tangkup pipi Shaka. Suara berubah kecil, “Maafin aku.”

Sedetik, dua detik. Tak, tak, tak. Bunyi denting jam menghantui, sebelum akhirnya pendengaran Harris seakan diporak-porandakan hingga berdengung—

Shaka gila. Sebenar-benarnya hilang akal, sekedar ucapan kata maaf buatnya tidak bisa berpikir lurus dan merasak maju agar kedua bibir bersatu.

Pun Harris terikut, tenggelam dalam gilanya, tangan yang menangkup berubah menuntut— seakan tiada sedetik lalu hati berdentum perih.

Lagipula, apalah daya perih itu kala dihadapkan dengan ingin?

Maka wajar tak bisa Harris berhenti sekalipun rasa tercekik, kalap habisi bibir Shaka akibat rindu— terlampau rindu hingga lidah sekarang saling beradu, bersamaan dengan geligi tanpa ampun menubruk satu sama lain.

Tubuh Shaka didorong mundur, mundur, mundur— berhenti sehabis punggung telak menabrak belakang sofa.

Mungkin akan masih lanjut rakus melumat, bahkan menjurus lebih, jika saja Shaka tidak mendadak tersadar bahwa apa yang dilakukan keduanya salah.

Sontak jemari tarik kuat rambut Harris menjauh, walau hanya berhasil memutus pangutan saja— dahi masih bersandar satu sama lain, begitu pula dengan hidung yang bergesek pelan.

Mata Shaka sudah sayu, tetapi dipaksa menatap tajam lelakinya, “Enggak—” Ucapnya serak, terputus oleh maruknya raupan nafas, “Gak gini, Harris. Ja-jawab dulu, jawab aku. Jawab pertanyaanku.”

Dari sekian banyak skenario yang dibayangkan, inilah salah satu yang Harris sudah tebak akan terjadi. Tetap saja tubuh berubah tegang dan Shaka bisa rasakan.

Yang lebih muda tidak menunggu jawaban, menurutnya sudah cukup jelas— tangan Harris yang menangkup pipi ia tepis kasar, tubuh ia dorong sejauh mungkin.

“Keluar,” Shaka usir dengan isakan, tidak lagi peduli mau bagaimana akhir dari kisah keduanya, “Keluar, brengsek— keluar!”

Teriakannya penuh pilu, sayang hanya dibalas oleh gelengan dari Harris. Tidak menuruti permintaan Shaka.

Malah kembali mendekati, kedua tangan menangkup kembali pipi Shaka yang basah akan tangisan.

“Aku gak bisa jawab sesuai apa yang kamu mau,” Jemari Harris hapus satu persatu jejak tangis milik Shaka yang masih mencoba memberontak, “Tapi aku bisa kasih kamu janjiku.”

Shaka tatap Harris penuh ketidakpercayaan, “A-aku gak butuh, aku gak mau itu— le-lepas!”

Helaan nafas dikeluarkan Harris, kepalanya menggeleng tidak setuju, dahi kemudian lagi-lagi disandarkan satu sama lain.

Tiada aba-aba, Harris langsung ucapkan janji, sekalipun Shaka tidak mau dengarkan.

“Disaat susah maupun senang, kelimpahan maupun kekurangan, sehat maupun sakit,”

Tatapan Harris melembut, merasa Shaka mematung tepat saat sadari apa janji yang dimaksud.

Pun kedua ibu jari mengelus pelan rahang sebelum melanjutkan, “Untukmu dan kepadamu aku hidup, dan kepadamu lah aku berpulang— sehidup semati, ini janjiku padamu,”

Perlahan Harris turun pada satu kaki, satu tangan sekarang memegang pasang tangan Shaka yang gemetaran, sedangkan satunya ambil cincin yang telah berada dalam saku sejak entah kapan untuk dipakaikan— tidak peduli belum bertanya dan belum diiyakan.

Setelah sukses hiasi jari cantik Shaka dengan lingkar emas, Harris bawa naik kedua tangannya ke bibir, dikecup penuh cinta sambil mempertahankan kontak mata;

“Arshaka Argantara, when the time is right, will you let me have you forever?”

cw // slight making out.

---

Satu minggu.

Total seminggu Harris tidak ada mendengar kabar, maupun melihat dan mengetahui kondisi Shaka.

Sejujurnya, mereka pernah melewati ini sebelumnya, bahkan jauh lebih lama— Harris ingat mereka hilang kontak selama hampir sebulan, dan ketika akhirnya putuskan untuk bertemu, berdua sontak berubah layak orang gila yang baru saja menghirup udara segar setelah terkontaminasi harum rumah sakit sesaat saling lihat.

Tentu tidak ingin mengulanginya.

Harris sekarang sudah cukup menderita— terlalu menyibukkan diri dengan mendadak anggap serius pekerjaan, sampai-sampai membuat Karline, asistennya, geleng kepala saat kunjungi.

Walau Karline diam saja selagi memasuki ruangan, Harris tetap tau— tidak sebodoh itu sampai tidak sadar apa yang Karline coba ucapkan tanpa berkata sembari taruh tumpukan dokumen yang diminta diatas meja.

Hela nafas pelan, Harris kasih kembali jawaban berupa tatapan yang menyuruh Karline untuk tidak mengkhawatirkan apapun, satu tangan ambil satu kertas sebagai properti pura-pura.

Sunyi semakin lama semakin berubah layak pisau, lantas buat Karline akhirnya mengendikkan bahu sok acuh dengan badan berbalik ke arah pintu, “Mending pulang, Ris.”

Pulang, ya?

Kemana Harris harus pergi berpulang, jikalau rumahnya saja mengunci pintu dan tidak memperbolehkannya masuk?

Persetan. Sudah tidak peduli entah sudah waktunya atau belum, tangan sontak ambil kunci mobil yang tidak tergerak di atas meja selama berhari-hari— Harris putuskan untuk datangi Shaka sekarang juga.

---

Dari sekian banyak skenario yang Harris telah bayangkan akan terjadi, ini yang tidak ia bayangkan— Shaka didepan pintu tepat setelah masukkan pin, mata berkelubung merah nan kosong dengan gestur tubuh seakan mempersilahkan masuk.

Tidak, sama sekali tidak dikira. Harris pikir Shaka akan berteriak, akan mengusir— oh, pantas saja tidak seperti itu, Harris sadar disaat ia masuk ke dalam; Shaka sama sepertinya, sama lelahnya, ingin cepat selesaikan apapun yang sedang terjadi diantara mereka.

Maka akhirnya disinilah mereka berhadap-hadapan di tengah lorong, ada ringisan yang Harris tahan kala lihat jelas pipi Shaka sedikit menirus, pun Shaka juga tahan isak lihat bagaimana rambut Harris yang tidak karuan— berdua sebanding kacaunya.

Harris keluarkan dehaman serak, tangan terkepal gemetaran di sisi tubuh, “Shaka,” panggilnya lembut bak takut melukai lebih lanjut.

Yang dipanggil diam saja, bibir ditipiskannya jadi satu garis— entah sebagai tanda ia dengarkan, atau agar tangis tak mengalun bebas.

Tangan Harris masih tidak berhenti gemetar, apalagi begitu dinaikkan perlahan guna tangkup pipi Shaka. Suara berubah kecil, “Maafin aku.”

Sedetik, dua detik. Tak, tak, tak. Bunyi denting jam menghantui, sebelum akhirnya pendengaran Harris seakan diporak-porandakan hingga berdengung—

Shaka gila. Sebenar-benarnya hilang akal, sekedar ucapan kata maaf buatnya tidak bisa berpikir lurus dan merasak maju agar kedua bibir bersatu.

Pun Harris terikut, tenggelam dalam gilanya, tangan yang menangkup berubah menuntut— seakan tiada sedetik lalu hati berdentum perih.

Lagipula, apalah daya perih itu kala dihadapkan dengan ingin?

Maka wajar tak bisa Harris berhenti sekalipun rasa tercekik, kalap habisi bibir Shaka akibat rindu— terlampau rindu hingga lidah sekarang saling beradu, bersamaan dengan geligi tanpa ampun menubruk satu sama lain.

Tubuh Shaka didorong mundur, mundur, mundur— berhenti sehabis punggung telak menabrak belakang sofa.

Mungkin akan masih lanjut rakus melumat, bahkan menjurus lebih, jika saja Shaka tidak mendadak tersadar bahwa apa yang dilakukan keduanya salah.

Sontak jemari tarik kuat rambut Harris menjauh, walau hanya berhasil memutus pangutan saja— dahi masih bersandar satu sama lain, begitu pula dengan hidung yang bergesek pelan.

Mata Shaka sudah sayu, tetapi dipaksa menatap tajam lelakinya, “Enggak—” Ucapnya serak, terputus oleh maruknya raupan nafas, “Gak gini, Harris. Ja-jawab dulu, jawab aku. Jawab pertanyaanku.”

Dari sekian banyak skenario yang dibayangkan, inilah salah satu yang Harris sudah tebak akan terjadi. Tetap saja tubuh berubah tegang dan Shaka bisa rasakan.

Yang lebih muda tidak menunggu jawaban, menurutnya sudah cukup jelas— tangan Harris yang menangkup pipi ia tepis kasar, tubuh ia dorong sejauh mungkin.

“Keluar,” Shaka usir dengan isakan, tidak lagi peduli mau bagaimana akhir dari kisah keduanya, “Keluar, brengsek— keluar!”

Teriakannya penuh pilu, sayang hanya dibalas oleh gelengan dari Harris. Tidak menuruti permintaan Shaka.

Malah kembali mendekati, kedua tangan menangkup kembali pipi Shaka yang basah akan tangisan.

“Aku gak bisa jawab sesuai apa yang kamu mau,” Jemari Harris hapus satu persatu jejak tangis milik Shaka yang masih mencoba memberontak, “Tapi aku bisa kasih kamu janjiku.”

Shaka tatap Harris penuh ketidakpercayaan, “A-aku gak butuh, aku gak mau itu— lepas!”

Helaan nafas dikeluarkan Harris, kepalanya menggeleng tidak setuju, dahi kemudian lagi-lagi disandarkan satu sama lain.

Tiada aba-aba, Harris langsung ucapkan janji, sekalipun Shaka tidak mau.

“Susah atau senang, kelimpahan atau kekurangan, sehat atau sakit,”

Tatapan Harris melembut, merasa Shaka mematung tepat saat sadari apa janji yang dimaksud.

Pun kedua ibu jari mengelus pelan rahang sebelum melanjutkan, “Untukmu dan kepadamu aku hidup, dan kepadamulah aku berpulang— sehidup sematiku,”

Perlahan Harris turun pada satu kaki, satu tangan sekarang memegang pasang tangan Shaka yang gemetaran, sedangkan satunya ambil cincin yang telah berada dalam saku sejak entah kapan untuk dipakaikan— tidak peduli belum bertanya dan belum diiyakan.

Harris langsung bawa naik kedua tangan Shaka setelah salah satu jari cantiknya sukses berhias lingkar emas ke bibir, dikecup penuh cinta sambil mempertahankan kontak mata;

“Arshaka Argantara, when the time is right, will you let me have you forever?”

cw // slight making out.

---

Satu minggu.

Total seminggu Harris tidak ada mendengar kabar, maupun melihat dan mengetahui kondisi Shaka.

Sejujurnya, mereka pernah melewati ini sebelumnya, bahkan jauh lebih lama— Harris ingat mereka hilang kontak selama hampir sebulan, dan ketika akhirnya putuskan untuk bertemu, berdua sontak berubah layak orang gila yang baru saja menghirup udara segar setelah terkontaminasi harum rumah sakit sesaat saling lihat.

Tentu tidak ingin mengulanginya.

Harris sekarang sudah cukup menderita— terlalu menyibukkan diri dengan mendadak anggap serius pekerjaan, sampai-sampai membuat Karline, asistennya, geleng kepala saat kunjungi.

Walau Karline diam saja selagi memasuki ruangan, Harris tetap tau— tidak sebodoh itu sampai tidak sadar apa yang Karline coba ucapkan tanpa berkata sembari taruh tumpukan dokumen yang diminta diatas meja.

Hela nafas pelan, Harris kasih kembali jawaban berupa tatapan yang menyuruh Karline untuk tidak mengkhawatirkan apapun, satu tangan ambil satu kertas sebagai properti pura-pura.

Sunyi semakin lama semakin berubah layak pisau, lantas buat Karline akhirnya mengendikkan bahu sok acuh dengan badan berbalik ke arah pintu, “Mending pulang, Ris.”

Pulang, ya?

Kemana Harris harus pergi berpulang, jikalau rumahnya saja mengunci pintu dan tidak memperbolehkannya masuk?

Persetan. Sudah tidak peduli entah sudah waktunya atau belum, tangan sontak ambil kunci mobil yang tidak tergerak di atas meja selama berhari-hari— Harris putuskan untuk datangi Shaka sekarang juga.

---

Dari sekian banyak skenario yang Harris telah bayangkan akan terjadi, ini yang tidak ia bayangkan— Shaka didepan pintu tepat setelah masukkan pin, mata berkelubung merah nan kosong dengan gestur tubuh seakan mempersilahkan masuk.

Tidak, sama sekali tidak dikira. Harris pikir Shaka akan berteriak, akan mengusir— oh, pantas saja tidak seperti itu, Harris sadar disaat ia masuk ke dalam; Shaka sama sepertinya, sama lelahnya, ingin cepat selesaikan apapun yang sedang terjadi diantara mereka.

Maka akhirnya disinilah mereka berhadap-hadapan di tengah lorong, ada ringisan yang Harris tahan kala lihat jelas pipi Shaka sedikit menirus, pun Shaka juga tahan isak lihat bagaimana rambut Harris yang tidak karuan— berdua sebanding kacaunya.

Harris keluarkan dehaman serak, tangan terkepal gemetaran di sisi tubuh, “Shaka,” panggilnya lembut bak takut melukai lebih lanjut.

Yang dipanggil diam saja, bibir ditipiskannya jadi satu garis— entah sebagai tanda ia dengarkan, atau agar tangis tak mengalun bebas.

Tangan Harris masih tidak berhenti gemetar, apalagi begitu dinaikkan perlahan guna tangkup pipi Shaka. Suara berubah kecil, “Maafin aku.”

Sedetik, dua detik. Tak, tak, tak. Bunyi denting jam menghantui, sebelum akhirnya pendengaran Harris seakan diporak-porandakan hingga berdengung—

Shaka gila. Sebenar-benarnya hilang akal, sekedar ucapan kata maaf buatnya tidak bisa berpikir lurus dan merasak maju agar kedua bibir bersatu.

Pun Harris terikut, tenggelam dalam gilanya, tangan yang menangkup berubah menuntut— seakan tiada sedetik lalu hati berdentum perih.

Lagipula, apalah daya perih itu kala dihadapkan dengan ingin?

Maka wajar tak bisa Harris berhenti sekalipun rasa tercekik, kalap habisi bibir Shaka akibat rindu— terlampau rindu hingga lidah sekarang saling beradu, bersamaan dengan geligi tanpa ampun menubruk satu sama lain.

Tubuh Shaka didorong mundur, mundur, mundur— berhenti sehabis punggung telak menabrak belakang sofa.

Mungkin akan masih lanjut rakus melumat, bahkan menjurus lebih, jika saja Shaka tidak mendadak tersadar bahwa apa yang dilakukan keduanya salah.

Sontak jemari tarik kuat rambut Harris menjauh, walau hanya berhasil memutus pangutan saja— dahi masih bersandar satu sama lain, begitu pula dengan hidung yang bergesek pelan.

Mata Shaka sudah sayu, tetapi dipaksa menatap tajam lelakinya, “Enggak—” Ucapnya serak, terputus oleh maruknya raupan nafas, “Gak gini, Harris. Ja-jawab dulu, jawab aku. Jawab pertanyaanku.”

Dari sekian banyak skenario yang dibayangkan, inilah salah satu yang Harris sudah tebak akan terjadi. Tetap saja tubuh berubah tegang dan Shaka bisa rasakan.

Yang lebih muda tidak menunggu jawaban, menurutnya sudah cukup jelas— tangan Harris yang menangkup pipi ia tepis kasar, tubuh ia dorong sejauh mungkin.

“Keluar,” Shaka usir dengan isakan, tidak lagi peduli mau bagaimana akhir dari kisah keduanya, “Keluar, brengsek— keluar!”

Teriakannya penuh pilu, sayang hanya dibalas oleh gelengan dari Harris. Tidak menuruti permintaan Shaka.

Malah kembali mendekati, kedua tangan menangkup kembali pipi Shaka yang basah akan tangisan.

“Aku gak bisa jawab sesuai apa yang kamu mau,” Jemari Harris hapus satu persatu jejak tangis milik Shaka yang masih mencoba memberontak, “Tapi aku bisa kasih kamu janjiku.”

Shaka tatap Harris penuh ketidakpercayaan, “A-aku gak butuh, aku gak mau itu— lepas!”

Helaan nafas dikeluarkan Harris, kepalanya menggeleng tidak setuju, dahi kemudian lagi-lagi disandarkan satu sama lain.

Tiada aba-aba, Harris langsung ucapkan janji, sekalipun Shaka tidak mau.

“Susah atau senang, kelimpahan atau kekurangan, sehat atau sakit,”

Tatapan Harris melembut, merasa Shaka mematung tepat saat sadari apa janji yang dimaksud.

Pun kedua ibu jari mengelus pelan rahang sebelum melanjutkan, “Untukmu dan kepadamu aku hidup, dan kepadamulah aku berpulang— sehidup sematiku,”

Perlahan Harris turun pada satu kaki, satu tangan sekarang memegang pasang tangan Shaka yang gemetaran, sedangkan satunya ambil cincin yang telah berada dalam saku sejak entah kapan untuk dipakaikan— tidak peduli belum bertanya dan belum diiyakan.

Harris langsung bawa naik kedua tangan Shaka setelah salah satu jari cantiknya sukses berhias lingkar emas ke bibir, dikecup penuh cinta sambil mempertahankan kontak mata;

“Arshaka Argantara, when the time is right, will you let me have you forever?”

a sneak peek of the upcoming au; of death and beauty.

It’s a peaceful day, rare to happen amidst both of Heeseung’s frantic matches and streams filled pro-gamer life and Sunghoon’s no-break idol life.

They didn’t know how, but still they find themselves cuddling each other in the sofa of the apartment they rent for a day, as the Hades’ son wants to watch his favorite TV show together alone and there’s no way they would be able to in their respective dorms.

None of them speaks, letting the sounds from the TV as the sole noise filling the room— just then, Heeseung breaks it.

“What name did your mother bestow upon you?”

The gamer casually asks out of nowhere, one hand resting on the dip of the idol’s hips while the other mindlessly punches various buttons of the TV remote.

Sunghoon raises one of his eyebrows, eyes no longer on the TV, “You’re curious about that?”

“Well,” The older breaks his attention from shuffling channels, diverting it to the Aphrodite’s son in his arms as lips form a lopsided smile, “I wouldn’t be asking if I’m not, would I?”

Sunghoon scoffs, opposite to how his cheeks slowly burn pink. It’s not his fault that his heart beats faster with the way the older looks insanely attractive with his damned signature smile.

“Antheia. That’s what my mom gave me.” Sunghoon finally answers, breaking their eye contact in return, “It was used as her surname— I forgot where, but I guess it was at Knossos.”

Heeseung makes a noise of acknowledgement, “Antheia, huh? Flowery?”

“Mmhm,” Sunghoon nods, peeking up a bit to see the older, though not holding gaze, “What’s yours?”

If he’s being honest, he has been curious about the Hades’ son’s bestowed name ever since they met, but it’s an unwritten rule among the demigods to not ask such things— unless both are close enough.

There’s a soft laugh rolling out from Heeseung’s lips before he answers, “Mine’s Hadean.”

Sunghoon didn’t expect that. He expects something more intricate, not something relating directly to geology, or whatever it is.

“Hadean? As in the geological eon before the first rocks of Earth were formed?”

Heeseung laughs again, this time louder than before, “No, not that, my rose— it’s as in the underworld itself, referring to my father.”

Oh, well. Sunghoon groans in embarrassment— he would never admit it outloud, but he has been losing his fluency in Greek these past few weeks, and of course, he forgets about the other meaning of the older’s name.

Instead, he remembers some general knowledge he picked up by watching random YouTube videos.

Heeseung catches on it quickly, “You must’ve forgotten about it,” a hint of teasing hidden beneath his voice, tone decorated in amusement, “How cute.”

Oh, mighty Zeus, some days Sunghoon wishes he’s not an open book to Heeseung. The said man uses it way too much against him.

He lightly punches Heeseung’s shoulders out of annoyance, “I didn’t! I was just thinking in a smarter way, that’s all.”

“Whatever you say, my rose.” Heeseung shakes his head, clearly amused, while his hold around Sunghoon tightens.

My rose. Heeseung always calls him that, if not pretty— Sunghoon wants to wiggle out of his embrace, wants to scream, wants to let the older know how much it’s affecting him, how much it makes him question where he stands in between the lines of friends or lovers, and yet, all he does is drowning in the warmth the other shares.

If pink colors his cheeks before, now it’s the same shade as the pretty red roses blooming in his mother’s garden, ones she tends very carefully as if those are the hearts of people that she controls.

Sunghoon shakes his head a bit and clears his throat, as the comfortable silence rings around them once more— his mind screams to speak to avoid drifting along the pleasant tunes surrounding them, and so he does, “Why didn’t you use the name as your handle?”

“Perhaps the same reason as you not using yours as your stage name.” Heeseung moves a little closer, nose now half buried in the idol’s black strands.

“But—”

Sunghoon fails to notice Heeseung is nearer than before when he turns his head fully to face the gamer, now his breath hitches— he was about to point out that he didn’t use Antheia as his stage name because it feels like he’s staining the divinity of it and that he has adored winter for as long as he remembers, yet all of it falls short on his tongue.

They are too close, way closer than they’re used to, noses grazing with breaths fanning one another.

Another wave of tranquility hits them, accompanied by the gentle drumming of hearts.

Even so, Heeseung slowly leans in, and Sunghoon silently panics, one hand rising up to rest trembly on the older’s jaw.

As the Aphrodite’s son is about to close his eyes, the Hades’ son chuckles, opting to graze their noses together before pulling away— “You’re so cute,” he breathily says, a smile akin to lovesick appearing on lips.

Screw him.

Sunghoon feels too much blood rushing on his face, looking in the opposite direction, not caring the way Heeseung tugs him closer once more with the alibi of— “Come on, pretty, the show’s about to start.”

These days, truly, Sunghoon wishes he had his grandpa’s thunder.

a sneak peek of the upcoming au; of death and beauty.

It’s a peaceful day, rare to happen amidst both of Heeseung’s frantic matches and streams filled pro-gamer life and Sunghoon’s no-break idol life.

They didn’t know how, but still they find themselves ended up cuddling each other in the sofa of the apartment they rent for a day, as the Hades’ son wants to watch his favorite TV show together alone and there’s no way they would be able to in their respective dorms.

None of them speaks, letting the sounds from the TV as the sole noise filling the room— just then, Heeseung breaks it.

“What name did your mother bestow upon you?”

The gamer casually asks out of nowhere, one hand resting on the dip of the idol’s hips while the other mindlessly punches various buttons of the TV remote.

Sunghoon raises one of his eyebrows, eyes no longer on the TV, “You’re curious about that?”

“Well,” The older breaks his attention of shuffling channels, diverting it to the Aphrodite’s son in his arms as lips form a lopsided smile, “I wouldn’t be asking if I’m not, would I?”

Sunghoon scoffs, an opposite to how his cheeks slowly burns pink. It’s not his fault that his heart beats faster with the way the older looks insanely attractive with his damned signature smile.

“Antheia. That’s what my mom gave me.” Sunghoon finally answers, breaking their eye contact in return, “It was used as her surname— I forgot where, but I guess it was at Knossos.”

Heeseung makes a noise of acknowledgment, “Antheia, huh? Flowery?”

“Mmhm,” Sunghoon nods, peeking up a bit to see the older, though not holding gaze, “What’s yours?”

If he’s being honest, he has been curious about the Hades’ son’s bestowed name ever since they met, but it’s an unwritten rule among the demigods to not ask such things— unless both are close enough.

There’s a soft laugh rolling out from Heeseung’s lips before he answers, “Mine’s Hadean.”

Sunghoon didn’t expect that. He expects something more intricate, not something relating directly to geology, or whatever it is.

“Hadean? As in the geological eon before the first rocks of Earth was formed?”

Heeseung laughs again, this time louder than before, “No, not that, my rose— it’s as in the underworld itself, referring to my father.”

Oh, well. Sunghoon groans in embarrassment— he would never admit it outloud, but he has been losing his fluency in Greek these past few weeks, and of course, he forgets about the other meaning of the older’s name.

Instead, he remembers some general knowledge he picked up by watching random YouTube videos.

Heeseung catches on quick, “You must’ve forgotten about it,” a hint of teasing hidden beneath his voice, tone decorated in amusement, “How cute.”

Oh, mighty Zeus, some days Sunghoon wishes he’s not an open book to Heeseung. The said man uses it way too much against him.

He lightly punches Heeseung’s shoulders out of annoyance, “I didn’t! I was just thinking in a smarter way, that’s all.”

“Whatever you say, my rose.” Heeseung shakes his head, clearly amused, while his hold around Sunghoon tightens.

My rose. Heeseung always calls him that, if not pretty— Sunghoon wants to wiggle out of his embrace, wants to scream, wants to let the older know how much it’s affecting him, how much it makes him question where he stands in between the lines of friends or lovers, and yet, all he does is drowning in the warmth the other shares.

If pink colors his cheeks before, now it’s the same shade as the pretty red roses blooming in his mother’s garden, ones she tends very carefully as if those are the hearts of people that she controls.

Sunghoon shakes his head a bit and clears his throat, as the comfortable silence rings around them once more— his mind screams to speak to avoid drifting along the pleasant tunes surrounding them, and so he does, “Why didn’t you use the name as your handle?”

“Perhaps the same reason as you not using yours as your stage name.” Heeseung moves a little closer, nose now half buried in the idol’s black strands.

“But—”

Sunghoon fails to notice Heeseung is nearer than before when he turns his head fully to face the gamer, now his breath hitches— he was about to point out that he didn’t use Antheia as his stage name because it feels like he’s staining the divinity of it and that he has adored winter for as long as he remembers, yet all of it falls short on his tongue.

They are too close, way closer than they’re used to, noses grazing with breaths fanning one another.

Another wave of tranquility hits them, accompanied by the gentle drumming of hearts.

Even so, Heeseung slowly leans in, and Sunghoon silently panics, one hand rising up to rest trembly on the older’s jaw.

As the Aphrodite’s son about to close his eyes, the Hades’ son chuckles, opting to graze their noses together before pulling away— “You’re so cute,” he breathily says, a smile akin to lovesick appearing on lips.

Screw him.

Sunghoon feels too much blood rushing on his face, looking to the opposite direction, not caring the way Heeseung tugs him closer once more with the alibi of— “Come on, pretty, the show’s about to start.”

These days, truly, Sunghoon wishes he had his grandpa’s thunder.

a sneak peek of the upcoming au; of death and beauty.

It’s a peaceful day, rare to happen amidst both of Heeseung’s frantic matches and streams filled pro-gamer life and Sunghoon’s no-break idol life.

They didn’t know how, but still they find themselves ended up cuddling each other in the sofa of the apartment they rent for a day, as the Hades’ son wants to watch his favorite TV show together alone and there’s no way they would be able to in their respective dorms.

None of them speaks, letting the sounds from the TV as the sole noise filling the room— just then, Heeseung breaks it.

“What name did your mother bestow upon you?”

The gamer casually asks out of nowhere, one hand resting on the dip of the idol’s hips while the other mindlessly punches various buttons of the TV remote.

Sunghoon raises one of his eyebrows, eyes no longer on the TV, “You’re curious about that?”

“Well,” The older breaks his attention of shuffling channels, diverting it to the Aphrodite’s son in his arms as lips form a lopsided smile, “I wouldn’t be asking if I’m not, would I?”

Sunghoon scoffs, an opposite to how his cheeks slowly burns pink. It’s not his fault that his heart beats faster with the way the older looks insanely attractive with his damned signature smile.

“Antheia. That’s what my mom gave me.” Sunghoon finally answers, breaking their eye contact in return, “It was used as her surname— I forgot where, but I guess it was at Knossos.”

Heeseung makes a noise of acknowledgment, “Antheia, huh? Flowery?”

“Mmhm,” Sunghoon nods, peeking up a bit to see the older, though not holding gaze, “What’s yours?”

If he’s being honest, he has been curious about the Hades’ son’s bestowed name ever since they met, but it’s an unwritten rule among the demigods to not ask such things— unless both are close enough.

There’s a soft laugh rolling out from Heeseung’s lips before he answers, “Mine’s Hadean.”

Sunghoon didn’t expect that. He expects something more intricate, not something relating directly to geology, or whatever it is.

“Hadean? As in the geological eon before the first rocks of Earth was formed?”

Heeseung laughs again, this time louder than before, “No, not that, my rose— it’s as in the underworld itself, referring to my father.”

Oh, well. Sunghoon groans in embarrassment— he would never admit it outloud, but he has been losing his fluency in Greek these past few weeks, and of course, he forgets about the other meaning of the older’s name.

Instead, he remembers some general knowledge he picked up by watching random YouTube videos.

Heeseung catches on quick, “You must’ve forgotten about it,” a hint of teasing hidden beneath his voice, tone decorated in amusement, “How cute.”

Oh, mighty Zeus, some days Sunghoon wishes he’s not an open book to Heeseung. The said man uses it way too much against him.

He lightly punches Heeseung’s shoulders out of annoyance, “I didn’t! I was just thinking in a smarter way, that’s all.”

“Whatever you say, my rose.” Heeseung shakes his head, clearly amused, while his hold around Sunghoon tightens.

My rose. Heeseung always calls him that, if not pretty— Sunghoon wants to wiggle out of his embrace, wants to scream, wants to let the older know how much it’s affecting him, how much it makes him question where he stands in between the lines of friends or lovers, and yet, all he does is drowning in the warmth the other shares.

If pink colors his cheeks before, now it’s the same shade as the pretty red roses blooming in his mother’s garden, ones she tends very carefully as if those are the hearts of people that she controls.

Sunghoon shakes his head a bit and clears his throat, as the comfortable silence rings around them once more— his mind screams to speak to avoid drifting along the pleasant tunes surrounding them, and so he does, “Why didn’t you use the name as your handle?”

“Perhaps the same reason as you not using yours as your stage name.” Heeseung moves a little closer, nose now half buried in the idol’s black strands.

“But—”

Sunghoon fails to notice Heeseung is nearer than before when he turns his head fully to face the gamer, now his breath hitches— he was about to point out that he didn’t use Antheia as his stage name because it feels like he’s staining the divinity of it and that he has adored winter for as long as he remembers, yet all of it falls short on his tongue.

They are too close, way closer than they’re used to, noses grazing with breaths fanning one another.

Another wave of tranquility hits them, accompanied by the gentle drumming of hearts.

Even so, Heeseung slowly leans in, and Sunghoon silently panics, one hand rising up to rest trembly on the older’s jaw.

As the Aphrodite’s son about to close his eyes, the Hades’ son chuckles, opting to graze their noses together before pulling away— “You’re so cute,” he breathily says, a smile akin to lovesick appearing on lips.

Screw him.

Sunghoon feels too much blood rushing on his face, looking to the opposite direction, not caring the way Heeseung tugs him closer once more with the alibi of— “Come on, pretty, the show’s about to start.”

These days, truly, Sunghoon wishes he had his grandpa’s thunder.

a sneak peek of the upcoming au;

of death and beauty.

It’s a peaceful day, rare to happen amidst both of Heeseung’s frantic matches and streams filled pro-gamer life and Sunghoon’s no-break idol life.

They didn’t know how, but still they find themselves ended up cuddling each other in the sofa of the apartment they rent for a day, as the Hades’ son wants to watch his favorite TV show together alone and there’s no way they would be able to in their respective dorms.

None of them speaks, letting the sounds from the TV as the sole noise filling the room— just then, Heeseung breaks it.

“What name did your mother bestow upon you?”

The gamer casually asks out of nowhere, one hand resting on the dip of the idol’s hips while the other mindlessly punches various buttons of the TV remote.

Sunghoon raises one of his eyebrows, eyes no longer on the TV, “You’re curious about that?”

“Well,” The older breaks his attention of shuffling channels, diverting it to the Aphrodite’s son in his arms as lips form a lopsided smile, “I wouldn’t be asking if I’m not, would I?”

Sunghoon scoffs, an opposite to how his cheeks slowly burns pink. It’s not his fault that his heart beats faster with the way the older looks insanely attractive with his damned signature smile.

“Antheia. That’s what my mom gave me.” Sunghoon finally answers, breaking their eye contact in return, “It was used as her surname— I forgot where, but I guess it was at Knossos.”

Heeseung makes a noise of acknowledgment, “Antheia, huh? Flowery?”

“Mmhm,” Sunghoon nods, peeking up a bit to see the older, though not holding gaze, “What’s yours?”

If he’s being honest, he has been curious about the Hades’ son’s bestowed name ever since they met, but it’s an unwritten rule among the demigods to not ask such things— unless both are close enough.

There’s a soft laugh rolling out from Heeseung’s lips before he answers, “Mine’s Hadean.”

Sunghoon didn’t expect that. He expects something more intricate, not something relating directly to geology, or whatever it is.

“Hadean? As in the geological eon before the first rocks of Earth was formed?”

Heeseung laughs again, this time louder than before, “No, not that, my rose— it’s as in the underworld itself, referring to my father.”

Oh, well. Sunghoon groans in embarrassment— he would never admit it outloud, but he has been losing his fluency in Greek these past few weeks, and of course, he forgets about the other meaning of the older’s name.

Instead, he remembers some general knowledge he picked up by watching random YouTube videos.

Heeseung catches on quick, “You must’ve forgotten about it,” a hint of teasing hidden beneath his voice, tone decorated in amusement, “How cute.”

Oh, mighty Zeus, some days Sunghoon wishes he’s not an open book to Heeseung. The said man uses it way too much against him.

He lightly punches Heeseung’s shoulders out of annoyance, “I didn’t! I was just thinking in a smarter way, that’s all.”

“Whatever you say, my rose.” Heeseung shakes his head, clearly amused, while his hold around Sunghoon tightens.

My rose. Heeseung always calls him that, if not pretty— Sunghoon wants to wiggle out of his embrace, wants to scream, wants to let the older know how much it’s affecting him, how much it makes him question where he stands in between the lines of friends or lovers, and yet, all he does is drowning in the warmth the other shares.

If pink colors his cheeks before, now it’s the same shade as the pretty red roses blooming in his mother’s garden, ones she tends very carefully as if those are the hearts of people that she controls.

Sunghoon shakes his head a bit and clears his throat, as the comfortable silence rings around them once more— his mind screams to speak to avoid drifting along the pleasant tunes surrounding them, and so he does, “Why didn’t you use the name as your handle?”

“Perhaps the same reason as you not using yours as your stage name.” Heeseung moves a little closer, nose now half buried in the idol’s black strands.

“But—”

Sunghoon fails to notice Heeseung is nearer than before when he turns his head fully to face the gamer, now his breath hitches— he was about to point out that he didn’t use Antheia as his stage name because it feels like he’s staining the divinity of it and that he has adored winter for as long as he remembers, yet all of it falls short on his tongue.

They are too close, way closer than they’re used to, noses grazing with breaths fanning one another.

Another wave of tranquility hits them, accompanied by the gentle drumming of hearts.

Even so, Heeseung slowly leans in, and Sunghoon silently panics, one hand rising up to rest trembly on the older’s jaw.

As the Aphrodite’s son about to close his eyes, the Hades’ son chuckles, opting to graze their noses together before pulling away— “You’re so cute,” he breathily says, a smile akin to lovesick appearing on lips.

Screw him.

Sunghoon feels too much blood rushing on his face, looking to the opposite direction, not caring the way Heeseung tugs him closer once more with the alibi of— “Come on, pretty, the show’s about to start.”

These days, truly, Sunghoon wishes he had his grandpa’s thunder.

a sneak peek of the upcoming au—

of death and beauty.

It’s a peaceful day, rare to happen amidst both of Heeseung’s frantic matches and streams filled pro-gamer life and Sunghoon’s no-break idol life.

They didn’t know how, but still they find themselves ended up cuddling each other in the sofa of the apartment they rent for a day, as the Hades’ son wants to watch his favorite TV show together alone and there’s no way they would be able to in their respective dorms.

None of them speaks, letting the sounds from the TV as the sole noise filling the room— just then, Heeseung breaks it.

“What name did your mother bestow upon you?”

The gamer casually asks out of nowhere, one hand resting on the dip of the idol’s hips while the other mindlessly punches various buttons of the TV remote.

Sunghoon raises one of his eyebrows, eyes no longer on the TV, “You’re curious about that?”

“Well,” The older breaks his attention of shuffling channels, diverting it to the Aphrodite’s son in his arms as lips form a lopsided smile, “I wouldn’t be asking if I’m not, would I?”

Sunghoon scoffs, an opposite to how his cheeks slowly burns pink. It’s not his fault that his heart beats faster with the way the older looks insanely attractive with his damned signature smile.

“Antheia. That’s what my mom gave me.” Sunghoon finally answers, breaking their eye contact in return, “It was used as her surname— I forgot where, but I guess it was at Knossos.”

Heeseung makes a noise of acknowledgment, “Antheia, huh? Flowery?”

“Mmhm,” Sunghoon nods, peeking up a bit to see the older, though not holding gaze, “What’s yours?”

If he’s being honest, he has been curious about the Hades’ son’s bestowed name ever since they met, but it’s an unwritten rule among the demigods to not ask such things— unless both are close enough.

There’s a soft laugh rolling out from Heeseung’s lips before he answers, “Mine’s Hadean.”

Sunghoon didn’t expect that. He expects something more intricate, not something relating directly to geology, or whatever it is.

“Hadean? As in the geological eon before the first rocks of Earth was formed?”

Heeseung laughs again, this time louder than before, “No, not that, my rose— it’s as in the underworld itself, referring to my father.”

Oh, well. Sunghoon groans in embarrassment— he would never admit it outloud, but he has been losing his fluency in Greek these past few weeks, and of course, he forgets about the other meaning of the older’s name.

Instead, he remembers some general knowledge he picked up by watching random YouTube videos.

Heeseung catches on quick, “You must’ve forgotten about it,” a hint of teasing hidden beneath his voice, tone decorated in amusement, “How cute.”

Oh, mighty Zeus, some days Sunghoon wishes he’s not an open book to Heeseung. The said man uses it way too much against him.

He lightly punches Heeseung’s shoulders out of annoyance, “I didn’t! I was just thinking in a smarter way, that’s all.”

“Whatever you say, my rose.” Heeseung shakes his head, clearly amused, while his hold around Sunghoon tightens.

My rose. Heeseung always calls him that, if not pretty— Sunghoon wants to wiggle out of his embrace, wants to scream, wants to let the older know how much it’s affecting him, how much it makes him question where he stands in between the lines of friends or lovers, and yet, all he does is drowning in the warmth the other shares.

If pink colors his cheeks before, now it’s the same shade as the pretty red roses blooming in his mother’s garden, ones she tends very carefully as if those are the hearts of people that she controls.

Sunghoon shakes his head a bit and clears his throat, as the comfortable silence rings around them once more— his mind screams to speak to avoid drifting along the pleasant tunes surrounding them, and so he does, “Why didn’t you use the name as your handle?”

“Perhaps the same reason as you not using yours as your stage name.” Heeseung moves a little closer, nose now half buried in the idol’s black strands.

“But—”

Sunghoon fails to notice Heeseung is nearer than before when he turns his head fully to face the gamer, now his breath hitches— he was about to point out that he didn’t use Antheia as his stage name because it feels like he’s staining the divinity of it and that he has adored winter for as long as he remembers, yet all of it falls short on his tongue.

They are too close, way closer than they’re used to, noses grazing with breaths fanning one another.

Another wave of tranquility hits them, accompanied by the gentle drumming of hearts.

Even so, Heeseung slowly leans in, and Sunghoon silently panics, one hand rising up to rest trembly on the older’s jaw.

As the Aphrodite’s son about to close his eyes, the Hades’ son chuckles, opting to graze their noses together before pulling away— “You’re so cute,” he breathily says, a smile akin to lovesick appearing on lips.

Screw him.

Sunghoon feels too much blood rushing on his face, looking to the opposite direction, not caring the way Heeseung tugs him closer once more with the alibi of— “Come on, pretty, the show’s about to start.”

These days, truly, Sunghoon wishes he had his grandpa’s thunder.

a sneak peek of the upcoming au— of death and beauty.

It’s a peaceful day, rare to happen amidst both of Heeseung’s frantic matches and streams filled pro-gamer life and Sunghoon’s no-break idol life.

They didn’t know how, but still they find themselves ended up cuddling each other in the sofa of the apartment they rent for a day, as the Hades’ son wants to watch his favorite TV show together alone and there’s no way they would be able to in their respective dorms.

None of them speaks, letting the sounds from the TV as the sole noise filling the room— just then, Heeseung breaks it.

“What name did your mother bestow upon you?”

The gamer casually asks out of nowhere, one hand resting on the dip of the idol’s hips while the other mindlessly punches various buttons of the TV remote.

Sunghoon raises one of his eyebrows, eyes no longer on the TV, “You’re curious about that?”

“Well,” The older breaks his attention of shuffling channels, diverting it to the Aphrodite’s son in his arms as lips form a lopsided smile, “I wouldn’t be asking if I’m not, would I?”

Sunghoon scoffs, an opposite to how his cheeks slowly burns pink. It’s not his fault that his heart beats faster with the way the older looks insanely attractive with his damned signature smile.

“Antheia. That’s what my mom gave me.” Sunghoon finally answers, breaking their eye contact in return, “It was used as her surname— I forgot where, but I guess it was at Knossos.”

Heeseung makes a noise of acknowledgment, “Antheia, huh? Flowery?”

“Mmhm,” Sunghoon nods, peeking up a bit to see the older, though not holding gaze, “What’s yours?”

If he’s being honest, he has been curious about the Hades’ son’s bestowed name ever since they met, but it’s an unwritten rule among the demigods to not ask such things— unless both are close enough.

There’s a soft laugh rolling out from Heeseung’s lips before he answers, “Mine’s Hadean.”

Sunghoon didn’t expect that. He expects something more intricate, not something relating directly to geology, or whatever it is.

“Hadean? As in the geological eon before the first rocks of Earth was formed?”

Heeseung laughs again, this time louder than before, “No, not that, my rose— it’s as in the underworld itself, referring to my father.”

Oh, well. Sunghoon groans in embarrassment— he would never admit it outloud, but he has been losing his fluency in Greek these past few weeks, and of course, he forgets about the other meaning of the older’s name.

Instead, he remembers some general knowledge he picked up by watching random YouTube videos.

Heeseung catches on quick, “You must’ve forgotten about it,” a hint of teasing hidden beneath his voice, tone decorated in amusement, “How cute.”

Oh, mighty Zeus, some days Sunghoon wishes he’s not an open book to Heeseung. The said man uses it way too much against him.

He lightly punches Heeseung’s shoulders out of annoyance, “I didn’t! I was just thinking in a smarter way, that’s all.”

“Whatever you say, my rose.” Heeseung shakes his head, clearly amused, while his hold around Sunghoon tightens.

My rose. Heeseung always calls him that, if not pretty— Sunghoon wants to wiggle out of his embrace, wants to scream, wants to let the older know how much it’s affecting him, how much it makes him question where he stands in between the lines of friends or lovers, and yet, all he does is drowning in the warmth the other shares.

If pink colors his cheeks before, now it’s the same shade as the pretty red roses blooming in his mother’s garden, ones she tends very carefully as if those are the hearts of people that she controls.

Sunghoon shakes his head a bit and clears his throat, as the comfortable silence rings around them once more— his mind screams to speak to avoid drifting along the pleasant tunes surrounding them, and so he does, “Why didn’t you use the name as your handle?”

“Perhaps the same reason as you not using yours as your stage name.” Heeseung moves a little closer, nose now half buried in the idol’s black strands.

“But—”

Sunghoon fails to notice Heeseung is nearer than before when he turns his head fully to face the gamer, now his breath hitches— he was about to point out that he didn’t use Antheia as his stage name because it feels like he’s staining the divinity of it and that he has adored winter for as long as he remembers, yet all of it falls short on his tongue.

They are too close, way closer than they’re used to, noses grazing with breaths fanning one another.

Another wave of tranquility hits them, accompanied by the gentle drumming of hearts.

Even so, Heeseung slowly leans in, and Sunghoon silently panics, one hand rising up to rest trembly on the older’s jaw.

As the Aphrodite’s son about to close his eyes, the Hades’ son chuckles, opting to graze their noses together before pulling away— “You’re so cute,” he breathily says, a smile akin to lovesick appearing on lips.

Screw him.

Sunghoon feels too much blood rushing on his face, looking to the opposite direction, not caring the way Heeseung tugs him closer once more with the alibi of— “Come on, pretty, the show’s about to start.”

These days, truly, Sunghoon wishes he had his grandpa’s thunder.

a sneak peek of the upcoming au— of death and beauty.

It’s a peaceful day, rare to happen amidst both of Heeseung’s frantic matches and streams filled pro-gamer life and Sunghoon’s no-break idol life.

They didn’t know how, but still they find themselves ended up cuddling each other in the sofa of the apartment they rent for a day, as the Hades’ son wants to watch his favorite TV show together alone and there’s no way they would be able to in their respective dorms.

None of them speaks, letting the sounds from the TV as the sole noise filling the room— just then, Heeseung breaks it.

“What name did your mother bestow upon you?”

The gamer casually asks out of nowhere, one hand resting on the dip of the idol’s hips while the other mindlessly punches various buttons of the TV remote.

Sunghoon raises one of his eyebrows, eyes no longer on the TV, “You’re curious about that?”

“Well,” The older breaks his attention of shuffling channels, diverting it to the Aphrodite’s son in his arms as lips form a lopsided smile, “I wouldn’t be asking if I’m not, would I?”

Sunghoon scoffs, an opposite to how his cheeks slowly burns pink. It’s not his fault that his heart beats faster with the way the older looks insanely attractive with his damned signature smile.

“Antheia. That’s what my mom gave me.” Sunghoon finally answers, breaking their eye contact in return, “It was used as her surname— I forgot where, but I guess it was at Knossos.”

Heeseung makes a noise of acknowledgment, “Antheia, huh? Flowery?”

“Mmhm,” Sunghoon nods, peeking up a bit to see the older, though not holding gaze, “What’s yours?”

If he’s being honest, he has been curious about the Hades’ son’s bestowed name ever since they met, but it’s an unwritten rule among the demigods to not ask such things— unless both are close enough.

There’s a soft laugh rolling out from Heeseung’s lips before he answers, “Mine’s Hadean.”

Sunghoon didn’t expect that. He expects something more intricate, not something relating directly to geology, or whatever it is.

“Hadean? As in the geological eon before the first rocks of Earth was formed?”

Heeseung laughs again, this time louder than before, “No, not that, my rose— it’s as in the underworld itself, referring to my father.”

Oh, well. Sunghoon groans in embarrassment— he would never admit it outloud, but he has been losing his fluency in Greek these past few weeks, and of course, he forgets about the other meaning of the older’s name.

Instead, he remembers some general knowledge he picked up by watching random YouTube videos.

Heeseung catches on quick, “You must’ve forgotten about it,” a hint of teasing hidden beneath his voice, tone decorated in amusement, “How cute.”

Oh, mighty Zeus, some days Sunghoon wishes he’s not an open book to Heeseung. The said man uses it way too much against him.

He lightly punches Heeseung’s shoulders out of annoyance, “I didn’t! I was just thinking in a smarter way, that’s all.”

“Whatever you say, my rose.” Heeseung shakes his head, clearly amused, while his hold around Sunghoon tightens.

My rose. Heeseung always calls him that, if not pretty— Sunghoon wants to wiggle out of his embrace, wants to scream, wants to let the older know how much it’s affecting him, how much it makes him question where he stands in between the lines of friends or lovers, and yet, all he does is drowning in the warmth the other shares.

If pink colors his cheeks before, now it’s the same shade as the pretty red roses blooming in his mother’s garden, ones she tends very carefully as if those are the hearts of people that she controls.

Sunghoon shakes his head a bit and clears his throat, as the comfortable silence rings around them once more— his mind screams to speak to avoid drifting along the pleasant tunes surrounding them, and so he does, “Why didn’t you use the name as your handle?”

“Perhaps the same reason as you not using yours as your stage name.” Heeseung moves a little closer, nose now half buried in the idol’s black strands.

“But—”

Sunghoon fails to notice Heeseung is nearer than before when he turns his head fully to face the gamer, now his breath hitches— he was about to point out that he didn’t use Antheia as his stage name because it feels like he’s staining the divinity of it and that he has adored winter for as long as he remembers, yet all of it falls short on his tongue.

They are too close, way closer than they’re used to, noses grazing with breaths fanning one another.

Another wave of tranquility hits them, accompanied by the gentle drumming of hearts.

Even so, Heeseung slowly leans in, and Sunghoon silently panics, one hand rising up to rest trembly on the older’s jaw.

As the Aphrodite’s son about to close his eyes, the Hades’ son chuckles, opting to graze their noses together before pulling away— “You’re so cute,” he breathily says, a smile akin to lovesick appearing on lips.

Screw him.

Sunghoon feels too much blood rushing on his face, looking to the opposite direction, not caring the way Heeseung tugs him closer once more with the alibi of— “Come on, pretty, the show’s about to start.”

These days, truly, Sunghoon wishes he had his grandpa’s thunder.