fantasia

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.