you will never be a god

[latespring]

 This is me laying to rest a draft that I've had completed for a while. I can't currently see myself putting in the work to rewrite it, so while I like the bones a lot, this is me saying maybe later, if ever. Here's a write up so that I have somewhere to put my thoughts on it.

Sorry it took me like fifteen edits to make these cuts work.
The concept of this thing started about a year and a half ago, and it's the first big (over 20k) project I've "finished" (in quotes because it's not getting published). I was taking titled prompts and writing summaries from them, and this one grabbed my imagination when I first read it. Link here.

The premise is fairly simple: Seokmin dies, Minghao brings him back but dies in the process, Seokmin tries to bring him back in return. There's more to it of course, but those are the bones. It's gone through a major plot revision in my docs and Dia has very generously consulted on it, and I do like the new ending (in version 1.0 Seokmin kind of died again, in 1.1 something else happens). 

I think what captured my attention for this draft in the first place was the idea of sacrifice. Not always equal, not always worth it, but as a choice. And love too. That was the thesis of that draft. Doing something, not because you're owed anything in return, but because you love.

In many ways the writing of that draft feels very raw--unedited yes, but also emotional. It was my first stab at a longer fic, a plotted fic. I feel very new as a writer still, even a year and change into publishing and writing fic more often. And still, there's that saying about your first novel not being very good, right? I want it to be better than it is. Someday I'll takes these bones back and rewrite them the way they deserve.

One of the major things I'd fix if I wrote this again (besides the already mentioned plot revisions) was the messiness overall. I feel like I dropped a couple of balls, especially with the dream sequences, and didn't dig as deeply into the character relationships as I could have. It felt... heavy handed is the best way to put in.

On the other hand, the prose is good in so many ways here. One of the successes of this fic was that I was able to stop editing as I wrote (if only a little bit). Even without editing though, there are some really good lines in here. 

Anyway, here's a few choice snippets from the draft, maybe someday I'll return:

(this is what seems like half the draft lol)

Seokmin dies:

This is how Minghao finds him several minutes later: half-curled around himself, heart an injured bird fluttering in his chest.
 

Seokmin is sure he’s been here for hours now, alone and dying with no one to witness him go. No hand to hold as he slips away. No one to hear his last words. It must have been hours. Minutes. Sound comes to him in wingbeats, loud one moment, gone the next. He can taste bile on his tongue, burning up the back of his throat.
 

Minghao drops to his knees in front of him, mouthing something that Seokmin can’t hear. Darkness descends for a second, and Seokmin has only enough time to think “Ah, so this is it. At least it is with him,” before light blossoms behind his eyes. Minghao’s hands are on his shoulders, burning with enough magic to beat back the dark. Seokmin isn’t sure what spell he’s channeling, but it’s enough to focus his vision, ground him. 
 

With light comes a return of sound, Minghao saying, “Seokmin, Seokmin. I got your text. Listen to me, you’ve got to stay awake.” There’s a high threaded tension to his voice, Minghao worried in a way he rarely expresses in words. Seokmin wants to raise his head, smile, tell him not to worry. Tell him he's always listening to what Minghao says. Take a thumb to the wildness in the corners of his eyes, smooth it out.

What he does instead is say, “Don’t worryyyhhhh.”
 

The sentence dissolves as he feels something underneath his ribs snap. Air slips between his teeth in a high whine as he curls around his torso, legs spasming. The magic anchoring him to the here-and-now shudders. He falls; the ground drops away beneath him and keeps absolutely still, all at once.
 

Minghao’s voice follows him into the dark, repeating his name like an invocation.
 

Seokmin. Seokmin. Seokmin. Please.
 

And no matter how much he wants to, Seokmin can’t answer.

 

Seokmin reflects:

He hasn’t given up on the actor thing just yet. That’s what the radio station is supposed to be, a stepping stone on the way to his eventual career. Seokmin has been in a couple of small commercials and even had a talent scout say they liked his attitude, whatever that meant, but nothing close to the big break he’s been looking for.
 

He’s been trying to find that opportunity for a while now. He knows that if he stops hoping just for a moment, reality will crash back in. Already it’s lapping at his feet, drenching his socks, pooling in front of him as he runs forward. If Seokmin is good at anything though, it’s holding out hope. Something it feels like that’s all he’s got.
 

What he also has is this: a slightly too-small apartment, last week’s electricity bill, and the knowledge that he’s made it back from the other side of death. None of these things are particularly comforting.

 

Seokmin and Jeonghan Discuss:

The phone rings and for a long moment Seokmin almost thinks it won’t go through before Jeonghan picks up. “Seokmin-ah, what’s up?”
 

“Ah, Jeonghannie-hyung!” Seokmin tries to make his voice light, but some of what he’s feeling must leak through because Jeonghan huffs out a breath on the other end of the line before he’s even done.
 

“What’s up?” It’s said with less humor now, more weight. Seokmin wilts a little.
 

“Can’t I call you just because?”
 

Jeonghan huffs. “Most of the time when you call me you don’t sound like you just got told your cat died.”
 

“I don’t have a cat though?”
 

“Exactly. Tell me what’s wrong.” It’s surprisingly direct. Normally Jeonghan prefers to dance around the subject, coax Seokmin into asking for help. He must sound especially awful.
 

Seokmin isn’t sure how to start the sentence. So, last night I got murdered sounds questionable at best. I think I lost Minghao makes it seem like Minghao is a stray cat. Do you know how to bring someone back from the dead will end with him in the Necromancy and Forensics section of the local police station. Jeonghan makes an impatient sound on the other end of the line and Seokmin forces out a laugh.
 

“What do you do when you need to fix something?”
 

Jeonghan hums. Over the line it sounds like he’s walking somewhere; his footsteps are faint but audible. “I ask Jisoo to do it.”
 

Seokmin laughs again, less forced. “Not like, the sink getting clogged, hyung. Something serious.”
 

There’s a slow moment of silence and Seokmin resists the urge to fidget. Then Jeonghan says, “Really, Seokminnie. Tell me what’s wrong.”
 

The honest concern opens something up in his chest, pulls off the blanket of numbness he’d thrown over the hole there. He closes his eyes. Takes a deep breath. “I need a miracle.”

Jeonghan and Seokmin, on miracles:

From farther inside the shop there’s a clatter, as if something very heavy had fallen off a shelf. Seokmin runs after it, ducking under several hanging potted plants before turning one final corner to see Jeonghan lying on the ground next to a similarly toppled chair.
 

“Are you ok?” Seokmin kneels down by Jeonghan’s side, reaching out to offer him a hand up.
 

“I’m fine.” Jeonghan says from behind the curtain of his hair. Sitting up, he brushes it behind his ear and looks up at Seokmin with a wry expression before taking his hand. “Just fell asleep.”
 

Seokmin pulls him up easily, smiling at Jeonghan’s disgruntled expression. “I’m glad! It’s too late in the day to be getting hurt.”
 

“There’s never a good time.” Jeonghan says, stretching a little. It exposes the elegant line of his throat, and Seokmin smiles. Even half rumpled from sleep Jeonghan knew his angles. Walking towards the front counter, he waves Seokmin forward. “So. You need a miracle.”
 

It’s said nonchalantly, but Seokmin can see tension dripping into his shoulders as Jeonghan shakes himself awake. “I do.” He replies.
 

Jeonghan doesn’t look at him, turning a corner past a row bonsai trees, gesturing Seokmin forward. “Look Seokmin-ah, I’ll be honest with you, I sold my last miracle two months ago and no one has wanted to part another yet.”
 

“Why did you tell me to come in, then?” Seokmin asks as he follows him, holding the ends of his coat so that they won’t knock anything else off the shelves. The smell of dust rises as they go and he sneezes.
 

“I don’t have a miracle, but I don’t run this shop on nothing. There might be something in here that will be helpful.” Jeonghan brushes aside a curtain of delicate gold chains and walks up to a counter set in the middle of a small cleared space. Seokmin is pretty sure that the shop is bigger than it appears on first glance, because they’ve walked for three times the length of the front and there are still shelves stretching out behind Jeonghan’s back. 
 

“I thought you didn’t sell anything until the right customer came along?” Seokmin gets tangled in the chains for a second, wiggling until they release him. The lighting is softer here, several small lamps casting shadows around the shelves. 
 

Jeonghan hums. “You never know what you might find…” He trails off as he gets a good look at what Seokmin is holding. It’s the book that he knocked off the shelf. Jeonghan gestures towards it, eyes narrowed. “Give that to me.
 

The book’s cover seems to stick to his fingers as he passes it to Jeonghan and Seokmin shakes them to get rid of the feeling. “Sorry, I knocked it down and couldn’t figure out where to put it back.”
 

Jeonghan shakes his head, thumbing through it. “Don’t worry, things rarely—” he cuts himself off, looking at the book’s cover for a second before continuing, quieter this time. “Things rarely happen by chance around here."

 

Goodnight / Goodbye

It only takes a few drops before the scales balance out, the paper soaking in the ink and gaining an unnatural weight, leveling against the book silently. The ink curls itself into words that he’s too far away to read. Seokmin breathes in the smell of paper dust and reaches out a hand for the paper. The price.
 

Jeonghan picks it up before he can, reading the paper while Seokmin reaches across the counter to try and grab it from him. Seokmin is about to run around the counter to try and get it that way when Jeonghan says, “Don’t worry about it this time.”
 

“What?” Seokmin stops halfway around the counter, hands outstretched.
 

There’s a hint of something Seokmin can’t decipher in his expression, but Jeonghan is steady when he replies, “It’s on me.” He tucks the paper away, walking around the counter to shoo Seokmin out the door.
 

Seokmin doesn’t go without a fight, dragging his steps as Jeonghan shuffles him out. “I can pay it, hyung. Whatever the price is, you don’t have to.”
 

Darting a look over his shoulder, he sees Jeonghan’s face darken at the offer, a sharp contrast to his voice when he replies, “Not an option. Think of it as a gift.” They turn a corner, Jeonghan pressing the book into his hands. Seokmin tries to protest again but Jeonghan talks right over him. “You’d better come out of this in one piece, you hear me? Or I’ll hunt down Myungho-ya myself and kill him again myself.”
 

With a final push, Jeonghan gets Seokmin out of the shop, something unreadable still haunting the corners of his mouth. Seokmin looks back at him, emotion caught in his chest, a grapefruit-sized stone lodged between his lungs. “Thank you Jeonghannie-hyung.”
 

Jeonghan smiles, but it’s brittle. “Of course it’s no problem, I’m very kind. Now go back home, it’s getting late.”
 

“Goodnight?” Seokmin says. It comes out uncertain, words filtered through a watery confusion.
 

“Goodbye.” Jeonghan says and shuts the door.
 

A moment passes. Seokmin looks at the door that Jeonghan had closed and then down at the book in his hands. When he steps back up to the door and knocks on it, no one responds. As if to mock him, all of the lights in the shop go out.
 

Slowly he turns around, book clutched between his hands. It’s cold out here, the night’s chill swirling around his ankles. Seokmin tries to take a deep breath but it’s shaky, air scraping a layer of flesh off the back of his throat. He should feel happy, he knows that. He has a potential lead on how to find Minghao. It should be cause for celebration. Instead, all he feels is worn out and cold. More than a little bit useless.
 

There are so many people in Seokmin’s life that are good to him. Junhui, breaking the news as kindly as he could. Junho, giving him time off that they can’t really afford. And now Jeonghan, taking some unknown price on his shoulders so Seokmin didn’t have to pay it, pushing him out the door with a book that he didn’t want to sell.  
 

Sometimes when he stops to think about it, Seokmin is bowled over by the amount of people who love him, the kindness that they offer so freely. There’s nothing he wouldn’t do in return for them, would chase the moon from the sky to see them safe, would pluck the stars from the sky to see them smile.  
 

Finding Minghao is simply an extension of that, impulse resting just above his heart. At some point, love becomes a game with no losses.

[cut some here]

It comes to him easily by now—kindness not so much thought as reflex, letting the joy he’s collected spilling out in words, in laughter. Split him open to find nothing but air and a sunburst of longing, trust flown from his ribcage to sit and sing in the palms of other people’s hands.

 

Dreams:

Minghao doesn’t respond. He’s half turned so that his profile faces the city below them. The wind blows harder, the ends of his coat flapping around his legs.
 

Walking towards him, Seokmin tries again. “I’m still looking for you, you know.” He ducks his head. “I’m getting closer.”
 

At this, Minghao turns to face him, eyes narrowed. “I thought I told you not to.”
 

“You didn’t, actually.” Seokmin says, still walking forward.
 

“It was implied.” Minghao turns again so that he’s facing out towards the city. Dropping the subject completely he says, “Isn’t it beautiful?”
 

“What?” Seokmin pauses, eyebrows furrowing for a second before he gets it. He looks down at the city lights. This high up, traffic is a river of stars. People are reduced to a line of pebbles, streets webbing out from beneath them into a network of light. When he pauses to actually take it in, the view is stunning. “Oh yeah, it is.”
 

Minghao sits down, swinging his feet over the edge. “Does it remind you of anything?”
 

The wind picks up another notch, Seokmin’s hair whipping into his eyes. He tries to think back to whatever Minghao could be referencing. On the horizon, the clouds grow darker, a storm advancing upon the city. It comes to him after a second, the memory surfacing with a hazy edge, as if seen through smoke. “It’s like where we first met.”
 

Minghao nods, kicking his feet. He seems unbothered by the wind, sitting stock still despite the increase in pressure. “That PR internship. I don’t think either of us were suited for it.”
 

The internship had been a split-second decision on Seokmin’s part. His junior year of college had passed by in a blur, the sinking realization that he had no work experience outside of his three years at the local café spurring him to apply for a whole mess of opportunities. Surprisingly, he had heard back from more than half of them, giving him options to look over for that summer. 
 

He had chosen an internship at a local PR firm, motivated by the thought that it might be vaguely connected to acting. He’s not sure if it was just that company, or if all PR firms were similar, but he had found out quickly that the only time he used his acting skills there was when he was acting like everything was ok.
 

Around them, the scenery shifts, and across the road in the other building, Seokmin can see a mirror image of himself, four years ago, standing at the window. The other Seokmin stands there for a moment, staring out at the cityscape, before turning around at someone’s approach. A mirror Minghao walks up to his side, puts a soft hand on his shoulder. Even from this far away Seokmin can see how he lights up, leaning into the touch like a sunflower facing towards the dawn.
 

“I found you there, though.” Seokmin says quietly, most of his focus on trying to walk farther forward. It’s getting harder, the wind almost sweeping his feet out from underneath him.
 

His words are lost to the wind’s howl, but Minghao nods as if he had heard them anyway. His reply is barely audible over the gathering storm when he says, “We found each other. It’s not safe for you this time though. Go back.” Minghao starts to stand up, like he’s going to walk somewhere, and starts to disappear. The edges of his body begin to flake away, chipping like the edges of a teacup. Seokmin fights to get closer, reach out a hand–
 

And he’s gone.
 

Around him the wind swells, dry lightning cracking down across the city. The wind swells again and with a final shove, Seokmin—attention still caught on the place where Minghao used to be—topples over the edge of the building.

Miracles:

Seokmin opens his mouth, words beating against his throat like a cacophony of wings, but Junhui shakes his head. “Tea first.”
 

He isn’t feeling brave enough to try and break that silence by himself, so he waits until Junhui pours tea for the two of them before blurting out, “I’m sorry about the other day.” At his words Junhui looks up, almost surprised. Seokmin continues before he can say anything. “I know you tried, are trying, your best. It was unfair for me to expect—I don’t know.”
 

Junhui’s mouth twists, creases forming between his eyebrows. “You’re not the first person to come to me for a miracle Seokmin-ah.” His eyes are resigned. “It’s not the first time I’ve been unable to help.”
 

“That’s just it.” Seokmin nearly stands up, leaning forward across the table. “I shouldn’t have asked you to fix something that was my fault to begin with. I was the one who got Minghao—” He stops before he can say killed, but the word hangs between them anyways.

On Love

“It’s ok, you know?”
 

Minghao ran another hand through his hair, fingertips exerting just enough pressure to melt Seokmin further. “What is?”
 

“The fact that you’re in love with Junhui-hyung. I don’t mind.”
 

Seokmin’s eyes had fallen shut by then, but he had still felt when Minghao’s hand stilled. “What?”
 

“I just wanted to say I’m glad you love him back, he deserves it.”
 

Minghao huffed out a breath. “I don’t love him?” His words were more of a question than anything else. Seokmin wasn’t sure why—Minghao had been half in love with Junhui for years now. He wasn’t sure when it had happened, only that he had looked over at Minghao one day and seen his expression, cracked open with enough longing to drown the ocean. That day had been one for revelations, certainly.
 

Seokmin yawned. “Of course you do. It’s ok though, I love him too.”

[cut text]

“I don’t think that’s the way things work.” Minghao resumed running his fingers through his hair; if Seokmin could, he would have started purring.
 

“Love is exactly like that?” Seokmin cracked open an eye to see Minghao’s face set in confused lines above him. He tried to formulate the words, put something that he’s always known to be true into a statement of fact. For some reason, he didn’t feel nervous at all.
 

He had expected for it to be awful, trying to tell his boyfriend that they were in love with someone else, but instead it was just… normal. It slipped out of his mouth like talking about what to have for dinner tomorrow. Seokmin and Minghao curled together on a couch like any other Wednesday night, quotation marks positioned at the ends of a shared sentence. “You don’t lose it when you love more people, you just get more of it.”
 

Minghao narrowed his eyes and cupped Seokmin’s chin in his palms. “And I love Junhui.” It was a statement this time.
 

Seokmin nodded slowly. “You don’t have to say anything, Myungho. I just thought you should know.”
 

“Ok.” Minghao ran his fingers over Seokmin’s cheekbones. His voice was quiet when he replied, “Ok then. Now I know.”
 

And that had been that. For the rest of the two weeks though, Seokmin caught Minghao staring at him when he thought Seokmin wasn’t looking, as if trying to pick apart a puzzle. He hadn’t said anything before Wednesday, and after that, well. He wasn’t saying anything at all, was he.

Domesticity.png:

Seokmin had been looking at a place near the river, seven blocks from the temple district, had a curtain color picked out and everything. It an unusual burst of organization, he’d even gotten the dates together for a tour of the premises, had taken Minghao there and watched the way his eyes went wide at the view. Two stories up wasn’t that high, but it was enough to let the light in, show them the river bend through the window panes.  
 

Minghao had laughed at his overeagerness but Seokmin had felt him trembling when he hugged him, tipped over in a shiver of joy, of anticipation. Later that night Minghao had pressed kisses down his spine and talked to him about sharing furniture, twisted two fingers inside of him and agreed that the curtains really should be yellow. Later still, curled together in the sheets he had whispered into Seokmin’s shoulder about getting a dog.
 

Right now though, Seokmin’s hopes have collapsed in on themselves. The apartment lies golden in his mind, so far out of reach as to be unthinkable. As for lesser impossibilities—he wants Minghao here with him right now. No frills, no pretense. He wants to turn around and see him lying there, sleep rumpled and lazy, hair splayed out on the pillows.

I love him too much to stop you

Seokmin shakes his head. “I’m not even a good mage, hyung.” A laugh cracks its way out of his throat. “There’s no other way for me to save him.”
 

Junhui looks at him, and Seokmin can see one last warning in his eyes, water receding before a tidal wave. "Divinity isn't a right, Seokmin-ah. It's not even a privilege."
 

"I know that, hyung.” Seokmin thinks about Minghao's voice stripped raw, skin in the aftermath of a sandstorm. “I still need to try."
 

“I thought you’d say that.” Junhui takes the herbs he had been chopping and turns around, throwing them into the fire, a heady smoke rising from the flames. “Let’s get started then. And, Seokmin-ah?”
 

Seokmin steps closer. “Yes?”
 

Junhui turns back to him, tears glittering on his eyelashes. “I’m sorry. I love him too much to stop you.”

Movie Night:

There’s a shade of distraction to the whole affair, the two of them trying to ignore the coming deadline, the outline of another body that should be there with them. A negative space filled with longing. Junhui’s voice rings a little too loud, and Seokmin jumps on gags he would probably pass over, the jagged edge of reality pressing a little too deep.
 

Junhui continues with his translations sporadically throughout the night. By the time they’re on episode five, the protagonists are—according to Junhui—involved in a complicated love quadrangle involving them, the personification of death, and a man who can turn into a cat.
 

“…and Shen Wei is absolutely offended by his assumptions. Zhao Yunlan tells him… oooh they’re not assumptions, they’re genuine care. Shen Wei asks him if he can even remember their shared history, rather violently, and then says he’s leaving to become a traveling magician.” Junhui takes a break to drink water, and Seokmin watches as Shen Wei whirls around, disappearing offscreen.
 

“Are they ever going to recover, hyung?” Seokmin widens his eyes at Junhui, partially for comedic effect, partially because even though he can’t understand the dialogue—Junhui’s translations not counting for anything—he’s gotten kind of invested in the show.
 

Junhui makes a laughing face at him and drinks some more water. He doesn’t answer and Seokmin pouts at him, shaking his shoulder for an answer. “Hyung!”
 

The ending credits play a soundtrack to Junhui’s amusement when he finally answers. “I don’t know, I’ve never watched it all the way through. I’m sure they have a happy ending though, shows like this always like a nice resolution.”

 

Endings
(this was the original ending, which was kind of depressing)

He thinks for a second, trying to recall- He’s kneeling in the earth- He’s asking for a miracle- He’s-
 

He remembers. Minghao. With the name comes a rush of memories and Junhui’s voice, distant as a conversation overheard from one room over. You’ll have to figure it out when you get there.
 

Floating here, in the space between life and death, ascension and remembrance, Seokmin sees his moment. Seizes that bright cord between his hands, and pulls, tugging on the weft and weave of the universe.
 

Somewhere far, far away Minghao opens his eyes.

[cut text] 

Minghao kisses like it’s their first and last, like all of his focus has been distilled down to just Seokmin. Like he’s trying to say goodbye. It’s both familiar and not; Seokmin has kissed him before, kissed Minghao a thousand times, but it’s never been like this, like an apology and a plea all in one.
 

When Minghao pulls back it’s because he’s out of breath, not Seokmin. Seokmin is not entirely sure that his constructed body is capable of breathing. It still punches something out of him, seeing Minghao’s mouth half parted, all consideration and ragged desire.
 

He wants to close his eyes; he looks away instead and sees Junhui, staring at the two of them, still caught by their hands. The curve of his mouth is desperately fond, tender and aching.
 

Seokmin pauses for a moment, trying to muster up his thoughts enough to say something reassuring when something in his constructed body, right beneath the ribs, snaps. He manages one last smile for Junhui and Minghao, blinding. And then he vanishes.
 

His name follows him as he slips away, hands dissolving last in a burst of fire.
 

Seokmin. Seokmin. Seokmin.
 

.
 

Things are so very, very bright.