He has an arm draped around your shoulder, unintentionally (though it may be intentionally) gluing you to his side. His body heat and his soft, citrusy, musky scent envelop you in a blanket of serenity in spite of your slightly chaotic surroundings: Chan and Seungkwan singing at the tops of their lungs, the others either singing along or whooping out cheers. 

Seungcheol joins in too, adding some of his own ad-libs in true main rapper style. Then, ever so often, his attention falls entirely on you again, as though in his drunken stupor he’d forgotten you were next to him.

“Hiii,” he chimes in that stupidly cute tone of his, his dimples showing themselves. It's whiplash-inducing how, with all of his bulging muscles and what are usually fierce facial features, he manages to melt into something completely and utterly adorable.

“Are you having fun, Seungcheollie?” you ask, leaning in closer to him so that your voice carries over the commotion. 

“Of course,” he says, his smile smile a little dazed, but there's honey dripping from his lips and his eyes as he stares at you. “Are you, baby?” 

“Of course,” you parrot.

He pulls you in close to him, planting a loud, sloppy kiss to your temple. There’s a pulse of warmth in your chest, a skip of your heartbeat that occurs no matter how often he dotes on you like this. Even after years, how could you possibly grow tired of him pouring his affection out for you so easily, knowing it's reserved for no one else but you?

“My favourite girl,” he says, nuzzling his face against your cheek. Personal space is always a mere suggestion to him, but when he's drunk, the concept vanishes.

“Yah, Coups-hyung, stop being a parasite,” Mingyu yells from the other end of the table. 

You laugh, waving a dismissive hand at Mingyu while Seungcheol's grip on you tightens. It feels like with each sip of soju that he takes, his eyelids get heavier, his lips get poutier, his words become whinier, and most importantly, he gets impossibly touchier.

For drunk Seungcheol, though, there’s a thin line between him being affectionate and turning… needy. 

The next time he turns to you, it’s as Seungkwan and Chan are singing Sistar's "SHAKE IT". It's a little out of their vocal ranges, even Seungkwan's, but that never stops them. Nor does it stop you from pretending you're serenading your boyfriend with "baby, love me, love me, love me now," and "make it louder," while haphazardly doing the choreography, which is hard when it's mostly made up of butt wiggling and hip swivelling and you're sitting down.

It's enough for Seungcheol's mind to start racing just from hearing you sing the lyrics, however. His cheeks and ears that are already red from the alcohol grow even more blood-flushed. His hazy eyes turn hungry, gazing at you like the world has fallen away and only you are left.

He tugs you towards him again, his lips ghosting over the shell of your ear as he murmurs, "you're teasing."

You give him a smug smile, only for him to bring you towards him again.

"Let's go home."

And Seungcheol is good at sounding like he's sobered up, his voice like an incubus' the way it makes you clench your thighs together, but you know that the second he stands up he will be stumbling.

"Why do you wanna go home, Cheollie?" you ask, your voice soft, as though you're speaking to a toddler.

"Because I want you," he groans, rubbing his nose against your neck.

"Hey. No," you scold, talking to a dog now, grabbing him by his cheeks so he can see your stern look. "Can't do that here."

"Can I do it at home?" he barters, jutting his bottom lip out, giving you his big baby cow eyes.

You sigh, and it hits you that this is what he has to deal with when you're drunk. Because it is usually your thing: you're doing the drinking and he's doing the caretaking.

Maybe he has had enough. You worry what will happen if he takes one more shot.

"We'll see," you say, but you already know you're putting him straight to bed. You rise to your feet, beckoning him to follow you. "Come on. Say your goodbyes."

"Everyone, we're goinggg," he sings, giddy as he springs to his feet, your hands rushing to grasp his arm immediately to steady him.

"Wait, wait, why are you going?" Seungkwan asks, the loudest amongst a chorus of mumbled protests.

"Because Seungcheollie's getting old and it's his bedtime," you quip, pulling your jacket on and unlocking your phone so you can order a taxi.

"Bedtime," he repeats, winking at his friends.

You peer up at him with an unamused look, watching his face momentarily fill with fear, then you turn to stare at his group. You're deadpan as you shake your head, earning some laughs from them. They've always been entertained by how well their leader listens to you— they say you've 'trained him well'. Thus, after you've both waved goodbye, they're unfazed by the image of you hauling him out of the restaurant with his arm slung around your shoulders so he can lean on you as you go.

Given that you're in the middle of the city, the taxi has already arrived by the time you get outside. You make Seungcheol clamber in first, something that will give him chills when he's sober. It's him who's supposed to get the door for you and sit in after you. You just had to ensure he didn't fall this time.

He's reckless on the way home, his warm hand rubbing up and down your thigh, drawing circles on it as he gazes out the window and watches the high-rise buildings fly by. He's either willing himself to stay awake, or he's thinking about how much—

"I love you," he utters suddenly. Now his hand has found yours and he's lacing your fingers together.

You whip your head towards him, finding him staring at you with glistening eyes. Your chest warms and you melt a little at the sight. "I love you, too, Cheollie."

"You promise?" he asks, but not because of any doubt. You know him well enough to know that he's just after the extra assurance.

"I promise," you tell him without hesitation, squeezing his hand.

When you get home, you drag him straight to bed, which is easy when he's curled around you like a koala. He's mumbling, talking for the sake of talking, telling you anecdotes and reminders of his schedules for the week as you strip him of his outfit.

"Baby, I'd love to have sex, but I'm drunk," he says, a sudden contradiction to his behaviour at the restaurant.

"Good thing we're both going to bed, then, huh?" you reply, handing him his plaid pyjama set and turning to work on unclothing yourself.

"Okay. I'm tired," he mumbles as he crawls under the covers. He forces himself to keep his eyes open while you take off your makeup and do your skincare routine despite how hard sleep tries to lull him away.

Finally, you're done, so you dive underneath the duvet and snuggle up to him, his arms snaking around your waist instinctively and pulling you flush against his warm body. He buries his face in your neck, peppering it with soft, chaste kisses— and you don't scold him this time.

The smell that hits your nose the second you open the door to your boss’s side of the residence. Alcohol and sex and a little bit of weed. Disgusting. You drop a couple bags by the door, like every other time, so they don’t get lost in the mess. Stale air clings to you as you pick your way through the debris on the floor in the dark. The only thing that protects you is excellent eyesight. Oh, and that you have the floorplan memorized. You pause by a wall to turn on the air so that there’s at least some circulation. On your way over to the window, your shoe crunches on something. It’s not worth it to look down and see. These are your dedicated shoes for days like this. If you need new shoes after it, well, that’s just another thing your boss can cover. Not like it would be the first time. At least he learned long ago to just give you a new credit card with each move so you wouldn’t bother him. 

You reach the bedroom window, more by memory than sight because of some of the most expensive blackout curtains in existence. There’s a moment of hesitation before you open the curtains. Not for yourself, or even for any concern about how your boss will react. It’s just that you’ve done this song and dance before. Know that he’s likely not alone. Know just as well that whatever poor soul, or souls, knowing him, don’t realize what’s coming. Or that he isn’t what they think. Oh well. Not your monkeys, not your circus. You open the shades in one motion, take a moment to blink and appreciate the concept of light inside a room, then crack open the window. Fresh air. Finally. You only get to appreciate it for a moment before a sound pierces your ears. 

“Oh my god!” a distinctly female voice shrieks. 

When you turn towards the bed, there are two women. One, the one you imagine let out the horrible sound, sits up and clutches the sheet around her chest. The other looks doe-eyed and uncertain, still lying down with the blanket up to her neck. Your boss doesn’t react. Doesn’t even seem bothered as he pulls a pillow over his eyes.  Just groans and settles deeper into the mattress. Typical. 

“Maybe you can form your next thought at a volume that doesn’t break my eardrums.” 

You direct this to the one that’s sitting up. Both women are pretty in the typical kind of way, at least from what you can see. That kind of pretty where they seem confident outwardly, yet crave a little too much validation inwardly. Not exactly your type, but whatever works. You’re not sure if they’re his type, either. If he even has a type. Usually in times like this he’s just looking for an easy pull. Someone that won’t mind him being a little selfish. Unfortunately for you, he also has a tendency towards the type that expects him to call. He won’t. Keeps a strict no-scorched-Earth policy, or what the fuck ever he calls it, that’s a bit sleazy, but that’s not your business. Not what you get paid for and certainly not why you stick around.

The bolder of the two, you’re only assuming this because she’s sitting up, gives you an apologetic look. This song and dance is typical too. They always look at you when you arrive the next day, walking around like you own the place with a scowl, that you’re his partner. Even sometimes say that you look like the kind of person someone like him would actually call back. See you as whatever beauty standard is popular at the moment with that kind of confidence they can only dream about. Something in them can tell you’re the type of confident that doesn’t need any validation. It’s not fair to them, though, because your confidence comes from knowing that you’re different. Not in the cliche way of saying you’re not like other girls. But that’s getting a little ahead of yourself. 

In the split second this plays out in your head, you take a breath and turn towards the woman sitting up.

“We, uh, we’re really sorry. We just started drinking and smoking a little…” 

“I know, I can smell the weed.”

“Oh, uh, sorry about that too. We didn’t realize that he had a…”

The bolder of the two looks to the other woman, still hiding under the sheets like she’s frozen. Waiting for help from her is pointless. You, however, aren’t going to help either. If he’s going to ignore you telling him to cut it out with this bullshit, then you’re going to find whatever enjoyment that you can. You cross your arms as you lean against the window behind you. Tap a perfectly manicured nail on your arm. You can nearly see the picture you create reflected back from the depths of Bolder’s eyes. 

She clears her throat and casts her eyes down. “We didn’t realize he had a partner or we wouldn’t have…”

Finally, he groans and removes the pillow from his face. Fixes you with a stare that would probably melt anyone else. You’re not so easily deterred. 

“I don’t have a partner.” 

“But, what about…?” It’s still the bolder one asking, but the other one sits up now too. Looks a little less frightened. What a shame.

“That’s my assistant. She lives in the other part of the…”

You scoff out an annoyed sound. This argument is old. “That’s not my title, you…”

“It’s too early in the morning for me to fucking care about getting your title right.” 

“It’s noon, actually.”

“And you’re a smartass.”

“I should quit. This is a hostile work environment.”

“Go ahead.” 

The women look awkwardly at each other like they can’t really figure out if they should be witnessing all of this. You spare another glare at your boss, who covers his face with the pillow again. It’s the last thing you want to do, but someone has to give these poor unfortunate souls direction.

“You’re dismissed,” you tell them and watch the way their eyes go wide at the comment. They start to look around. “I brought clothes, they’re by the front door. I’m sure whatever you wore last night to…whatever party he hosted isn’t in any condition to get home in. My card is also there if you want to retrieve anything after I’ve had the place fumigated.”

“Oh, uh, thanks,” the shy one says as they scramble out of the bed. 

“Call us for the next party, S-Coups,” the bolder one says. 

That makes you roll your eyes, though neither sees it. You follow them to the door and make sure they’re clear of the bedroom before closing it. By the time you turn back towards the bed, Seungcheol’s sitting up. Rubbing the sleep out of his eyes and stretching his body out. Tattoos decorate the bare skin of his arms and his chest. They look disjointed, but he’ll insist everything is intentional. Not that it matters, anyway. Not for someone like him or you when nothing is permanent. 

“Did she call you S-Coups? What is an S-Coups?” you ask, nose wrinkling in distaste.

“I wasn’t done with them.”

“How unfortunate for you that I don’t care.” 

“I really should fire you.” 

“By all means, go ahead. I don’t exactly need the money and your personality wears on me.” 

Seungcheol takes a deep breath and closes his eyes. Would probably even pinch the bridge of his nose if he thought that he could get away with it. You don’t let him get away with anything, though. Once he stops feeling like he wants to strangle you, he opens his eyes again. You haven’t moved from your position by the window. He’s never met anyone that could stand still quite like you. Not in this world, at least. 

“Are you done having your daily existential crisis?” you ask, quirking an eyebrow. 

Briefly, Seungcheol wonders how difficult it actually would be to find a new assistant. He really doesn’t need this. He’s rich and powerful and currently one of the best fighters in the city. Everyone wants to be around him. Oh, and not to mention, he was once the King of the Olympians. Zeus. One of the strongest and brightest in Olympus. It’s been a long time, though, and…

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” you sigh out. 

“You can’t treat me like this.” 

“Why not?” 

“Because I’m the God of the Sky and Thunder…”

“Who now gets his face bashed in by mere mortals on Earth…”

“And who are you? Who are you really?”

“I don’t see how that’s relevant.”

“Why won’t you tell me?” 

“Because you don’t need to know.”

“I was the King of the gods.”

Got him, you think. The look on your face doesn’t bode well for him. He’s not sure how he always loses to you. “Notice how you said ‘was’? Can we move on now?” 

He takes a beat. Two, for good measure. “Fine.”

“Lovely. Now can we talk about what an S-Coups is and how we’re dangerously close to running behind on your schedule?” 

The two of you fall into a familiar routine. You have a smoothie waiting for him to drink while he gets ready. As he’s drinking, he feels the familiar cool metal on his wrist. It’s how you make sure that his body regenerates from any injuries. A connection to his former life as a god. It clears his head, but that doesn’t do anything to help him focus on you. Like every other time, you have your tablet out. You’re reading out whatever it is that you feel like he needs to know. None of it really matters.

To avoid the spiral, he casts around in his mind for anything else to focus on. He lands on the argument that you and him seem to have at least once a month. Which, if you think about it, is a long time to have an argument when you live forever. Seungcheol knows that you’re a goddess. That’s where his knowledge ends, though. He doesn’t know how long you’ve been on Earth. Doesn’t know how long you were around before finding him. All he knows is that you found him shortly after he parted ways with Poseidon for the last time. The two of them had already exhausted every avenue trying to understand what happened in Olympus and if there was a way to get back home.

Then, you entered the picture. Lingering around the fringes of Seungcheol’s life. He can’t even remember what he called himself back then. A few years went by before he finally approached you, unable to fight the feeling of familiarity. Unable to ignore the call. You were like him, somehow. He just knew it. The only confirmation you gave was that you were a goddess yourself and that you knew who he was. It shouldn’t have been possible. He had taken on a human form. Had done everything that he could to deceive the humans around him. Not you, though. You can see through everything he does when he’s trying to hide. It wouldn’t even matter if he changed his outward appearance without you around. You can always seem to pinpoint him in any room. Like you’re connected to his energy. 

It’s confusing. From all the research he and Poseidon did, and there was a lot of it, he thought that they knew every one of the lesser gods and goddesses that survived. Not a difficult task because there hadn’t been many of them. He and his brother had kept records on the energies. Records they copied when they decided to split and give up on finding a way back. Yours didn’t match any of his records. In fact, yours was difficult to ever really get a read on. He sensed a power in you, but it was always shifting. Never static. Impossible to really connect to. Sometimes, when he thought too hard about it, it unnerved him. Now, he’s only annoyed that you refused to answer once again. He’s spent over two hundred years with you by his side and still has more questions than answers. Yet, it’s somehow more comforting to have you around, than to be alone. You’re a connection to his old life and you keep him on his toes. 

By the time he pulls himself out of the walk down memory lane, he realizes that you’ve been waiting for an answer. You just roll your eyes and walk out of the condo, knowing that he’ll follow you out. 

Everyone has a different method for getting ready before a fight. At least, that’s what Seungcheol’s first trainer told him. Not that he really listened much. He’s an ancient god with plenty of fighting experience. Not that most of it was immediately helpful here. No matter. If he can cling to anything from his past, it’s that he’s a quick study. 

So, while everyone around him prepares for the fight, he goes somewhere else. Doesn’t hear the other guys that try to get in each other’s heads (they’ve long since stopped trying with him). Doesn’t hear the people chattering excitedly on the other side of the door where the makeshift ring is. Can’t hear the people weaving in and out of the crowd taking bets. Instead, he thinks about why he’s doing this in the first place. Thinks about why he lets his body take a beating week after week. Thinks about the first time you asked him why, when he could do literally anything, that he chose this life of fighting and scars. 

The answer is as simple as it is complicated. It’s the only way he feels anything anymore. Seungcheol hasn’t ever been human, so he can’t say what it’s supposed to feel like. But, that’s worse, in a way. As a god, he feels everything so much stronger. It’s so much more intense. The loss of any kind of feeling had been gradual. When he first found himself on Earth, he took advantage of it. Made the best of the situation and didn’t worry about what it meant long term. After all, Earth wasn’t strange to him. There had been plenty of trips with plenty of excess before Olympus fell. It had been Poseidon that had gathered them all, the remaining Olympians that he could find, to look for a solution. Seungcheol remembers his emotions fluctuating a lot through all of that. Hope, excitement, fear, anxiety, happiness, confusion, anger, calm. All of them. It’s been years, though. Now he doesn’t feel much of anything. Even having you around doesn’t help so much. You get it, but not really. He just feels like he’s going through the motions most days. Blowing money he’s made over the years. Dabbling in whatever the party scene calls for at the moment. Bringing people home to press them into his mattress (or wherever) and hope it stirs something in him. 

And then he stumbled onto underground fighting completely by accident. Someone mistook him for someone else and then had no choice but to invite him along. That first trip had been brutal, even though he did not fight. He watched the way fists flew without much in the way of rules. Watched the way bodies reacted every time a punch or a kick connected. Was entirely too fascinated by the way the blood flew through the air. With his better than average eyesight, it was like he could watch each drop in slow motion. From that first visit, he was hooked. He trained, because they told him that he had to before hopping into a fight, and came back. Won his first fight and his second. He won nearly every one after that too, only throwing a loss in occasionally so that they wouldn’t stop inviting him. For however long each fight lasted, he actually felt alive again. He could feel pain and sadness. Excitement when he landed a good blow. Nervous anticipation about where the next blow would catch him. His entire body lit up, like live wires sparking off the pavement. Sometimes, it even lingered after the fight ended. Took him through whatever party that followed like a drug before seeping out of his system. 

Tonight doesn’t feel any different initially. His fight is last, as it almost always seems to be. People show up to see him. They follow him from location to location and don’t seem to know anything about him. Don’t seem to care, honestly. He’s a good fighter and that’s all they need to know. When he fights last, people have to stay through all the other fights. It makes more money for the bookies that these types of things draw. It doesn’t matter to Seungcheol as long as he gets to fight. 

Once the fight starts, it goes differently than normal and he actually almost loses. Not because he wants to throw this fight, either. This had been one he planned to win easily. The first two rounds go well. It seems like it’ll be an easy win. Then, he catches sight of you on the fringes of the crowd. It catches him off guard for several reasons. You never watch his fights. Not that you mind the thought of him getting his ass kicked, you tell him. It’s just not your thing, the violence of it all. Seems like one of those unnecessary risks that humans take for no reason and you can’t understand why Seungcheol gets sucked in. The second reason it catches him off guard is that you’re talking to someone. A man, he realizes when he chances another look. Someone tall and lean with hair just long enough to fall into his eyes as he looks down at you. A piercing gaze only for you,, like nothing else in that dingy, abandoned warehouse matters. Like there isn’t a full blown fight happening. It’s when Seungcheol chances another glance in your direction that he takes his first serious blow. You’re leaning into the stranger like you’re telling him a secret, a flirtatious smile on your lips that doesn’t belong.

It shouldn’t matter because you’re his assistant and have made it very clear that you’re not interested in whatever Seungcheol has going on, but he still hates it. Hates that you can show that side of yourself to a perfect stranger. Realistically, he knows that you’re not some kind of nun. He knows that you date and that you let people bring you back to their place. It’s just not something he sees very often. And then, he hates that you’re finally out in the crowd and not even watching him. He takes a second hard punch when he checks to see if you saw the first. Despite the way the crowd reacts, you don’t turn from your conversation. He really needs to get his shit together.

After he manages a win that’s much closer than he meant (a fact that the bookies seem thrilled about because most people bet Seungcheol would win big), he sits in the makeshift locker room. He shrugs off any attention or hangers-on tonight. Just unwraps the tape from his hands in relative peace. As he’s thinking back through the fight, he tries not to think of you. A flare of annoyance runs through him. You work for him and won’t come to the actual fights unless it’s to flirt with some random dude. You work for him, yet won’t tell him who you were once upon a time. He slams his fist down on the bench beneath him. Thankfully, it’s not hard enough to do any damage. It’s also not hard enough to drown out the judgmental noise that comes before the clacking of heels on concrete. Only you would think to wear heels in a place like this. 

“Now, now,” you chide. “It’s not that bench’s fault you nearly lost tonight.” 

“No, but it’ll do as a substitute,” he shoots back without looking at you.

“For who?” 

Now he does look up at you, sure that you’re needling him. Your face gives nothing away, though. The perfect picture of composure and innocence. He knows better. “Of all the nights to actually watch my fight…”

“I wasn’t watching.” 

“I’m aware,” he says, clenching his jaw. 

This seems to pique your interest. He doesn’t like the way your eyes sparkle when you look at him. It never signals anything good. “Don’t tell me that’s why…”

You trail off. It’s perfectly crafted so that someone will fall into your trap. Designed so that someone says exactly what you’re expecting. He knows better. After centuries together, he knows so much better. And yet…

“You work for me and you were too busy to even consider if I was okay while you were flirting with that stranger,” he spits out. 

The look you give him is almost pitying. Almost. You make a show of looking around to see if anyone can overhear you, even though he knows that you never come back if there are other people around. The place is empty. 

“Let’s be serious for a second, Boss,” you say and he hates the way you emphasize the word, even though he reminded you who you work for. “You’re fine. You’re always fine. And if you weren’t we’d be dealing with it quickly. And he wasn’t a stranger. He’s a promoter, here to scout the earlier fights since he already knows you by both name and reputation. We were talking about you.”

“Sure looked like work.” 

You toss your hair over your shoulder and fix him with the same flirtatious smile he so rarely sees. “Jealous, Cheol?” 

“No.” 

He’s lying and you both know it. It’s not that he’s jealous of you talking to someone else. He expects you to have a life outside of him. It’s that you were so close to the fight and not watching. It makes him wonder why you can’t just fully accept that he needs this and support him. All things considered, he doesn’t think he asks you for that much. He gives you a place to live, plenty of money to live off of, and a built in connection to a former life neither of you can get back. 

“Did you imagine me tending to your wounds? Imagine me talking your hand into mine, all gentle, and patching up your knuckles?” Your voice is that dangerous kind of low that does something entirely inappropriate to him. It’s the way you might talk to a lover. 

Giving into something he can’t figure out, you sigh and move to sit beside him. You take the first aid kit and open it without a word. Put some ointment on a piece of gauze and gently run it over the cut above his eye. The one he got while spending too much time watching you. It doesn’t hurt, but he still flinches when you make contact with his face. Maybe he’s just not sure what to expect. Especially after asking if that’s what he wants. You’re gentle, though. Thorough, too. Once you clean the cut, you use the strip that’s specifically for cuts like those. Then, you move on to his knuckles, just as you mentioned, wiping them clean of the blood and tending to any wound. He’s not used to having you this close to him without you saying something smart. It makes him a little nervous now. Like now that he’s seeing a different side to you, that he wants to see, he’s not sure how to handle it.

But, when you look at him again, it’s the same look he’s used to. Or, he thinks it is. It seems a bit at odds with the way the next sentence comes out.

“You were wrong, by the way.” 

He’s too busy rolling his eyes to realize that there’s no bite to your words. Too busy thinking that you’re reacting exactly the same as every other time to consider you’re being serious.

“I’m always wrong, according to you.” 

You level him an unimpressed look. “You’re being an asshole, but I know it’s just because you almost lost, so I’m going to tell you anyway. You assume that I never come out for any of your fights. That I don’t watch them.”

“Because you told me that you didn’t like, what was it you said? The violence of it all?” 

“I don’t. It seems pointless.”

“So of course I assume you never watch?” 

Seungcheol’s nerves are a little frayed. From the fight, from your proximity, from you taking care of him, and from whatever you’re saying now. He can’t even really process, either, because he’s too caught up in his own head. 

By contrast, you’re patient. Like you’re explaining something to a toddler rather than Zeus himself. “I said I didn’t like the violence and I didn’t see the point. That’s all true. I come out for every one of your fights, even if you don’t see me. What kind of assistant would I be otherwise?”

Before he can respond, point out you’re not just his assistant, you rise from the bench and head towards the door. He’s gaping at you and you don’t even spare a backwards glance. It’s still unsettling to him, the way you seem to cycle through your different personas. The different sides to you coming and going before he can put his finger on any one of them. He shakes his head to clear the thoughts and hurries after you.

Once upon a time, when Seungcheol had still been Zeus living in Olympus, his powers had seemed limitless. Untested in their reach. Even now, humans still talk about his famous lightning bolt that could strike down enemies or even entire cities. His strength could move mountains and his temper impacted the weather. No power was more useful, at least not to him, than his ability to shapeshift so easily. There were those that insisted he used that ability too much. That said he should not travel to Earth and to other similar planets as much as he did. 

Now, he wonders if they were right. It’s an ability he continues to use now. The only one of his abilities that he really can use. He can’t run around causing storms (though, he does, sometimes, when his emotions get out of control). Can’t use his inhumane speed and strength while fighting. Those other abilities feel dulled, anyway, through lack of use. He knows that’s partially because the majority of his powers are contained in a metal cuff he wears when he’s not fighting. It had been your only non-negotiable for his latest venture. Even though he’s not sure you entirely like him all the time, you at least go along with whatever ridiculous scheme he comes up with. And you make sure he can seem mostly human while doing it. 

It’s times like these, when it’s into the late hours of the night when everything else should be quiet, that he can reflect. Times when he turns down the superficial company and lets himself sit with his own thoughts. Usually, you’re also at home. Not tonight. It sticks out to him. You’re so private about everything personal to you that it shouldn’t surprise him. While you typically know where he is at any given moment of the day, that does not extend in the other direction. Seungcheol doesn’t think it’s a lack of interest. Or that he’s somehow more self-involved. You’re just entirely unwilling to share bits of yourself. He’s certainly not going to ask when you won’t tell him who you are. 

It is odd, though. When Zeus and the other Olympians came out of a sleeplike state on Earth, they could immediately recognize each other. Even when they separated, took on new appearances, and got back together, he could feel them. It had been the same way before ending up on Earth, too. Each being had a distinct signature and he could pick out any that he had ever come across. At times, he feels something familiar about you. Like he’s on the verge of a distant memory that’s just out of reach. Each time, it’s gone before he can latch onto it fully. You shrug it off every time, saying it’s just because of the years spent in each other’s company. 

The air is so still that Seungcheol hears when the door opens and closes over on your side of the apartment. Or maybe it’s just because he’s actively listening and wondering when you’re going to be back. He’s even in the sitting room closest to your part of the apartment. As he strains his ears, he picks up the clack of your heels before a pause. There’s a hesitation before he hears you approach the door separating the two spaces. Another hesitation. Not for the first time, he wonders what’s going on in your mind. He can honestly never tell. 

You enter his area of the apartment without knocking and your knowing glance lands on him immediately. 

Except, he can’t enjoy your decision to actually join him. Not this time. 

As you pass by him to the drink cart without a second glance, he catches a smell on you. Sex. The musky, heady scent clings to you as you move past him. Maybe even a hint of cologne. There’s also the distinct smell of you. An obvious arousal on your part and it makes him a little lightheaded. Which is insane. He’s not attracted to you. Well, not like that, at least. He’s not blind. Anyone can see that you’re attractive. It’s just not deeper than that. And you’re very clearly not interested.

Surprisingly, you pour yourself a healthy glass of his whisky and plop down into a chair across from him. When he looks up, you’re watching him thoughtfully. One leg crossed over the other as you take a careful sip of the amber liquid. 

“Where have you been?” 

The question comes out more accusatory than he means for it to. The look on your face confirms what he already knows. It’s that infuriating half smile. How he falls into your trap time after time is anyone’s guess. 

“I wasn’t aware I had to check in with you, Dad. Did I miss curfew?”

“Funny.” 

You take another sip and your eyes sparkle. It’s an unsettling sight. Makes him adjust his position like he’s somehow the one in trouble. 

After entirely too long, you give some semblance of an answer. “I was out.” 

“Yes, I gathered.” 

“Were you waiting up for me?” you ask, getting entirely too much entertainment out of the conversation. 

“I wasn’t waiting for you,” he says and you raise an eyebrow. Infuriating. “I am still awake, but it’s not because of you.” 

“I guess even gods have to take a break from the endless stream of meaningless flings,” you surmise before looking away from him. 

“Bit rich coming from you when you’ve obviously been out having a fling yourself.” 

The look on your face should be illegal. He tracks the slow way you turn your head back around to study him. Tilt your head to the side to consider his words. Take a sip of your drink and lick the drops off your lips. “Does it bother you?”

“What?” It’s the last question he’s expecting. Another win in your column, though he’ll never admit it out loud. 

“Does it bother you that I was out with some insanely hot man who had me screaming his name while you were home alone? Does it bother you to think of the way he had me coming undone while you were sitting here wondering where I was? Or maybe you’re wishing it was you pressing me against the doorframe, unable to hold off any longer?” 

The way you lean forward sends his brain into overdrive. Everything about the low tone of your voice does make him wonder what any of that might be like with you. Makes him wonder what you sound like as someone is taking you apart. Even lets himself consider the satisfaction he would get from shutting that smart mouth of yours. By the time he manages to get himself together, you’re already leaning back in the chair again. 

You save him some of the embarrassment of having to answer. “No, that can’t be it. You’re smarter than to be interested in pursuing me.” 

“Of course,” he agrees quickly. Too quickly, honestly. “I just think it’s interesting you never bring dates back here when it’s such a nice apartment.” 

“I have a lot of reasons for that.” 

“Such as?”

It’s clear by the look on your face that he’s wearing on your patience. At least he’s not asking questions that you truly don’t want to answer, though. No matter what he thinks, he can’t really determine anything from your reasons for not bringing people back. What’s the harm in actually answering? 

“For one, I don’t want people to see how nice it is and get the wrong ideas about lingering. I don’t want them to linger at all if I’m not feeling it. If I go to their place, then I can leave when I choose.”

“I should have guessed,” he says with a snort. “You like to be in control too much for your own good.” 

“Of certain things.” 

“Of everything.” 

Now, you’re looking at him with some level of pity. Like he’s missing out on a glaring piece of information. He should be better at this. Not because he’s Zeus, but because he’s known you for so long. You’re still a bit of an enigma, though.

“No, of certain things. You can hardly claim to know how I am when it comes to sex when you’ve never experienced it.” 

You’ve got him there and he has to bite his tongue to stop the retort from tumbling out of his lips. He wants to say that it’s your doing that he doesn’t know. That he’s been more than willing to explore with you. Maybe you see it for what it is, anyway. The look that crosses your face is too hard for him to place. Part of his brain wants to think it’s intrigue. Like you’re considering letting him cross that line you’ve kept in place so carefully. Then, the fog clears for a moment and he knows that it’s not worth it. No point in complicating something and ruining his relationship with the only person who knows exactly who he is. 

It would be easier if he didn’t rise to your bait so easily. Easier if there wasn’t that small, insistent part of him that was curious about you. Better still if you didn’t read his flashes of emotion so easily. It’s not even that he minds broadcasting his thoughts. It feels like part of the bargain while keeping someone like you around. But, the lack of reciprocity does drive him insane. Once, just once, he wishes you would let him into your inner thoughts. 

“It also just feels easier this way. To everyone else, I work for you. They don’t know we’re more deeply connected or that it’s more complicated than just saying that. It makes sense that I interrupt your flings. Not so much that you might overhear mine,” you say. 

Not for the first time, Seungcheol wonders how honest that is from you. Do you mean it? Is there more to it? Part of him kind of hopes there is. Kind of hopes that the part you’re not saying is that you don’t want him to overhear you. You don’t want to add more fuel to the fire. That maybe you would cross that line as well.

Instead, what he gets is you downing the rest of your drink. Gets to watch you place the glass on the table and rise from your seat. Watches you disappear back onto your side without so much as a backward glance. Infuriating. 

The next time Seungcheol finds himself in the ring, he has to test if you told him the truth. Looks around into the crowd of people while he waits for them to go through the introductions to the fight. There’s so much pomp and circumstance before his fights. It normally lets him focus. Today, it lets him scan the crowd for your face. Then, he lands on you. Towards the back of the space by the makeshift bar. Your eyes are already on him, looking smug. It might be embarrassing in another situation, to be caught looking. But, it’s just so surprising that you’re out there watching. Feels like a victory.

It also feels like a victory that you’re on your own for this fight. Makes it easier to have the fight go exactly as he wants. Which is a relatively easy win. Other than a few bruises to his knuckles, he comes out mostly unscathed. Lets the thought of you bandaging him up again pass quickly because he cannot imagine you doing that a second time. Then again, he couldn’t see you doing it the first time. Maybe the years are finally softening you. 

His entire mood shifts when he comes back out from the locker room to find out nearly in the same spot you watched the entire fight from. You’re no longer alone, though. In fact, he recognizes the same man from the last fight that made him lose his cool. It makes him see red for a second, too. Why is this guy hanging around if he’s a promoter when the fight is over? There are probably a number of reasons for that, actually. None of which Seungcheol considers. Because why is he leaning into you like he’s telling you a secret? Why are you looking at him like that? If there are reasons for a promoter to hang around, surely none of them include hanging all over you. 

Your eyes meet his over the stranger’s shoulder and you smile. It causes the man to turn around and look at him as well. Seungcheol doesn’t think he likes that look. There’s a cool confidence about this stranger. Like he knows he’s good looking and probably exactly your type. But, your eyes suggest you’re waiting for Seungcheol. And the stranger looks expectant. No choice but to move forward. Up close, he realizes that they’re close to the same height. His ego won’t let him admit the other man might be a touch taller. Or acknowledge the broadness of his shoulders. All Seungcheol can focus on is that this man is at least less muscular than him. Or, appears to be.

“Wonwoo,” he says and extends his hand.

Seungcheol hesitates before shaking it. For the worst reason, too. He catches a whiff of that cologne from a week ago when you came home late and joined him for a drink. From the time he could smell the sex on you. So much for this just being a professional relationship. But, now is not the time or place, and Seungcheol extends his hand to shake the other man’s. 

“I’ve heard about you,” he says for lack of anything else to share. 

“Yes, I’m interested in sitting down to talk about a proposal I have,” Wonwoo says and then throws a look your way. Undisguised interest. It pours off of him, actually. Then, his eyes are on Seungcheol again. “Your charming manager here has done an excellent job of selling you.”

There’s nothing on your face to suggest that anything is out of place. Nothing to suggest you realize that he’s putting any sort of pieces together. “Ah, well, she’s incredible at what she does.”

“She certainly is,” the other man agrees. It sets Seungcheol’s nerves on edge. 

“I’ll have her reach out to set something up,” is all Seungcheol says before turning to you. “But, tonight, I have something else to deal with, not related to fights.”

Your face still remains impassive. A perfect mask to prevent anyone from realizing what you may be thinking. Just for a moment, you glance over at Wonwoo with an inviting gaze. A private smile just for him. Except, it’s one that you know Seungcheol sees as well. 

“I’ll text you,” you confirm to Wonwoo. It makes Seungcheol’s stomach turn to watch how the promoter seems to melt under your gaze. Makes him want to throw a punch. Even makes him wonder if this promoter could handle it. Then, you turn back towards him with that sparkle in your eye. “Shall we, Boss?” 

Seungcheol clenches his jaw, lets you see the flash of something in his eyes. Something he knows that Wonwoo won’t process as quickly as it happens. “Let’s go.” 

The ride back to the apartment is silent. Oppressive. At least to him. You cross one leg over the other in the back of the car and take your phone out when it becomes clear that he has nothing to say. He gives your phone a cursory glance to see that you’re at least not texting that stupid promoter. A small victory. 

By the time that the two of you get back up into the apartment, he can feel your own patience wearing thin. He’s so annoyed by everything that he doesn’t even register how unusual it is for him to feel your emotions at all. Doesn’t stop to dwell on why you’re letting him in. Just rounds on you as soon as the door closes.

“Oh, so are we going to talk about what’s got you in this charming mood?” you ask, arms crossing over your chest. The disdain drips off of you.

“I thought it was just professional?” 

“You’re going to have to be a little more specific.” 

Seungcheol clenches his fist. Slams his palm down on the table without realizing that he has his cuff back on. The table splinters under the pressure. You, however, don’t even flinch. Just stand there, regarding him like he’s some petulant child throwing a tantrum. 

“You and that promoter…”

“Wonwoo,” you supply needlessly. The look on your face says it all. You know that Seungcheol knows his name and chose not to use it. Rubbing it in is also a choice.

“I recognized his cologne.”

You give him another look and then smirk. “Oh, should I do a little matchmaking? Are you interested? Didn’t know you had it in you, but…”

“Cut it out,” he says and your mouth actually snaps shut. Seeing the storm brewing in his eyes is enough. “I could smell him on you. That night you came back and had the drink with me.” 

You roll your lips together for a moment and then sigh. Switch tactics in the middle of the…discussion. “Okay, and? I’m allowed to have a life outside of you, Cheol.” 

“Why lie about it?”

“Because it’s none of your damn business!” 

“Still…”

“Still, nothing,” you bite back. “You don’t own me.” 

“No, I just pay for your entire life,” he says and you bark out a laugh. “Something funny about that?” 

“Yes,” you say with another laugh. “The idea that you pay for all of this out of the goodness of your heart and not because you can’t fucking stand the thought of being alone without anyone knowing who you really are.” 

He crosses to you and puts himself in your space in a split second. Clearly warring with how to respond. Anger ripples just beneath the surface. But, so does something else. Something that feels an awful lot like desire. And he doesn’t feel like it’s only coming from him. 

“Say that again.”

“I don’t think I need to.” 

The tension rolls off both of you. Eyes locked on each other, tracking each minute movement. There’s a crackle to the air. Did Seungcheol cause that? He’s honestly not sure. And then, another shift. Your tongue darts out to wet your lips and his eyes track the movement. Hungry and a little frayed. It’s too much. Without overthinking it, he reaches out and wraps an arm around your lower back to pull you against him. The gasp he expects never comes. Instead, your lips crash into his in a searing kiss. Something all consuming. Something that threatens to undermine his very being. 

Somehow, the two of you topple back into the couch. You straddle his lap without breaking the kiss, knees pressing into the couch on either side of him. His hands are everywhere. On your thighs, on your hips, on your ass. Even running up your sides, sneaking underneath your shirt to feel your skin. You wrap your arms around his neck to pull yourself in closer. And even though you’re on top of him, you’re actually letting him set the pace. Take the control. His hands run up under your shirt, along your spine, and he relishes the way you shiver. 

It’s too much and not enough all at the same time. Like now that he knows what it’s like to have you like this, he’s never going to be able to think about anything else. When you readjust in his lap, lips still insistent on his, you brush against his already hardening dick. Groan into his mouth at the feel of him underneath you. He growls, something low in the back of his throat and slides his hand up into your hair. Breaks the kiss so that he can work his mouth down your throat. Leaves sloppy kisses in his wake.

And that’s when the energy shifts again. The haze over him settles too deeply for him to feel it at first. You’re pulling away. Both literally and figuratively. He pulls his lips off your neck and sits back on the couch to look at you. Eyes asking the question he’s not sure he can voice out loud. Is something wrong? Did he read this wrong? Are you going to…

“I have to go,” you say, breathless. Before he can even respond, you’re on your feet and making a beeline for the door. Only stop to grab your purse. Then you’re out the door.

Well, fuck. 

At first, Seungcheol expects you to just show up by his side unannounced after a day or two. It’s not the first time you’ve disappeared or pushed him away. It’s not even the first time the two of you have kissed. In fact, the two of you seem to get carried away at least once every few decades without ever going as far as actually having sex. If he let himself think about it, he would be incredibly frustrated about it. Which is exactly why he doesn’t. He doesn’t linger on the way your lips felt against his. Doesn’t wonder at the feel of your body against his. Definitely doesn’t fantasize about pressing all your buttons until you relent and let him take you apart. Can’t fantasize about all the sounds you might make as he fucked you into his mattress.

No, he’s being ridiculous. 

With a shake to clear his head, he figures that he might as well just carry on with his business as usual. You’ll be back in a day or two, like always, pretending that nothing happened. It’s almost predictable, at this point. That is, if anything about you could actually be described as predictable. 

Except…well, this is clearly different. 

You don’t show up after a day or two. Two weeks go by and Seungcheol hasn’t so much as heard from you. There’s no trace of you anywhere he looks. Even though, rationally, he knows that you’re likely okay wherever you are, he can’t stop looking. Can’t stop that expectation that you’ll show up wherever he is, acting like nothing is wrong. You know his schedule better than he does. Know his patterns and his favorite places. Of course you’ll just show up. How could you not? 

As it slips into the third week, Seungcheol starts to wonder if you’re really gone this time. It feels remarkably lonely. Feels like maybe he shouldn’t waste as much time as he does being annoyed with you. If you need to roll your eyes at him or force him to adhere to some kind of schedule, then why can’t he just let you? If that’s the price for keeping you around and keeping you happy, it’s a small price to pay. You must be happy, at least on some level, because you stay. You get something out of this weird dynamic just the same as he does. Maybe it doesn’t matter who you are or who you were as long as you understand the deep sense of loss that comes with being permanently exiled from Olympus. The loss of you feels so profound that he even wonders if he should try to find Poseidon again. At least his brother had been easy to be around before parting ways. Yet, the loss of you feels worse. Worse, even, than realizing he may never see Olympus again.

Seungcheol notices something else that he doesn’t like during your absence. He’s moody. Snaps at the people he tries to bring back to his place to help him forget. And then he stops trying to bring anyone back at all. Every annoying little quirk feels exhausting. He can’t pretend to want to listen to any of them like normal. Fighting doesn’t feel the same, either. It doesn’t seem to make him feel much of anything without you around. He also almost misses a fight (as well as several other engagements) without you to remind him. That makes him angrier still. Why have you just up and left him? Why can’t you understand that you’re the only one who keeps things running on any kind of schedule? Why can’t you at least let him know if you’re never coming back for real? 

He decides to do something a little bit dumb and makes an appointment to have his hair dyed. Dying his hair isn’t really the stupid part. He’s had a lot of hair colors over his time pretending to be human. It’s just…he can shape shift. He doesn’t need to pay someone to do his hair. He just kind of feels like it, though. Wants to appreciate the feel of some nameless woman running her fingers through his hair and pampering him. That’s what it always feels like when he pays someone to do something he could just do himself (without the use of chemicals, either). It makes him feel moderately better as he heads back to his place. 

It takes him a moment, after coming in the front door, to realize something is off in his home. It hits him as he sets down the keys by the door. Did he leave a light on in the living room? Why does the atmosphere feel different? Why does it smell different? He carefully heads in the direction of the light and lets out a low groan when he sees that he’s right about something feeling off.

There you are, sitting in your favorite armchair with a book open in your lap. But, you’re already looking up at him. He’s not sure if you heard him enter or why you’re wrinkling your nose at him. Narrowing your eyes like he’s the one that did something wrong. Like you haven’t just been gone for weeks. 

“Do I smell bleach?” you ask, nose still wrinkled. 

“I - what?” he asks. His eyes are wide and his jaw feels slack. What the actual fuck is going on?

“I do! You paid someone to dye your hair.” 

“So what if I did?” 

“Have you forgotten that you are a god and you can do that without the chemicals?”

“No, I just wanted…” 

Suddenly, he snaps his mouth shut and glares at you. Anger rolls off of him in palpable waves. His fists clench at his sides. Can feel the power percolating beneath the surface. In another life, the storm would already be sparking off. Unimpressed, you mark the page in your book and set it to the side. Cross one leg over the other and just wait for whatever he’s going to say. 

“What the fuck does it matter to you what I decide to do with my hair?” 

“I suppose it doesn’t.” 

“Great, glad we cleared that up.” 

What Seungcheol aims for: something so biting that it actually makes you flinch. What Seungcheol actually gets: something that sounds petulant and a little childish. You cluck your tongue in response, but don’t make any move to get out of your chair.

“Heard you nearly missed a fight.” 

“Oh, you heard that, did you? Weren’t too busy off doing whatever the fuck you were to keep tabs on that?” 

If you hear the tone for what it is (you do), you don’t comment on it. Just watch him for a moment to see if he’s got anything else to say on the subject. Your calm is infuriating to him. It’s always hard to read your energy. It’s the hardest when you’re like this. Like you’re actively keeping him from getting a read on you. Not for the first time, he reminds himself that it shouldn’t matter. All that matters is that you’re back. That reminder just makes him more annoyed, though. Why did you have to worry him when you were going to come back like you always did? It’s fucking annoying. 

“Yes, I heard what you were up to. One of the promoters texted me.” 

“Was it Wonwoo?’ he asks and internally curses at himself for remembering the name. You purse your lips. 

“Does it matter?”

“Didn’t answer my texts, though.” 

He looks away from you as he says it so that you can’t see the way he pouts. Even tries to say it softly. Which is dumb, isn’t it? He knows that you can hear him all the same. The least he could do would be to have the courage to look you in the eye as he says it. It’s not like he’s hiding anything. He knows that you can hear the pout even if you can’t see it by some miracle.

“Well, I can see that you’re alive, at least, despite my absence. Though you don’t seem to be doing very well at keeping your schedule without me. We’ve got things to do.” 

Stubbornly, Seungcheol holds his position. Juts out his lower lip and crosses his arm. You give yourself a moment to laugh at the idea of this man, who has been around for millenia, acting like a teenager just because you disappeared for what amounts to less than a blip in either of your lives. It’s part of what keeps you coming back, even when you know that life might be a little less dramatic with one of the other Olympians living on Earth. There’s never any boredom with this one.

“Are you going to keep pouting or can we carry on?” 

“Are you going to disappear again?” 

You sigh and he actually looks over at you. For the briefest moment, you look tired. Worn. Like this all takes a toll on you as well. Somehow that actually softens him a bit. Makes him a bit more receptive. 

“Probably,” you answer after a moment. 

“But, you can’t just…”

A hand in the air cuts him off. Why he listens to such a simple gesture is anyone’s guess. Sometimes he really doesn’t act like Zeus anymore. “Seungcheol, our lives are long and I’m never gone for more than a moment in the grand scheme of things.”

“I know, but…” 

“I also never go far and I always keep tabs on you. If something truly bad happened, I would be there in a moment.”

“Then why leave in the first place?” 

He’s not sure why he asks or even allows himself to be a little vulnerable. This isn’t how the two of you normally interact. Yet, surprisingly, something in you also seems to soften. There’s something approaching affection on your face for a second. 

“Because, sometimes you wear me out,” you say with a chuckle. “Now, can we get back on track?”

There are a lot of things you miss about living in Olympus. Everything just felt different there. More like you belonged even when you weren’t behaving your best. But, there are things you appreciate about this new world, too. More as each year passes and the world evolves. One such thing you’re thankful for now: farmer’s markets. 

Of course, the farmer’s markets in your current city are big affairs. Always packed with people. You don’t mind, though. It’s nice to just get lost in a crowd while finding some of the best items that you can imagine. Fresh produce, the most flavorful juices, bouquets of local flowers, and more crafted items than you can imagine. You’re never looking for anything in particular and always seem to leave with multiple bags weighing you down. It’s one of those things that you do when you need a little break from Seungcheol.

Like now. 

Thoughts of him seem to take up entirely too much of your brain. It’s getting harder and harder to act like it’s business as usual. To keep him at arm’s length. Yet, you know it’s the only thing you really can do. Know that it’ll all be over when he figures it all. Know that he may never forgive you for keeping such a big secret. And he’s getting closer to it by the month. You can feel the way he slips further into your thoughts. Or the way he senses your moods more easily lately.

No. You need to pull it together. 

That’s when something entirely unexpected catches your attention. You spot someone meandering through the stalls like he’s looking for something. For someone. His essence hits you like a tidal wave. It rolls off him in the waves you know he used to command. And you find it interesting to him in the new form he’s chosen. He looks so young. So unassuming. Beautiful, for sure, even by your standards. Still, though. A little different from what Seungcheol tends to lean into. 

You’re still deciding what you want to do when he turns to you. Like he can feel your eyes on him. Assessing. His face breaks and it’s not what you’re expecting. There’s hope there. Something else. It’s nothing like what you expect from the one that was Poseidon in a previous life. Something…soft. Before you can turn away and decide not to engage, he starts approaching you. Makes you feel almost rooted to your spot.

“Hi,” he says and you only smile at first. “I’m sorry, it’s just…this is going to sound crazy but I feel like we’ve met? Or something?” 

The answer should be easy. You’ve spent centuries not telling anyone exactly who you are. But, it’s not like you have to tell him who you are. “I wouldn’t say met…exactly.” 

“Are you…?” he asks, eyes filling with that same hope. And that’s when you sense it. The questions rolling off of him. The need for…something. The need to find Zeus, you think. He carries on before you can stop him, not even looking around to see if anyone else is listening. “I mean are you from…”

“Stop,” you say quickly, glancing around. He snaps his mouth shut, yet his eyes still watch you hopefully. “I know who you are.” 

“And who are you?” he asks. You give him the name you use here on Earth in this version of yourself. Hurry on before he can question it.

“And if you’re looking for who I think you’re looking for,” you start and reach into your bag. Pull out a flyer and hand it over. “You should check this out. It’s tomorrow night. I think you’ll find who you’re looking for.”

The stranger, who somehow also feels so familiar, takes the flyer immediately. Lets his eyes scan over it. Raises his eyebrows at the fights billed. He’s looking for his brother and he isn’t really sure if an underground fighting ring is the place to find him. When he lifts his head up to thank you, or to ask you follow up questions, you’re gone. If not for the flyer, he would wonder if you had ever been there at all. 

By the time you get back to the apartment, you’re a little distracted. What does it mean that you found Poseidon walking through a farmer’s market, of all places? Did you do the right thing in telling him how to find Seungcheol? You don’t really know. There’s just something about the way his energy feels now. Different. Softer. More…complex. It could just be down to the fact that you never really knew him all that way. Or that you’ve spend centuries by Seungcheol’s side, so everything else feels dull by comparison. 

When you walk through the door, it’s exactly that familiarity that hits you first. The air feels bitter. Tinged with something a little heavy. And the silence that greats you when you close the door is deafening. Not the kind of silence you expect if Seungcheol is still asleep, which would make sense. It puts you a little on guard, though you’re not sure why. You make your way into Seungcheol’s side of the apartment and things only get heavier. The air is thicker. It’s almost like he’s holding back a storm. Though you can’t think of anything that would set him off now. Until you see it. Your work phone in his hand. He doesn’t look up right away, though you know that he hears you. 

Finally, you clear your throat and he looks up at you. In all the time you’ve known him, he’s never looked that upset over something that must be harmless. After all, it’s just your work phone. A phone that he has access to as well because it’s for setting up fights and managing other business. 

“Everything okay? Did I miss an appointment or something?” you ask, an uncharacteristic hesitancy to your voice.

“I don’t know. You tell me.” His voice is hard. Edged with irritation. He still has the phone in his hand, barely seeming to notice.

“I’m sorry, I’m a little lost…”

“Clearly,” he says with a snort.

“Cheol, can you just talk to me about what’s going on?” you ask and he rolls his eyes. Tosses the phone over to you and you pluck it out of the air. It’s open to a chat with Wonwoo and your heart sinks a little. You remember moving things over to your personal phone, but he’s still got this number as well. The messages at the bottom of the chat say all they need to. From this morning, a series of messages saying that he wants to see you and misses the way you feel. He’s sorry for sending them to this number, but you’re not answering his other messages. A deliberate choice and a mistake, clearly.

“What the fuck were you saying about it just being work with him?” he asks. You roll your lips together as something to consider. 

“As you can see, I’ve been avoiding answering him,” you say. It’s not an answer. Not really. 

“Did you see him again? After that first time?” he asks. 

“Does it matter?” 

Seungcheol slams his fist down on the arm of the chair, though you can tell that he’s controlling himself, before standing up. He moves closer to you. Leaves space between the two of you, which is probably a good thing.  

He opens his mouth and then closes it. His face soften, body relaxes. There’s something like resignation hanging in the air. “I just want to stop playing games. I don’t want to be worrying about saying the wrong thing and driving you away for you to run off with some…promoter.”

The last word comes out sounding as bitter as it tastes. It takes everything in him to be able to say it in the first place. Your eyes go wide and your body pulls back for a second. It’s the last thing you’re expecting to hear. Seems insane that after all this time, he can still surprise you. 

“I didn’t…” you start and then frown. Unsure what to say. You clear your throat and softly say his name, his real one, so that he’ll look up at you. “I didn’t run off to be with him while I was away from you. I wasn’t off shacking up with someone while I was gone. Not that I’m saying you care, I just…”

“I do.”

“What?”

“Care. I do care.” 

You swallow. Buy yourself a minute. “I know I keep you walled off from a lot of things in my life, but I’m being honest to you about this. I wasn’t with him. I wasn’t with anyone, not like you mean. I just need a break sometimes.” 

“Okay,” is all he says. Until he closes the space between you. Almost experimentally. Reaches one hand out to you. Brushes a piece of hair off your face and lets his hand linger there when you don’t pull away. You’re not really breathing either, though. He steps a little closer and leans into you. Puts his free hand on your hip to hold you in place. Brings his lips almost to yours, barely a breath between them.

“This is a bad idea,” you say, breath tickling his skin. 

“I know,” he agrees. Doesn’t pull away though. “I just want…just one time. One time where you don’t pull away and you don’t run away afterwards. One time and I won’t even complain if you go back to being snarky afterwards as long as you don’t run away.” 

It’s a terrible idea. You know that. He probably does too. There’s nothing good that can come from this. Especially because you can’t run away. Not when you told his brother to show up at his fight. Not when you’re too nosy for your own good and you want to know what Poseidon wants. 

“Okay,” you agree, despite all that. 

And he doesn’t waste his chance. Doesn’t give you the option to second guess if this right (it’s not). Just tightens his hold on your hip and pulls you against him, erasing any remaining space. Yet, despite all that, despite the way you can feel the need rippling off him, his kiss is surprisingly gentle. He keeps his other hand cradling your face and uses it to guide the kiss. To ground you to him. Or maybe to confirm that it’s happening in the first place. You’re not really sure. Not sure it matters either, though. 

This is far from the first time you and him have shared a kiss. Still, it feels entirely new. Like something different. Something that could be more if you let it. If you were someone else. If you could let it happen. But, you can, can’t you? Just for now. This doesn’t have to change anything. You can just finally stop being curious about everything. Something you commit to as soon as he deepens the kiss. It makes your mind go a little blank. You’re arching into him. Into the kiss. Letting your hands slide up his toned arms to find purchase in something. 

Seungcheol, confident in everything to the point that it gets annoying, isn’t confident in this. He’s confident in kissing you, that’s clear. And he’s an excellent kisser, even if you would never admit that to him. It’s just that he doesn’t seem confident in anything beyond that with you. Which makes sense. It’s somewhere around here that you usually pull away. That you throw up your walls and run away. It’s tempting to consider it again now. You remember your promise. What’s more, you know that you also want to try. Find yourself curious. 

You pull yourself away from him. Gently. Carefully. Nothing abrupt like normal. You still feel it. Feel the way the energy around you shifts again. Like some of the sexual tension dissipates to give way to an awkward tension. Clock the look on his face when you put enough space between you to see him. It sucks that he looks like that because you know it’s fair. You try not to dwell on it. Just shake it off and put a smile on your face. Reach down to grab one of his hands.

“We can’t just stand here and kiss forever,” you say and turn towards your side of the apartment. Pull him along behind you.

“Are you…are you taking me over to your bedroom?” he asks and you snort in response. It’s not funny. Except that it’s the former King of the Gods that’s asking you, sounding like any other insecure human. There’s power in knowing you have that effect on him. Something that could easily go to your head.

You look over your shoulder at him and smile. “Am I making you nervous?” 

He’s about to answer when he catches the look on your face and huffs out a breath. Grumbles for good measure. “Don’t let it go to your head.” 

You turn around again and walk partially backwards. “Maybe I just don’t want to be where countless have been before me.”

There’s another comment on your lips that dies the second Seungcheol gets that look on his face. He closes the gap in a split second. Gets into your space. Seems like he just wants to be imposing. Until he scoops you up and throws you over his shoulder. Obviously he’s strong, he’s Zeus, but you’re not used to this type of strength. Not directed at you in some kind of positive way. It’s kind of nice. Another thing you likely won’t admit to him. 

He covers the space to your bedroom in no time. Like it’s just something that he does all the time. Opens any doors along with way without even adjusting you over his shoulder. When he lets you down, it’s somewhere between roughly dropping you and gently depositing you. Like he can’t quite decide if he wants to be a little rough or softer. His eyes give away the same struggle. They’re burning with desire, yet also something deeper. Something that gives him away. Something that suggests this wouldn’t be one time if he thought he could get away with it. If he could know that you wouldn’t run away like you always do. 

Just as you’re repositioning on the bed, he moves onto the bed. Crowds into your space so that you can’t move. Gathers both of your hands in one of his own to pin above your head and then kisses you again. Fierce. Possessive. Searing. It’s just so all-consuming. Much like Seungcheol himself. He wants to fill your head with nothing but him, him, him. And you’re going to let him. At least for now. You barely even remember that you should struggle a little against him. Not make it too easy. Not that he seems to mind. 

In another surprise, the moment that you start to struggle, he pulls away. Makes you wonder if you read the entire situation wrong. But, then he’s moving down your body to your pants. Undoing the button and pulling them down your legs quickly. Reaches for your panties next and tosses them aside. He doesn’t even give you time to consider that you’re partially naked while he’s fully clothed when he moves up your body again. Pulls you up a little so that he can remove your shirt. Your bra follows and you’re laying bare before him. The first time in all the time he’s known you that he’s actually seen you like this. He sits back on his heels to just admire you. 

You clear your throat and look away for a moment to catch your breath. It’s really overwhelming to have him look at you in that way. He doesn’t let you get away with it, though. Just leans forward again to tilt your head back to him. “You are the most beautiful being I have seen in my entire life.”

“You’ve been on this planet too long. It’s clouding your memory,” you say. It’s a non-answer.

“My memory is as good as ever, actually. I remember everything from the dress you were wearing when I first met you to the way you look when you disappear to the way you look when you’re smug,” he says and you swallow hard. It’s…well, a lot to say the least. 

The only thing you can think to do is to pull him back into you. To kiss him again. There’s things that you just can’t say. Things that you can’t seem to even consider. So, instead, you try to put them into the kiss. And he doesn’t seem to mind. Kisses you back as if he’s saying he understands. You break the kiss only long enough to pull his shirt over his head and then reach for his lips again. He dodges your lips instead so that he can kiss down your neck. Sucking marks into your skin as he goes. Making you arch into him. And you know that he can be a giver, you’ve heard enough of his conquests, but it’s not his default. He likes to chase his own pleasure first and foremost. This doesn’t feel like that. 

When he moves across your collarbones and leaves a mark there, you gasp at the feeling. Wind your hand into his hair and pull a little. Not enough to make him leave your skin. Just enough to give him a tiny taste of pain. It makes him smile against your skin. You can feel it without even needing to see. He keeps working down to your chest. Kisses between the valley of your boobs and fidget the tiniest amount. For some reason, that makes him chuckle. You know you’re in trouble when he swirls his tongue around your nipple, then pulls away to blow across the sensitive bud. It makes you squirm. Makes him use a hand to anchor your hip to the bed. 

“”Can’t tell you how long I’ve wanted to get my mouth on these perfect tits,” he says into your skin like a prayer. Moves to kiss your boob for real, hand moving from your hip up to your other boob so that he can show it the proper attention. He’s still using his other hand to keep himself a little suspended over you. 

“Cheol,” you whine as he laves attention on one while kneading the other. It’s desperate and a little whiny. What does it matter? He’s trying to ruin you and he’s going to succeed at this rate.

“All those outfits you wear. All the times you parade around in tight clothing. I’ve been waiting to just tear it off you. Like you’re trying to tease me,” he says into your skin, moving to the other boob. 

“Not trying to do that,” you whine out under the attention. 

“Sure,” he says placatingly and returns his mouth to your nipple. 

You should have known that he would be someone that would take his time. Especially with you. Especially with the amount of time he claims he’s been waiting for a chance like this. When he lets himself rest a little more on your body, you feel the way he’s hardening through his sweatpants. Already getting turned on just by teasing you. Something about that only makes you want it more. There’s just something about a man that gets as much from foreplay as sex itself. You would not have pegged him as fitting that. Maybe you judged too quickly. 

He pulls his mouth off your body after what feels like an eternity and you actually arch into him. Body searching for his mouth at the loss. Lock your eyes onto him at the dark chuckle he lets out. 

“I want to taste you. Really taste you. I can’t wait any more,” he says and it gives you a certain amount of power. Lets you know that, despite him seeming in control, he’s a little desperate for you. Like maybe he’s thought about this before.

“Been wondering how I taste?” you ask. It’s nice to hear that your voice comes out a little even. A little mocking. Just like your usual dynamic. 

“Don’t be a brat,” he warns, sitting back.

“Why? I’m pretty sure you like it,” you retort.

He gives you a look that says he doesn’t trust himself to answer. Instead, he just opens your legs and gets that glint in his eye. Runs a finger slowly up your center, dipping just inside your folds. The grin only gets worse. “You get this wet just from a little teasing? Or are you ready to admit you’ve been waiting for this too?” 

“You sure have a lot of confidence,” you say, but your voice wavers just a bit. Anyone else would probably miss it. Not him. Of course he doesn’t. But, he still plays with you.

“Hard not to,” he says and runs a finger up your entrance again. Pulls it away to put it in his own mouth. Tastes you and wets his finger all in one. It should not be so hot and it’s all you can do to stop from shuddering. Still, he sees you’re holding something back. “Oh I really can’t wait to taste you now.” 

The gasps escapes your lips without your permission as soon as he returns his finger, this time sliding it into your pussy. Watching you as he starts to pump it painfully slowly. You bite your lip and your body leans forward. 

“Cheol,” you whine. 

“What is it, sweetheart?” he asks. Tone all sweet and smug and a little condescending at once. 

“You know what it is,” you say. He still doesn’t pick up his pace.

“Not if you don’t tell me,” he answers. Eyes watching your every little movement. 

“More, please, I need more,” you say. You’re doing everything to keep it from sounding like begging and you’re not sure you’re achieving that. 

“All you had to do was ask,” he says, but pulls his fingers out. Doesn’t give you a chance to protest, though, before he repositions between your legs. Kisses up one of your thighs with deliberate movements. When he reaches your core, where you need him the most, he throws your legs over his shoulders. Uses a hand to spread you open for him. And then he flattens his tongue against your cunt and licks up. 

Unfortunately this is yet another thing that he is insanely good at. He buries his tongue deep in your cunt as he licks into you. Doesn’t make you beg for him to go faster because your moans seem to be enough. The way you writhe against the sheets seems to drive him deeper, faster. Seems to be the only thing he needs to know that you really do want this. Your body tells him what you’re not sure that you can. And you’re not going to keep trying to keep your own reactions at bay. Not when it feels this good to have him between your thighs. Not when you can’t even remember the last time someone ate your pussy this good. If they ever have. 

There’s a confidence about Seungcheol in the way that he moves. Something that you’re appreciating, for once, instead of rolling your eyes at. He knows how to vary the speed. Knows when to switch up to swirl his tongue around your clit. Sucks it between his teeth and uses his fingers to pump into your pussy. As your words become less and less coherent, it seems to spur him on more. You can even feel him smile at some of the nonsense spewing from your mouth. 

When you clench your thighs around his face, he moans into your pussy. The vibration is almost too much for you to handle. Almost sends you right over the edge. Which is what he wants, you’re sure. And, of course, being a little shit, he experiments again. Groaning into your pussy so that it vibrates through you.

“Fuck, Cheol, what are you doing? I’m gonna…fuck I’m gonna,” you scream out.

He squeezes one of your thighs, almost like an encouragement. Hums into your cunt. And that’s it. That’s all you can take. The orgasm rips through your body and he rides through it without removing his mouth. Drinking up everything that you give him like he’s never had anything so great in his life. Which is exactly what he’s thinking. And would even tell you, if you would let him. 

Once the orgasm subsides, he pulls away. Gently pulls your legs off his shoulders and kisses your calves as he does so. He hovers over you again to kiss you quickly, to let you taste yourself on his lips, and then falls onto the bed at your side. Doesn’t say anything, just lays on his side facing you. After a moment, he reaches out to trace lines into your skin. It’s unusual for him to be quiet like this for too long. You’re just waiting for him to break. And you don’t have to wait long. 

“Think I finally know why you don’t bring dates back here,” he says quietly and you scoff. Of course. 

“And why’s that?” 

“You wouldn’t want me to hear how they can’t get you streaming like I just did. It’d be too hard to keep resisting me.”

You laugh out, nearly snorting. “You are the cockiest person I have ever met.” 

“Is that you saying you want my cock?” 

The comment causes you to turn your head to look at him. He’s not expecting to see that smug, snarky look on your face. Worries he really is in over his head. “I don’t know. I feel pretty satisfied.”

“That’s still a compliment, you know,” he points out and you roll over onto your side to look at him as well. 

“And you being this hard,” you say, reaching down to palm him through his sweats, appreciating the way he groans, “is also a compliment.” 

“I don’t know…”

You pull your hand away only to reach for the waistband and slide your hand inside. Take his hard cock in your hand, but don’t move it at all. Drop your voice to a whisper. “Is this just from eating me out? Is this what finally getting to taste my pussy does to you?”

“You were moaning so loud, what did you expect?” he challenges. Falters just enough for you to register it. 

“Mmm, is that it? Or is that that actually getting to eat me out was even better than you imagined when you rubbed one out thinking about me?” you ask, running your hand very slowly along his length.

He growls, low in his throat, and grabs your hand. Pulls it out of his pants and is off the bed in the next step. There’s that storm in his eyes again. This time, it only serves to excite you because you know that you’re pushing his buttons. Know that he’s going to follow through. He pulls his sweats and boxers down, allowing his cock to spring free. You swallow hard, unsure if he sees. Even though you just had him in your hand, this is different. He’s big and you can already imagine the way it’s going to stretch you. 

“What? Like what you see so much it’s shutting up that smart mouth of yours?” he teases and you roll your eyes. 

“Let’s not pretend here, Cheol. You want this.” 

“And so do you.” 

You consider him for a moment before you nod. “Fine. Yes, I do. If it’s half as good as you ate me out…well, I need to see.” 

“That’s my girl,” he says, seemingly without thinking about it. 

“There’s lube in that drawer,” you say, indicating one of the nightstands. 

Seungcheol smirks at you like he knows you’re only trying to be casual about it all. Still, he doesn’t say anything. Just goes to the drawer and pulls out the bottle. Puts some in his hands to warm up before coating his cock. Then looks over at you. “Turn over.”

“Excuse me?” you ask, raising an eyebrow. 

“Just, come on, turn over,” he says.

You make a show of considering it for a moment. Wonder if he somehow knows that this is one of your favorite positions. Then figure, well, two can play at this game. You turn over while he’s moving towards the bed again. Get onto your knees and lean forward. Stretch your arms out in front of you until your cheek touches the sheets. Arch your back and wiggle your ass, appreciating the low groan when he sees you. 

“Fuck,” he says under his breath. 

“Is this how you wanted me?” you ask, lacing as much innocence into your voice as you can. 

Before he answers, he grabs your ass. Squeezes it tightly, almost experimentally. Pulls one hand away and smacks it lightly. You moan softly and wiggle again. Giving him permission. 

“You can smack it harder,” you tell him, just for good measure. Which makes him groan. And then he follows through. Pulls his hand back and smacks you harder. Watches the way your skin recoils at the contact. 

“Fuck you’re so hot,” he says in that low voice. 

He pulls his other hand back and smacks your other cheek for good measure. Have to even it out. But, that’s all he’s going to allow himself or he’ll get distracted from what he really wants. He’s got you beneath him. Totally at his mercy. And he needs to really get to where he wants to be. So, he reaches for the lube again and drips some down onto you. Appreciates the way you shiver at the cold contact. He drips a little more onto you and uses a finger to spread it. Watches the way his finger disappears into your pussy. Relishes the noises you make. He really thinks that he could do this forever and never get sick of any of it. 

But, that’s a thought for another time. For now, he runs a hand along his length a few times. Makes sure he’s coated. Then lines up at your entrance, pausing just for a second to admire the sight of you like that. Ass in the air and face pressed into the mattress. Fuck, you really are stunning. Every bit of you. It’s unfair, even by the standards of you being a goddess. You’re just perfect in his eyes. Shaking that thought away as being a little too soft, he presses his cock into your pussy. 

“Oh fuck,” you cry out as he inches in slowly. “Fuck, Cheol, please just…”

“Mmmm,” he groans. “Fuck, you’re so tight.” 

“Just, please, I need you to…” you start and then let out a scream when he snaps fully into you. “FUCK!”

“Gods you feel good. Perfect. Amazing,” he says before he starts moving. He leans forward to press a kiss into your back. Then he pulls back and puts his hands onto your hips. Thrusts slowly, once, as if he’s testing you. 

“Just fuck me please, I’m begging you,” you babble out.

Never, in the over two hundred years he’s had you by his side, did he think that you would beg him for anything. And if you did, he certainly never imagined it would be for him to fuck you. It shoots straight to his dick and he doesn’t even need to worry about the dynamics. Doesn’t even think to give you a hard time for this. Just wants to give you anything and everything that you’re asking him for. 

There’s nothing slow or tentative about it. Seungcheol rocks his hips into you rapidly. The sound of his skin slapping against your mingling with all the moans filling the room. It doesn’t escape him that your body fits perfectly against his. That you meet every thrust. That you arch your back without him even saying something so that he hits you deeper. It’s like you can read his mind and exactly what he wants. Like he could fuck you every day and still not get sick of the way it feels because it just works in a way he’s not really expecting. 

It feels a little too impersonal for a second. Sure, he loves this view of you. Loves feeling like he has complete control over you after so many years of your dynamic. Loves the way he can grip at your hips to hold you to him. But, he wants more. And he’s not really willing to consider wanting more might not just mean more closeness during this particular time. As a way to shake that thought off before it can fully form, he reaches down and grabs your hair. Pulls you back so that your back hits his chest. 

“Oh my god,” you whine, throwing your head back. Turn your head over your shoulder. And his mouth is on yours before he can consider what it means. He lets go of your hair and instead takes hold of your boobs in his hands. Gripping them hard enough that you moan into the kiss. You move one of your hands so that it’s wrapping around his head to hold him in place, despite the awkward angle. 

This is something else that’s a bit new for him. Sure, he’s fucked a lot of people during his time on Earth. He can’t remember any of them feeling like this, though. So connected and desperate and needy. Like no amount of contact is going to be enough. Like no amount of you is going to be enough. Which is kind of a terrifying thought while he’s inside you and doesn’t know if he’ll ever get to experience this again. Especially as he feels the way you’re starting to clench around him. Can tell you’re getting close.

Without warning, he slows down and you break the kiss. Can’t really look at him at this angle, though you try. It’s not until he starts to pull out that you find your voice.

“What are you doing?” you ask. He kisses along your shoulder to your neck before answering. Appreciates the way that you seem to lean into it. Maybe your body really will keep telling him things that you just can’t if he looks close enough. 

“I want to see you,” he says into your skin. Not willing or able to look into your eyes. “I want to watch you as you come for me.” 

“What do you…”

“Lay back down,” he says, impossibly soft, finally pulling his lips from your skin. Not even realizing that your skin misses the contact. “Lay on your back.”

The admission feels overwhelming to you, but you do it anyway. Can’t bring yourself to say anything as you lie back down and roll over onto your back. Can’t seem to miss the way Seungcheol’s eyes track your movement either. It’s all you can do to block out all the energy rolling off him. You’re not sure that you can handle it. Seungcheol, in contrast, doesn’t even consider reaching out for your energy. He’s letting himself read your body cues. They’re speaking louder than you ever have anyway. 

Seungcheol nudges your legs apart and gets between them once again. This time, when he lines himself up, he’s watching you. He’s seen what your pussy looks like swallowing his cock. Now he wants to see what you look like when he enters you. Though you’re a little stretched already, it’s still tight. Your eyes flutter closed and you lean your head back. It makes him pause. 

“Look at me, sweetheart,” he says. Voice soft, yet incredibly commanding. He watches in appreciation as you actually listen, shuddering a little at the request. 

“Can’t take your eyes off me,” you tease, though there’s no heat behind it.

“Why would I want to?” 

It’s too honest and he worries for a second because you freeze. Is that too much? It’s only for a second, though. The next moment, you’re running your hands up his arms where they bracket you in. Figures that’s his cue to move again, now that he has what he wants. Your chest heaves with the effort to keep your eyes on him as he bottoms out in you again. This position gives him a different angle. Not deeper, necessarily, just different. And he appreciates the way he fits inside you. He holds himself there for a moment so you can adjust. Until you start to squirm and he chuckles.

“Come on, Cheol, please,” you say. Just soft this time, more than begging. 

“So needy,” he chuckles, but moves anyway. How’s he supposed to deny you anything now? 

“You’re going to ruin me,” you grumble under your breath, hands sliding up to grip his shoulders and pull him closer.

“That’s the plan, yeah,” he says. 

It’s too honest again. This time he kisses you instead of letting you respond to it. And again, your body says what you won’t. Your lips meet his fiercely. Almost possessively. The kisses catch each moan so that it’s hard to tell which of you it comes from. Doesn’t really matter, either. The kisses are messy and desperate and full of a lot of unspoken emotions that you’re going to have to deal with at some point. Maybe. 

Seungcheol sets a fast pace again. He doesn’t want to rush it, but he also needs to feel you pull a release out of him. And if all your reactions are anything to go by, this won’t be the last time that he gets you like this. Why act like he won’t be able to have you again? Why set himself up that way? No, he’s going to be confident. Confident that he’s finally cracking the code and getting behind your walls. Confident that there’s more here than you want to admit. Confident that this will be enough for you to start admitting all those things you usually don’t. 

When Seungcheol feels you start to clench around him, he pulls away from the kiss. Takes a split second to smile at the way you try to chase his lips. Then, he does exactly what he set out to. Focuses on your face as he thrusts into you. Memorizes each expression. Each moan. Stores it away that you dig your fingers into the sheets to grab onto anything. Watches your eyes roll back a little. Doesn’t even tell you that you have to look at him. This is all he needs. He feels himself about to lose it too. Reaches down between your bodies to rub your clit. He wants you to come with him. Wants to know what that feels like after already having tasted you.

A moment later, you pussy clenches around his cock. Your body shudders. And another orgasm takes you over. Just a second before his own release. He pumps into you a little sporadically, both of you a little lost to the moment, until you’re both spent. And then he lowers himself onto you, offsetting his weight as much as he can without pulling out. He’s not ready for that. Not yet. Not when your breathing starts to even and you look over at him with something he swears might be genuine affection. Something he’s never seen on your face before. Not while looking at him. He knows you like him or you wouldn’t stay around, but this is different. This is something he’s a little scared to admit that he could get used to. 

To distract himself, even just a little, he slowly pulls himself out of you. Watches the way the cum leaks out of you and wonders if you mind. The two of you made such a mess of your sheets, yet you’re only looking at him. It’s like you’re trying to hide a little bit of a smile. Or trying to hide just how content you are. He figures he the might as well keep testing his luck. He settles back next to you, lying on his side, and puts an around across your stomach. Pulls you into his chest. Instead of fighting it, you just let your legs tangle with his when you get closer. You sigh a little and sink deeper into the bed. He places a featherlight kiss at your temple and catches your smile out of the corner of his eye. 

“So…” he starts and you roll your eyes.

“Do not ruin this by saying something cocky,” you warn.

“I was actually going to ask if you wanted me to go get a towel so I could help you clean up,” he says. Lies. He wasn’t going to say something cocky. Okay, well he did consider it. But, he was thinking about saying something a little too real. 

“Mmmm,” you say and settle further into him, almost unconsciously. “Can I ask for something else?”

“Sure,” he says slowly.

“I wanna take a bath in that really nice tub in your bedroom,” you say and he actually chuckles. Of all the things to ask for and that’s what you want. It’s almost comical. 

“You know what? I’ll even get it all set up for you,” he says and starts to move away. You roll onto your side to look at him.

“Really?” you ask.

“Hey, I can be a gentleman,” he protests. Figures it might be easier to keep it a little lighter. You laugh. Real. Unguarded. It’s beautiful and he’s in so much trouble. 

“Well, if you do a good enough job, I might even let you share it with me.”

“Now there’s a tempting offer,” he says with a smirk. “Wait here, I’ll come get you when it’s ready.”

He turns away without waiting for your response. Doesn’t miss the smile, though. And, even though you say it impossibly softly, he hears the next thing you say, too.

“I could get used to this.”

Everything feels different and you let yourself sink into the feeling, just for now. There’s still something of a desire to bolt. A leftover habit from doing it for so many years. Habits are hard to break, after all. Especially when it’s always gone the same way. You and Seungcheol, or whatever he’s calling himself at the time, fight and fight and fight until the tension is too much to bear. Then one of you (usually him) crosses that invisible barrier and starts the kiss. Which is when you freak out and pull away. Disappear for a few days (or a few weeks) and then come back like nothing’s changed. And it hasn’t, not really. Not when you follow the script. Running away gives you a chance to breathe and reset. Helps you to keep this persistent God from locking into your signatures and figuring out who you are. There was a time, maybe a hundred years ago, give or take, where you figured you could just tell him. Rip off the bandaid and deal with whatever fall out that follows. That seems like a distant thought, now. For all the jokes you make about your constant company hating to be alone, you might be worse. 

Considering being alone feels like a death sentence. So you keep to your patterns. Until now, that is. 

Now, you look over at Seungcheol in the back of the car on the way to the fight and consider everything anew. Consider what it might mean to share everything with him. Consider that, even if he’s mad at first, he’ll understand. Things just feel…different. Sure, you agreed to just one time. Does that have to be it, though? Without your permission, thoughts of the night before flood into your brain. Aided, of course, by the pleasant lingering soreness to your body. You think of the way he took care of you after. The way he drew the bath and then invited your invitation to get in as well. The way he could have easily tried to get more, but was content to just help you relax. It’s not a side of him that feels familiar. Maybe that’s your own fault for always keeping him at a distance. Maybe there’s a lot of things about him that are more your assumption than fact.

He’s relaxed in the seat next to you. At ease in a way you’re not accustomed to before a fight. The contentment rolls off him. Where you’re a little tired and sore from the night before, he seems rejuvenated. You also can’t deny, with this glimpse at his profile, that he is stunning. Especially when he’s like this. At ease and unbothered. Even the energy around him feels relaxed. It feels like something else, too. Before you can pinpoint it, he senses your eyes on him.

“You’re watching me,” he comments, looking over with a smirk. 

“I was trying to figure something out,” you admit.

“You know, you could just ask me,” he says and you roll your eyes at his tone.

“Believe it or not, it’s less painful this way.”

He barks out a laugh and you smile despite yourself. “For the one who won’t ask for help for anything, I believe that.”

“I’m going back to being snarky. You’re annoying,” you huff out and he laughs again.

“Fine by me.”

“I hope you’re still dialed in. You seem relaxed, but you need to win tonight.” 

“I am relaxed.”

“And the other thing?” 

“When have I ever missed a step in a fight?” he asks and you quirk an eyebrow up. “Okay, don’t answer that.”

“It’s been more than one time,” you say and pull out your phone.

“Do not tell me you keep a list,” he groans.

“What if I forget?” 

“Why do you need to remember?” 

“How else can I keep you humble?”

“I can think of plenty of ways,” he grumbles under this breath.

You smile to yourself and let the conversation lie. Look back at your phone and toggle over to the calendar, though you know it by heart. Near perfect memory and all that. Still, it’s a reminder that Seungcheol has a little bit of a break. Another point at your insistence. Normal humans, especially ones in Seungcheol’s position, take breaks to let their bodies heal. Someone like Seungcheol, that’s always the main fight, takes a lot of punches. Sometimes has cuts to his hands or, rarely, if he can help it, his face. Bruises bloom along his sides. All of which take time to heal on a normal human. And all of which you have to help him put back on after the fights when they heal at God speed rather than human speed. 

The break could end up being good timing for another reason, too. You never got a chance to tell him about running into his brother at a farmer’s market or inviting him to the fight. Which isn’t only down to what happened. You’re still not sure that Poseidon will show up. And, if he doesn’t, where’s the point in getting Seungcheol distracted over it? If he does show, though, then the two likely have a lot to catch up on. A break gives him the chance to just enjoy something familiar without any outside pressure. It may even give you a chance to sort out some of whatever is going on in your own head.

Now, you really are kind of hoping that his brother shows up at the fight.

Seungcheol has been through this whole song and dance before and it’s fucking bullshit. He came into the fight in such good spirits, especially with the car ride over. He knows he’s not crazy. Things feel a little different. It doesn’t even feel like you want to bolt after what happened. Though, admittedly, your energy is still kind of a mystery to him. But, for the first time in…well maybe as long as he’s known you, he just doesn’t care. What does it matter who you all were hundreds of years ago when that past feels so distant? No. Things are fine the way they are. At least for now.

Until they’re not. Even though he knows that you watch all his fights, he rarely sees you. Figures you must linger in the back or in the shadows. Sometimes, you mention being by the bar. Not that he looks every time (read: he absolutely does). It just feels like you pick the worst possible times to make yourself visible during the few fights he’s noticed you. Tonight isn’t any exception. 

The first time he notices you out in the crowd of people, it’s actually fine. He’s between rounds and grabbing a drink. You’re by yourself. That’s fine. Until it’s not. Until he looks over again and you have someone he doesn’t know standing next to you. He’s not tall and brooding like that guy that won’t leave you alone. Wonwoo. But, his face is no less striking. He’s got the kind of beauty that Seungcheol knows that you like. Carefree smile, friendly face. Dressed well without being arrogant about it. Confident and not cocky. Which feels like an unnecessary jab after finally getting to fuck you. Makes his head spin after the way you’ve acted since. Unlike the last time, though, the stranger seems to be watching him instead of you. His eyes go wide when Seungcheol’s opponent lands a hard right hook against his jaw. Seungcheol feels the way his skin recoils and his head snaps to the side. Okay, maybe he can pull his shit together to at least finish this fight. Then, you and him are going to have a talk. 

Despite the distraction, Seungcheol does end up winning the fight convincingly. He catches your eye as he heads back to the locker room and you seem to know that you owe him a conversation. As soon as he’s back in the room, he puts on the metal cuff. Something about this makes him feel like he wants to be fully himself. It’s only a few moments later that you wander in. Probably giving him time to make sure the room is clear. But, you don’t look apologetic. You look smug. Too confident. Back to your normal look, which is very at odds with the car ride over. It’s infuriating. 

Everything happens in seemingly a split second. Seungcheol crosses the distance to you entirely too quickly for a human. He presses you against the nearest wall without stopping to consider if it’s too hard. That look never leaves your face. Nothing suggests that you’re afraid, which needles him more. He doesn’t want to scare you, but how are you so confident that he won’t hurt you? How are you always so calm in the face of his moods? How do you manage to turn this public persona with him back on so quickly? You maintain your calm even seeing the storm brewing in his eyes. Let the moment stretch even though you know you’re on the precipice of something dangerous. It’s written all over his face. If you let this mood linger too long, he might cause a storm. You think you can even see the lightning bolts behind his eyes. Can definitely feel the anger radiating off him. 

Maybe the night before confirmed something for you, too. Maybe now you really do know that he would never actually hurt you. But, maybe you should be a little more cautious, too. He knows what it’s like to have you in the way he’s always wanted. And he isn’t one that likes to share when he truly cares for someone. A little jealous. A little possessive. Can’t let himself wonder when he started to truly care for you. Not now. 

Just as you’re opening your mouth to actually say something, the door into the locker room area opens. Both you and Seungcheol look over to find the very man causing this entire reaction. Seungcheol actually growls a little, hopefully too low for the newcomer to hear. 

“Uh, am I interrupting? I can come back…” 

You say “no” at the same time as Seungcheol says “yes” and he levels you with a look that would probably crumple a lesser being. 

“What the fuck are you playing at? Inviting him back here?” His voice is low and rough as he keeps you pinned against the wall. You clock something else there, too: hurt. He’s hurt and you can guess why. He thinks this is another Wonwoo. 

With a roll of your eyes, you push back on him. “Can you calm the fuck down long enough…”

“To what? What could you possibly have to justify this?”

“To look at him, you moron. Don’t you recognize your own fucking brother?” 

The words take a second to sink in and then you watch the emotions quickly cycle behind his eyes. As he’s processing, he loosens his hold on you so that you can actually step away from the wall. You run your hands down your clothes to smooth them before looking over at the newcomer. Once upon a time, he had seen endless sides of his brother’s anger. Now, it seems foreign to him. 

Seungcheol lets his mind relax a little bit. Allows his mind to wander so that he can sense his surroundings a little better. That’s when things start to click. He smells the salty, fresh smell of the ocean. The subtle hints of seaweed. He hears the rush of untamed water, the wind churning up a storm. The power comes after, quiet and confident. It’s all right there. How did you pick it out so easily when he couldn’t? Has something about you dulled his senses? 

“Poseidon,” he says softly. 

The other man relaxes, sensing that his brother is much calmer now than when he first walked into this weird locker room. He can actually smile. “I go by Chan now, actually.” 

“I go by Seungcheol,” your boss admits with a bit of a reluctant smile. 

“Now that we’re all reacquainted, I think we should move this somewhere more private,” you suggest. 

The two men agree immediately. After all, now that Seungcheol is calming down again, this is definitely not the place where they should be having any kind of private conversation. And it seems, at least from his brother’s face, that there’s a deep conversation to come. 

Once they’re back at Seungcheol’s place, with drinks that you insist on making, Chan lays out his entire story. He doesn’t seem concerned, at least at first, about who you are. Instead, he tells Seungcheol about what he’s been up to over the years since they parted. It feels personal in a way that you feel separate from. Not that either of them seems to pay much mind to you during it. There are a lot of questions to answer. Some that you haven’t even heard Seungchol mention. That’s kind of always been your dynamic, though. It feels unfair of you to expect him to share painful topics when you’re unwilling to share your own past. Most of what he shares, though, is known to you. After all, you’ve been with him nearly since he and his brother parted. So, you just pretend to busy yourself with your tablet. 

Nothing is of any interest to you…until it is. Until Chan mentions that he’s somehow come across his, Poseidon’s, wife, Amphitrite. Reincarnated in the body of a seemingly normal, human woman. He can’t figure out how it’s possible or how he’s found her after all these years. Has so many questions that come rushing back. Will she have a normal human lifespan? Is this the first time she’s been reincarnated? What does this mean for them and any renewed attempts to return to Olympus? Just questions pouring out as he tries to process information he never expected.

The questions are not what catch your attention. Seungcheol had asked a lot of questions of you when you first came across him. And you did not have many answers to give him at the time. Not because you don’t know anything. You know much more than he realizes, actually. It’s just, well, his questions always feel selfish, somehow. A little narcissistic, maybe. It isn’t a judgment. More like an observation. It doesn’t bother you. It just also didn’t make you want to help. It also didn’t make you want to let him know that you even could help. That feels like it could create falsehoods where he pretends he’s changed. 

When Chan asks questions, you don’t see Poseidon. Don’t see the former God of the Sea. Not that you really knew him well in Olympus. Your paths rarely crossed. But, his reputation was nearly as legendary as his brother’s. He could be cruel, selfish, and prone to excessive punishments. The story of him and Amphitrite is also legendary. Even if he tried to keep the worst of it private. You have always heard a lot. It’s the nature of who you were. The man before you isn’t any of those things. There’s still undeniable power rolling off him. There’s also a softness. The way he speaks about finding Amphitrite is gentle, kind. He’s full of self reflection on all the ways that he could have done things differently. Earnest in saying he thinks this could be a second chance to right his wrongs. Vulnerable in his concern with loving her only to lose her to the inescapable old age that gets all humans. It’s touching. You didn’t even realize you could still feel so deeply. 

“There may be a way for you to get your answers,” you say. Seungcheol’s eyebrows fly up into his hairline, eyes larger than you’ve ever seen them. But, your eyes are on Chan, heart breaking at how hopeful he looks. 

“Really?” he asks, a little breathless. 

“What do you mean?” Seungcheol asks. 

“You can seek out the Fates to ask them,” you carry on. Irritation radiates off Seungcheol’s body. This is going to be bad and you know that.

Chan and Seungcheol share a look. A sort of silent communication. You’re still trying very hard not to meet Seungcheol’s eyes. This is a risk that you’re taking. A massive one. It’s going to piss him off. And given the way you’ve complicated your relationship, it could be even worse. You’re not sure if you can handle him not forgiving you. Something that surprises you. This is going to be a glimpse into how you really ended up on Earth. But, Chan looks so earnest that you’re throwing caution to the wind.

“You never told me that the Fates made it into this world.” 

“I know.” 

“Why?”

“We can discuss your irritation later. I’m trying to help Chan.” 

“Why help him and not me?” 

You finally turn to face your…what is he? Boss? Friend? Something more? The set of his jaw and narrowed eyes don’t surprise you. You can feel his emotions without looking at him. His anger is always the strongest. The easiest to pick out. When you spend this long with someone, their reactions almost feel like your own. The hurt does surprise you. Nothing hurts him, not really. It seems inconceivable that you could. Even with the night before.

“Can we do this later?”

“Who are you, really?”

Chan looks between the two of you here. A wide-eyed wonderment that makes him look much younger. Like he could just be a normal human instead of the ancient god that he is. He’s the first to break the moment, too. “Don’t you know who she is?”

Seungcheol clenches his jaw so hard that you worry for his teeth. Know that it can’t be good for them. The blaze in his eyes returns before softening as he looks away to his brother.

“No. Do you?” 

His brother considers the question for a moment. Looks over at you like he might be able to gauge it just from observing you. You look away, not wanting to take the chance. He’s much more removed from anything you did in your past life. It’s possible that he could place you when there aren’t so many other things clouding his judgment.

“No, nothing feels strong enough for me to get a read. Like something’s blocking me.” 

You sigh. Roll out your shoulders to release some of the tension. It’s clear that you need to just get over part of this in order to move everything forward. “Your relationship with them, the Fates, as Zeus, was always a little bit complicated. I…owe them a great deal. In turn, I didn’t tell you that they made it to this world or that I could find them.” 

“But you can?” Chan asks hopefully. 

“Yes, they always leave it open for me to return to them. It’s not going to be easy and I’m only offering because you seem a lot different than the stories about what Poseidon was like before Olympus fell…”

“I’ll do whatever it takes,” Chan says. Immediate and earnest. Someone who’s obviously approached his time on Earth very differently than Seungcheol. 

Even after you walk Chan through the process of finding the Fates, he sticks around. You’re going to have to accompany him anyway. Know that they won’t help him the way that he needs without physically seeing you. A small part of you also hopes that they’ll allow you to keep the artifact that allows you to find them again even after this favor. It sinks in that you may lose that card from your back pocket. It’s scarier, still, to realize that you’re willing to take that risk for the former Poseidon. 

Chan also seems to want to stick around because he misses his brother. As much as he wants to say it’s been good to not have constant reminders of their old life, it’s clear he feels differently now. While Seungcheol stays silent during the conversation about the Fates, only shooting you glares, he’s an active participant chatting with his brother. Animated in a way that you rarely get to see. More alive than after his fights. Brighter. More vibrant. Like he’s in full color again. It’s easy to see why so many people fell for his charms. It almost hurts to see the way that he looks at you in those brief moments while talking to Chan. All of the luster disappears and you see flashes of a storm. 

Eventually, Chan does excuse himself. Doesn’t go far, though. After a lot of back and forth, he agrees to stay in the downstairs part of the unit that neither you or Seungcheol ever use. As Seungcheol says, they’re family and why bother paying to stay somewhere else? It’s not like it’s got another use. Seungcheol just wanted more privacy and this had been the only way to do it. As soon as it became available, he had snatched it up. Now, he finally gets to use it. Chan is appreciative and smiles on his way out. Suddenly, you don’t really want him to leave. Don’t want to be alone with someone you know is upset. 

You even try to excuse yourself as Chan does to head into your side of the apartment. Think about slipping out entirely so that you can let Seungcheol cool off. No such luck.

“Hang on. I need to talk to you,” he says with far more calm than you’re expecting. Chan gives you a sympathetic look before slipping through the door. You stop but don’t look up at him. Don’t want to kick things off before you have to. “Please look at me.”

Grudgingly, you look up. There’s a range of emotions behind his eyes. You expect to see the anger and it’s definitely there. You aren’t as prepared for the hurt. Even less prepared for the betrayal, though you should be. It’s all written right there. He doesn’t bother trying to hide anything. “Seungcheol…”

It’s his turn to hold up a hand. Your normal confidence wavers and it unnerves him. After so many years spent by your side, he should know every one of your emotions. This version of you is a stranger to him, though. Which makes it worse. How can you have kept so much of yourself from him? And how can you look at him like you’re almost afraid? “Why?”

You sigh, shake your head, and then look back at him. This time it’s more defiant. More like what he expects. “You’ll have to be a bit more specific.”

“I don’t think you’re in a place to sass me.” 

“It’s not sass. I’m not a mind reader.”

“Funny, you always seem to know exactly what I’m thinking or feeling.”

“Because you’re easy to read after all these years.”

“And you’re harder than ever.” 

You’re on the verge of retorting, but clamp your mouth shut instead. Seem to be warring with the idea of having the last word and further angering the former Zeus. Won’t let yourself consider that you’re genuinely concerned about how he’s going to take this. The idea of him casting you out gnaws at you more than you expect. Last night clearly means more than you’re ready to admit.

Seungcheol presses on in the gap. “Why did you really help him when you haven’t ever helped me like that?” 

“You and him are looking for different things for very different reasons. The Fates don’t know how to return to Olympus. Or, they didn’t tell me that they knew…”

“What do you mean by different reasons?”

He looks almost pouty again and you roll your eyes before answering. “He found the reincarnation of Amphitrite, fell in love all over again, and wants to see if there’s a way he can be with her. Beyond her being bound to the normal human life span because it’s so short. And despite everything that happened between them, despite her memories as Amphitrite returning, it seems like she’s forgiven him. He’s not the same as he was in Olympus as Poseidon.”

“Why does that matter?”

It’s so petulant that now you’re the one taking a breath, asking for patience to help you deal with this man. You’ll still take it over whatever else lingers on the horizon. “Because the Fates didn’t like you or the other rulers of Olympus. You, most of all. And I’m not sure you’ve changed. I doubt they would help you.”

“You talk like you actually knew me in Olympus.”

You hesitate. Weigh some options at light speed. Know that, realistically, he already knows who you are. Or, if he doesn’t, he’s on the precipice. It makes your chest tight. “We…crossed paths.” 

“And did you cross paths with Hera as well?” 

“Ask what you really want to ask.” 

“Is there a reason that I can’t read your energy? Is it, perhaps, because you were the goddess of trickery and deceit? The daughter of Nyx herself, who was so gifted in existing in shadows?”

Never before in your life have you felt any pause in doing exactly as you please. It’s not who you are. Your whole life has been crafted around causing chaos and sowing deceit. That can take many different forms. It can also even fool the gods. Now, though, you hesitate. Unsure of how Seungcheol will react. Unsure if he’ll forgive you. Unsure why it matters so much that he does. Your chest feels tight and you’re really not even sure what to do. A million responses chase around your head in a split second. And then…

“Yes.” 

“Apate,” he hisses the name with hatred flashing in his eyes. 

“Yes.” 

“You conspired with Hera to get Semele killed while she was carrying my son. You…”

“No,” you interrupt forcefully. 

“Excuse me?” His eyes flash dangerously, yet you stand your ground.

“I did not conspire with Hera.” 

“You deny helping her?”

“No,” you acknowledge grudgingly. “No, I did help her. But what would you have me do? Refuse a demand from the Queen of Olympus? And how would that have gone?”

“Someone died.” 

“And was resurrected.”

“But my son would have died.”

“I would have died if I refused her. Would you have preferred that? I made a calculated choice.”

“So that makes it all okay?”

You fix Seungcheol with a stare. It’s so rich coming from him. Won’t let yourself admit it stings to think he would have just been fine with you dying. Though that is not what he said and he hasn’t even considered the meaning. Can’t see beyond his own hurt. “Thousands of people die. You should understand that better than anyone.” 

“I do,” he says, eyes still flashing. “So, what’s been the point of all this? What does the goddess of deception, trickery, lies, and fraud want to accomplish by hanging around with me?”

It’s the first of many questions that you’re not really sure you can answer. Somehow, you manage to keep most of your composure as you begin the very long process of answering. Try to figure out how to put it into words that being around him is better than surviving in this world alone. That you aren’t trying to play some big game by staying close to Seungcheol all these years. That you haven’t been trying to trick him for any reason other than not wanting to be alone. You know that if you had just admitted to being Apate, then he would have cast you out immediately. Maybe that was his right, maybe this is his penance. You’re not really sure. After never really feeling like anyone would choose to be around you in Olympus without needing something, how can you think any differently? Understandably, nobody who knew you as Apate trusted you. How could they, when your entire purpose is to deceive? It’s in your very nature. So, can he really blame you for taking a chance? Can he really say all the time has been awful? You don’t come out and explicitly say that something has been shifting. Don’t really need to. You trust that he can tell. That he knows last night was real. 

Everything feels like it changed when you went back into Pandora’s Box. Then, you came back out of the box on Earth, some time after the rest of them had made it here. You’re not sure how much time passed. The Fates don’t really like to deal in something as finite as time. Don’t really like to give straight answers, either.

Then, you get a little angry. Who is he to act like he’s somehow so much better than you? You are a product of how you were created. Existing to carry out your purpose. It just happens that your purpose is to create chaos. To trick people into believing lies while imagining the truth as unimaginable. That’s also not necessarily who you are now on Earth. Not always, at least. 

Zeus has a long list of atrocities attributed to him. A long history of cruelty and violence. A history of infidelity and manipulation. None of which is down to his purpose as King of the Olympians and God of the Sky and Thunder. Gods like him just took and took and took, always expecting those beneath them, everyone in their eyes, to do without question. 

The Fates have every reason to not want to do him any favors. It’s not like they’re dying to do you favors, either. They just have some level of interest in you that you have taken care to foster over the years. Visiting them each time you take a break from Seungcheol. Letting them know what you’ve seen and sharing any knowledge you can. In turn, they promise to honor you with a favor should you ask. However, the terms are always the same. It has to go to something worthy. They’re not specific on worthiness or what that actually means. That’s down to you. You remind Seungcheol that nothing he’s done has shown any change. He isn’t the same God anymore because he’s been on Earth for so long. Yet, he’s not like Poseidon, Chan, either. There isn’t that same sense of self reflection. That desire to right past wrongs. 

He’s seething when you point this out. “Did it ever occur to you that there may have been a reason for that?”

“What are you talking about?” 

“My brother, Chan, as he’s going by now, found who he thought to be his true love again in this life and she accepted him.”

“Because he had already changed! He, himself, expressed how much regret he has over what happened with Amphitrite.” 

“Maybe I could have changed, too.” 

You snort at that. “If you found Hera again, you mean?” 

Now he snorts back. “I am too smart to think the solution would be as simple. I also don’t believe she was ever my true love in the way that I believe Poseidon loved Amphitrite.”

“So, who?” 

“Someone I’ve gotten close to in exile here on Earth. Someone that, despite my best attempts, occupies all my thoughts.” 

The room suffocates you. It feels like all the air leaves the room. Because, isn’t this what you want to hear? Don’t you want to know that you mean something to him? You just didn’t expect it to sound like that coming from him. Don’t expect the venom there. There’s some of that lightning behind his eyes, but there’s something else too. A sadness that feels unfamiliar. A resignation. The realization that he’s spoken it out loud now and he can’t take it back.

“That would be incredibly unlucky to depend on a goddess of trickery to change the King of Olympians,” is all you say. Can’t think of anything else that fits. Chicken out from telling him that you might feel the same.

“Or is it poetic? That someone with so many bad deeds should fall for something that’s nothing more than tricks and deceit.” 

“Cheol,” you say, soft as a whisper and watch the way his face changes. Watch the way the wall slams back into place. Watch as the divide grows without him even stepping away. He does step away too, though. It’s your only chance to say something real. “This isn’t just…I don’t want you to think that I don’t…”

“I can’t do this right now.” 

“Cheol, wait. Last night did mean something to me, too. I know I can’t just take back what’s happened, but it wasn’t a trick. I never planned for this…”

“Don’t,” he says. 

And he’s gone, disappearing from the room without another word. Which is fair, isn’t it? You’ve been lying to him for over 200 years without ever stopping to think what you would say when he eventually found out. There’s a strong part of you that just never considered he would or could find out who you were. Everything over the past two centuries has been so careful. So intentional. Any time things got too difficult, you could disappear for some period of time to reset yourself. It’s been a good system.

Until you let him cross the line. Let him see more of you. Have more of you. Let yourself consider that you might want all those things. And then Chan shows up.

It’s not his fault, you know that. You also know that telling him you might be able to help had been your choice. There’s no regret there. No matter what happens to your life, he deserves the chance that he wants. Deserves a chance to find some kind of happiness. Or at least get answers. 

All good things must come to an end. Isn’t that the saying? It’s impossible to know if this is going to be the end of something good. If that would even be a bad thing. There’s no future where you and the literal King of Olympians live happily ever after on Earth. There’s no saying that you’ll ever even see him again. Maybe it’s what you deserve, though. After all the times you took some space, wouldn’t it be so poetic, to use his word, if Seungcheol just walks out and never returns?

Maybe you shouldn’t linger here waiting to see what he decides. 

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