Archive of Our Own

Meng, Off the coast of the Yellow Sea, 1457

Though the land has been stripped of its trees where the earth meets the water, thick pines and elms still stand proudly close to the shore, coating the already night sky in a deep darkness that held many curiosities, many fears. The moon was their guide, but the branches still stretch to shade even the pure white light that shines down on them.

The Westerners settled nearly half a century ago, bringing prospects of a God that would save their people from the depths of a Hell the Meng natives hadn’t believed in. But these Westerners also brought materials foreign to the natives’ eyes, and a ferocity that left everyone bowing. And fifty years later, everything had been established: their language, their God, their homes, their ways . Min Yoongi was no stranger to this, and neither was Kim Taehyung.

Yoongi walks the earth of those tree laden areas now - forests , as the Westerners call them. He keeps his eyes on his feet hitting the path before him, afraid of any missteps that may come his way if he doesn’t keep his eyes glued beneath him.

His grandparents told him of a world before the Westerners brought their God. How events like the one he was going to now were not things for their own beliefs. These...these events were not so gruesome in the past. The Meng people used to believe in quick deaths, not dragging out the inevitable. But these Westerners believed in horrid punishments, supposedly to fit the horrid crimes of the people who commit them.

A Witch Burning.

Yoongi has never attended one of these before, mainly because they don’t happen all that often, and because they happen at night, when the town is asleep safely in their own beds, after having prayed to their new God in hopes to keep Him happy. Additionally, Yoongi has never relished the idea of watching someone die, quickly or otherwise. He believes people that enjoy to watch life fade from humans are sick in their soul and maybe long to have the same fate brought upon themselves.

When they finally make it to the clearing, the smell of wood masks the usually potent and salty smell of the sea. A gathering of people (the sick, as Yoongi thinks) circle an opening, and the town officials that were walking with Yoongi shove him forward until he stands at the front of the crowd, taking in the sight before him.

Naked, save for the cloth that wraps around slender hips to cover his privates, Kim Taehyung stands with his arms raised straight above his head. His wrists are bound to the wooden stake and his ankles are in the same position, the vine woven rope digging harshly into smooth skin.

Under the spotlight of the moon, Yoongi notes that the other’s usually golden skin seems rather pale, probably as pale as his own. It’s a sight Yoongi isn’t all that used to, and had Taehyung not been bound to a stake with branches circling his feet, he would drag the younger to a rocky fortress, graze and touch at the wonder their night sun does for the otherworldly beautiful Kim Taehyung.

Taehyung’s head is tilted up, staring at said moon with dark eyes, as though he is engaged in a fascinating conversation between himself and the light in their night sky. But at the shushing silence that wraps around from the audience he has created, Taehyung drops his head down, meeting the sleepy eyes of the man that betrayed him, his love, Yoongi.

One of the officers that accompanied Yoongi through the woods clears his throat, ready to speak.

“We have all gathered here on this night to witness the burning of Kim Taehyung, alleged and proven Witch. He did not have a trial since he confessed to practicing witchcraft, as well as having  two very reliable witnesses. Mr. Hemmings, please read the accounts on which Mr. Kim is charged.”

Another guard steps forward, holding a parchment that he originally held rolled in his fist. He, too, clears his throat before reading out the charges written on the page.

“First Name: Taehyung, Last Name: Kim. Charged with: Practicing witchcraft; Outwardly displaying demonic tendencies; Using said witchcraft to lure another man into his bed for,” Mr. Hemmings pauses, trying to hide the blush that creeps up his cheeks as he finishes the sentence, “For intimate activities. The punishment: Burned to death at the stake.”

Yoongi has heard that, though these practices seem a tad barbaric and wild, witch burnings are supposed to be civil, professional, as orderly as any other state official execution. But when the first officer scoffs, however, Yoongi knows that the night shows a different type of order.

“Does he even deserve a stake, the filthy devil? Why not strap him down in a bundle of twigs?” His words provoke a wave of laughter from the otherwise quiet audience, their cackles low and high and hearty and... disgusting . These people are the ones that sound possessed, demonic and hellish, not the man on trial. It’s not like Yoongi is any different.

Hemmings laughs along, but when he speaks his words are neutral. “He saved a man from death, so we’ll show him some mercy.”

“That’s right!” The first officer chimes in too gleefully. “But now is the time! We must bring forth the witness and the victim, Min Yoongi.”

At the sound of his name, Yoongi tears his eyes away from a pliant Taehyung. Even in the pale of night, Yoongi can still catch the warmth in the officer’s cheeks, the splotches on his cheeks probably not just the warm night air. No doubt the man has been drinking his share of alcohol, as if that is not one of the sins these Westerners spit so vehemently.

Someone from the crowd hands the officer a lit torch and soon hands it over to Yoongi, making sure his hand is steady before letting it go. “Yoongi, my boy,” the guard says, and Yoongi can practically smell the liquor on his words. “Make this heathen pay for what he did to you.”

The short walk to the center of their circle seems miles away as the crowd goes silent again, this time in anticipation. The wood in his hand is warm to the touch, prickling the glands in his palm and suddenly he feels his nails dig into the grains for fear of dropping it. He was here because of himself. Taehyung was here because of him.

They worked for the same family of settlers, a lovely couple with two children growing in years in front of their eyes. Taehyung began working for the family when the daughter was a mere child that wore bows like they could cure all the world’s problems. And Yoongi fell for that man, the one that played with the children and kept for the dog, made sure the garden remained neat. Sometimes Yoongi would peer at this man from the kitchen window, watching as the golden sun kissed the man’s skin and sprinkled moles in odd places, like the tip of his nose.

Yoongi was well aware that having feelings for another man was wrong, but Taehyung felt like the Heaven Westerners promised the Meng natives. Yoongi thought that maybe he had done so much good in his life that he deserved a piece of Heaven in the form of a man taller than him, just as thin but broader, one that held Yoongi with care but ripped pleasure from every part of his body so that it left him breathless and in the clouds. That’s where Heaven was, right, up in the clouds?

And when Yoongi grew ill with a foreign sickness, one the Westerners unintentionally brought with them along with their materials and notions of God, Taehyung was the man that cared for him, stayed by his side after the doctor drew his tainted blood. Taehyung was the one to come back with a potion he suaded Yoongi to take in a state of delirium, placing kisses at his sweaty skin and uttering words that were neither native to the Meng nor the Westerners. And he did this on several days right after the doctor would leave.

The mistake came when the daughter had caught sight of this, watching Taehyung’s lips move along Yoongi’s, watching as Taehyung drew symbols in the air with his long fingers. No one had been wrong in guessing then that Kim Taehyung practiced witchcraft.

The true wrong, Yoongi believes, that happened in this situation, came from when authorities questioned him once he was healed. In a moment of oblivion and darkness within Yoongi’s own head, he doubted Taehyung’s feelings for him, his intentions. And in that moment, Yoongi decided to save his own skin, to make himself out as the victim. Quick he was to admit to the magic Taehyung performed on him to make him feel better, and sudden Yoongi was to add on that Taehyung also used his demonic ways to seduce him into sex.

Not only was Kim Taehyung a witch, but also homosexual ? Oh, the people nearly trembled in their spots at the idea of such a monster.

Which is probably why they stare so intently now, as Yoongi inches closer and closer. Taehyung’s features morph, a sneaky smile that Yoongi has seen a few times before gracing his lips. It sends a shock down Yoongi’s spine as he finally stands there, face-to-face with the man he never loved aloud, but whispered into the tan skin that cloaked him underneath thin sheets.

“Any final words,” Yoongi asks, some disdain seeping from his voice as he speaks. “Faggot?”

The insult seems to amuse Taehyung, a chuckle rising from his throat just as the word is uttered. When he speaks, his voice is calm, low, and sweet.

“I’m glad to see you are doing well. I pray you find someone that can fuck you better than I did.”

Yoongi’s eyes flutter shut, a brief second lapsed before his glare is hardened again. It’s easy to displace anger, Yoongi is now realizing.

“Your gods cannot help you now,” he hisses, the comeback rather weak.

With a moment of silence, Taehyung seems to cut past the act Yoongi dons for the crowd around them. He can’t even admit to himself how much he loves it, how bare Taehyung makes him feel with just his gaze alone.

“Stay safe in these shadowed worlds, Yoongi.” The words are spoken faintly, as though they’re only meant for Yoongi’s ears. He’s not sure how well that was achieved.

Yoongi knows that eyes stare him down, waiting none too patiently for the fire to ignite at the criminal’s feet. He doesn’t show any hesitance, but he can feel his breath stop as the first flame catches onto the wood on the ground, on the outer edge of the ring.

When he backs away, standing again next to the guards that brought him, his eyes watch the embers rise, burning quickly around Taehyung. The fire helps to bring back the golden tan to his skin, the shadows of flickering flames dancing off his skin so beautifully and so painfully.

“We’ll meet again, my love,” Taehyung says, just as the fire craws toward his feet caressing at his flesh the same way Yoongi did many times before.

Yoongi soon realizes that what people love the most about witch burnings is the noise. There’s something about the wails of terror and pain that really rile the crowd up, because yes they deserve to die so painfully and slowly. They deserve their own slice of Hell on this earth. Yoongi deserves this piece of Hell.

As roars of pain rip from Taehyung’s throat, something animal laces with his guttural noises. Everyone can hear it, Yoongi is sure. It’s neither demonic nor angelic, just primal , and it strikes as much fear in the crowd as it does anger. All it strikes in Yoongi is ache. And soon he cannot see the charring skin of his love, cannot hear the cries that sound like they belong in the heart of the jungle.

As the fire grows with blinding light, he hears those words whispered and flooded into his brain.

We’ll meet again, my love .

Port Meng, On the coast of the Yellow Sea, 1787

Yoongi awakens to an early morning darkness. He isn’t sure when the last night was that he had a full night’s rest, waking to the maids pulling at heavy curtains so the sun could flood into his bedroom. He knows it was most certainly before he joined the army, choosing to join the men that fought for the land both the Meng natives and Westerners worked so hard to upkeep and make better. They’re not called Westerners anymore, but some of the older generations will still refer to the European settlers as that because it’s what they grew up saying, but also to show some distance.

He shuffles quietly, pulling on his trousers and boots, making sure the suspenders fit nicely on his shoulders before throwing on his jacket. Normally he would lay in bed and wait for the hour to come to him when he was supposed to be awake, the horn that would sound through halls to wake the other soldiers blaring until he had no choice but to follow his fellow mates. This morning, however, he walks the halls by himself, making sure to keep his steps quiet as he trails down winding halls until he gets to an exit. The night is still upon them, but behind Yoongi, a hint of morning winks in the distance.

Yoongi is not sure if this makes him a traitor or not, fighting with these men. To be technical, no one is fighting . There hasn’t been a war yet, but there are whispers of it, and sometimes Yoongi regrets his rash decision to join these men.

The majority are Westerners or half-breeds, as some like to call them. Yoongi finds it laughable that the Meng people believe the natives still have the power just because the royal family are natives, as well. But when the militia is made up of a vast majority of those that are not native, it seems a bit peculiar, to say the least.

At any rate, Yoongi has his reasons for joining. And war or not, he will see his reasons through to the very end.

The army base sits right near the edge of the shore of Port Meng. Thus the soldiers are usually tasked with overlooking the boats and ships that sail to and from the pier, checking the cartel of those that wish to bring their items into the city. The base sits made of stone cut and dug from the mountains further inland, something way before Yoongi’s time, to his fortune. At this time of the morning, though there is hardly enough light to see, Yoongi thinks he can spot some ships off in the distance, ships that will either park to make business or to rest for a few days. There’s one ship in particular he believes he looks out for, though he is not quite sure what it looks like.

Yoongi leans against the stone wall, peering out onto the sea, when he hears it first: foot steps. They could be that of another soldier coming to inspect any disturbance...but it could also be someone completely unrelated-

“An angel from above graces my presence.” The voice is familiar, deep and a tad slurred, but still the words are all purposeful.

Though he so much wishes to look, Yoongi keeps his face to the waters. “You speak too boldly, Kim.”

This seems to get the other’s attention, a loud silence with a smile that Yoongi can almost feel. “Kim? You know me?” The voice ascends only a little, and Yoongi fears for if the man sees his face. He can’t have that.

Taking a step to the side and away from the wall, Yoongi begins to inch closer to the shore. “Every soul in Port Meng knows of Captain Kim Taehyung. Were you aware that you are a wanted man, Captain Kim?”

Taehyung seems to follow, the heavy thud of his boots similar to Yoongi’s. “Of course I am wanted. I’m quite handsome.” He pauses, and Yoongi still longs to turn around and see the face of the infamous pirate that others fear of; he longs to see if the deviant still wears the line of hoops that pierce his ears with only one long silver cross to hang from his lobe. “But I assume you mean I am wanted by a particular person. Who does it be?”

“The King.” They’re almost at the pier, the subdued stench of salty sea and alcohol wafting from the ports curl through the morning air. It’s almost calming, Yoongi finds.

Taehyung gasps, “The King! Praytell, on what grounds am I wanted?”

Yoongi stops, keepings his eyes on the wood at his feet. He wouldn’t want to go too far out with a man of the sea; then Yoongi would be the vulnerable one. He answers then.

“Well, for starters, you’re a pirate-”

“Oh, thank heavens!” Taehyung interrupts with a laugh to accompany his words. “I was pondering on that, but I am glad to know I was correct in knowing that I am a pirate. Continue.”

“And you stole something from his son.” These words, Yoongi says, hold a sharper intonation.

“Oh? I’ve stolen from the Prince? And how is it that a lowly soldier like you knows this?”

Right, Yoongi is wearing his uniform, albeit unkempt. He almost betrays himself, turning to look the pirate in the eyes, only to stop himself midway. “Like I said...all of Port Meng-”

“So, does all of Port Meng know what it is that I stole from the Prince...and how I got it?” He can hear the sneer in Taehyung’s voice, can feel his eyes darken on the side of his neck. “If you allow me to speak so boldly again, Mr. Min, I would like to counter that it is not the King that wants my head...but the Prince.”

Though Yoongi can hear the muffled beats of Taehyung inching closer, he stays rooted in his spot. “Min...you know me?”

“More’r so...I remember you.” Taehyung stands a breath behind Yoongi now, his voice dropping so the empty piers cannot hear what he says. “And how could I not remember a voice so rough and mellow? It is a pleasure to meet you again...my Prince.”

Yoongi finally turns, meeting a darkened silhouette as Taehyung bows dramatically with his left hand to his chest and his right arm stretched behind him. Even in the dim light as morning crawls over them, Yoongi can catch the sun bleached strands of Taehyung’s dirty hair, the rag on his head washed till it’s frayed at the edges. When the pirate picks his his head up, Yoongi is met with the shining tan skin, eyes lined with kohl and dark, bitten lips (and, as Yoongi had hoped, the cross earring hangs from his earlobe).

Though the sight of Kim Taehyung makes him seethe in his skin, he cannot deny the man is irresistible - handsome , as Taehyung had put it.

“Am I truly your prince when you don’t have a place to call home on these lands?”

Taehyung straightens, taking advantage of the inches he has on Yoongi. “Home is where you find comfort and care, Yoongi.” He leans forwards, and Yoongi is almost surprised he doesn’t smell a hint of liquor on the other’s tongue. “And if that is the definition of home, I think I have found one between your legs.” He pulls away with a chuckle. Ah, he thinks he has won. Yoongi presses forward, walking back to the base.

“You know what I’m curious to know?” he calls back. He’s sure Taehyung is following him. Either way, he still turns back. “Do your men know about the company you keep in your motel rooms?”

The sky grows lighter, just enough for Yoongi to see the shift in the other’s gaze, how some irritation flashes. “I garner the respect of my crew, if that’s where your curiosity truly lies. But the same can be wondered about you, Yoongi.” He continues walking, just as Yoongi marches onward. “Do the people of Port Meng know how much you like being on your knees? Do they know how much you love to sneak off into forbidden territories?”

Yoongi knows Taehyung is talking about the night they met. The Prince had set on a voyage of his own and ended up at Jay Island, a small patch of land notorious for harboring pirates, whores, and fugitives. There in the dead of night with just a few candles and lanterns to light the rooms, Yoongi and Taehyung laid naked together for hours and hours doing acts that were possibly very similar to what other couples did in other rooms, just with different company.

At Yoongi’s silence, Taehyung continues. “Do they know that you mask yourself under the guise of a soldier? And why a soldier, of all things?”

This, Yoongi is confident in the answer to. “I wanted to have my hand in you death.” He turns to meet the pirate’s stare. “But I might just let you get a head start on escaping if you hand over what you stole from me.”

Taehyung smiles almost wistfully. “Your heart?”

“The ring,” Yoongi snaps. “Give me the damned ring!” He hardly remembers to keep his voice down as his anger boils. They’re once again at the stone wall.

“A ring. I have stolen many and bartered many. Who is to say I still have it?”

Not like Yoongi hadn’t taken every chance he could to eye the man in front of him. He can distinctly remember the other naked; under the warm glow of burning fires, his skin glistened like rich honey, and his voice dripped just as such. And his eyes can’t help but trail down the sharp angle of his jaw, down to the silver that decorates his long, thick neck so beautifully. And what sits at the end of the chain makes him huff out a laugh.

“Even with your pretty words, you cannot tell me that is not my ring around your neck.” Just to prove his point, Taehyung brings a hand to clasp around the silver chain.

“I wanted to keep it close to my heart.” he reasons. “A souvenir for the nights we spent together, the mess we made of each other.”

Though he exhales a stuttered breath, Yoongi still speaks evenly. “Only speak for yourself, Taehyung. And give me back the ring.”

Taehyung takes a minute, and Yoongi tries to keep his guard as he feels those heavy, dark eyes tear right through the veils until he feels nothing covering him. It seems to click, then. “Oh, that is why you’re here! This ring, it must be very important. So important it evoked anger in your father. Did he tell you not to come home until you found it?”

Some part of Yoongi ached to tell Taehyung he was right, to let go of the restraints that kept him together and fall into the other. But he couldn’t do that. He would never be able to do that, royalty or not.

“I’ll get the ring from you,” Yoongi hisses through clenched teeth. “Whether you’re dead or alive.”

He still has those eyes, Taehyung does. And it frustrates Yoongi even more. “Then let me have it till death. I wouldn’t want to leave this world without a piece of you.”

The sun has made its ascent by now, still low in the morning, but high enough to alight the sea, the port and pier, the duo that stand not meters away from the entrance of the army base.

“Suit yourself, Tae.”

Taehyung isn’t sure what kept him stuck to his spot. It could have been hearing the name that Yoongi moaned into his skin months before; it could have been the look of defeat in those precious, narrow eyes. Maybe Taehyung was ready to face whatever Yoongi had for him. But he stayed there as Yoongi shouted and cried for the guards, hearing the horn blare from inside the stone walls and watching as red coats like Yoongi’s flooded his vision.

Soon, guards lined in front of Taehyung as he stood with his back to the stone wall. Yoongi was among those men that held rifles aimed at him.

“Well done, Yoongi!” One of the soldiers congratulated him. “You actually caught Captain Taehyung!”

One of the generals call for them to aim. And Yoongi peers at the man on the wall that stares him down.

“Any last words, Captain Kim Taehyung?” he asks.

He smiles, adam’s apple bobbing as he laughs low. When he speaks, the words are cut as the general tells them to fire. But Yoongi hears them, over the blast of rifle barrels, over the cheers of happy men that got to kill. He eyes the lifeless look in Taehyung’s eyes, and it’s chilling. The gold ring with the black opal lodged into the metal rests against a tanned, bleeding chest. Yoongi hears the words loudly as they flood his brain.

We’ll meet again...my love.

Kkum Coast, City right on the Yellow Sea, New Age China 2017

“ Fuck! ”

Yoongi’s eyes are screwed shut, head thrown into the pillow beneath him and mouth gaping open though nothing comes out as the pleasure courses through his every vein.

After what feels like minutes of riding the blissful torrent of ecstasy, he finally heaves an exhale, shaky and heavy as it escapes from his lungs. He can again feel the sheets beneath him, where some bits ball uncomfortably under his lower back, can feel the bruising grip he has on flesh under his fingers, can hear the rugged breathing of the man atop him. When his eyes flutter open, his vision takes a second to clear out the details of tan skin, a slight contrast between Yoongi’s own pale skin.

Taehyung is beautiful like this, Yoongi admires. Not to say he isn’t always beautiful, but Yoongi can never get enough of Taehyung post-orgasm, when chestnut strands cling to his damp forehead, his cheeks the lightest shade of dusty pink -both signs of the exertion from their activities. There’s a blissed-out smile on his lips, and his chest rises up and down with exhausted breaths. Naked above Yoongi is when Taehyung looks the best (though he may say the same if the latter is under him; so maybe he’s not the best to ask about Taehyungs in terms of beauty).

White floods his vision as Taehyung rolls his hips, pain searing from his core and spreading outwards. Yoongi chokes on a groan as he uses his grip on Taehyung’s hips to still him.

“Shit, Tae! You can’t seriously be ready to go again.” Though his words are incredulous, his voice is too raspy to sound anything but tired.

Taehyung leans forward, nails digging into Yoongi’s chest as his brow furrows, another tremble wracking his body as he whimpers. “Don’t wanna...stop.”

Yoongi feels it, too, the desire to keep going; lust is like a drug to them, the most addictive kind...or maybe the addiction lies within each other. Either way, neither can get enough.

With a soft chuckle, Yoongi nods in a slight motion. “C’mere.” When Taehyung’s lips are breaths away, he unclasps one hand from the other’s hip to drag those last few inches until they’re nonexistent. They don’t bother to keep the kiss sweet, cutting straight to tongue and teeth and breathy moans. “Gimme a minute to catch up. Then we can go again.” Yoongi promises when they part for air.

There’s only the hint of a pout on Taehyung’s lips before Yoongi is on him again, breathing in his love as though that’s the only air he needs.

“Women can have more than one orgasm during one round. ‘S not fair,” Taehyung sighs.

“Grow a vagina, then,” Yoongi jokes.

He’s not sure how long they stay tangled together like this, but Yoongi can feel the fire begin to pour in his center again, his heart thudding erratically in excitement at the thought of fucking his boyfriend again-

That’s when there’s the shrill of a phone ringing. Yoongi’s phone, on their nightstand.

“Isn’t that Jimin’s ringtone?” Taehyung asks lazily, pulling away from Yoongi’s swollen lips to lick at his jaw, trailing down to his neck.

“No,” Yoongi lies simply. Taehyung obviously doesn’t believe him, if he can tell from the way the other pulls away to stare at him. “If it’s important, he’ll leave a voicemail.”

That only pulls Taehyung further away as he reaches over to grab the phone, answering the call and shoving the screen into Yoongi’s ear.

With a gruff, Yoongi snaps. “What?” He glares at a happy Taehyung, that opts for going back to his previous task of laving at the elder’s neck.

“Geeze, did I wake you from your daily nap or something?” Jimin sounds just as annoyed on the other end.

It’s not entirely distracting having Taehyung’s tongue on him, but it peeves Yoongi that he can’t just focus on that alone. “On the contrary,” Yoongi answers. “We were just about to see if Taehyung possesses any dormant Y chromosomes.”

On the other end, Jimin scrunches his nose in confusion. “What? How can you check if Tae-” but his question is stopped short when there’s the indistinguishable sound of a broken moan. “Suddenly, I don’t want to know what that means.”

“Do you have any actual news for us, or are you just doing your friendly duty as a Cock-Block?”

Oh, right. What Jimin called for. “Right! A new assignment for the Tomb Raiders.” Jimin says the name a bit too proudly, given he and Taehyung had come up with the name when they all started this “business”.

That business being Yoongi and Taehyung raiding and stealing from other places that people hire them to (plus Jimin, their handy-dandy computer nerd that helps them figure out how to do all of that without getting caught). They’ve only been doing this for a year or so, using the money they get from pawning off stolen items to pay for their basic necessities. Most jobs can last them for a few months, which is why they haven’t found any reason to stop.

“Mkay, who is it?”

At Jimin’s silence, Yoongi takes the time to revel in the curl of Taehyung’s tongue right below his ear, tensing when Jimin finally answers.

“It’s anonymous, actually. And they want you to raid the Port Meng Army Base.” Jimin speaks slowly as he reads the message. “Apparently there’re some things in there that are ‘incredibly valuable’.”

The hand Yoongi wasn’t even aware crawled to latch onto Taehyung’s hair grips tighter at the name. “Port Meng Army Base? What could possibly be in that old ass place? And why now?”

“Is this a thing now? Are we gonna start asking people why they want us to go through places and steal shit? They didn’t give much specifics. All they said was that there’s some shit in there that are beyond valuable and worth a lot.” He could tell Jimin was getting tired of this call. “You in or you out?”

“We’re in.” Taehyung says, intercepting Yoongi and pulling his mouth close to the speaker.

With wide eyes, Yoongi eyes his boyfriend. “Excuse you?”

Taehyung shrugs. “What harm can it do? Hell, we can inspect the place first before we give an answer. So let’s go over there and see what we can find, first.” He goes back to Yoongi’s ear, leaving pecks there and whispering. “Now, can you hang up so we can hunt down where multiple orgasms come from?”

Jimin hacks, shouting so Yoongi has to pull the phone away from his ear. “C’mon, Tae! I can still fucking hear you. And I seriously didn’t need to hear tha-”

Yoongi ends the call, tossing the phone back onto the nightstand  and settling his hand back at the younger’s hip.

“We could’ve totally let that go to voicemail,” he quips half-heartedly.

“Shut up,” Taehyung sighs, going in for a quick peck. “Your dick is half hard inside me and it feels weird. So let’s focus on that.”

The other blanches. “Wha- I was literally soft not just a minute ago. Flaccid! And you’re complaining about a semi?” He wants to create more of a fuss (or maybe he doesn’t), but Taehyung flashes a bright smile that looks so irresistible, he needs a taste for himself.

The city of Kkum Coast has molded and changed over the centuries. For one, it used to be Port Meng over two centuries ago. But with the independence of the Meng from the Europeans came a change in power, in language, in beliefs. Even through the progress of the New Age Chinese city, one thing still stood just off the shore of the Yellow Sea, a stone building once probably admired with honour, now stands unkempt.

Dark vines weave through the cracks of the dark, chipped stone; any sharpness to its edges worn away with years and years of abandonment. As Taehyung and Yoongi make their way to an entrance, they note the lack of people around. Desolate. That’s what this place was.

The iron door creaks on its rusted hinges as they pull it open, listening to the groans echo through the empty halls. The temperature drops, cold and dark walls not allowing much light in. There are doors that line the hall, and the duo takes note of them all, unsure of where to start.

“You think we should split up?” Taehyung considers aloud though his voice is low.

The idea makes Yoongi tense next to his boyfriend. “When has splitting up ever gone well for people in horror films? No, we’re staying together.” At the sound of a smirk, he adds on, “Besides, I don’t trust you to not fall through the floor like that one office building-”

“But who was the one that fell face first into a storm door?” Taehyung mocks. “You can’t blame me for the conditions of these places.”

His eyes follow the cracks in the walls. He can’t argue with Taehyung there. “We probably would have better luck searching an actual tomb.”

Not wanting to waste more time, they go through the first door, finding a small room that looks to have been an office, perhaps. The room is completely empty minus the layers of dust that coat every possible surface, so they go on to the next room.

This continues for the majority of the rooms, until they get to the end of the hall where a much larger room sits. A few cots and drawers lay scattered amongst the floor, piles of miscellaneous things in corners. It’s enough to pique their intrigue, and with lights in their fists, they go to rummage through whatever there is.

Yoongi’s neck is just bordering on feeling stiff when he finally lifts his head. “Find anything?”

Taehyung needs a second to find his voice after having worked in silence. “Besides old bird nests and dust bunnies, nope. You?”

He holds his one finding between his fingers, blowing away some of the collected dust. “Found a bullet casing. What did this place use to be, again?”

He can practically hear Taehyung shrug. “Dunno. I think it was an army base created when people started sailing here for trade and whatnot.”

The answer sounds correct, and Yoongi doesn’t hold back in showing his surprise. With a huff he laughs. “That was an oddly specific answer. You sure you didn’t actually pass History class senior year?”

Taehyung scoffs. “That history class was bullshit. All we learned about was when the settlers came and forced Christianity onto the Mengs. Oh!” he perks at a memory. “And there was that one paragraph about pirates that really got to me. Teacher wouldn’t let us spend the whole lecture talking about it. Can you believe those used to exist?”

Ah, there was Yoongi’s boyfriend he knew and loved. “You know pirates are still a thing, Tae.”

“Yeah,” he murmurs. “But they're not as cool. All they do is overthrow ships and hold people hostage.” Like they didn’t do that back then, as well.

Yoongi grunts in false agreement. “Yeah. I dare you to set sail for Tortuga and tell any pirates you run into how bland they are.” He hears a gasp, and before he can worry, Taehyung calls for him.

“Uh, racist much?” And Yoongi has to turn to see what his boyfriend means.

“What?”

The other scoffs again, as if whatever he’s talking about is obvious. “Are you implying that there’s only pirates in the Caribbean? They were obviously here, too!”

“I mean, yeah, there were a few pirates here. But they kinda dispersed after that one pirate captain was killed.” When Yoongi finishes, he blinks seeing that Taehyung has the same expression.

The younger’s eyes squint in confusion. “What?”

“I…” Yoongi turns back to his corner. “I have no idea where that came from...maybe I heard it somewhere...maybe?” The explanation doesn’t seem to quell either, but they let it past, going back to gingerly digging through trash.

“Oh man!” exclaims Taehyung, just missing knocking his head on the cot he’d been bent under, to stand next to Yoongi. “Check out this ring; so cool!”

He drops the ring into Yoongi’s hand so that the latter can inspect it, and he’s taken with the weight it holds. It looks to be gold, something brown coating sparse areas. An opal gem lays in the band.

“Kay,” he mumbles. “Either this isn’t real gold or something is rusted over it.” He looks to Taehyung for his thoughts, only to receive a noncommittal head tilt. “Mmm, I’ll send a picture over to Jimin, and maybe he can tell us if there’s any info on it. See how much it’s worth.”

The plan seems good enough for Taehyung, who already heads for the exit. “I’ll keep checkin’ around,” he calls back, despite Yoongi’s earlier dislike for splitting up.

Taehyung’s movements can be heard from above, the sounds of flying pages and thuds of moving across the floor keeping Yoongi’s worries at ease. After going through the last of the trash in the room, Yoongi is ready to leave when his phone rings; it’s Jimin.

“Hey, did you get something?” He answers with the question.

Jimin’s excited tone is not what Yoongi is expecting. “I have a fucking love story!”

“Right,” Yoongi replies, unsure of where his friend is going. “This love story better end with a happy ending...AKA selling this ring for a high ass price.”

The tech doesn’t miss a beat. “I looked up the ring and found an image of the one you sent me, though it looks to be in much better condition. Turns out that ring used to belong to the King of Meng in the late 1700s!”

So, it’s safe to say the ring is made of real gold. “Holy shit…”

“But the one you have, it seems to be the one his son stole from him before he went on this trip to Jay Island. Anyways, while he was there, the Prince met this notorious pirate that stole it from him. This post also claims that he and this pirate were lovers.” Yoongi can hear Jimin’s brows waggle through the phone at the implication. He doesn’t fight his eye roll.

“Wow, gay romance in the olden days,” he states in monotone. “Continue; so far I’m not completely repulsed by this story.”

This seems to be the right answer for Jimin. “So, the Prince had to get the ring back and he couldn’t just tell his father how it is the ring was ‘lost’ or the fact that he went to Jay Island, which apparently at the time was a popular place for pirates and criminals to go. So, the Prince enlisted into the army with hopes of running into the pirate and getting his ring back.”

Yoongi can feel his brain turning to mush with how long the story is turning out to be. Like they didn’t know he was impatient. “I know I said I was intrigued, but tell me the end is near.”

“Shut it. So, this pirate actually comes to Port Meng, though it doesn’t specify what he was there for. But he runs into the Prince under the guise of the soldier, and he asks for his ring back -but the pirate refuses. Then the Prince decides that he’ll kill the pirate first and get the ring when he’s dead. And -here’s where it gets good- fucking guess what the pirate said right before the militia shot him.”

Yoongi moans as he looks for the answer, playing along with Jimin’s eagerness. “Mmm…’We’ll meet again, my love’.” He says, adding a wispy tone to sell the ridiculous words.

The other side is quiet for a beat too long, and Yoongi checks to see if the call disconnected. “Hello? Jimin? Still there?”

“That’s…” Jimin sounds astounded. “That’s exactly what he said. How did you know that?”

Truthfully, when Yoongi imagined the words, he heard Taehyung’s voice, almost perfectly clearly, as if the boy stood next to him. There was something about that, however, that seemed off...like that couldn’t possibly be a good reason.

He sputters. “You...you told me to guess. And I guess I’m just a great guesser. Don’t hate the player. So is that it?” He inquires quickly to change the subject.

Of course, to Yoongi’s misfortune, there is more. “One last thing: so after the pirate is dead and they take all his belongings -probs stolen- and toss his body in the sea, the Prince takes the ring and watches the body float away. Okay, guess what the Prince said, since you’re just an amazing guesser.”

“Nah,” Yoongi declines lightly. “Tired of playing the game.” That’s only half the truth. “What he say?”

“It’s some old phrase from Ancient China...probably when the Meng still spoke Mandarin. I hope I don’t butcher this: ‘hai shi shan meng’ . Apparently, it means ‘oath of eternal love to swear by all the Gods’...” Jimin pauses, and once again, Yoongi is too slow to pull the phone away from his ear as Jimin shouts. “ Isn’t that the fucking cutest ? The Prince actually loved the pirate back.”

There’s something odd about the room, Yoongi notices. Is it darker? Wait, what happened to the shuffling noises?

“Yoongi? Are you stunned by my storytelling skills?”

Yoongi is already heading out the room, climbing the stairs he know Taehyung must have gone up to get to the second floor. “More of the opposite; that story was shit and I still don’t know how much this ring is worth.”

Jimin knows he should have told Taehyung the story. His best friend would fawn with him over it. “It’s pure gold with black opal, Yoongi. Figure it out.”

“Was that story even real? There’s no names of the characters. Where did you even find that?” When he makes it to the top of the staircase, an emptiness hangs low over the halls.

“It’s on some website about historical artifacts.” Jimin scrolls over the page, clicking to isolate the post. “The post is anonymous. Actually...it was posted today.”

That can’t be a coincidence. “You think you can...run where the anonymous message we got came from and this post?”

Jimin must have the same idea as Yoongi asks the question, already opening the tab with the anonymous message. “It’ll take me a few minutes, but I might be able to find out. I’ll call you back when I have something.”

With his attention solely focused on finding Taehyung, Yoongi breezes through the rooms, all of them small enough to peer through and see that Taehyung is nowhere to be found. How could he possibly slip past Yoongi without him noticing? Outside one barred window, sounds of laughter float through, hearty, high and low...but none of those voices sound remotely like Taehyung’s.

Just to double check, Yoongi makes sure to walk through every room, kicking up dust as he goes along. It’s safe to say that the second and last floor is more barren than the ground floor...so what had made the fluttering noises of pages?

Outside the same barred window, the sky darkens, not from night but from thick, grey clouds. Storms were common when you lived next to the sea, but no one had expected one today, during this afternoon.

Maybe Taehyung’s outside, and the thought is still being processed in Yoongi’s brain when he shoves past the door they came through. And the surroundings are just as he last saw them: desolate.

But hadn’t he heard laughter?

His phone rings in his pocket again, and he answers without giving much thought to who it is. “Yeah.”

“Um,” Jimin starts. “This is gonna sound really strange. Swear you won’t freak out on me.”

Really, Yoongi is sure he’s past that point, though he keeps it together quite well. “A) When do I freak out? And B) no promises.”

“Both the message and the post...they actually came from the army base.”

Though his eyes are on the sea before him, his brain is taking its time to transcribe what Jimin has just informed him. “You mean the one I’m at right now?”

That wording doesn’t seem right. “Didn’t you go with Tae?”

And that’s the fucking problem , isn’t it? Yoongi finds it harder to breathe though he tries to speak evenly. “Yeah, but I can’t find him...fuck, okay. Thanks, Jimin. I’ll call you later.”

He doesn’t wait for a response before hanging up and stuffing the phone into his pocket. Maybe he came to inspect outside. Yoongi walks along the wall, stabbing pains hitting his chest the further along he goes.

Hai shi shan meng , the words whisper over and over in his head. And every time the words are uttered, something clicks painfully into place, into a puzzle he had no idea he was trying to finish.

The Prince saying those words...had that really been the end of the story? Or had the story truly ended with the Prince holding that ring to his heart before shooting himself in the head? The brown that rusted over the gold, it was fucking blood , wasn’t it? Somehow, Yoongi knew this to be the truth, just as he heard his own voice say the words. Hai shi shan meng .

Just as Yoongi rounds the corner, his foot gets caught on one of the many vines that grow from the ground to wrap around the fortress. As he stumbles, his nose meets the dirt ground, and suddenly the stench of charred flesh coats his nostrils; his heart shatters again, the pain of a memory that cannot be his melting in his mind.

Did the story end when the ashes of that witch molded with the earth? Or did the witch’s victim not use those ashes to write the very words on his chest to bind them together for all of eternity...to swear by all the Gods? Again, Yoongi hears his own voice cry out the lover’s oath as the victim bawled. Curling into the ground, flashes of golden skin paled by the moon flutter behind his eyelids; he sees the face of his love as the flames rise, but the scene is blurred through his own tears.

“Hai shi shan meng,” Yoongi croaks, feeling the weight lift at the sound of those words. The pain still keeps him heavy to the ground, unable to move.

There’s the sound of footsteps that catches Yoongi’s attention. He lifts his head just as a familiar pair of legs stand before him. Sitting up, he stares at the man he has loved for centuries, and is sure to love for more to come.

“Taehyung…” Yoongi sighs.

This sneaky grin that the other wears, Yoongi has seen it many times -over the years that they have known each other...and hundreds of years ago before now. Though the intentions may not be pure, Yoongi feels safe, seeing such a hellish look on such beautiful features.

“My love,” Taehyung speaks lowly with a curling smile.

“We meet again.”