ateez hongjoong x seonghwa

daphne

during a night shift, hongjoong senses someone watching him more than usual

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   "Wow, third night shift in a row. You sure you can handle it?"

   His locker clicked shut with a scoff. "You make it sound like these shifts drain the soul from your body. It's just boring and creepy at times, nothing that needs fucking consideration."

   "Sounds like you didn't have that extra shot," the man mumbled, ducking just in time to miss the hat hurdling towards him. "Maybe missed the coffee entirely."

   "I had enough espresso, Yunho, shut your trap. Besides, you should have been gone five minutes ago."

   "Where do you think I'm headed?" Before the metal door slammed closed, the man rushed out a quick 'Have a good shift!' before he was shrouded in silence.

   The one aspect of a night shift at a museum that Hongjoong could never shake was the silence, or better yet, the lack of life, of noise, of anything. The halls and rooms were shadowed, cracked into pieces of light and dark, the starry sky and the moon his only companions on these eternal nights. The paintings remain frozen, candid memories and meticulous portraits all stuck yet so alive; the sculptures rooted in place, their souls thrumming and waning all at once; the textiles strung by their hands and snapped into formation, rigid yet so free; the statues, poise and perfect, standing tall, kneeing low, captured in marble casings. Hongjoong was walking through a graveyard, a library of deceased ideas and passions, adorations long discarded or forgotten. He could feel it in every corner he turned, a new rush of something electric. His feet could be heard across the building, his flashlight seen from exhibits away, yet there were always shadows, all crevices that the sun couldn't touch. He felt as though that's where the artists lied, or their destinies, for it was a mystery, but what makes a mystery if not the theories about it?

   The keys were deafening against his hip as Hongjoong locked the last door, killing the lights. Drenched in darkness, the man made his way to the receptionist's desk - working as many night shifts as he does, one memorizes the paths quickly to save his flashlight's power. He would run through a set of batteries a night when Hongjoong first started, and after getting scolded by his boss, he trained himself to be comfortable in the dark. Now, the man was never scared of the dark, don't put words in his mouth either, but a museum has hundreds of eyes - not including the security cameras, and now that you're looking at them, wave to Yunho will you, he tends to spy on Hongjoong when he's working. Eyes that have seen wars, deaths by the thousands, been birthed by the hands of gods, of artists that lived off the scraps from the trash. He was surrounded by entirely different worlds, a new universe in each exhibit, making the first couple of months tough for him.

   To save you time, for Hongjoong's learned resilience and aloofness are quite boring, he strolled the halls cloaked in the night sky, He felt more connected to them this way, the art felt as though this was the least he could do for them given that they were trapped here. Pay them respect by living the way they do, existing in their element. It made him feel more righteous, more righteous than Yunho anywho.

   Never mind him, he doesn't get what Hongjoong thinks, despite the many a time he's tried to explain it to the younger. To him, it was just a job, but to Hongjoong, he took this as a sacred duty, something he was meant to do. Yunho calls it bleak, setting your expectations so low that a night guard job is the rose among the dandelions. Hongjoong calls it sacrosanct.

   The man knelt and opened his labeled draw - yes, he had himself a dedicated draw, the office was too far a walk. He pulled out his essentials and tossed them onto the desk: pepper spray, a dwindling pack of gum, and his stickered flashlight. He hasn't used the pepper spray and never will (knock on wood), gum was the only way he made it through the night, and the stickers were from his niece. Into their respective pockets they go, on goes the security vest, and into the abyss he descends.

   Hongjoong has a route he likes to take, a trail he walks that comforts the tremors that scatter along his arms, because, believe it or not, he still is a little unsettled by this place. He starts his journey by traveling to the Republic of Korea, dissecting his country's actions through dark ink and even darker imagery. It was a book the world had never read, for it was hidden from those who would spin beautiful lies and wonderous tales and splayed out for those who truly deserved it: the people who wrote it, the people who drafted the story. The paintings were faint yet powerful, delicate yet prickly, and it's a perfect first course.

   Next, the land of contemporary art, one of Hongjoong's favorites. It was loud, it was vibrant, it was unique. Each painting had a voice, ceramic had a personality, structure an attitude that he could feel in the way it rippled as he stepped, reached out to flick at his icy hair as he glided through. A hop over to textiles from Korean Dynasties, take a boat towards the clay sculptures of a budding new artist, a breezy carriage ride through modern paintings that Hongjoong would stop and stare at way too long. Some would click instantly, others would take a couple of shifts, yet a good handful were lost causes, there was no way he was figuring out the significance between two blurry ovals; doesn't matter that one's red and the other cyan, the author's description still doesn't provide enough reasoning.

   Hongjoong loved art, he wouldn't have taken this job if not for the particular museum, but some pieces he could not get behind.

   He was meandering from steel sculpture when the pull happened. It's been occurring for months now, almost a year; the closer he got to the entrance, the more he felt like he was being dragged, a rope tied around his waist that yanked and tugged and heaved until his foot crossed the threshold. Then, it would dissipate, vanish with a stumble and a feeling of eyes heavy on his shoulders.

   The statues were like sirens, ethereal marble creatures that lured Hongjoong in with their carefully carved bodies, majestically mastered craftsmanship that it took everything in him not to run his hand along a leg or a lock of hair. He's always felt drawn to his exhibit particularly, not because of his love for art, but by something higher, something otherworldly. Hongjoong knew someone was in these rooms watching, and while throwing away hours each night searching every corner, ducking behind every pedestal, the man didn't find anything. He tried the security system, tried replaying the footage from nights that the eyes felt tangible, the sense of dread palatable, but nothing ever showed.

   With time, he grew accustomed to the slithering of the cord - sometimes, and more recently, it felt like a hand snaking around his waist and pushing at the small of his back, and he would be lying if it didn't stay with him for days. He would talk with the statues, for if they were pulling him closer, it's got to be for a reason. Hongjoong drafted thousands of explanations, some as simple as he needed to increase his medication or get more sleep, some more outlandish and bordering on fantasy. Deep in the caverns of his mind, the man thought the statues alive, buzzing with a life molded by their maker and thrust into a stone cage, waiting for the right person to unlock it. Call Hongjoong delusional, manic, hell neurotic, that's Yunho's favorite; he chose not to care, for it meant something to him, and he thinks that's exactly what these rocks want: someone to mean something to them.

   While the exhibit itself reeled Hongjoong in, he led himself to the piece that captivated him most: Apollo and Daphne. It was the way Apollo so carefully watches, hands drawn back in fear yet pressed so intimately close; it was the way Daphne was crying out, a defiant and emboldening scream as her braced hands melt into branches of laurel; it was the way Hongjoong knew she was not frightened at becoming a tree, but welcoming it for it would finally grant her a life of peace, of a tranquility so perfectly preserved in this room. They took up the center of the room, rightfully so, and bathed in moonlight each night, a shimmering beacon that Apollo cast for the lovely nymph that stole his heart. It was a bittersweet story, one of desperation, attraction, and lastly, acceptance, yet it was never Apollo Hongjoong sympathized with, but Daphne.

   Anyone who knew the story would feel for Daphne, having been, quite literally, chased and pestered into a tree. Yet the man knew there was something deeper beneath her allure; it was like he could feel the kiss of laurel leaves against his nape, taste the bark that scraped along his tongue, feel the arrow that stabbed through Apollo, igniting a manic seduction that she stomped on time and time again. It was messy, it was tiresome, it was magnetic. The same could be said about the mystery hand at Hongjoong's waist, for it felt more real than ever.

   A shiver ran down his back and he shook off the feeling like a wet dog, hoping to scatter it back into a dark corner. He turned away from the statue, regretting it seconds later after inspecting a terracotta warrior made the eyes watching him almost burn. They were hot and heavy, like lead balls, and he contemplated reaching for his pepper spray. 'So much for that streak...1 and a half years, was it?'

   "Easy now, Mr. Kim, you wouldn't want to hurt me."

   Hongjoong stopped breathing. Fear veined through him like lightning. That voice was so familiar yet all too foreign.

   His right hand latched onto the pepper spray without thinking, removing it slowly in case this was a potential threat - nine times out of ten, it was an armed person with immoral intentions, yet that mystic hand was at his stomach, pressing, soothing. Hongjoong knew who this was.

   He breathed as steadily as possible before saying, "Who are you?"

   The person made a humorous noise; the guard heard a rustle akin to leaves.

   Fuck.

   "Why don't you turn around and find out?"

   At first, Hongjoong couldn't move; he knew what he'd find yet didn't, couldn't face it. Then the hand wormed itself up to his shoulder and shoved him, causing the man to spin and fall onto a knee, his palms slapping against the tile floor.

   Bringing his eyes up, he was finally met with the heavy brown coins that followed him for months. They stood in place of Daphne, yet completely human, or so they appeared to be. Their skin was a light caramel color, striking against the white of Apollo, sparsely hidden by a silky cerulean drape; honeyed skin stared back at him from every angle, leading up to a face blessed by the stars and kissed by cherubs. They had thick eyebrows, diamond eyes, a flush painted on with pomegranate seeds, and lips like the flesh of grapefruits. Their hair was weaved through laurel branches, golden snakes twisting around sacred vines; their hands were much the same, brown at the ends and dusted with leaves. Yet the one thing that threw Hongjoong for a loop was Daphne was a woman moments before, and now a man. A gorgeous, godly man who made his throat shrink.

   "Are you only going to stare?" The man asked, breaking from his position with a wince.

   "You...How...But - This doesn't make sense!" Hongjoong said, scrambling to his feet, conveniently forgetting the pepper spray.

   "That is but the way of the world, dearest, you'll get used to it with time."

   The man slithered down from his pedestal and came to stand a couple feet before Hongjoong. If possible, the once-Daphne became prettier.

   "This cannot be happening..." The guard mumbled, taking a step back and cradling his head. His heart was in his throat and his stomach at his feet, he felt like vomiting and crying all at once, yet all he could do was stare and gawk and question.

   "Oh, but it is, and you should be praying to whoever you worship that I choose to stay," The man said, adjusting his drape. Hongjoong was now hyper-aware of the bare chest and even barer thighs before him.

   "How? How are you here?!" The shock finally wore off, and Hongjoong was anxious as fuck. He needed answers before the walls closed in on him, before Yunho calls and asks who is with him. "But first, your name, because I know it's not Daphne."

   "You can call me whatever you want, dearest, but most call me Seonghwa," The man purred, a foxy wink following.

   Hongjoong twitched. "Alright, Seonghwa," he liked how the name fit in his mouth, "care to answer some questions for me?" Took his defense training long enough.

   "I'll do whatever you want, just know that I want something in return."

   "We can get back to that." He quickly dismissed the notion before it could travel south. "First, did you come from that statue?"

   Seonghwa scoffed. "Where else could I have come from? Don't see any other missing stones. You mortals take so long to access your surroundings"

   "Touche, smartass," Hongjoong murmured. "So you're a nymph, just like Daphne?"

   "Correct, and you're my Apollo..."

   "Hongjoong," The younger rushed out, his mind whirling so fast it was making him dizzy. The floor felt miles away, he was seeing double. "So if you came from that statue - wait, did you just say I was your 'Apollo'?"

   His vision snapped back together so hard he swore he heard a crash, taking another staggering step backward.

   "That's how the story goes, yes, would you like a refresher?" Seonghwa was being condescending, the sly...creature, Hongjoong still didn't know how to classify the man before him, now eyeing him like a child would a sweet shop. He felt sick, no, alive.

   "No, but check my accuracy, will you?" Seonghwa smiled and gestured to continue. "A golden arrow struck Apollo, birthing his desire, and another lead arrow sunk into Daphne, creating a sort of aversion to his devotion. He was relentless in his pursuit of the nymph, so much so that she called upon her father to protect her - and good on her, that filthy god couldn't even talk a hint."

   "It was Cupid's doing, Hongjoong, there was no way to resist his blossoming love for her," Seonghwa pressed, quite persistent and stern.

   Hongjoong nodded carefully. "Well, Daphne's father turned her into a laurel plant, which became the known image of the god in the wake of his devastation. Did I miss anything?"

   Seonghwa canted his head to each side. "Almost, just left out the fact that Daphne was the only being able to deny the love of a god."

   Hongjoong stared for a moment, processing, thinking, before agreeing. "That does seem important."

   The older laced his hand at his hips and took a step forward, clearly irked. Hongjoong bunched his brows, no longer afraid but weary of what the man was capable of - he came from a marble sculpture, minutes prior, the man is allowed to be skittish.

   "Say, doesn't that story seem a little... reversed to you?" Seonghwa tried.

   "In what sense?"

   "In the sense that it's been me, all this time, chasing after you."

   Hongjoong let out a sharp exhale, streaking a hand through his hair. "But you came from Daphne, she's gone from the pedestal, she's standing in front of me!" His nerves were tremoring again.

   "Maybe Daphne was a real nymph, but her spirit lives on. It was passed to me before captured in stone, forever, leaving her just enough time to settle before you waltzed in." Seonghwa reached out and swiped up the guard's flashlight, pointing it at his chest. "Your presence rewrote my story, cast Daphne aside and stripped her of that prideful endurance. Now I yearn for your gaze on my plaque, beg for a look to mean something more than a security sweep. I think I might..."

   The older couldn't say it, for he still didn't believe it to be true.

   Hongjoong gulped. "You might be Daphne physically, but you're saying mentally -"

   "I'm Apollo! I've become the one thing I loathed, all because of your divine beauty. That tug you feel? That hand on your back? That's Cupid's arrow, the one that originally snagged you, for you, Kim Hongjoong, were supposed to be Apollo in this story." Seonghwa sounded insane, yet kept his stance steady, his hold on the flashlight firmer. "Then something shifted. I started to see more, crave more, until I couldn't take it anymore. I'm here to let you know that though I might look like Daphne, I am no nymph tonight. I will channel whatever energy I can from Apollo to make you mine, and whatever tree you turn into, make it something sweet, for I would like to keep it till death do us part."

   Hongjoong was too calm about this; the only outward signs were his shaking hands and sweaty brow, but internally, he was rather collected after being told he would be hunted until he learned to like this man. The concept was terrifying, illegal even, but if the universe chose him, whatever the gods bestowed him with, then this has to mean something larger than completing a twisted myth. He was a piece in a much larger game, and hell, his opponent was hot as fuck, let the man indulge in a toxic situationship, it never hurt anyone. Well, not terribly, anyway.

   After what felt like centuries, Hongjoong responded, "Since we're rewriting this story, can we include that Apollo was respecting of Daphne's boundaries and wishes? That a no is a no?"

   "It's the least I could do for you, dearest. No pressure, no harassing." Seonghwa dipped and swung out his arm, giving Hongjoong a delicious view of his back and exposed hip. He was feeling warm.

   "Thank you. And since I'm Daphne now, am I doing a good job at resisting your temptations?"

   Hongjoong was trying something, experimenting, you could say. If this was his new normal, why not press some of the buttons?

   Seonghwa smirked, a wolffish slash of his mouth. "You're good, I'll say, coming from the statue herself. Would you like to tally how many days until that sexy resolve crumbles?"

   The younger shrugged, feeling playful. "Go right ahead, it might surprise you." Seonghwa's eyes flashed. "Quick question: why did the roles reverse?"

   "I wish I could give you a better answer, but I don't have a clue, which is quite rich given the amount of time I've had to myself," Seonghwa said, a sarcastic lilt to his voice.

   "Maybe the universe got bored?" Hongjoong offered, catching the older's attention that slipped to hop around the other statues. His coppery eyes light up. "I mean, I admit to being a pretty horrible Apollo, given that it's been six months and I've made little progress."

   "Now, I wouldn't say that..." Seonghwa lulled, tying his hands behind his back and ambling back to his pedestal. Hongjoong almost went after him, the feeling a strange itch along his arms. Maybe that dastardly arrow is still working?

   "What? And don't tell me you've been a better Daphne because staying a statue is basically the equivalent of turning into a tree, so you're already admitting you don't love me, meaning this story was over the second it began."

   Seonghwa hummed and ran his hand along the base, his base. "You bring up a good point, yet I don't think it matters." He looked up at Hongjoong, held his awestruck stare. "We each have an Apollo and a Daphne within us: someone that yearns until the object of our fascination is destroyed and someone that can't help but be different. A god and a nymph, it's up to us what card we decide to play."

   The older beckoned Hongjoong over, dipping a hand into his blonde hair and retrieving a waxy leaf. Seonghwa gave it a chaste kiss before taking the younger's palm and placing it in the middle, dropping his flashlight back into its holster. The guard curled his fingers around it and both men stared at each other for a second. Or two, Hongjoong was losing count, for he smelt so...different than he imagined. Sharp, warm, almost spicy. Pepper.

   "Until next time, my precious Daphne."

   "Only if you can catch me, Apollo."

   Seonghwa climbed onto the foundation, gave him one last glance, and then in a blink, he was a statue again. Simple as that, yet it left Hongjoong with so much. This wasn't real, but the leaf in his hand was glossy, the perfume in the air musky, so he had to believe something.

   He believed this might just be another myth.

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AWOOO FUCK this is good

stop trying to reference greek mythology challenge FAILED 😋

till next time <3