Chapter Text
The roses were all Mark had ever known. His eyes had first opened upon the endless scarlet fields, and his first breaths had touched his lungs with air that was thick and sweet. The soil had clung to his skin as he rose, drinking in the deep blue sky and the rows and rows of roses that stretched up to meet it. He hadn’t known what they meant, at first, and had spent his days wandering, knowing he should’ve been looking for something but not being able to grasp what it was.
As the sun had sunk into the horizon, he’d knelt beside one of them. Its petals were soft and delicate between his timid fingers, but he was shocked to find vicious thorns lining the stem, pulling blood from his skin that matched their velvet blossoms. He’d slept with an ache in his chest and a faint burn in his thumb, body pressed into the cool soil as each breath floated up to the stars.
Now, he knew to stay awake a bit longer, to wait for the moon to bathe his scarlet world in silver and dim the vivid curls of petals to a shade that didn’t sear his eyes and bring their angry blaze to his dreams. He sat under the blanket of stars, small under a sky as vast as the fields around him.
The ache in his chest, which he suppressed during the day with searching eyes and purposeful footsteps, returned as he waited. Most nights, Doyoung visited him just before the moon reached its peak in the sky, and left when it began its steady descent. Some nights, he never came at all, and Mark’s chest burned so brightly that he couldn’t sleep. He hated those nights.
Doyoung settled behind him soundlessly, eyes roaming the blooming fields and mouth twisted in the hint of guilt that he always seemed to carry lately.
“Thank you,” he said, just as he did every night that he came to sit with Mark for a few precious minutes. Some nights, the words were enough to ease the ache, but Mark had spent the last two nights alone.
“Do any of them remember me?” he asked, digging his fingers into the soil as if they could grow roots.
Doyoung’s gaze dropped from the stars to his hands, clasped in his lap. “Sometimes.”
His voice shivered, and he swallowed heavily after saying the word. Mark’s heart fell.
“They don’t ever have anything good to say, do they.”
Doyoung sighed. “It’s not that, it’s just, they only know you as the person who, you know, killed them.”
Mark hated the hot tears pooling in his eyes, and he raised his forever lowered stare to peer at Doyoung’s face. “But I have to! You’ve always told me, that they can’t all stay forever, and the withered ones are supposed to be ready! Why aren’t they ever ready, Doyoung?”
Doyoung stayed silent, though Mark saw his eyes tighten. Mark’s own eyes were wet, cheeks soaked with tears and lips trembling with the force of his sobs.
“Why do they get to leave? Why- Why do they get to go, up there, while I’m stuck here?”
Doyoung winced, and Mark’s pleading stare sharpened to a glare when he saw tears forming in the other’s eyes. Why should he cry, when he was able to pass in and out of Mark’s scarlet prison with ease, when he spent his days surrounded with life and love? Why should he cry, when he had everything that Mark had ever wanted?
Doyoung rose to his feet, and Mark followed, gulping down the tears clumping at the back of his throat. His hand darted out to grasp Doyoung’s wrist as he tried to walk away, the chill of loneliness overpowering the envy dripping in his heart.
“Please don’t go. You- You never came last night. Or the night before. Can’t you stay a bit longer?” Mark rasped, the sound of his voice reminiscent of the way that the air rustled the roses at dusk.
Doyoung turned in Mark’s hold, a tear falling down his cheek. He pulled the boy into a hug, resting his cheek on his head and running a shaky hand through his hair. Mark froze in his hold, unfamiliar with the heat and safety that came from the embrace.
“I’m sorry,” Doyoung whispered, and then he was gone.
Mark wrapped his own arms around his waist, but no matter how tightly he held himself, it wasn’t the same.
Doyoung was the only other person Mark had ever known. He’d interrupted Mark’s aimless wandering a few days after he’d woken up, but he’d been different, back then.
Mark had run up to him, hope billowing in his chest and a smile shining under his eyes, a torrent of questions waiting to spill from his lips, only for Doyoung to jerk back from him with a frown. Mark had shrunk under his piercing gaze, desperate for the approval of the only person who had broken his solitude.
“You have to pick them, you know.” He’d sounded annoyed, disappointed in Mark before the boy could even begin to understand why.
“What do you mean?”
“The roses. You’re supposed to take care of them.”
Mark flinched when he raised his voice. “But, what am I supposed to do?”
“Pick them! When they look like they’re on their way out, pick them. It’ll make sure the healthy ones can grow well,” he explained, turning to the rows of roses around them and searching for an example. “Like this one.”
He gestured towards a flower whose petals drooped, blossom hunched over the ground. “The ones that look like this. Pick them. That’s why you’re here.”
Mark’s eyes had gone wide at the words. That’s why you’re here . There was a purpose in them, a reason for his existence, a tether in the terrible expanse that he’d found himself in.
Doyoung had frowned again at the smile that lit up Mark’s face.
“What is it?”
Mark shook his head, unable to stop grinning. “It’s just, nice to have something to do, I suppose. I wasn’t really sure what to do with myself in the past couple of days.”
Doyoung’s face had gone carefully blank, an expression Mark became familiar with over the years. He’d nodded before turning away, ripping the ground from under Mark’s feet.
“Wait!” he’d called out in a panic.
Doyoung paused, but didn’t turn back. “What?”
“Well, um, will you be coming back?”
“If you’d like me to.”
Mark fidgeted and looked down at his feet. “That, that would be nice. It’s just, it’s kind of lonely out here. And, I think it will be better, now that I know what I’m supposed to do, but it would still be nice if you could come back somehow. You’re the only one who’s been here.”
Doyoung’s shoulders had visibly tensed, his head ducking. “I’ll be back tonight,” he’d said, and vanished.
Mark turned to the wilting rose, kneeling beside it and carefully cradling it’s heavy head in his palm. Mindful of the thorns, he gripped its brittle stem and pulled, ripping it from the ground. It had taken more force than he’d expected, and he’d accidentally crushed some of the fragile petals in the process. He’d supposed it was an art he would have to perfect.
He stood up and brushed off his knees, ready to search for the next withering blossom. And then the air had shimmered, a ripple in whatever reality he inhabited, and a woman appeared in front of him.
Mark had stared at her in shock, unable to believe his luck in being able to meet not one, but two people that day. He’d only broken out of his stupor when she stumbled back, face paling and thin trails of tears cutting into her face.
“Is everything alright?” he’d asked, desperate for someone to stay this time. “Is there something I can do?”
She had shook her head softly before staring at the wisp of a rose in his hands.
“This one’s almost dead, that’s why I picked it. It’s my job to take care of all of the roses here. Look, there’s so many beautiful ones! I can pick one for you, if you’d like.”
She had brought a trembling hand to her lips before she vanished, leaving Mark with nothing but brittle petals and rotten thorns. He’d stared at them for a while, remembering how pale her crystalline tears and ashen face had been against his blood red fields.
And then he had continued on, scouring the hills for a blemished leaf or a curling petal. By nightfall, he had collected an impressive pile of wilted roses. His eyes ached from peering into the scarlet expanse all day, and his fingers were stained and sore from thorns.
For the first time, Mark felt satisfied, as if he had accomplished something. He imagined Doyoung would be impressed with his work, that he might stay longer than a few words this time. Mark had also met several people throughout the day, though like Doyoung, they never lingered. Most of them seemed confused, staring out at the rows upon rows of roses with a faraway look in their eyes.
He had always asked them questions — who are you? where are you going? can you take me with you? — but only one of them had responded, and Mark preferred to forget his anguished cries. The others had only pushed him to wander further, to search even harder, for even these wisps of people were company, and Mark hated nothing more than being alone.
When Doyoung arrived, Mark had immediately shown him the results of his hard work. Upon seeing the pile of wilting stalks and crumpled blossoms, Doyoung had looked sick, and left without saying a word.
Mark shivered at the memory, cursing himself for being so ignorant. He hated to remember the horror twisting Doyoung’s face on that night, so many years ago. He hated to think that Doyoung was still sickened by the thought of Mark passing his days by tugging at rotting stems and stacking their remains like trophies.
Maybe that was why even after all this time, he rarely looked Mark in the face. Maybe it was a small mercy, hiding his disgust towards the boy who could only destroy the world of beauty he’d been gifted.
After that fateful day, when Mark had destroyed any rose short of perfection, Doyoung had returned explain that each rose held a life inside. He had told Mark through gritted teeth that all of the people he saw were souls, making their way up to the heavens and on to whatever lurked beyond them.
He’d assured Mark that the withered roses were ready to be cleared away, to allow for new life to bloom, but even now, after years pulling soul after soul from their body, Mark didn’t think that anyone was ready. They all seemed to know, when their foggy gazes landed on him and the dying blossom in his palms, that he was at fault. And although many of them were peaceful, they all held a heavy sadness in their faraway eyes.
When Mark rose the next morning, he could barely remember the warmth of Doyoung’s hug. He basked in the sun, the soil warm beneath his toes, but nothing felt right. The only thing he could do was wander on, gaze down on the ruby blossoms and heart heavy with solitude.
He was more careful now, inspecting each petal and leaf before giving a testing pull, seeing how firmly rooted it was. Only the roses who were soft beneath his fingers and who almost slipped from the soil ended up strewn along the ground. It was rare that a soul spoke to him, but he still waited for each one to appear, just in case.
As the sun began to set, he wondered if Doyoung would still visit him that night. He wondered why the other bothered visiting at all. Mark’s sole purpose was to tend to his fields, to provide a smooth transition between the realities outside of his own.
And so he wandered the fields a bit later than usual, until his shadow had disappeared under the moonlight and each rose was reduced to the same muted burgundy. Doyoung appeared earlier, standing in front of him and meeting his stare head on. The eye contact was unnerving, leaving Mark feeling exposed and vulnerable.
Doyoung took a step towards him, and for once Mark could clearly read the guilt painting his features.
“It’s my fault that you’re here,” Doyoung started. “This used to be my job. Part of it, at least.”
Mark’s heart was numb. Doyoung swallowed heavily.
“There are twelve of us, up there. And we used to have to come here every day and pick a few roses, whenever we could, to keep the balance. It was just the way things had always been. And it wasn’t as bad for us, because we could come whenever we wanted, and we split the work between us, but we all hated it. And one day, we thought, what if someone else came here? Just to pick the roses?” He finally looked away from Mark, eyes glassy, and shook his head.
Mark was still as stone in the moonlight.
“And so I ended up picking one last rose, not even a dying one, and we decided that that person would stay here and do it all for us. See, Taeil minds the door, so he did something so that you couldn’t go anywhere but here. Forever. And, that person ended up being you. And I know now how wrong it was, to do that, but there’s nothing I can do to change it now.”
So Mark had been a soul once, and Doyoung had uprooted him from his blissful life. Mark had spend hours upon hours thinking back to those first waking moments. Even now, as he trudged through his rows of roses, he pondered the empty cavern of his memory, head filled with knowledge of everything but himself. He’d come to convince himself that it was meant to be that way, that he had been brought into being to tend to the roses.
Doyoung had said it was his purpose, but Mark realized that it wasn’t, and it never had been. Mark had been human once, with a wealth of experience behind him and an eternity ahead of him. He’d been blessed with an ability that he would never have access to again, something so uniquely mortal — the ability to live with the sole purpose of living.
And Doyoung had been the one to rip it all away from him.
“That’s why you thank me, every night.” Mark’s gaze was glassy in the icy moonlight, eyes trained on a horizon that was the same no matter how far he walked, and would always stay that way.
Doyoung eyes widened before he composed his expression with a heavy swallow. “I- Yeah, of course, you- you’re making everything so much better for me, for all of us. I’m just sorry that we never stopped to think about how horrible it would be to do it all alone.”
Mark nodded, mind hazy.
He remembered a time when he had plucked at the petals of a vibrant rose, rubbing one between his fingers and piling them in his palms. Doyoung had been furious when he found out, demanding that Mark pull the poor naked flower from the ground and put it out of its misery.
“You told me, once, that there was nothing worse than taking someone’s life away from them without letting them truly die, that there was nothing more cruel than to force a husk of a human through an eternity of suffering,” Mark repeated the words from ages ago.
Doyoung’s face was stricken. “When you were peeling the petals.”
Mark nodded. “Isn’t that what you’ve done to me?”
As Doyoung stared at him, face twisted with anguish, he found that he couldn’t summon any of the anger or desperation from the night before. He couldn’t find the energy to do anything but stare blankly at the only one who had ever cared for him, now that he was also the reason behind Mark’s suffering.
But the more he thought about it, the more he understood. Mark knew the feeling of hating every coming day more than any other, and even the fraction of that feeling that Doyoung had felt would be enough to make anyone want to force the responsibility on to someone else. Except Mark didn’t have that option. Doyoung had experienced far more of eternity than Mark had, and he had seen far more of reality than Mark could even imagine.
“Please go.” He ignored the part of him that wanted nothing more than for Doyoung to stay, because he had fallen prey to the hope that burned in his chest, and he knew now that nothing could ever change, and if he didn’t put out the flames soon he’d be left with an empty ribcage and charred bones.
Doyoung’s lips tightened, and Mark wondered if he knew. “I’ll be back tomorrow night.”
He turned away, and Mark’s weak heart crumbled.
Just before he disappeared, form blurring and vanishing, he paused. His shoulders slumped in a way that Mark wasn’t used to, head ducked to expose the defeated curve in the back of his neck. His fists clenched at his sides.
“Thank you, Mark,” he whispered, and then he was gone.
Mark collapsed, knees digging into the earth and tears cascading down his cheeks, pooling between his thorn-pricked fingers and settling into the weary lines of his palms. For so long, he had clung to the idea that these fields of roses, this world of lives waiting to die at his hand, belonged to him. That every bone in his body, every inch of his skin, had been built for this one purpose.
But Doyoung could have chosen any rose. He’d even said that the one he picked wasn’t wilting. So why had it been Mark? Why had he been condemned to this monochromatic life, red with roses and blood and pain? Why was it that he was only allowed to touch death? Was he undeserving of the brilliant life that flourished around him? Would he have to pass his entire miserable existence without once knowing how vivacious beauty felt under his fingertips?
He had tried, once, to pick a perfect rose. It’s stem had been firm and proud, ruby petals lined with the softest velvet. He had cradled it in his palms, savoring the heady warmth that soaked his lifeless skin.
It had disintegrated in a moment, collapsing in on itself in a gruesome corpse of brittle leaves and rotten petals. The soul that had appeared had stayed for longer than usual, wailing at the sky and cursing the boy kneeling at its feet in sorrow. He’d never touched a perfect rose again, for the routine pain of killing a dying rose was nothing compared to the anguish of ruining such vibrant beauty.
He would give anything to be able to hold life within his hands without harming it, to have even the tiniest piece of a dazzling spirit to call his own. Even Doyoung, who shone brighter than anything he’d ever seen, couldn’t look at Mark without being reminded of what he was. And besides, Mark’s entire world was a fraction of Doyoung’s. Though they were the most precious moments of Mark’s life, the delicate minutes he spent with Mark under the moonlight were probably a chore for the other.
Next time, Mark should tell him to stop coming back. The thought alone made more sobs wrack his quivering body, but he knew it was the truth. Now that he had the full story, it was obvious that Doyoung only came around to make up for his guilt, to pay back the endless pain he had cut into Mark’s being. And Mark couldn’t bear the idea that he was hurting the only person he’d ever have the luxury of meeting.
His purpose, no matter how it had settled upon him, was to bring death. He didn’t deserve Doyoung’s company, and he had been greedy to keep asking the other for more.
Mark curled up in a bed of thorns, unable to stop his gasping breaths and muddy tears. Once, his purpose had empowered him. Now, he condemned himself to his pain, only hoping that he could stop it from digging its claws into anyone else.
Mark woke to a sun already high in the sky. His skin was tight from his tears, and he felt cold despite the warm golden rays slipping over him. A light breeze ruffled the fields, and Mark watched his roses dance. One of them bowed heavily, graying leaves tired and thorny stalk unable to stand tall against the current of air. Mark pulled himself to his feet and stumbled towards it.
His body carried him away before the soul could appear, steps steady. His eyes were open but unseeing, and he walked for miles without stopping for a single wilted rose. He’d thought he’d resigned himself to this, but he was powerless to do anything but wander on.
The sun sank low, cradled between the soft hills of the horizon and spilling thick golden light over a valley. Mark stumbled, feet tangling together and knees giving out. He barely felt himself hit the ground, but as his palms met the earth, one of his fingers burned with pain.
He’d fallen on a rose, a tall strong soul with full scarlet petals and shining emerald leaves. The stalk was bent harshly, completely severed from the base. Blood welled up in the scrape along his finger, and he watched it build and spill to his knuckle.
Was he only capable of hurt? Were his hands truly meant for nothing but death? He stared at the fallen rose, somehow even more beautiful than all of the others, and mourned the life that it had held. He wished he could sink into the earth, hide his harmful existence and pray that the soil would shield the world from him.
The blood on his finger slid to the back of his hand, curving to his wrist before losing momentum.
“Are you alright?” a voice asked, soft and bright and unlike anything Mark had ever heard. “That looks nasty.”
A boy stood before him, illuminated in the setting sun, and Mark felt his breath still in his lungs. His hair was lighter than Doyoung’s, and it caught the sun in a way that captivated Mark. It curled over his forehead, some of it falling over his dark eyes. Mark was astonished by how open they were, unguarded in a way that Doyoung’s had never been. His brow was furrowed with concern, but there was none of the ancient pain that always lurked in Doyoung’s worried gazes, only something purer.
The boy knelt down, confusion further twisting his soft features at Mark’s lack of response. Mark followed his eyes to see the murdered rose, and he felt his gut twist. Of course, this beautiful rose, never meant for Mark’s hands, would hold the most beautiful person he’d ever seen.
“Ah, it was the thorns, wasn’t it. I would’ve thought you’d have it figured out, they’re everywhere! How do you even manage them all?” The boy looked out over the rolling scarlet hills, awe glittering under his thick eyelashes.
“I, I pick all of the bad ones. Well, not, not the bad ones, but the ones that aren’t, um, doing very well.” Mark hastily sat up, fumbling fingers wiping the dark soil from his skin.
The boy nodded. “Well then,” he gestured towards the blood staining Mark’s hand, “you must be pretty used to that by now.”
Mark blinked at him and shrugged. “It doesn’t happen very often.”
“I hope not. Really, what is this place, though? It looks like they go on forever!” He said it with a smile, blissfully unaware of what endless fields of roses could feel like.
“They do.”
The boy snorted. Mark froze as he picked up the broken rose, his rose, and held it up in the syrupy sunlight. “At least they’re pretty!”
Mark marvelled at the way the rose stayed firm in his grip, at the way this boy’s fingers didn’t steal the life from it’s frail blossom. He watched the boy consider the flower, holding it up to the horizon. He watched his eyes darken in an expression that Mark was all too familiar with.
He wasn’t sure how, but they always knew.
“I’m dead, aren’t I?” he asked as the sinking sun cast a shadow over them.
Mark nodded. “They’re not just roses.”
He didn’t bother standing up. It wouldn’t take long for this boy to understand, and then he’d be off like all the others, cursing the one who crushed his rose and stole his life.
“Is that why you pick the dying ones?” The boy’s voice was heavier now, and Mark hated the way that all he could do was take the light away from people. Even this boy, who shone brighter than anything Mark had ever seen, would dim in Mark’s presence.
“It means they’re ready.” Mark hesitated. “Yours- Your rose wasn’t like that. I just, I made a mistake and I broke it and now you’re dead.”
The boy stayed silent.
“I’m sorry,” Mark said, and returned to his endless wandering. Regardless of the boy’s reaction, Mark knew it would hurt. No matter what he might say, he would still move on, drift away from Mark’s world of roses and on to the next stage of his journey, and Mark would be stuck in his prison with only the memory of such dazzling life in his presence.
Mark walked even as the stars began to twinkle in the sky above him, and he wondered if the boy was already dancing among them.
He still hadn’t picked any roses. What if another beautiful life was woven into their roots? What if the boy was watching him from above, waiting for him to destroy someone else?
“Hey!”
Mark shook the voice from his head. He shouldn’t have let this one soul, this one life, get under his skin. He continued walking
“Hey, stop!” Warm fingers circled Mark’s wrist, and he stared at the boy they belonged to in utter disbelief. His smooth cheeks were flushed, and his breathes were heavy. “I was afraid I’d never find you. The roses, they really do go on forever, don’t they?”
Mark stared back at him, eyes wide. He couldn’t think beyond the heat of the fingers around his brittle wrist, past the rich eyes peering at him.
“I’m Donghyuck,” the boy said. “And, I’m going to be honest, I can’t really get over the idea that you killed me, but I understand that it was an accident, and you’re the only person I’ve seen here, and all of these roses might have seemed pretty at first but it’s really lonely and a bit scary, so.”
He dropped Mark’s wrist and took a step back when he finished speaking, fiddling with the edge of his sleeve.
“I’m Mark,” he responded, and his voice sounded distant even in his own ears.
“Well, hello, Mark. Can we stick together in the future? You seem to know more about this place, and I hate the idea that there’s nothing out there but roses.”
Mark couldn’t get over the fact that this vivid being hadn’t flickered out yet. He was overwhelmed by the pure energy before him, so bright it was almost blinding.
“How are you still here?”
Donghyuck frowned. “What do you mean?”
Mark gulped, gesturing futilely. “A soul appears every time I pick a rose, but usually they sort of, disappear after a bit. No one- no one’s ever stuck around for this long.”
“You mean, I was supposed to go somewhere?”
Mark wanted to keep the words trapped behind his lips, wanted to keep Donghyuck with him, but he was too bright for Mark’s dismal world. “Souls always go up there, in the sky. That’s where everyone else is. You should probably be there too. With them.”
He refused to look at Donghyuck’s face, to watch him peer upwards with excitement and leave Mark behind without a second thought.
“Why can’t you go?”
Mark sighed wearily. He’d asked Doyoung the same question countless times. “I have to stay here. Someone needs to tend to the roses.”
“Are you the only one down here?”
Mark winced at the incredulity in Donghyuck’s voice.
“Yes. It’s better that way.”
“That can’t be- Surely you have some company?”
Mark shrugged. “There’s one person, who visits at night. But, the rose-picking — it’s not a job I would wish on anyone.”
Mark didn’t remember closing his eyes, but they flew open when Donghyuck took his hands in his own. His eyes, when they met Mark’s, were narrowed in determination, something blazing in their depths.
“Well that doesn’t seem very fair. I’m sure there’s a way out somewhere, we’ll just have to find it.” Donghyuck grinned at him, and Mark had never seen anything like it.
“We?”
“Me and you! Didn’t you just say that no one else is here?”
“You don’t want to leave? Go on, wherever it is that souls go?”
Donghyuck shrugged. “I don’t know where that is, or what’s there, or who’s there. At least here I have good company.”
Mark was reeling. Donghyuck… wanted to stay? With Mark ? He had never imagined anyone willingly staying with him, much less someone as bright as Donghyuck. Even in the pale moonlight, he was as warm and golden as the sun, and Mark couldn’t help but be completely entranced by him.
“Come on, it’s dark, and you might be used to all of these spiky plants, but I’m going to hurt myself if we keep walking. Where do you sleep?” Donghyuck asked as he dropped Mark’s hands, peering around them.
“I usually just find an open spot and, I don’t know, settle down. But, we have to wait for Doyoung first,” Mark explained. He led Donghyuck to the top of a hill, high enough that it felt like the starry sky was wrapped around them.
“He’s the one you mentioned, earlier,” Donghyuck mused as they sat down.
Mark couldn’t tear his eyes from the other’s face. The stars glinted in his eyes, which were wide with wonder. The curve of his mouth was soft, gentle, and his skin was dotted with moles.
Donghyuck must have felt the weight of his gaze, because he side-eyed Mark with a quirk of his lips. “What?”
Mark’s cheeks flushed. “Sorry, I just, I’ve never seen anything like you. You’re so… alive .”
Donghyuck raised an eyebrow. “I’m quite literally dead, I think.”
“No, no, it’s not that. It’s a different kind of life. Something… vibrant, even here. It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”
Donghyuck stared at him, seemingly at a loss for words. His ears flushed, and Mark worried that he’d said something wrong. He fiddled with his fingers, terrified of going too far and pushing Donghyuck to leave him.
“Well, I, uh, I’m sure if you’ve seen lots of souls. I can’t be all that different.”
Mark shook his head. He raised his gaze to meet Donghyuck’s, looking him square in the eye. “I’ve seen millions of souls, and none of them have even come close.”
The flush in Donghyuck’s ears spread to his cheeks, and a smile tugged at his lips. Mark basked in the warmth of it, feeling it seep into his bones and ease the ache in his chest in the same way that Doyoung’s hug had. It lingered even as Donghyuck’s face fell, features tightening into something more severe.
“You said millions of souls. How long have you been here, Mark?”
Mark hugged his knees to his chest. “Longer than you can imagine.”
He’d stopped keeping track after a few years. Time didn’t matter when every day was the same, and would always be that way. But now, he supposed, now there was something different. Something special .
“Where were you, before?” Donghyuck’s voice had gotten quieter in the stillness of the night, and Mark hated the undertones of sadness he heard in it.
“I can’t remember,” he replied. He thought of what Doyoung had said, about him being a soul, just like Donghyuck. “Do you remember your life, before being here?”
“Sort of? I have memories, but they don’t feel like my memories. Or, it doesn’t feel like that was my life, I guess. It’s detached, in a way,” Donghyuck explained.
They settled into their thoughts, a comfortable silence slipping over them. Mark wondered if he had, at some point, remembered his life, and had forgotten. He wondered if Doyoung knew anything of his life. He wondered if he had left anyone behind, and if they had encountered him when they died and appeared in a bed of roses.
“You were crying, when I first saw you, and not because of the thorns.” Donghyuck’s voice broke the silence.
Mark pulled his knees tighter to his chest, burying his face in them. He’d been trying not to think about it, to focus on Donghyuck’s warmth rather than the raw pain in his chest, but his eyes began to burn with tears once again.
“Doyoung told me that I used to be a soul,” he started, voice muffled. “The people, up there, whoever they are, they didn’t want to have to pick the roses anymore, so they made me do it. It was completely random, I was just-” His words gave way to sobs, and he squeezed himself as hard as he could in an effort to suppress them. His gut twisted at the idea of Donghyuck’s happiness being tainted with pity and sadness for Mark, of his vibrant life growing weary in the stench of Mark’s death.
An arm wound around his shoulders, rubbing soft circles into it. Mark tensed at the unfamiliar contact before melting into it, leaning into Donghyuck’s side in an effort to to feel as much of his warmth as he could. It was different, crying into someone. Letting go of his sadness in a warm, safe embrace.
“Mark, I’m- Mark?”
Mark jerked to sit up straight at Doyoung’s voice, Donghyuck’s arm falling from his shoulder. He hastily wiped his face and stood, Donghyuck doing the same.
“You must be Doyoung,” Donghyuck greeted him, though something firm lurked in his bright voice.
Doyoung glanced between Mark and Donghyuck, mouth open and eyes wide. “How long has he been here?”
Mark bit his lip. He’d known it wasn’t right for Donghyuck to stay, but he didn’t think he could make it if he left. “A while.”
Doyoung frowned, still getting a handle on the situation. “Well, um, if you’re having trouble moving on, I can bring you up.”
Mark stared at his feet. If he watched Donghyuck go, he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from trying to make him stay.
He flinched when warm fingers took his hand, weaving their fingers together and giving a light squeeze.
“I’m good here, actually. I think Mark needs some company,” Donghyuck replied, voice even firmer than before.
Mark felt a smile creep over his face, bunching up his cheeks and pressing into his eyes. He peered out from under his hair to find Doyoung watching them, his gaze calculating. Donghyuck squeezed his hand again, and this time Mark tightened his own fingers in return.
Doyoung stepped forward, eyes back on Mark. “And what makes you think that?”
Mark was close enough that he heard Donghyuck huff. “He’s been stuck here forever, basically! And I’ll be honest, I’m not entirely sure how this all works, but it seems like he’s doing all of your dirty work while you just get to go off and do whatever you want.”
Mark held his breath. Nothing like this had ever happened before. He had no idea how any of this worked either, he realized. Was Donghyuck not allowed to be here? Would something happen if he stayed?
And then Doyoung smiled, his entire body relaxing in a way that Mark had never seen before. Mark decided then that smiles were the most beautiful thing, more beautiful than all of his roses combined. Doyoung’s smile was wide, and lit up his entire face, making him look younger, as if the burden of a thousand years had been lifted from his shoulder.
And though Mark couldn’t see his own smile, he loved the warmth that bubbled in his chest when he let himself grin. Though nothing compared to Donghyuck’s smile, and the pure starlight that it radiated.
Doyoung’s eyes went glassy, but Mark could feel that he too had let go of some of his sadness. “What’s your name?”
“Donghyuck.” The reply was instant.
“Well, Donghyuck, it’s my duty to give the souls what they want,” Doyoung said with a sly grin.
“So he can stay?” Mark cut in, taking a step towards Doyoung.
He nodded, and Mark couldn’t stop himself from wrapping his arms around him, burying his smile in his shoulder. Doyoung held him just as tight, and Mark wondered how they had never hugged in all of their years together. Hugs were magical .
When they parted, both had teary eyes and brilliant smiles.
“I can’t refuse him. And I’m glad that someone decided to stay with you, Mark. You deserve it,” Doyoung explained, and Mark was shocked by how fond the words were.
He turned to Donghyuck, the sole source of all of this newfound warmth in his life, and found the other glaring at Doyoung, lips thin.
“If you care about Mark so much, why have you never done anything to help him? He hasn’t just been here for a couple of days, he’s been here for years, and from what I’ve gathered, you’ve been here for all that time too. So why was he alone here for so long?” Donghyuck jabbed an accusing finger towards Doyoung, and Mark watched the familiar guilt invade his eyes. He almost wished Donghyuck could take the words back, but even though he hated seeing Doyoung in pain, he needed to know.
“I don’t have much of a say, anymore. After word got out about what I did to Mark, I was pushed to the bottom. It means I get to slip through the gate and visit Mark, but it also means that I don’t have much power to help. I can’t change anything, I can only guide things to where they are meant to be, and souls are meant to be wherever they desire,” Doyoung explained.
“So you’re saying that no one before me ever even considered staying? No one even thought to ask?”
Mark curled in on himself. “Most souls can’t even talk to me. And the ones that do aren’t very friendly.”
“Mark has the most difficult job of any of us, up here,” Doyoung stated. “Many of us, who used to bear the same burden, have forgotten it. At first, I just wanted to get Mark on track. I was never supposed to get attached, but now, Mark, I consider you as one of the closest people to me. I know I’m not the best at expressing it, but we’re family Mark, and I can’t describe how happy I am that you won’t be alone anymore.”
Doyoung glanced upward, and Mark knew the time was coming.
“If he chooses to stay,” Mark began, needing to know one last thing before letting Doyoung go, “will he ever be able to change his mind? Can he ever leave, or will be here forever, like me?”
Doyoung’s eyes narrowed as they slid to focus on Donghyuck. “He can change his mind.”
“But I won’t,” Donghyuck declared, and Mark felt another smile spill over him at how sure he sounded.
“You better not,” Doyoung replied. He ruffled Mark’s hair and laid a hand on his shoulder. “Thank you, Mark.”
And then it was just Mark and Donghyuck, a jaded spirit glowing in the pure moonlight and a vibrant soul glowing golden. They curled between the lines of roses, their roses, blanketed by the midnight sky.
“Mark, I was thinking, about everything you told me and what Doyoung said, and I’ve thought this from the start, but, I hope you understand that you don’t deserve any of this,” Donghyuck murmured. He had shifted to face Mark, and his eyes were deeper than the sky above them.
Mark swallowed heavily. “How do you know?”
Mark had gotten lucky today, possibly the luckiest he would ever be, but it didn’t change the fact that he didn’t deserve the beauty currently at his feet. He was unworthy of this life in front of him, so vibrant that he could only take as much as he could get.
“You’re good, Mark,” Donghyuck said. His voice was more serious than Mark had ever heard it, and he held Mark’s gaze in his own. “You’re so good, I knew it from the moment I saw you. And you deserve the best because of it.”
Mark had thought the cavern etched into his chest by years upon years of pain was bottomless, but it wasn’t deep enough to hold the happiness taking root in his chest, and it overflowed. He couldn’t contain the smile stretching his lips, the flush in his cheeks. He took Donghyuck’s hands in his own, and found the same expression on the other’s face, beaming back at him like a thousand sunrises.
If he could cause that, maybe he was worth something. If Donghyuck, the brightest being in the universe, had chosen him, maybe he did deserve something more than his fields of roses.
He melted under Donghyuck’s warm gaze, feeling as if everything inside of him was slotting into place.
“That’s why I got you.”