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“No,” says Aesop, for what feels like the hundredth time in a row. “I can’t take you.”
“But--!” Joseph protests.
“No,” repeats Aesop. “There is no room for negotiation.”
Aesop is standing, immobile, one leg resting on the head of his wooden ferry. There’s always some sort of incredulousness that follows whenever he sees Joseph again, the sort that renders him silent, half admiration that a mortal has even the nerve to speak to him, much less request a favor from Aesop, half in awe at the sheer stupidity of it all.
The cavern is gloomy, with barely any light to shine in at all. Water drips from somewhere above them and into the river behind Aesop.
How had Joseph managed to find the entrance to the Underworld in the first place, Aesop would never know.
Joseph inhaled, clearly exasperated. Then, seemingly determined, exhales through his teeth. “What would you be willing to accept as fare?”
There it was: the same question that Joseph had persistently come by, daily, to ask Aesop.
“I’ve heard that you accept gold,” continues Joseph. “Yet when I come to offer you all my life’s savings and my family heirlooms, you reject me--”
“I don’t know where you mortals came up with that,” mutters Aesop. “Whatever use would I have for it?”
“-- so I tried to pick up the lyre. Someone tried that a long time ago and succeeded,” Joseph glowers, handsome face twisting into a scowl, “but you claim that I have no musical talent--”
“It should be a crime for you to even touch an instrument,” mumbles Aesop.
“-- Inciting mass revolutions that ended in the deaths of dozens didn’t help either--”
Aesop made a face.
“-- neither did me threatening to swim to the other side. What is it that you will take?”
Aesop sighs, suddenly weary of their never-ending discussion. “Nothing,” he says.
The wooden boat bobs up and down river Styx cheerfully. Waves lap at the outsides of the boat, deceitfully innocent, but fortunately for Joseph and unfortunately for Aesop, Joseph was intelligent enough not to go too near to the water.
Once, when Aesop was new and very, very bad at his job, he had accidentally overloaded his ferry with human souls. His poor boat creaked and had dangerously wobbled from side to side, losing a couple of souls over the edge. Aesop and the other surviving spirits had clung onto the boat for dear life, watching as the drowned thrashed about the river, opening their mouths in voiceless screams as their undead flesh melted off their skeletons and were eventually submerged.
In Aesop’s defense, he had never been told the maximum number of souls he could carry in one trip. A small slap on the wrist by Luca later (physically, since Luca had a pretty weird sense of humour), Aesop had been cautious to never overwork his precious ferry again.
Joseph pouts at him, pink lips slightly puffing out. “Surely there’s something.”
There had been, Aesop knew, although he would admit it out loud.
He had been ferrying souls for a long time. Aesop himself wasn’t even sure how long it had been. Years and decades and eons, perhaps. The darkness of the Underworld made it impossible to tell when it was day or night. His life had started to blur, his existence reduced into performing a simple action. Aesop gradually had forgotten any other aspect of his life that wasn’t related to his job.
Hastur had told him once that it was his punishment for trying to act as a God of Death. Aesop doesn’t remember anything from when he was human.
It all was fairly simple. Wait atop his boat on the border of the Land of the Living, ensure a fair amount of passengers boarded, ferry them to the other side, and then to ferry himself alone, back to the border, only to repeat the same cycle all over again.
So when he had been waiting to depart from the shores of the living one day, only to realize that one of the souls trying to sneak on board was alive-- well, as startling as it had initially been, had put a bewildered halt to Aesop’s monotone routine.
It hadn’t taken long for Aesop to subdue the soul and send him back.
Aesop had dully thought that it was the end of it all.
Only for Joseph to appear the next day. And the day after the next. And the day after that.
At first, Aesop had been cold. He refused Joseph, sometimes not speaking a word to him at all. But Joseph didn’t give up. In fact, the more silent Aesop had been, the more determinedly loud Joseph was.
As much as Aesop was loath to admit, he had started to enjoy Joseph’s time with him. When he wasn’t begging to be taken to the Underworld, Joseph could make for a good conversational partner. The souls of the dead, who were moved silently and never spoke a word, made for bad company.
But as if Aesop would ever admit to Joseph he had been lonely.
“There isn’t,” Aesop deadpans.
Joseph frowns, and brushes a strand of his silky hair behind his ear. Distractedly, Aesop wonders if moonlight could ever replicate the same silver.
“Everyone has something they wish for. That includes you.”
Looking at Joseph’s clenched jaw and resolute expression, Aesop comes to a silent decision.
He’s come to understand Joseph after so long. Aesop knows that if he doesn’t give Joseph what he wants, to say Joseph would be down here every day for the rest of his life wouldn’t be an exaggeration.
And Aesop can’t let that happen.
Joseph’s brother may have passed. But what about Joseph’s other family members or closest friends? Future events that had never happened, potential situations the Fates had spun for him, or even-- Aesop’s heart gives a little twinge in pain at the thought-- Joseph’s future lover? Every moment Joseph spent with Aesop meant less time with the living.
The dead must never mix with the living. Simply speaking, Joseph had to leave. Aesop had to make him leave.
“There is one thing,” Aesop says, slowly. He hates how excitedly Joseph perks up at that.
Aesop’s plan is simple.
All he had to do was come up with an impossible task. A paradox. Something that would never be able to be fulfilled. Even if Joseph spent the rest of his life trying to fulfil it, he would at least spend it in the world of the living.
And technically, the task wouldn’t be a lie. Aesop was bored and lonely here. Would be, after Joseph leaves him.
“I want to experience how living feels again.”
It was the perfect plan. No power in the entire world, even the king of the gods himself, could resurrect a person without venturing into the Underworld first.
It was the perfect paradox. For Joseph to fulfil Aesop’s task, he would have to reach the Underworld, yet in order to reach the Underworld he would have to first fulfil Aesop’s task.
Aesop, feeling somewhat nervous, glances at Joseph for his reaction.
He expects Joseph to look completely lost. Perhaps worry. Or even anger, at the impossible task he had been given.
What Aesop doesn’t expect, however, is the tiny scrunch Joseph’s expression is making. Instead of looking defeated, Joseph looks intrigued. Almost like he’s already figured out a way to do so.
But that would be impossible. So Aesop continues to quietly stare back at him, mentally getting ready for him to leave.
“So,” Joseph says haughtily, breaking the silence, eyeing Aesop up and down, “I can use any method necessary, yes?”
The Underworld had one entrance. It would only ever have this entrance, where all deceased souls would have to go through. Even if Joseph were to look for another entrance, he would never be able to find it. It was just how it was, just like how there were the twelve gods that ruled the world or how there were three fates.
So Aesop shrugs. “Sure.”
Joseph goes quiet.
Almost suspiciously quiet. Aesop figures that it’s probably a mental breakdown or something since Joseph was probably used to always getting his way.
Using one of the oars to steady himself, Aesop busies himself to prepare the ferry to be on his way. Technically he doesn’t have any souls on board yet, but he doesn’t want to meet Joseph’s gaze.
A hand reaches out to him.
Aesop turns. “What are you--” He starts to say, but is stopped by something soft and warm pressing against his cheek.
Aesop freezes. Joseph is leaning over him, so closely that Aesop can see a glint of his blue eyes beneath his lowered lashes, so closely that Aesop can feel the heat radiating off his body.
Everything in Aesop screeches to a complete halt.
Joseph’s lips. Pressing against Aesop’s cheek while his hand rests on Aesop’s shoulder. Joseph, kissing Aesop.
A cheek kiss. It’s chaste, nothing else but the warmth of Joseph’s lips on Aesop’s skin. There’s just the slightest, barely any, hint of wetness on his lips.
And Aesop can’t help it.
Aesop…
Aesop flushes.
For a few seconds, they stay like that. Aesop is still frozen, one hand caught awkwardly in the midst of holding his oar. His other hand dangles uselessly, pressed against Joseph’s chest.
Then Joseph releases him, and steps back.
“There,” Joseph declares.
It takes a while for Aesop to catch up.
“Wh-- what?” Aesop stammers. The oar drops, cluttering back into the boat. “Why did you….”
Aesop raises a trembling hand to his cheek, bright red.
Joseph gives him a sideways glance. Then he huffs, sticking his hands across his chest defensively. “You asked for it.”
“What?” Aesop repeats, stupidly. If he had a heart right now, it would have been thundering in his chest.
“A living experience. Didn’t you ask to experience what it felt like to be alive?” Joseph shrugs and looks away, the faintest red blooming on his cheeks. “This counts, doesn’t it? Someone who’s dead can’t feel anything.”
Aesop gawks at Joseph, stunned.
There were so many flaws to his logic that Aesop was stupefied. Furthermore… at the back of his mind, the fact that Joseph had just kissed him hadn’t fully registered.
But try as he might, Aesop can’t form the words or think of a way to refute Joseph.
Joseph seems to have taken his silence for an answer, because he starts getting himself comfortable on the boat. “Great.”
The boat sways, and Aesop has to stop himself from stumbling into Joseph.
For a few seconds, Aesop wavers, hesitating. Joseph looks up at him expectantly.
“Well?” Joseph demands. “Are you going to complete your end of the bargain, then?”
It might have been out of pure embarrassment. Maybe it was Aesop slowly accepting the absurdity of it all, or maybe it was just Joseph’s sheer luck. Whatever the case, still humiliated, Aesop finds his hands starting to move.
Slowly, the ferry starts to depart from the shores of the living.
Joseph, now sensing the movement of the boat, seems content. He nervously looks around the gloom, but there’s nothing but darkness wherever he looks. Aesop knows from experience that the trip is a lot shorter than most expect it to be.
Anyone would be nervous in his place. The Underworld was where all souls eventually came to reside, and almost all that entered never left. Even if Joseph got to the other side, there was still no guarantee he would be able to find his brother’s soul or get to the other side alive.
Would this really be alright? Aesop panics.
Rules were rules. The living weren’t meant to mix with the dead. If the others found out…
Aesop’s mind drifts over to Luca. Well, maybe he wouldn’t be in too much trouble. He’d just have to hope that word never got out to Eli.
The River Styx was calm today. Aesop didn’t have to exert too much force to direct the ferry, which bobbled along the river easily.
Pausing in his rowing, Aesop looks back at Joseph. The Underworld was a terrifying place for most mortals. And even if it meant that Aesop would never be able to see Joseph ever again, he would rather Joseph get back to the Land of the Living with safety.
Dread pools at the bottom of his gut as Aesop imagines the different horrible deaths Joseph might have to face before even discovering his brother’s soul. Deaths that occurred within the Underworld were rare, but those cases were always treated as anomalies. Unnatural.
Before even realizing it, Aesop caught himself staring at Joseph’s lips. Heat rushes to his face, and he turns away, trying to hide his embarrassment, rowing furiously.
If he noticed anything, Joseph mercifully remained silent.
But Aesop has made up his mind. If he was going to land himself in trouble for bringing a mortal across the Styx anyway, Aesop would at least see to it that Joseph would return safely.
It doesn’t take long for them to reach the shores of the Underworld after that.
“We’re here,” announces Aesop, as he stills his oars. The ferry gives a gentle bump onto the sands, before making a complete stop.
Joseph looks up.
With the dark spires of Hastur’s castle in the distance, the fog, pitch black sky and the screams of the tortured from somewhere faraway, the Underworld seemed something right out of a fantasy story. The beach that Aesop had decided to drop Joseph off was empty, but even the dark glittering sand eluded hostility.
Aesop had deliberately chosen a quieter location to stop at, hoping that they didn’t run into any wayward souls or guards who might alert higher security.
“Well…” Joseph stands up, unsteady. Aesop doesn’t miss the way his shoulders tighten at the sights in front of him. “Thank you for the ride, I suppose.”
Joseph gives Aesop a charming smile.
Aesop looks away. He hears Joseph give an amused huff.
“I’ll be on my way, then.”
Aesop chews on his lip, watching Joseph start making his way over to the side of the boat. He waits for a second, and then another.
“Wait.” Aesop calls out.
Joseph turns.
“There are…” Aesop’s voice trails off. Not because he was hesitating, but rather Aesop was struggling to form words. “...a lot of things you aren’t aware of in the Underworld.”
“Are you offering to tell me, then?”
Aesop gulps.
“There is a catch involved, isn’t there?”
Aesop can hear the frown in his voice.
Aesop gathers up his courage for his next words. “It’s nothing too drastic. It’s just… the same offer as just now.” Aesop is aware of the furious blush that has suddenly made itself apparent on his face. “I would like to live again.”
Joseph raises his eyebrows.
Aesop is fully red now. He studies the wooden railings of the boat, feeling warm.
When the silence has stretched for too long, Aesop panics. “That was a joke--”
He’s stopped by Joseph, who tilts Aesop’s head up with a finger. Joseph steps closer to him, and it’s all Aesop can do in his power to avoid his eye contact. Joseph’s gaze feels heavy, glittering with something Aesop can’t decipher.
“Joseph--”
“You could be more truthful with me, you know,” purrs Joseph, slow and catlike. “All you wanted was another kiss, hm?”
Aesop freezes again. Then, he gives the tiniest of nods, a movement that was easy to miss.
“Come here.” Joseph pats the bench of the ferry.
Unsure of what he was asking of him, Aesop sits on the edge of the bench.
“Can I sit on your lap?” Joseph asks sweetly.
Aesop feels like he’s about to explode at any second. He stiffly nods again.
Aesop barely feels Joseph as he moves over to his side, and settles himself directly in front of Aesop. Joseph is so close to him again that Aesop can feel the warmth of Joseph’s breath on his face, but Aesop refuses to look him in the eye.
Joseph shifts, and Aesop is all too aware of his every movement. Joseph’s breaths get warmer and warmer as he leans closer to Aesop.
Then Joseph places a gentle peck on Aesop’s cheek. The motion is small, but he lingers there longer than he had previously.
Then Joseph withdraws.
Aesop feels faint.
“The, the,” Aesop stammers. Joseph gives a little laugh at that. “There’s a… There’s a long line of souls waiting for their turn to be judged if you walk a little bit ahead from the river. Some of them wait centuries in order to be judged. ”
Joseph waits for more, but Aesop stays purposefully silent.
Joseph seems to understand what Aesop wants, because in the next second, Joseph swoops in close to give him another kiss.
There’s a mortifyingly loud kissing sound as Joseph presses his lips to Aesop’s cheek again.
“And…” Aesop buries his head into Joseph’s shoulder in embarrassment. The sound was just so loud.
Aesop lowers his voice into a shameful whisper. “If you don’t find the soul in the crowd, the judges will know where he is. Ask Luca, since Eli and Norton won’t give you that information for free.”
Joseph’s arms envelopes him, and Aesop has to fight off the wave of dizziness from nervousness and panic as Joseph nibbles his ear playfully.
Joseph gives Aesop another kiss on the check.
The feeling that swoops over Aesop, giddy and shy, is just as overwhelming as Joseph had kissed him for the first time.
“But… Hastur will have guard dogs all around the line. As long as you bury yourself close to the dead, they shouldn’t be able to detect you.”
Joseph blinks, snow white eyelashes fluttering, and Aesop’s breath catches as he looks into the pure blue of Joseph’s eyes.
Breathlessly, Aesop tells him about another part of the Underworld, and is rewarded by a kiss.
Aesop loses count of how long they spend like this, of Aesop talking and Joseph pressing more kisses to his cheek.
But eventually, Aesop runs out of information to divulge.
So the next time, as Joseph is reaching over, Aesop stops him. Joseph looks up questioningly at him.
“I don’t have anything else to say.” Aesop mumbles. He tries not to sound too regretful.
There’s a pause.
Then Joseph shifts over again, and Aesop feels his weight leaving his lap as Joseph stands. Aesop wills his face to remain as indifferent as he can, trying not to betray his emotions.
Joseph’s departure had been inevitable. To mourn it was nothing short of mourning the passing of a storm, or of the coming of winter.
Still, that doesn’t change the way disappointment hollows out his chest as Joseph glances back up at the spires of Hastur’s castle, evidently planning his next move. Aesop studies the splinters at the bottom of the ferry.
So he almost misses it when Joseph leans down, one last time, and brushes their lips together.
Aesop jumps, startled. The contact sends shivers of delight down his body, and he tries not to lean into it as Joseph stands up again.
“I-- I don’t have anything else to tell you,” splutters poor Aesop. “I mean, I would tell you if I could,” he continues, vaguely realizing that he was babbling, “but---”
“I know,” interrupts Joseph.
Aesop, wide-eyed, stops to stare at him.
Joseph studies him quietly. Then he grins, handsome and boyish. “That was personal. A kiss from me to you.”
“Oh,” says Aesop. Then he opens his mouth, and then closes it again. “Oh,” he repeats, rather dumbly.
He feels lightheaded and foolish, staring at Joseph. Aesop doesn’t quite trust himself to speak.
Joseph drops down from the ferry. “I guess I’ll see you some other time.” Joseph says, smiling fondly at Aesop.
Aesop nods.
Watching Joseph turn away into the gloom of the Underworld, Aesop steps out from his boat and onto the beach. He’ll have to wait for quite a while.
Joseph will need someone to ferry him back to the other side again, after all.