William awoke to darkness, his body aching in ways he couldn’t have imagined in his divine existence. His chest was heavy, his limbs weak, and his head throbbed with an unrelenting pulse. Mortality, he realized bitterly, was not the soft, fleeting poetry he had admired from Olympus. It was harsh, gritty, and filled with an unending litany of discomforts.

He sat up slowly, the thin blanket he’d scavenged from a thrift store sliding to the floor of the run-down motel room he now called home. The walls were stained and peeling, the single bulb above his head flickering weakly, but William barely noticed. His thoughts were consumed by Julius.

“I cannot fail,” he murmured to himself, his voice hoarse from a night of restless sleep.

Failure meant more than death—it meant ceasing to exist, being erased from the memories of mortals and gods alike. For the first time, the god of love was driven not by duty, but by an aching desperation to preserve something he couldn’t yet fully name.

William forced himself to stand, ignoring the sharp pain in his knees. Hunger gnawed at his stomach, a sensation he hadn’t grown accustomed to. His first attempt at human food the day before—a poorly cooked bowl of instant noodles—had been a clumsy ordeal. The flavors, overwhelming and unfamiliar, had left him nauseated. He resolved to do better today.

Navigating humanity, he had learned, required not just survival but adaptation. William fumbled with the zipper of his thin jacket, his fingers trembling as he retrieved a crumpled map of Seoul from his pocket. It was marked with circles and notes—his research from the past few days.

At the center of it all was a single name: Julius Graham.

The café was a modest place nestled on a quiet street corner, its exterior adorned with ivy and warm string lights. William stood across the street, his heart pounding as he observed the entrance. Through the window, he could see the soft glow of lamps illuminating cozy wooden tables. The air was rich with the scent of coffee and freshly baked pastries, a sharp contrast to the cold, metallic tang of the city outside.

This was Julius’s haven, a place the artist frequented to sketch, drink his coffee, and watch the world pass by. William had learned this from his quiet observations over the past few days, slipping into the café unnoticed to watch the mortal from afar. He had seen Julius tucked into a corner booth, his sketchbook open and his coffee forgotten as he stared into the distance, lost in thought.

The sight had only strengthened William’s resolve.

Yet as he stood there, watching the door swing open and close with the arrival of new patrons, doubt began to creep in. His mortal form felt fragile, too ordinary. Gone was the ethereal glow of a god, replaced by a body that ached, a face that was tired, and a presence that no longer commanded attention.

“What if he does not notice me?” William whispered to himself, his fingers clutching the strap of the worn bag slung over his shoulder. “What if I am not enough?”

For a moment, he considered turning back, retreating to the safety of his lonely motel room. But the memory of Julius’s sorrowful eyes pushed him forward. This was no longer just about his survival. This was about him. About Julius, who deserved a love that could heal the cracks in his heart.

Summoning what little strength he had, William crossed the street and pushed open the café door.

The warmth of the café enveloped him, a stark contrast to the chill outside. Conversations hummed around him, blending with the soft jazz playing over the speakers. William’s gaze swept the room, his heart racing as he searched for Julius.

There he was, sitting in the same corner booth as always, his dark hair falling over his eyes as he sketched in his notebook. The sight of him stole William’s breath. Julius was so focused, his fingers moving fluidly over the page, his lips pressed into a faint line. He radiated an aura of quiet melancholy, yet there was a beauty in it that William couldn’t tear his eyes from.

This was the moment. The first step.

William swallowed hard, his hands trembling as he approached the counter. He ordered a coffee, his voice wavering as he fumbled with the unfamiliar currency. The barista gave him a curious glance, but he managed a weak smile before retreating with his cup.

Now came the harder part.

He walked toward Julius’s booth, each step feeling like a mountain climbed. When he finally stood before the artist, Julius looked up, his dark eyes locking onto William’s.

“Excuse me,” William said, his voice soft but steady. “Is this seat taken?”

Julius blinked, his expression guarded but not unkind. “No, it’s not,” he replied, gesturing to the chair across from him.

William sat down, his hands wrapped tightly around his coffee cup to hide their trembling. He forced himself to meet Julius’s gaze, his mind racing to find the right words.

“I’ve seen you here before,” William said, offering a tentative smile. “You’re an artist, right?”

Julius hesitated, his brows furrowing slightly. “Yeah,” he said slowly. “I... paint and sketch. How did you know?”

William shrugged, feigning nonchalance even as his heart pounded. “You just have that air about you. Like someone who sees the world differently.”

Julius’s lips twitched, almost forming a smile, but it quickly faded. “That’s... an interesting observation.”

William leaned forward slightly, his curiosity genuine. “May I ask what you’re working on?”

Julius hesitated again, his fingers tightening around his pencil. For a moment, William thought he would dismiss the question, but then Julius pushed his sketchbook across the table, revealing a half-finished drawing of the riverbank at sunset.

“It’s beautiful,” William said softly, and for the first time in his mortal life, he meant every word.

Julius looked at him then, really looked at him, as though trying to decipher the man who had so boldly interrupted his solitude.

And in that moment, William felt the faintest flicker of hope. The first step had been taken, and though the path ahead was uncertain, he knew one thing for sure: he would not stop until he reached Julius’s heart.