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The rain began an hour ago, just a hair harder than a drizzle, but it soon reared its ugly head and the skies sang a high dirge, soaking them both almost to the core; loud drums of thunder kept the melody good company. Baek Ahn and Tahl Tahl had stopped their ride and searched for higher ground, as the riverbanks would surely flood, and that would mean more than mud in their shoes. They had not really planned for rain, and in the case there would be rain at all they would normally be accompanied by men who would set up camp for them, so needless to say, they had to make do with whatever they had. And though it would take more than thunder to shake them, it seemed to urge them onward, ominous and unrelenting.
They hike through the mud moving up on a hill not too wayward from their original road. Baek Ahn curses a little as his foot slips and almost falls; Tahl Tahl’s hand catches him by the arm whip-quick, helping him over the rockier terrain.
“Are you all right?” Concern bleeds out of his voice as apparent as the rain.
Baek Ahn raises his eyes to him, beads of water clinging to his lashes annoyingly. At times his nephew’s actions embarrass him, tending to him and treating him as though he were fragile enough to break. But he leans into him, warmth glowing inside, threatening to reach his face in spite of the chilling rain. He shakes him off on flatter ground, face already forming into a perfect scowl, beard dripping with water. Baek Ahn had no real love for the rain. “There is a stable ahead,” Tahl Tahl points out, voice locked under the choir of rain, eyes squinting, “Perhaps we can stay there for tonight, uncle.”
Baek Ahn grunts in response, eager to be relieved of the downpour. The horses neigh, perhaps in agreement. They approach the stable, and Tahl Tahl takes both of the horses, tying them securely to the rails. Upon closer look a house resides just out of the road’s view behind the stable. The house is almost unnoticeable, blending into the dark, not a single light burning from within. Odd, but not entirely uncommon.
Tahl Tahl finishes tending to the horses as much as he can, filling the bucket under the pouring rain for the horses. He checks their hooves and scrapes out all the mud, briefly but effectively enough for the moment. He gathers their weapons and hurries towards the shelter. But his uncle is nowhere to be seen, totally vanished.
“Uncle?” Just as he calls out, the doors slide open. He expects a stranger to greet him, but the face he sees is rather familiar. Baek Ahn’s eyes linger on him for a second before he turns away.
“Abandoned,” Baek Ahn says, hovering over the neglected tables and rotted wooden floors; the roof does little to protect itself from the rain except for the space where the roofing over doors seemed to have been thatched rather recently. “We were not the only ones who have come by this place,” Tahl Tahl remarks. The place is a bit bigger than he expected but most of it is in shambles, some parts too brittle and unkempt to tread on safely. It seems as though it might have been a small inn, or a small resting stop, which would explain the stable outside. Baek Ahn struggles to find the ties to his soaked caftan, anxious to be rid of it. Tahl Tahl rushes to his side, setting down the weapons in his hand on the drier area. “Please allow me.”
He undoes the caftan within the time one would take three or four breaths, and he carefully slides it off his uncle’s broad shoulders, and he takes it outside to twist out the dripping water. Tahl Tahl undoes the first two layers and stores them away, his fingers deft and quick as he works out the ties. Though colder, this serves them better than having wet layers on them. The remaining two layers would have to do for the night. Baek Ahn sits near the door, back against the walls darkened by water when he realizes that Tahl Tahl is still fully-clothed.
“You should also take off your wet clothes,” he points out quietly. The glow from earlier resurfaces, the blatant cold, slowly burning him warm, to the verge of hot, a fire burning near him (inside him?), melting him. An unplaceable sensation, to be sure. The words ought to sound like a simple intake of air; natural, like routine. But the taste is off.
Perhaps it is the rain.
When Baek Ahn looks up, he meets Tahl Tahl’s stare by chance, just catching the nearly indiscernible way he glances downward, hiding away his eyes. Tahl Tahl’s voice barely travels over the rain. He shifts ever so slightly on his feet, the wood creaking loudly under him. “Yes.” The floors groan again as he turns away from him, and still the stiffness in his shoulders remains, a meaningful pause. His reluctance even for that split second jogs a misplaced memory of Tahl Tahl fitting him into his clothes, his armor; had he ever changed in front of him besides those days where they must travel alone? And even then, he had always waited until Baek Ahn closed his eyes and drifted away--when he woke, he would be fully dressed and preparing for the rest of the day. The pound of thunder rumbles in his chest, and likewise, the resonation carries into just how little he knows his own nephew. As though he were a stranger, Baek Ahn wishes to look elsewhere, but his eyes stay, wondering just exactly when Tahl Tahl had grown so much.
His eyes adjust to the darkness, and he watches the same hands that undressed him countless times now reach for his own clothing. His back remains still except for the occasional movement in his shoulders when he reaches around his hips; long dark hair wet over his neck and slick against the center of his back. He quickly disposes of the drenched layer, albeit slower than when he had undressed Baek Ahn, but he is quick and never wasting a second.
Not so much as the moonlight reaches this house, but as Tahl Tahl unties his hair, Baek Ahn can see him almost as clear as day.
----
Tahl Tahl’s fingers fumble a little at the ties, and that only exacerbates his nervousness.
The nervousness in itself is almost unfounded; after all, who would be nervous while undressing only down to two layers due to the rain, especially in front of his own uncle and long-time command? Objectively, the deep and rather fast rhythm in his chest is something wholly unnecessary, but knowledge or acknowledgment, as Tahl Tahl has come to know, does not always result in behavior or action. He slips out of his first layer rather clumsily, but he is uncertain whether this is real or imagined; what once felt easier than breathing now felt new and confounding. Though the mere thought of his uncle watching him dries out his throat quite effectively, the clothing come undone eventually.
He folds away the second layer much easily than his first, laying the clothes down somewhere it will not touch the pools of water within the dilapidated house. He wrings out his hair lastly. He wonders if it would be crossing a subtle line if he undid his hair also, but if he knew his uncle at all, the man would hardly notice such a thing. So he unties it and runs his fingers through it carefully, loosening the tightness against his scalp. The tangles resist the raking of his fingers, but with a bit of attention he frees the knots. In the darkness his uncle's face is unreadable; his heavy reading as of late has worsened his eyesight. He settles down next to him, sitting on the creaking floor cross-legged.
Tahl Tahl ignores the hammering in his chest and breaks the silence. “Do you feel pain anywhere?”
Shadows are always accompanied by light, however subtle it may be; he stares into his uncle’s eyes, as he reiterates the age-old question, and upon closer examination, he sees something reflected in them.
----
The question hardly enters his mind, but the lips that form them do occur to him.
Unrelenting rain beats down heavily on the weak rooftops, and the winds hasten the already falling rain like a violent siege to their only sanctuary. They are both seasoned soldiers of battle; Tahl Tahl is no longer the small child that used to run around back at their home, no longer the meek boy afraid of the horses in their large stables. Ah, they are both only inches from death now; with each swing of the sword, each step forward into their plans. The thing that lingers in his mind is not really the question that was uttered but the intent behind it.
“Why is it that you stay with me, Tahl Tahl?” His unused voice rings deep and guttural.
Tahl Tahl stares at him absurdly, as though he has been told that up is down and down is up. His eyes shift to the corners.
Baek Ahn continues. “Would you not have a pleasant enough life by now if you had not followed this path with me?” Plenty of suitors have approached Tahl Tahl before, all of reputable position and family--but not once had he swayed from his uncle’s side. Still there are eyes that go to him when speaking of unmarried men, but now almost as a fleeting thought rather than in seriousness. Most knew he was already bound to the books and battles and… his uncle. So they would say. Tahl Tahl remains wordless, eyes still on the floor or some corner. Somewhere in him, a selfishness arises like the way the riverbanks swell and overflow on a day such as this--he needed, no, he wanted him by his side. But it is not too late for him live a better life if he so chose it now.
“It is not what you think.”
Baek Ahn blinks.
Tahl Tahl averts his gaze, staring downward, speaking softly, almost too soft to hear over the rain.
Lips part to say something; they close as if to stop the rawness from spilling over. He inhales, eyes flitting over to the walls and farther, beyond them. “I chose this path on my own.”
For the first time, Baek Ahn looks at Tahl Tahl, really looks at him, vision going soft at the crooked plea in his voice. He brushes a thumb across his cheek, hand cradling his face gently. Tahl Tahl freezes but does little to pull away. “Not because it was expected of you?” He hums in his throat at the notion. Up close, he studies the slopes and dips of Tahl Tahl’s face and considers how handsome and refined his face is even in the darkness. He could have made someone very happy by now, a father to a child, a husband to a wife. But those footsteps in the rain, a quick catch by the arm, a sword to another’s neck; quick footsteps just a beat behind his own, a quiet, yes, uncle, the honesty in his voice when he tries to sway him from committing to some action or another--all of this and more Tahl Tahl has laid down for him.
And that is what Tahl Tahl has chosen.
“I respect you,” he continues, inhaling shakily, and Baek Ahn can hear the little details in his breath, “I love you.” Tahl Tahl leans against his palm.
Baek Ahn’s chest swells with both pride and sadness. And within it, this love burns and burns.
It hurts to swallow.
He brushes away a falling tear from his nephew’s face; and just as the wetness fades from his skin, he pulls him into a gentle embrace. Tahl Tahl’s arms come up timidly, almost in disbelief, and his hands touch his sides meekly, as if afraid, lest he vanish before him. Words frost over inside Baek Ahn--he cannot say them, such is the way of his tongue and mouth and his heart--they are no different from armor. If you are with me, that is all that matters. He etches this somewhere, hoping it does not disappear. And another.
I trust you to stop me, as you always have.
He caresses his damp hair, and they remain there, written in stone.
“Uncle,” he murmurs low, “May I kiss you?”
The rain encloses all that he hears, covering the silence harshly then softly, a siege then ease. Baek Ahn’s heart beats loudly, and it still hurts to swallow or even breathe; his entire body frozen with engrossing tangles inside him, twisted and in knots, The darkness gives him the strength, and he nods wordlessly.
Tahl Tahl widens his eyes slightly in surprise; then they soften with tears again, but this time Baek Ahn cannot quite see so clearly, as he moves forward to press his lips onto his own. Their breathing intensifies, and the rain continues to echo and echo. Baek Ahn slides his hand against Tahl Tahl’s waist briefly, finding a resting place against his back. A small jolt in his breathing, drawing closer. Warm lips against his, new and tender and a far cry from what one would call wrong. Tahl Tahl pulls away a hair, clouded with guilt, uncertainty.
He leans back into Baek Ahn’s strong embrace, the hard edge of his chest.
“I want to be by your side,” Tahl Tahl says, marking each word in utter honesty, “Always.”
“And you will.” Baek Ahn touches a strand of his nephew’s hair, almost in a daze, kiss still fresh in his mind, too hot and searing. So as long as you choose.
The rain washes everything away, their pretenses and their facades, leaving them bare.
----
Tahl Tahl bears the sounds of his name being called from within the meeting hall, each desperate, angry shout a lash to his mind, his body. He tremors, eyes welling up with tears, his breath shallow and weak.
The rain did not come today.
His uncle’s words carve deeply into every inch of him, and he grips the hilt of his sword tightly, heart about to burst. He will not have those other swords touch his uncle--he made him a promise, one he will keep no matter what the cost.
Tahl Tahl,
He draws his sword, tears blurring his vision, and he gnashes his teeth.
If I succumb to corruption, you must promise to kill me.
The rain does not come that day.
----
The blood outweighs the rain, and it leaves
A stain.