Archive of Our Own ^beta

Summer 1790

Chatham

In the heat of the summer and the backdrop of war, sunflowers uncharacteristically bloomed in the garden of General William Lee, Earl of Chatham at the birth of his second son.

General Lee held his son in his arms, staring lovingly down at the newborn. “Donghyuck.” he said decisively as he handed the baby back to his mother and exited the room.

“He’s precious,” his mother said as she gazed down at her child, overcome with joy and love.

The nursery was decorated in white and chrome furnishing, signifying the pureness of the newborn child; a blank page to start upon.

The young governess placed the child in his bassinet, rocking softly as she smiled down at him. The baby, dressed in silky white and soundly asleep, scrunched up his face and brought his tiny hands that were balled into fists, up to his face.

The governess swept some of the baby’s fine black hair off of his forehead as to not irritate his smooth skin. She bent down to place a soft kiss upon his rosy cheeks before exiting the room.

The baby yawned big and wide, attempting to rub at his eyes with his balled up fists, looking so innocent and unaware of the hell that would befall him.

Winter 1794

Chatham

Donghyuck ran across the snowy field, his older brother sprinted ahead of him. Their governess chased after them as they crossed the white field and entered the grand foyer, leaving slippery trails behind them.

“Papa! Papa!” Donghyuck yelled as he came face to calf with his father.

“Hush, child,” his father chastised, leaning down to the same height as his sons. “Now, children, remember what we discussed?”

Donghyuck, bundled in his bowed his head in shame while his brother held his head strong, proud of his restraint. “It is ungentlemanly to get overexcited.” they repeated in unison.

“That’s right!” General Lee said before climbing the grand staircase and retreating to his study.

Donghyuck kicked the floor uselessly, earning a chuckle from his brother.

“Don’t take it to heart, brother,” he said, placing a hand on Donghyuck’s small shoulder. “Father doesn’t like to show affection. It—”

“It is not what an Earl does.” Donghyuck finished for his brother with a scoff just as their governess caught up with them.

“Children! Do not run off like that,” the governess reprimanded, taking Donghyuck’s jacket off for him. “You could have hurt yourselves!”

“Yes, Miss Beatrice…” Donghyuck groaned, trying to fight the governess over his jacket as his brother ventured further into the manor.

Finally, he freed himself from the governess’ grasp and ran off after his brother, Miss Beatrice’s disapproving shouts trailing after him.

Spring 1797

Windsor

The Earl of Chatham and his family were on their way to a function in Berkshire. The Lee boys sat bickering in the carriage while Miss Beatrice attempted to tear them apart.

“Boys,” General Lee warned his sons who immediately stopped their play fighting.

“Sorry, sir,” they said in unison.

Next to them, Miss Beatrice hung her head in shame, cheeks flushed pink as she cleared her throat. General Lee’s disappointing glare lingered on her and she fiddled with Donghyuck’s tie and making sure his waistcoat was perfectly aligned. Donghyuck, unhelpfully protested every action.

The Farrington estate was enormous and the fields stretched on for several acres. Donghyuck raced up to the house immediately upon dismounting the carriage, dodging the furniture and people in the foyer as he made his way to the back garden where the flowers had begun blooming in all different shapes and colours.

Careful not to hurt any of them, he maneuvered through the pink roses bushes until he found a small gathering of children playing by the gazebo.

Upon approaching the circle of children, Donghyuck pulled the pigtails of the Crowley girls then ran circles around the gazebo trying to not get caught by the girls.

He eventually gave up after a few revolutions, collapsing in the middle of the gazebo as they Crowley twins attacked his sides and he burst out into uncontrollable laughter. The other children noticed the commotion and hurried over to the trio, joining them in their shenanigans.

Lunch had passed with no incidents, an accomplishment of Miss Beatrice. Donghyuck had played with his friends and they had planned something mischievous that his brother soon ended as soon as he had spotted Donghyuck loitering around the water hose in the garden.

“Little brother,” his brother had warned. “That is not what an Earl does.”

Donghyuck had bowed his head in shame and dropped the water hose, following his brother silently back into the manor.

That night after dinner, Donghyuck and his friends had followed his older brother out of the manor and into the cold stone halls of the mausoleum at Frogmore House. Donghyuck gazed, mouth open in awe, as they turned into another poorly lit hallway.

He was about to step into the dim light of the hallway to follow his brother but was suddenly pulled back by two sturdy hands on his shoulders. He turned around to look at his companions, Lucas and Mark, the youngest sons of Lord Farrington, his eyes scrunched up in confusion silently questioning their actions.

Instead of replying with words, the brothers pointed to where Donghyuck’s older brother was impatiently standing under a wooden flamed branch secured to the wall. He hugged the wall as he continued observing his brother when another figure appeared from the shadows.

“Lady Katherine,” the eldest son of General Lee greeted as the woman approached him, her red and gold satin dress swaying in the gentle breeze coming from the open door behind her.

“Lord Jonathan,” Lady Katherine said with a gentle courtesy before Jonathan whisked her off her feet and held her against the wall, one arm secure around her waist while the other caressed her flushed cheek.

“Just John is fine, my lady,” Jonathan said, his mouth ghost along next to her ear as his hand slid down to her neck, fiddling.

“Well, then,” Lady Katherine breathed shakily, turning her face to look Jonathan in the eyes. “Kiss me, John.”

Donghyuck stared in shock as Jonathan closed the remaining distance between them, his mouth meeting his lover’s in a flurry of movement, He couldn’t look away.

He could hear the Farrington boys whispering behind him, tugging on his sleeves to leave but he couldn’t move, eyes still fixated on the sight of his brother and his lover sharing their affection.

Suddenly, there was a ruckus from the other side of the hall and out of the darkness emerged a pretty unsettled handmaiden, cheeks flushed redder than Lady Katherine’s as she panted to catch her breath once Jonathan had released her from his hold.

“What is it, Joy?” Lady Katherine questioned her handmaiden as she patted down the front of her skewed dress, fixing her neckline and making sure she looked presentable and ladylike.

The handmaiden—Joy—threw a quick glance behind her where she had come from before addressing the lady. “The guards are coming, my lady,” she said in a panic. “We must leave this instance!”

Lady Katherine turned back to address her lover, grabbing ahold of his face and planting a deep, hungry kiss upon his lips. “So long, my love.”

With one last glance towards Jonathan, she grabbed her handmaiden’s hand in one hand and bunched up her devil red dress in the other, disappearing in a different direction from which both she and her handmaiden ahd originally come from.

Jonathan watched as they disappeared, still in a daze however, the sound of the guards’ swords clinking against their chainmail snapped him back to reality, bending down to grab a gold cloth from the stone floor. Stuffing the fabric in his pocket, one end hanging out, he turned towards the hallway in which Donghyuck and the Farrington boys were hiding.

Donghyuck felt himself being dragged backwards, away from his brother, away from the impending punishment if he were to be found and it wasn’t until he could see his brother approaching them that he was able to move on his own again.

“What are you pudding-headed fellas doing ‘ere?” Jonathan asked, enraged, before deciding it wasn’t currently important and ushered them to start running as they heard the guards coming through the door.

They ran through the winding hallways and didn’t stop until they were clear through the forest, the Farrington Manor clear in their sites.

Once in the safety of the manor, Jonathan turned on the boys.

“What were you doing out there?” he questioned.

The boys stood staring at the floor. Donghyuck felt Jonathan staring daggers at him but still couldn’t bring himself to look up.

Another few minutes of silence passed before Jonathan gave up.

“Alright,” he said, urging them to look up at him with a pointed clearing of his throat. “You lads better not say a single word about this, alright?” he warned. The boys stayed silent, afraid to speak up in fear of a beating.

“You got that?!” Jonathan asked sternly, gaze intense with fury.

The boys nodded, satisfying Jonathan who ordered then back to their sleeping quarters.

Donghyuck slept that night dreaming of Lady Katherine in her beautiful red dress.

Winter 1800

London Town

The wind blew tattered newspaper and discarded copies of The Swell’s Night Guide Through The Metropolis along the street. The little boy wrapped his arms tighter around his small body, sniffing harshly and trying to keep the tears welling up in his eyes from spilling over his rosy cheeks. He stepped over the torn pages of a book stuck to the muddied ground, the words undecipherable, not an inch remained untouched by the cold world.

They were supposed to be in London for two days while his father took care of business. He hadn’t intended to wander off but the kites looked too interesting soaring through the clear blue sky and he let go of his mother’s hand—just for a second, but it was still long enough for him to lose her. He had run through the crowd in a frenzy, trying to locate his mother but it was to no avail.

He had sunk down to his knees and screamed for his family. No one batted an eye, not one look had been thrown his way that was not irritating in nature and filled with disgust.

It had been four days. He hadn’t eaten since that fateful morning and the only drops of water he had consumed was stolen from a bucket forgotten in front of a bakery. He had managed only a few gulps before the baker, a boy who appeared to be only a few years older than him, hurried out of the shop and chased him away.

It was getting colder in the city and he wrapped his arms around his small body as he shivered uncontrollably, ducking his head down closer to his chest to preserve some warmth as he uselessly blinked away the tears.

Eventually, the tears slipped out, gushing down his dirt covered cheeks and onto the collar of his once pristine, white shirt askew under his opened waistcoat.

The boy sniffles harshly as he rubbed his hands hurried over his face to wipe the betraying tears.

He shivered as he walked further down the narrow cobbled street, the sound of horseshoes meeting the stoned ground deaf to his ears until he felt it whizz by him, the wagon almost knocking him to the ground if he wasn’t pulled away in time.

“What the bloody hell is wrong with you, kid? Are you really as pidgeon-headed fella?” A boy not much older than the kid asked as he stared him down, furious expression softening as he further studied the young boy’s face.

Suddenly the young boy burst into tears, letting them fall unrestrained for the first time since he heard the news of his parents passing, words following shortly after.

The older boy quickly knelt down in front of the younger boy, hands securely on his shoulders and tilted his head up to look him in the eye.

“You’re with me now, I’ll look after you.”

The young boy nodded slowly, tears still spilling from his eyes and followed the older boy out of the alley.

“I’m Jungwoo,” the older boy said, joining their hands together so they don’t get separated in the sea of people rushing along the Thames. “What’s your name, kid?”

The young boy mumbled something under his breath, pushing his body closer to Jungwoo as a swarm of young men raced past them.

“Say that again?”

“Donghyuck…” the young boy—Donghyuck—repeated, gazing up at the older boy in fear as they approached a dark alley.

Jungwoo smiles down at him reassuringly, dirt smeared cheeks rosy from the breeze as he tugged in Donghyuck’s hand to follow him. “It’s alright, kid. I’ve got you.”

Winter 1800

London Town

Winter was relentless and unforgiving.

Donghyuck had spent the autumn glued to Jungwoo’s side as the boy scavenged to survive. Jungwoo had to work extra to be able to feed them both and some nights he stayed hungry so Donghyuck could eat.

They got by and Jungwoo never complained.

However, with winter in full swing, the people of London were not very kind to the helpless souls of the streets.

That winter was one of the worst winters London has ever faced and Jungwoo and Donghyuck spent it huddled together in a corner of an abandoned building secluded on the edge of town eating a week old piece of bread about the size of Donghyuck’s tiny hand over the course of two weeks as the conditions were too bad for Jungwoo to go search for more food.

Donghyuck was sure they wouldn’t have survived if it wasn’t for the abandoned building.

As they got older, Donghyuck saw less and less of Jungwoo and therefore he had to learn to fend for himself.

In the weeks when Jungwoo was away, Donghyuck learned how to truly survive.

Spring 1807

London Town

“Hey, watch it!” Donghyuck yelled at the boy who had just knocked into him and caused them both to tumble to the ground and—

“Sorry,” the boy, strangely familiar to Donghyuck, yelled as he scrambled to get up. Donghyuck followed suit, watching him as he looked around frantically, his eyes wide and scared.

Suddenly he remembered why the boy looked familiar and gasped while backing away. “You’re that bloody killer, you are!”

The boy looked panicked and immediately started shaking his head, moving closer as he tried to explain himself. “No, no, I—” He didn’t get to finish what he was saying as heavy footsteps sounded down the street accompanied by loud screaming.

“GET HIM!” the voices commanded. “That's the thief right there!”

“Come and get me, meater!” Donghyuck yelled at the army of men charging towards him. He felt a tug on his arm and turned to look at the boy who had ran into him earlier signalling him to follow him.

“Get off me, foozler!” He said, trying to free himself from the iron grip around his wrist.

“Shut up, you vazey bastard and follow me. The coppers are going to get you if you don’t move your arse, loiter-sack!!”

“He went that way!” Donghyuck tossed a glance back

The boy hurried to grab his cap and the stolen bag of apples from the floor and ran after the foozler. Donghyuck felt an urge to help the boy out and grabbed his arm, running in the opposite direction of the voices and down a crowded cobbled street. They rushed into a side street and Donghyuck pulled the boy into an abandoned building, crouching beneath the window and peeking his head over the bottom of the window to look out for the people chasing them.

The boy imitated him and rose to his knees as well, looking through the dirty window at the coppers running past their concealed location, unbeknownst to them that they were chasing nothing.

Once the coppers had left, the boys sunk back down to the floor, breathing heavily to catch their breaths.

“That was fun, killer,” Donghyuck said, smiling at the boy next to him.

The boy sighed in relief, glad that he would live to see another day, however the relief was only temporary as he looked around the dark room, his face falling in realisation. “How are we going to get out of here?” he asked when he saw no visible exit before him.

Donghyuck simply smirked in response. “We’re going to back slang it, kid.”

The boy stared at Donghyuck in confusion, unsure of what he meant but rose to his feet when his companion did so. He examined him as Donghyuck studied their surroundings, a pensive look on his face, contemplating.

“To be honest, mate, you remind me a lot of myself when I first started out on the streets.” He said finally, running a hand through his greasy hair. “If Jungwoo hadn’t found me then I’m not sure I would’ve survived. So, I’ve decided to help ya out—I’m just doing you a favour, like Jungwoo did for me.”

“Who’s Jungwoo?” The boy asked, confused and glossing over the part where Donghyuck had said he would help him.

Donghyuck shook his head and carefully walked across the room, motioning for the boy to follow him. “That’s a story for another day, lad. Now stay close!”

The boy scurried after Donghyuck who was rummaging on the floor looking for something. He picked up a metal bar from under a tattered cabinet and started attacking the window with it.

“What are you doing?!” he asked in a quick whisper.

Donghyuck rolled his eyes, dropping his arms by his side and staring at the boy tiredly. “I am prying the bloody window open so we can get the hell out of here before the coppers double back and find us here. Is that alright with you, killer?”

The boy flushed in embarrassment and stepped back to let him get back to working the window open.

After a few minutes of poking the window, Donghyuck yelled in exciting, dropping the stick on the ground and throwing his hands in the air. “YES!”

The window stood open, allowing the evening light to pour into the darkened abyss of the building they had been trapped in.

“Come on then,” Donghyuck said to the boy, one leg already out of the small window.

The boy stepped forward, hesitant. He rested his hands on the edge of the window unsure whether he was going to fit through the small opening. “I do not think that I will fit through here…”

Donghyuck rolled his eyes, tutting, before he lungde an arm forward and grabbed a handful of the boy’s collar pulling him head first through the window, the top of his head grazing the edge of the window.

“There you go,” Donghyuck said once the boy had gotten back on his feet, righting his disheveled clothing. “Looks like you fit through just fine.” And without further commentary, he started walking through the narrow street, making sure to stay close to the wall and in the shadows. The boy silently scurried after him.

The boys quickly and quietly made their way across the river and to the abandoned warehouse that Jungwoo had brought Donghyuck on that first day they had met and where Donghyuck kept finding himself when things got too rough.
He shimmied the door open and slid in with ease and experience, leaving the boy to stand in place like a dew-beater.

“Come here, fool,” Donghyuck commanded from the other side of the thick wooden door.

The boy was hesitant but jingled miserably inside, ready to attack whatever might have been waiting for him on the other side.

The warehouse was bare of anything but dust and cobwebs. The boy watched as Donghyuck maneuvered through the different levels before settling on a beam on the second level and pointing to his right at the stairs and patting the spot next to him for the boy to join him.

The boy carefully made his way to Donghyuck and hesitantly sat down next to him, leaving a safe distance between them.

“So, kille—” Donghyuck started but was interrupted by the boy slamming his hand down on the beam, rattling the structure and making Donghyuck cling onto the wood for support.

“I’m not a killer!” he stated sternly.

Donghyuck, eyes wide, raised his hands in defence. “Calm down, will you? I was just gon’ ask you for your name,”

The boy lowered his head in embarrassment. “Sorry…” he mumbled.

Donghyuck slapped his shoulder jokingly. “It’s okay, killer,” the boy pushed Donghyuck back harshly but he only laughed in response. “Alright, mate! What’s your name, then?”

The boy backed off and settled back down on the beam. “Jeno,” he said, looking down at the floor beneath them.

“That’s a nice name, killer,” Jeno closed his eyes, trying not to react. After a moment of no response Donghyuck continued. “So how did you get the name?”

“Jeno? Well, I guess my parents—”

“No,” Donghyuck stopped him before he went deeper into his family history. “Killer,” he clarified.

“It’s a long story,”

“I’ve got time, mate,” Donghyuck motioned around the warehouse to affirm his point before digging into his pockets and taking out a dirty white cloth, something wrapped inside it. “And I’ve got some bread,”

He offered some to Jeno who took it gingerly, observing it closely before biting into a corner of it.

“Alright,” Jeno agreed, resting the bread on the cloth now resting between them as he thought over what to say.

Doghyuck waited for him to start explaining, legs swinging impatiently below the beam they were seated on.

After a few moments of gathering his thoughts, Jeno cleared his throat and explained what had happened that night.

The night air was cold, Jeno could see his breath exiting his mouth as he shivered in the dark alley, rats scurrying in the shadows next to him.

The light from the shops and houses opposite the alley cast a dim glow on the entrance to the alley he was seeking shelter in. He watched as pedestrians hurried into buildings to get away from the unforgiving cold.

Jeno wished he could go home but he didn't know where home was anymore, the memory forever lost in the deepest crevices of his mind.

He sighed, shaking the thoughts of a home he will never find out of his mind and wrapped his arms closer around himself, breathing in a shaky breath. Some rats weaved through his legs, squeaking as they made their way across the alley and he decided he needed to find a better place to rest for the night.

As he stepped out from the shadows, he heard mafficking—struggle ensuing. Not long after a couple stumbled into the alley, the woman fell to her knees before they could make it fully into the alley and find Jeno. He stepped back into the shadows and hid, knowing it would mean a night in the slammer if he was found.

From the shadows, he could see the couple--no, not not a couple these people were not friendly in the slightest. The woman was struggling as she tried to free herself from the muscular bloke, whimpering for help. Jeno thought to do something but he found himself frozen and unable to move away from the darkness as the man pulled out a dagger and burying it in the heart of the ill-fated soul.

He watched as the woman stopped struggling, her arms falling to the rest by her sides on the ground, her breathing slowing as a pool of blood steadily gathered beneath her.

The man brought the dagger to his face, his tongue darting out and landing flat on the silver blood-soaked dagger. Jeno stared in horror, unable to tear his gaze from the man licking up the blood dripping down the blade. Once he deemed it clean enough, the man harshly grabbed a handful of the maiden's golden locks, her body no longer reactive to the torture, and sliced the blade through it. He sniffed the handful of hair in his grasp, swaying a little as if intoxicated then hastily wrapped the loose strands in a clean white cloth and pocketed it, heading toward the entrance of the alley.

He looked from side to side, making sure there was no one around before he disappeared into the dark.

Jeno's eyes were still focused on the lifeless body lying on the ground as he finally felt his feet move. A moment later, he found himself standing over the woman, who was out of print. Her clothes were torn, her hair disheveled and every part of fair skin was stained tainted with her crimson blood.

He felt his stomach turn, the image before him forever burned into his thoughts. He reached for a piece of her skirt to cover her exposed breast and maintain any dignity she had left when a fella and his lady approached the alley.

It was late now, most of the shopkeepers had retired home, though a few still remained trying to catch the night owls. there was a piercing scream coming from the corner and the shopkeepers rushed toward the sound, the baker with his rolling pin in hand ready to attack.

Jeno's eyes were wide as he spotted the couple at the entrance of the alley, the man holding his lady upright and steady with one arm around her waist while the other clutched his hat to his chest. He heard the approaching footsteps of the herd of shopkeepers before he saw them marching up to the alley and with a final glance down at the lifeless maiden, he bolted past the couple who fell to the floor next to the maiden and dashed into the darkness, the swarm of shopkeepers increased and closing in behind him.

"Hurry, he's getting away!" he heard them shout just a few paces behind him. He pushed himself to run faster and soon the distance grew between them and Jeno was able to duck in between stalls by the river and hide there until the crowd chasing him had gone.

He wandered the cold streets of London late into the night, his cheeks flushed and his shoes covered with the maiden's hot crimson blood. He briefly stopped outside a blacksmith's workshop and used a pail of water to hastily wash off the blood before he heard clattering from inside and ran off again.

Jeno finally found shelter in an old shack just off the Thames and decided to rest for the night. In the morning, he would gather supplies and head out of London.

He slept very poorly that night, which wasn't much different from other nights. The shack was old and falling apart, the walls shaking as the wind blew inside. Jeno shivered in his sleep, lips blue and cheeks flushed pink, though they were slowly draining of all colour.

When morning came, he made his way to the riverside, keeping his head down and trying to stay out of the way. He mostly succeeded, managing to gather a few pieces of clothing that people had hanging on the clotheslines overnight and pocketing food when no one was looking.

It wasn't until he was pulling a red scarf down from the clothesline, jumping high to reach it, that he was pushed against the hard brick wall, a hand closed tightly around his throat.

"What do you think you're doing, fopdoodle?" His grip tightening with every word. "I'm gon' put you in an eternity box."

Jeno gasped of air, hands coming up to claw at the man's grips on his throat and free himself.

After struggling for a minute with no effect, he delivered a nose-ender to his assailant, stunning him long enough for Jeno to free himself.

He hunched over to catch his breath, hands running over his throat as if he could still feel the daddles tight around his neck, which proved to be a mistake as the man, now recovered and full of dash-fire, charged towards him. Jeno closed his eyes, his breath still ragged and unsteady. He waited for the floorer but it never came.

He slowly opened his eyes and the man had stopped short of him, eyes cast on something behind Jeno. He carefully turned to look at what had caught his attention and was met with an uncanny sketch of his face with WANTED etched across the top of the parchment.

He swallowed thickly as he faced his assailant again, fearful eyes meeting murderous ones.

Before he knew it, the man was lunging at him and Jeno dropped his pile of food and clothes and aimed a blinker at the man who stumbled back enough to give Jeno room to move away.

He ran for his life, literally. He pushed through the crowd of people by the river and rushed into alley after alley, maneuvering through the maze of London streets and into the shack he had happened upon the previous night.

He stumbled from the tiny opening and secured the board back in place, collapsing against the wooden panels, hurrying to catch his breath. It wasn't until he brought his hand up to rub at his wounded throat that he realised he was still clutching the red scarf in his hand.

Jeno threw his head back in manic laughter, the situation was unbelievable to him. Here he was hiding from the whole of London who wanted him in the slammer--or better yet, dead--and he was clinging onto a scarf like it was the most important thing in the world.

His laughter was short lived, however, as he heard footsteps resonating outside, getting closer to him. He clung on tighter to the scarf as he peeked through the small gap between the wood panels and saw the herd of coppers rushing past the shack, his assailant following close behind them.

Jeno spent the next week holed up in the shack rationing a loaf of bread he had stolen from a nearby bakery the night he was choked, spending the days looking out of the gaps in the panels to make sure no one got too close and the nights freezing too much to even sleep.

He would have spent months in there if the rain the following week hadn't caused the roof to cave in and flood the scanty box.

Donghyuck stared at the boy, pity etched on every inch of his face. He wasn't completely sure if what Jeno was saying was the truth or not but he was a street rat, he could handle himself if things went south because right now, Jeno really needed a friend.

"How long have you been in hiding, lad?" Donhyuck asked cautiously, unsure if he wanted to know more about how much this boy had suffered.

Jeno laughed, scratching the back of his head. "Oh, it has been a month of Sundays,"

Donhyuck frowned at his casual attitude regarding his life but figured that Jeno has put up with this life long enough to stop being affected by it.

He made a decision then, though.

"I'm going to help you," he stated, determined, though the slightest bit skilamalink of the story.

Jeno scrunched up his eyebrows in confusion.

"I'm going to get you out of London. And then you won't have to run anymore."

Jeno wasn't sure that was possible but he smiled thankfully at the boy anyway, not willing to lose the only friend he had made in all his years of living on the streets.

Over the course of the next few months, Jeno and Donghyuck became more and more closer and prepared to flee London. The boys relocated to different safe houses each night, too fearful that the mutton shunters were catching up to them.

During these months, Donghyuck learned a lot about Jeno—not too much as even Jeno was in the dark about most of his life but he found out the kind of person Jeno was and every day it became more and more clear that that gigglemug was telling the truth about the night that poor hedge-creeper.

Jeno was a kind boy, a bit vazey at times but it simply added to his boyish charm.

Donghyuck looked away and cleared his throat awkwardly as they approached the old warehouse.

“Heghjj—“ Jeno started as they jimmied open the door but was quickly silenced by Donghyuck who had a hand pressed against his sauce-box, halted at the entrance.

Donghyuck pointed to his ear then towards what was left of the grand foyer, an indication to listen; it was part of the code that Donghyuck had taught him their very first week together when they almost got caught robbing a bakery in town after Jeno had just traipsed in and took the bread not realising the baker was still in the shop. But the situation was mad as hops even though Jeno was poke cup about his blunder.

Jeno looked out into the foyer, ears picking up the slightest of sounds. Though it was dark inside and visibility was at its lowest at this time of night, Jeno’s eyes zeroed in on a small shadow under the stairs, just a split second of it but it was definitely there.

He turned to Donghyuck with wide eyes and found him mirroring his gaze but something darker was embedded in them.

Before he could get caught up in the questions swirling around in his mind, he tore his gaze away from the boy in front of him and aimed it at the rustling of paper coming from across the hall.

Donghyuck stiffened next to him as a voice spoke out.

“Are ya gon’ come out or not?” The voice echoed across the empty building, soon followed by a handsome stranger waltzing into the circle of light cast down by the moonlight through the cracks in the ceiling.

Jeno didn’t have time to process the stranger as Donghyuck raced past him and threw himself at the stranger who accepted him with open arms.

“Jungwoo!” Donghyuck screamed as he hugged Jungwoo tightly.

Jungwoo laughed, hugging him back with one arm and using his free hand to ruffle the kid’s hair.

“I’ve missed you so much,” Donghyuck said looking up at Jungwoo. “Where have you been?”

Jungwoo forcibly removed Donghyuck from himself which resulted in a pout being plastered across his sauce-box to indicate that he was not happy with that. “I found some work at the docklands so I’ve had to stay away for a bit, sorry,” he said, sounding truly apologetic; Donghyuck couldn’t stay mad at him for long, especially after Jungwoo dug into his trouser pockets and spilled a few shillings into Donghyuck’s open, waiting palm.

It wasn’t until Jeno cleared his throat that the pair became aware of his presence, turning around in haste to face him.

Donghyuck slammed a palm against his forehead. So bloody vazey, he thought to himself and mounted Jeno to walk over to them.

“Jungwoo, this is Jeno,” Donghyuck said pointing to Jeno. “Jeno, this is Jungwoo,” he said, now pointing to Jungwoo.

Jeno looked confused as to what he was to Donghyuck when pieces of a conversation he had had that first night with Donghyuck flooded his mind and recognition hit.

“Oh, gosh, you’re that guy!” He said pointing between the two. Donghyuck nodded then quickly ran up the rickety staircase up to the landing in front of a big stained glass window—now broken and the remaining pieces barely hanging on—that overlooked the city and took a seat.

Jeno and Jungwoo followed him quietly and they sat staring at the sleeping sitting beneath them.

Later that night, Donghyuck properly introduced Jeno to Jungwoo and informed him of their plan to escape the city. Jungwoo wished them luck and coughed up a few more shillings to help them out of the city.

In the morning, Jungwoo and Donghyuck were both gone by the time Jeno woke up—he remembered they had said something about breakfast the previous night. He rose and looked over the waking city through the big open window. Sensing an unsettling presence in the air, he crossed the narrow hallway and looked down onto the foyer.

There was a figure moving in the far right but he figured Donghyuck and Jungwoo had just gotten when he saw several more figures moving around heading for the stairs and for Jeno.

The coppers were wielding barkers when they cornered Jeno—there was nowhere to run to.

The rest was a whirlwind for Jeno, all he could remember were the herd of mutton shunters running up the stairs then two of them had ahold of his arms and another was clasping handcuffs not his twig-like wrists. Then he was being carried back down the stairs and tossed into the back of a police wagon.

From the small window of the wagon, Jeno could see Jungwoo hiding a squirmy Donghyuck around the corner, out of sight of the coppers.

Jeno spent the next two weeks in the slammer. There were several half-rats eyeing him up in their mild stupor but Jeno didn’t give them the time of day, instead focusing on how he was going to get out of there.

Donghyuck was furious with Jungwoo. How could he let Jeno get taken away like that? He paced the alley several times before Jungwoo stopped him, hands on his shoulders to steady him.

“I’m sorry that your friend got taken, Donghyuck,” Jungwoo started, apologetic. “But there’s something I need to tell you.”

Oh.

Donghyuck stopped resisting Jungwoo at the serious tone of his voice and took a step back to properly look at him.

Jungwoo took a deep breath in before starting and looked away, not able to meet Donghyuck’s sad eyes.

“At the docks,” he started, finding it difficult to find the right words at first. “I met this guy, a lord, can you believe it? He’s bringing me back with him. Said I could work at the stables—told him how fond of the horses I was—that way we could still see each other…”

“Why are you telling me this? Where does he live?” Donghyuck asked, confused about what this meant.

“Windsor,” Jungwoo answered after a moment, finally able to make eye contact with Donghyuck again, just in time to see the betrayal take over his face. “You’re leaving?” He asked, taking slow steps backwards, away from Jungwoo.

Jungwoo panicked and took steps forward to keep the close distance between them. “No, no,” he said urgently. “You see, Doy—he knows about you, I couldn’t not tell him, you’re my brother.” He put a comforting hand on Donghyuck’s shoulder and a small smile spread across his face when he didn’t shake him off. “He said I could bring you with me…”

Donghyuck started at him for a long moment. “What about Jeno?” He asked hesitantly.

Jungwoo looked away again. “I’m afraid there is nothing we can do for him,”

“No.” Donghyuck said, shaking his head in denial. “There must be—“

“There isn’t,” Jungwoo states firmly, training his cold eyes on Donghyuck. “You’re coming with me and that’s final.”

Jungwoo handed Donghyuck a tattered piece of paper with inky scribbles and ran a hand through the boy’s hair. “Meet me there in a fortnight.” And with that he disappeared around the corner, leaving Donghyuck alone in the dirty alley.

Jeno had come to terms with his situation, he had accepted it. So to say he was surprised when two coppers came into his cell early one Sunday morning and tossed him out onto the street, the creaking prison gates slamming shut behind him would be an understatement.

However, what was an even bigger understatement was Jeno dragging himself up from the harsh ground—malnourished from two weeks of not eating the disgusting grub they left outside his cell, just out of reach of his arm—and turning the corner, leaving the prison behind before they changed their minds, and running face first into a familiar figure.

Upon opening his eyes, he was greeted with a stupid wide grin that reached all the way to his eyes which sparkles under the early morning sun.

Donghyuck pulled Jeno up and promptly dusted the dirt off of him before he launched into a hug, squeezing Jeno tight. He returned the gesture, albeit much soft and less intense.

“Wait,” Jeno said once they’d finally parted. “How did ya know I was being let out? Even I didn’t know…”

Donghyuck reaches into his back pocket and pulled out a crumpled page of the newspaper, handing it over to Jeno.

Jeno looked up at Donghyuck, about to ask why he had come for him when he gasped, loud.

“Shit!” He exclaimed, grabbing ahold of Jenos hand and sprint through the quickly growing London streets and down towards the river. “If we hurry we can still make it!”

“Make what?” Jeno yelled after him.

“The boat!”

Jeno didn’t understand but decided to ask more questions when he wasn’t struggling to breathe.

Soon, they were at the docks, Donghyuck searching frantically for the right one.

Jeno decided this was a good time to ask his questions. “What are you doing? Are you looking for someone? Donghyuck,” he said after a while of no response.

Donghyuck halted in his search to address Jeno.

“We’re getting out of here, mate,”

Before he could reply, there was a voice, a familiar voice, calling out for them.

Donghyuck was immediately able to isolate the sound among the sea and narrow in on the location. Jeno followed his gaze and was met with a frantic Jungwoo waving them over.

Donghyuck, still holding Jeno’s wrist in an iron grip, charged for the boat, pulling Jeno behind him.

As soon as they had boarded, a quick word to the ticker inspector from a cloaked stranger Jungwoo seemed to know assured they would be let on with no problems.

“We got out,” Donghyuck said, falling against the wooden wall and still trying to catch his breath.

Jeno followed suit, pushing his thoughts out of his mind; there was no time for questions as the boat set sail shortly after they boarded.

Summer 1810

Windsor

Jeno chases a laughing Donghyuck across the field as the horses took a break by the lake, their new favourite watering hole.

The green grass tickled their ankles and they stomped through it before eventually collapsing on their backs and staring up at the clouds.

It was perfect.