Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

His shoes  were rough against the path up a house on the hills with only the luminance of the bright full moon aiding his hike. The sea was far behind him by now and there is absolutely no looking back. The two servants— attendants to the noble —sent to take him to the house in the middle of the night were glancing at each other, communicating silently. The smaller one on the right had been with the man who had traveled across provinces to seek him out and the taller man on the left was someone he’d never seen before. They continued to hike and he started to lose his breath, but the two others barely broke a sweat—not that he could see clearly.

“You will be staying at the Young Master’s residence,” the taller one spoke up. “He doesn’t like noise or any commotion so we encourage you to maintain that around him.” He explained. This time, he started to sound a little winded, as if walking alone didn’t affect him in the slightest, but the talking broke that composure. “And most of all, he doesn’t like showing his face,” he had been informed about this the day he was commissioned to work for the Minister. “He has it covered most of the time, and he wouldn’t remove the cloth around his face unless he wants to. We know your goal is to see his face, but my advice is don’t point it out to him or don’t ask him to do it, he won’t appreciate it if you do.” The smaller one nodded when the taller finished.

Seungcheol finally nodded. “What does he know?” This time, the smaller answered him. “He thinks you’re here to be the new pottery teacher,” he smiled pleasantly, and then suddenly, a sudden realization seemed to have come over him. “You do know pottery, right?” He chuckled at the others’ innocence. Of course, he knew pottery. The place they visited, Seungcheol’s home for the last ten years, had been a home of artists: painters, wood-carvers, potters, and everyone who were deemed good enough to be trained by the great Yu Sangpyul. Seungcheol landed there by accident. Orphaned and meant to be a street rat, he was born with a proclivity for the visual arts and it just so happened that one of the drawings he managed on a small piece of parchment thrown aside had caught the eye of one of the best artists in Joseon. From then on, he was taught everything he knew now, but it was painting that he loved the most. To immortalize the beauty he sees with his eyes gave him the greatest satisfaction. “ Yes, ” he finally smiled. “Yes, I do know pottery.” 

The two gained some pace as they were nearing the clearing that opened to the gates of the property. At the sound of their quick footsteps against the rough ground, another boy, even taller than the tall one stood from where he sat outside the gate and knocked. 

“They’re here!” He called out to the guards. As they neared the gates, more torches lit the path and he could finally see the mess as a result of his travel from water, then on foot.

“By the way, what are your names?” He asked the two attendants who had come with him.

“My name is Soonyoung,” the taller one answered. “This one is Jihoon,” he motioned to the smaller one. “And that tree is Mingyu.”

Said tree was waving his arms up the air, overly ecstatic. “Mingyu, be quiet!” Jihoon chastised in a loud whisper. “The Young Master is asleep!”

“He isn’t here,” he announced, a little too happily. “He got a message from the Minister and left in haste right after you two did.” He shrugged before peeking shyly at the stranger in front of him. “Is this the painter?” He made an attempt at a whisper.

“ Pottery teacher, ” Jihoon corrected firmly. “You keep that in mind.”

Mingyu looked sheepish, “I’m sorry,” he apologized quietly but maintained a kind and curious gaze at Seungcheol. “Hi,” he smiled, toothy and young. “My name is Mingyu.”

“Hi, Mingyu,” he smiled back. It made him feel at ease; all three boys were around his age and seemed to be fairly good-natured. Maybe staying here wouldn’t be such a chore if he could spend some of these days with the three, or even the others, if they were all as good-natured as these three were. “My name is Seungcheol, I’m the pottery teacher. ” He added emphasis on the last part, just as a final reminder before they drop the correction completely.

“I’m one of the Young Master’s attendants,” he added before stepping aside. “Come with me, I will take you to your quarters.” He turned and bowed at Soonyoung and Jihoon, thanking them for carrying his things all the way up the hill in the middle of the night. 

Mingyu and his long legs almost left Seungcheol to navigate the maze of rooms and halls. His footsteps were light and quick, trained by years of being an attendant to a nobleman. He had Seungcheol’s knapsack tight in his hold and after multiple turns, he stopped at a room at the backmost part of the property. There was a small hanok behind the central pavilion, small, simple, and expectedly quiet.

“This was where the former pottery teacher stayed,” Mingyu put his knapsack on the wooden floor and sat beside it. “Well, all the teachers stayed here. But it’s just going to be you now.” He suddenly had a somber look on his face. “No one needs teaching here anymore.” Seungcheol wanted to ask more questions. It had been apparent that he wasn’t given much information except he had to paint the Minister’s son secretly, and he would be arriving in the pretense of standing in as a new pottery teacher. Usually, when nobles had their portraits drawn, it was one of two things: preparation for civil service, or preparation for family life. He didn’t know which one of the two the Young Master was preparing for. And why it needed to be done in secret, he has no idea. All he knew was that he'd been the fifth, and none of them had succeeded.

“Then why do you still need a pottery teacher?”

“It’s the last thing that he hasn’t mastered,” Mingyu informed. “We still have music masters, but the Young Master plays alongside them instead of being their student.”

Seungcheol nodded and took the space at the other side of his knapsack. “What does he play?” From what he had heard, the Minister’s son is a thing of beauty. Apparently, he was so beautiful that his beauty— and mystery— is talked about across villages, and has even reached him at one point, two provinces away. But no one could really prove it, as very few had seen him. For now, all he has is an image of a tall gentleman, with lovely eyes, and an embroidered silk wrap covering his face.

“He plays the daegeum, ” Mingyu smiled. “And he plays most beautifully. Oh, you’ll have to witness one of those days, Hyungnim. When he’s in a good mood, he sits at the pavilion and plays his own music, and they’re the most beautiful compositions I’ve heard in my life.”

Seungcheol couldn’t help but smile. Despite the rumors of how difficult he was, it was still clear that his attendants respect him immensely, and his own master had always reminded him that you can always tell a nobleman’s temperament by the way their attendants speak about them, and by the way the three has described him, he might have a good impression for now. “I will look forward to that,” he smiled. Mingyu left eventually to give him time on his own and settle himself into the hanok, promising to catch up with him the next day.

He settled into the cool room and hid his box of drawing tools underneath a loose wooden panel by the edge of the room. 

He cannot know.

--

The household started early as he observed from the outer floorboards of his hanok . Servants and cooks ran about while the rest enjoyed the beautiful sunny morning. Seungcheol didn’t know what to do yet—he was a guest and was barely shown anything other than the path to this part of the estate which he barely registered. It wasn’t long, however, before he spotted Mingyu’s tall figure emerge from one of the bends, carrying a tray of food and swiftly walking towards him. “Up so early, hyungnim?” It was almost too familiar for someone he just met but when the younger used it the night before, he made no effort to correct him so it might as well be permanent. “We weren’t expecting you to be up so early we had to whip something up quickly,” he placed the tray of mixed vegetables, clear noodles, and side dishes in front of him. 

“Was the commotion because of me?” He just caught on to the implications of what Mingyu just said. 

“Of course, you’re the Master’s guest,” he shrugged. “It only gets busy like that for the Young Master but he rarely gets up early.”

Seungcheol nodded and let Mingyu do all the talking while he ate. He pointed towards the mountain behind the hanok and how the Young Master likes to take a certain path deep into the woods to bathe in the cold mountain spring when warmer weather does come. He gestured to the field of yuchae, rapeseed, that they just started growing two years ago but was bountiful and absolutely breathtaking—at least in the Spring, according to Mingyu. It was about to break, but it was still winter, and the blooms were yet to open. 

“That is where we stay,” he pointed to a long hall at the Western side of the estate. “All the attendants. You can visit us there when you’re bored, we have card games.” He grinned openly.  Mingyu eventually ran out of things to point to and turned to him. “Do you have any questions?” Seungcheol had a lot, but he was most curious about one thing. “The Young Master, what type of person is he?” Mingyu considered the question for a while. “I’ve been his attendant since I was a child, and if there’s one thing that stands out about him, it’s his kindness. That’s not what everyone usually sees. When we were children he was very playful, but then a few years ago he started becoming very quiet and preferred being alone. It isn’t my story to tell, though,” he warned. “So, I’m going to stop there.”

Seungcheol nodded before setting his food to the side. “Can you say why he covers up his face?”

“Well, there are multiple,” Mingyu started. “But according to the Minister, it’s because they’re reserving the exposure of his face for when he gets married. But I still don’t understand why he has to keep the silk covering even when it’s just us. We know how he looks, he does not have to.” If anything, this just confused Seungcheol even more. If the Minister is keeping his son’s face hidden, why does he have to resort to trickery to get him to remove the cover? What is the portrait for? Why go to such lengths to hide someone’s face? Just to make sure the Young Master doesn’t get too much attention for his beauty? It does not make sense. But that is what he is here for, he guessed. It’s his job to find out, and gain his trust enough for him to bare his face to him—something he doesn’t even do in front of his attendants. 

 —

He filled his days with secretly drawing inside his room. Although the Young Master’s attendants knew what he was really there for, many did not. On some days, one of the three attendants he met beforehand would visit him. Sometimes to invite him to play cards, at times he was invited into town with them and he bought some supplies for grinding his ink, and for a few times, he’d been invited to walk around the estate with the others while they collected herbs for the Young Master’s tea.

All three had been sons of the attendants of the Minister’s wife and have been with the Young Master since they were children. They were treated like friends, they said, but they’ve always known that he was meant to become so much more than they were and they did not mind. He sat by the field, collecting every single seed that they picked and carefully moved them into a bag. All of these, along with those they picked the other day, will be crushed tonight in preparation for the Young Master’s consumption. “You’re very careful with your work.” He commented as Jihoon checked those he picked again before passing them to him.

“There’s a lot more care in your work when you care about those you serve,” he smiled simply. “And we have a Master that you could not help but care about.”

“You think too highly of me.”

All the hairs on Seungcheol’s arms stood up and he seemed to have lost his breath, and it was just a voice. A gentle voice. Jihoon looked up and smiled, while the other two were already running from where they both were. “ Young Master! ” Mingyu was waving his satgat, bouncing happily as he ran towards them.

The man in the deep blue durumagi—the man with the gentle voice and half of his face covered in embroidered silk that had the color of his overcoat—laughed as he watched Mingyu stumble along the field. It was a clear and pleasant laugh and for a spell, he was out of words. For days, he’d been having thoughts of how the Young Master may not be able to live up to the praises of his loyal attendants, but he understood now. With just his stance, and the way he sounded and talked, Seungcheol was temporarily under a certain urge to die at war for this man.

When the two arrived at the foot of their Young Master, panting, they bowed deeply. “Welcome back, Young Master.”

“Thank you,” he chuckled fondly before turning to Seungcheol. He felt winded, once again. He had no idea how he would have reacted if he could see his entire face, for he could only see his eyes and he could barely breathe. “Hello.” He didn’t smile, but his eyes weren’t unkind. They were more curious and searching. 

Seungcheol finally snapped to attention, bowing deeply. “ Young Master, ” he hoped no one could hear the tremble in his voice. “I am Choi Seungcheol, I am the new pottery teacher.”

“ Ah, ” he nodded. “I just missed your arrival, I was informed.”

“He did arrive here a few hours after you left, My Lord,” Soonyoung answered simply.

“Welcome,” he turned back to Seungcheol. Now, the curve of his kind, rounded eyes were apparent as he smiled. “I hope I won’t be such a bad student.”

“That’s impossible,” Jihoon muttered as they followed him out of the fields and back into the estate. “You’re always a good learner.”

The four of them followed behind him obediently as he listened to Soonyoung bring him up to date and what they’ve been doing in his absence. “We’ve collected more earth to prepare for your lessons, too,” Mingyu interjected when Soonyoung finished. “Master Seungcheol here helped us look for the perfect sites.”

The nobleman turned to him, “When do we start our classes, Master?”

“Just Seungcheol will do, My Lord,” he answered. “That will depend on when you want to. If it suits you, we may have classes in afternoons.”

“I have no problems with afternoons,” he muttered. “Classes are a good way to fill up our days, isn’t it?” He addressed the others so Seungcheol didn’t speak up. “I can only imagine what it’s like to grow under the tutelage of a master such as Yu Sangpyul, it must have been beautiful, to grow up with so much art around you?” This time, he was addressing Seungcheol directly. So he knows where I come from, he’s been informed of what I can do, he thought. He would not have to tell this man any lies except what he is actually here to do. “It was,” he nodded and smiled in spite of himself. There was such a calming energy around the man that he could not help but respond earnestly. “Everyone learned almost everything.”

“Did you have musicians, too?” he inquired. Only then had he noticed that they were standing outside the Young Master’s main residence and the others had backed away a safe distance to let them talk.

“At the main residence, we did not,” he informed. Yu Sangpyul’s residence focused on the visual arts. “But near the residence there lives Old Goon , he’s a musician who plays night and day.” This seemed to have completely taken the attention of the Young Master whose expressive eyes shone at the thought of music. 

“What does he play?”

“A lot,” he supplied. Old Goon was a palace musician in his heyday and told stories of the former King as long as anyone would listen. “The gayageum, piri, geomungo , and the daegeum …that one he reserves for special occasions.” His breath hitched at the mention of the daegeum, which, as he has been told, was the Young Master’s favorite instrument. The sound he made was gentle, and sharp, and Seungcheol’s mind started to visualize the many shapes that may form when he makes the sound. He could only imagine. He just knows, no matter how beautiful he envisions him to be, he is surely more beautiful than that. “Why does he reserve it?” His voice became increasingly curious.

At that moment, however, one male attendant that Seungcheol has never interacted with before approached them quietly. “I apologize, My Lord,” he bowed deeply. “But the Minister’s adviser will be leaving shortly and he wishes to talk to you before he leaves.”

The Young Master looked as if he was immensely disappointed, but it only lasted for a short moment before he regained his composure, and smiled gently. “Yes, of course,” he addressed the attendant. “Please excuse me, Master.”

“Just Seungcheol , My Lord,” he reminded as he bowed.

“I will take my leave then, Seungcheol .” Seungcheol bowed and watched the most beautiful man he has seen in his life walk away with a lifetime worth of grace. The most beautiful man he has seen in his life, and he has not even his entire face.

That night he could not stop thinking about the man in the deep blue durumagi, smiling at him with his eyes, wondering how people managed to hold back not knowing what he really looks like. He dreamt about a gentle voice, clear laugh carried away by the cold biting wind. Half of his face unknown, name left unmentioned, mysteries that surround him remain that way. And somehow, Seungcheol felt enchanted. Maybe that is what made him so breathtaking; what makes him so captivating. The feeling that there’s something— someone so beautiful hiding behind layers. And no one has been given the chance to see. What made him think he deserved such a pleasure?

--

Seungcheol rose early at dawn, when the sun had barely replaced the moon; mist still lingering and fog hovered just over the ground. A figure rose over the translucence, the beige durumagi blending into the background, but it was impossible to miss the seemingly-enchanted figure of young Lord Yoon, standing among the flowerbeds, none of which have bloomed at that moment, but he stared at them all the same. Through the distance, Seungcheol studied him. The late-winter morning was extremely cold and he wasn’t as covered as he should have been. It was impossible for the attendants not to have noticed him since Mingyu said he had guards on his door just to make sure no one enters unannounced and sees his face unexpectedly—but he looked alone. Was no one going to give him thicker garments to cover himself with?

The Young Lord shifted his stance and looked up at the steadily rising sun. It almost looked like he was summoning warmth and dispelling the biting cold. Seungcheol was overcome with an overwhelming feeling of curiosity, and maybe it was his painter’s eyes, but everything about the Young Lord was just worthy of immaculate brushstrokes; he was not even sure if he was good enough to immortalize such magnificence, he doesn’t know if his master can, he doesn’t know if anyone can. With that, he will have to do. At this point, he was not willing to let go of the opportunity to expose himself anyway.

That morning, he spent hours inside his room sketching the scene he’d seen that morning. He made haphazard lines by the left to roughly sketch out the pavilion which took up most of the space. The next thing he drew was the lilies bordering the right, and finally, carefully outlined the figure of the scholar. He had his back turned but a little bit of his right profile was showing, except the bottom half was covered in embroidered silk. He wanted to stop there but he stayed inside longer, trying to perfect the dip of his inner eyes. He’d never seen eyes like those before, and he worked his best to get them right. Right when he thought he was at the least bit tolerant with the outcome, footsteps thudded across the wooden floor approaching his room. “Hyungnim,” Mingyu’s voice called out from outside the door. He quickly hid his things under the usual floorboard. Even though Mingyu knew what he was there for, he was yet to confirm if anyone else was with him, or if he was even allowed to draw the Young Lord outside of the portrait that he was told to make.

“Give me just a second,” he called out, as he frantically tried to smooth out his baji .

He stepped out into the significantly warmer air. “Does the Young Master need me?” he inquired.

“He did not mention anything,” Mingyu informed. “But we were instructed by the Minister to take you to the pottery to inspect what we have here and to collect whatever you need,” Mingyu led him to the westernmost part of the estate. “Also, he wishes to talk to you tonight. He will be passing through the village on his way to the Imperial Capital and he will be staying at an inn near here tonight, we will be taking you there.”

Seungcheol nodded. “You three?”

“Just me, but one of the Master’s attendants will be coming with us, too. Jihoon and Soonyoung cannot come with me in case the Young Master needs one of us.” Seungcheol followed him quietly to a wide open shed that boasted a kiln of the newest kind beside it. Even his Master did not have a kiln this advanced. Nobles really have anything at the palm of their hands. “We will need to leave in the middle of the night when the Young Master has gone to bed. I will be coming to your room, do not worry.” Seungcheol thanked him as he distractedly studied the tools available to them as well as the clays they had in their storage. 

“Does the Young Master or the Minister have any preferences? It seems like they prefer Celadon,” he muttered mostly to himself, still thinking about what he could possibly talk about upon his meeting with the Minister. Maybe some clarity will be provided if he speaks to him. He has been feeling like he has been kept in the dark and he would appreciate at least knowing what all this is for.

He inspected the clays, and most of them were reddish with their high iron content which was admittedly uncommon especially for nobles. “The Minister does prefer celadon,” Mingyu answered eventually. “He likes to be different to his counterparts, and since most nobles prefer the newly-popular porcelain, he likes showing off that he has old celadons.”

That made Seungcheol chuckle. His master has always ranted day and night about nobles. He always deemed Royals better, especially those who were born into royalty like the younger princes and princesses. They were ignorant of politics, and usually treated their teachers with more respect, and did not like to involve themselves in many complications. But nobles—they were always in a power struggle, fighting for control, installing their puppets into the royal family just to maintain their position. They also liked unnecessary and wasteful bragging, and the Minister of Justice was no exemption.

“Do you have any clay for porcelain?” Mingyu nodded and guided him to the back of the storage area, where more clay was stored in the appropriate temperatures. “We were going to get rid of these a few months back but the Young Master insisted he still wanted to learn so we have kept them here. No one else knows pottery here.”

“He’s never had a pottery teacher before?”

“There was a pottery teacher,” Mingyu started talking cautiously, as if he was intentionally avoiding saying certain information. “But when he was here, the Young Master was brought to the Imperial Capital with the Minister to attend some business. He did not get the opportunity to learn although he wanted to.”

“That’s a pity,” Seungcheol mumbled.

“It was,” they both jumped when the Young Lord appeared suddenly once more with both Soonyoung and Jihoon trailing right behind him. He sat in front of the potter’s wheel and gave it a few spins through stepping on the pedal. He had a boyish and comfortable stance today; visibly more relaxed than he was when he arrived. He could see the mischievous glint in his eyes, clear as day as he was not wearing his hat which usually shaded his expressions. “But you’re here now, so soon it will not be. When do we start?”

Seungcheol smiled at his enthusiasm but he mostly did it to mask his nerves. Although he knew he was an excellent potter, he was not his master, nor was he at the same level as those who focused on perfecting pottery under their master. “You will have to change into less extravagant clothes, My Lord.” Seungcheol scanned him up and down. He was wearing a soft green hanbok which was carefully embroidered and was visibly made to impress.

The Young Lord’s eyes grew sad and he checked his clothing. “I need to change?”

“Breathtaking as you may be in those clothes, you will surely give it irreversible damage if you wore it to pottery, My Lord. Something more dispensable may be more favorable.”

He sighed and turned to his attendants. “I need to change,” he announced sadly. The two looked at him fondly and smiled.

“It seems like you do, My Lord,” Soonyoung answered as they both stepped aside so they could walk back to his residence.

“I will be back after I change, Seungcheol. ”

“I will be waiting here, My Lord.”

--

When he came back he was still in clothes too fancy for clay but the nobleman swore those were his plainest, and he would not mind if those got clay on them. “They can be washed off anyway, correct?”

“They can,” Seungcheol nodded. “I merely wanted to warn you in case you have clothes you want to remain pristine, My Lord.”

“Well, these ones work fine,” he raised his arms and presented himself in his new black hanbok. “And these are dark so stains would not be too apparent, will it?”

“That’s correct, My Lord.”

For their very first class, Seungcheol settled for introducing the evolution of pottery and the types of clays and materials that they would use throughout the class. “You have multitudes of materials here that we could use to make celadon and porcelain ceramics but we would have to start on the most basic. You would need to learn how to use the wheel and work your clay.” He instructed calmly.

He guided the Young Master in front of the wheel and asked him to step on the pedal gently. While the wheel was spinning, he gently wiped the surface with a wet rag to dampen the surface. “Make sure to clean it first,” he urged him to continue stepping on the pedal to keep it spinning. “If there were any dirt or debris, it would get mixed into the clay and would create imperfections.”

“My lack of talent will render them imperfect before any debris does,” the Young Master joked and stared right into Seungcheol’s eyes as if anticipating his reaction. 

Seungcheol chuckled pleasantly, but he shook his head anyway. “This doesn’t need talent, My Lord, just practice and determination to learn, and an earnest man like you are would have that.”

“Ah,” he was immediately bashful; a flush crept up his neck, disappeared behind the cloth that covered his face, and spread to his ears and forehead. “I see you have fallen into the trap of thinking of me too highly, you have been with those three for more times than you should have.”

“I’ve had some time to confirm,” he muttered just as he motioned for the Young Lord to stop pedaling. “Now we have this piece of clay, I have cut this out for you ahead of time. Dip your hand here,” he held out a bucket of water where he dipped his slender fingers to soak it. “Your hands need to be wet when you handle clay. If it’s too dry, the clay will stick to your hands.”

The Young Master hummed as Seungcheol splashed water on the clay. “Now it’s time to work the clay, My Lord,” he instructed.

“Jeonghan,” he whispered. 

Seungcheol barely heard and he had to lean in to listen. “Pardon, My Lord? I did not hear you.”

“That’s my name, Jeonghan. Call me Jeonghan. Calling me My Lord must be exhausting.”

Seungcheol hesitated. “That would be impolite… My Lord,” gently, he held the Young Master’s wrists and urged him to work the clay to relax it and prepare it for shaping. “Especially since the rest speak to you formally.”

“My attendants call me hyung in private,” he informed. “I have insisted and they have agreed…” he tilted his head in order to catch Seungcheol’s eyes. “Please agree.”

Seungcheol stared back. They were already exquisitely rounded but he rounded them out even more to plead. There was no way kingdoms would not willingly fall if he asked them this way. “I shall,” Seungcheol sighed. “I shall, Jeonghan .”

--

As expected, Jeonghan was a very quick learner. Just after one class, he already knew how to correctly center his clay and managed to give it lengthy spins without misshaping it. “You have skill, My Lord.”

“ Jeonghan, ” he corrected. 

He was standing in front of running water that ran from the river to the side of the pottery, funneled by bamboo. Seungcheol washed his hands first, as he had promised to help him with his own hands. He stood there like a child, patiently waiting as Seungcheol finish cleaning up. 

He chuckled in resignation and wiped his hands off using a clean cloth. When it was Jeonghan’s turn, he faced him and hesitated. “Can I touch your clothes, Jeonghan?” The name was almost foreign to his tongue but since he insisted, he will follow. 

“You may,” he nodded. “Just not the cloth that is covering my face.”

Seungcheol took note of the fact that he spoke of the obvious but chose not to dwell on it. “Just your sleeves, do not worry.” He stepped forward and started folding the sleeves upward, making careful and even folds until they were folded to his elbow. He helped him lean forward and started rubbing off the excess clay on Jeonghan’s arms and hands. He worked very gently; not simply because those were the hands of a nobleman, but because he was pristine; porcelain white skin, without a single blemish or even the smallest imperfections. Even his fingers were slender and soft. 

“You’ve fairer skin than I do,” Jeonghan commented quietly. 

“I do?” Seungcheol wondered aloud, he had not even thought to compare. When he did look at their arms side by side, he was indeed slightly fairer than the noble. But they differed in texture—while Jeonghan’s were soft and smooth, his were rough and calloused. He continued to gently clean the noble’s skin, memorizing his physical details.

Maybe his portrait would need a hand; he was not sure, so he took the opportunity anyway. “I apologize for my rough and heavy hands.” Jeonghan scoffed. “Your hands are in no way rough and heavy,” he reassured. “You’re doing a good job, you’re better than my attendants.”

Seungcheol only remembered that there were three other people standing guard at a distance when Mingyu made a sound of complaint. Jeonghan laughed at his reaction, just as Seungcheol let go of his clean hands. The three slowly approached as the Young Master started speaking to them; all the while Seungcheol was patting his hands dry. “All done,” he announced when he was. 

“Thank you very much, Seungcheol,” he immediately went back to talking to his attendants as they walked back to the main residence. Everyone seemed to gravitate towards him, and not just because he was their master but because they admire and respect him. When they reached his residence, he excused himself to give the Young Master some time to himself and whatever he wanted to busy himself with for the night. He needed to prepare to meet the Minister later that night, anyway.

“We must dine together one of these days,” he offered when said his excuse to return to his own residence.

“You may name your day, My Lord,” he returned to formal speech with multiple people listening. “For now, I will be returning.”

He nodded. “I will see you tomorrow.”

“You will, My Lord.”

--

The bustle of the estate has long since died down and the moon was high up in the dark sky when he heard Mingyu’s footsteps nearing his chamber. Seungcheol had been prepared, and the attendant did not have to knock; Seungcheol simply stepped out of his chamber voluntarily and followed him out of the estate quietly.

“Are we going on foot?” He asked when they were a safe distance away.

“No,” Mingyu answered. He seemed nervous and was walking a little more briskly than normal. “We’ll be walking just a short distance. One of the Minister’s attendants has prepared horses for us to ride to the village. Do you know how to go on horseback?”

“Yes, I do.” Indeed, they did not have to walk far. It was comparably similar to the distance of the shore and the estate that he walked a week ago but they did not have to go uphill this time which made it less laborious. At a distance, another young man, around his and Mingyu’s age was sitting under a shed, watching over three horses.

“Hyung!” Mingyu called out as they approached. He beamed brightly, much more than he usually does when he speaks about Jeonghan, which Seungcheol found curious. He thought speaking about his Young Master was the brightest Mingyu could go. Apparently not. “Wonwoo hyung!”

The young man turned and smiled widely and was almost completely unaware that Mingyu came accompanied.

“Mingyu,” he returned the warm smile just as warmly, although his was subtler at the mouth, more expressive at the eyes. “I have not seen you in quite a while.” It was then that he finally noticed Seungcheol.  Mingyu bowed as an afterthought, as if they had accustomed themselves to interacting informally but Seungcheol’s presence reminded him of formal hierarchies. “You’re always welcome to be the Young Master’s attendant,” Mingyu suggested, highly hopeful.

“If I could…” The older attendant sighed, but he dismissed the thought just as quickly as it was raised. “Well,” he finally turned to Seungcheol. He had not been so invisible, after all.

“Master.” He bowed.

“Please,” Seungcheol bowed back. “I am a mere man.”

He stepped aside to offer the great black stallion behind him. “The Minister is waiting for you.”

--

A grand inn had been reserved simply for the Minister’s party. Signs of dancing and drinking were apparent upon Seungcheol’s arrival but it had obviously died down. He was led deep into the chambers and they passed multiple guards. The Minister of Justice indeed demanded almost the same regard as if he was royalty. Finally, they reached the last door.

“Your Excellency,” the attendant Wonwoo spoke up deeply and calmly. “Master Choi is here.”

“Bring him in,” a warm voice responded before the doors were slid to the side. The Minister sat in front of a tea set, upright and stiff, but he looked solemn instead of harsh, like he was deep in thought. “Master Choi,” he gestured to the seat across him and Seungcheol sat politely. “It’s my first time seeing you, you are quite young. How old?”

“Twenty and three, Your Excellency,” he answered.

He hummed in consideration. “You are the same age as my son.” Seungcheol found that highly interesting. He has indeed estimated the Young Masters’ age to be around his but he had not expected them to be exactly of the same age. “Maybe he will find you more trustworthy then,” he mused. “All of the painters I have commissioned so far had been much older.”

Seungcheol kept quiet. He had not been asked to speak and he did not want to offend.

“I understand that you have not been told what exactly you are here to do, correct?”

“All I know is I have to draw him, Your Excellency,” he finally answered. “I do not know what for.”

“He is to be married to Princess Sunbin,” he was ultimately surprised. The Minister did manage to squeeze further into power. Princess Sunbin was the oldest of the King’s daughters and the oldest of the First Concubine’s children. She is widely known to be the King’s personal favorite of his children. The meaning is simple: the Minister of Justice, along with other Ministers, have sided with the First Concubine and plan to depose The Queen especially if she continues to fail to bear him a son and the Crown Prince continues to be a child of the First Concubine. He plans to plant his son as early as he could so when the First Concubine does become Queen, his position will instantly strengthen. “However,” he added. “The Princess thinks his beauty is important,” he scoffed. “She is right. Many nobles have offered her their sons and they’ve all been similar. Scholars, mild-mannered, obedient, well-taught, all the same… but she’d heard of Jeonghan’s immense beauty. She prioritizes him for now,” he smiled. “But she wants to see a portrait before agreeing.”

His role was important then. He did not need to make the Young Master look extravagant, he did not need that. His role was to ensure that Jeonghan’s beauty was captured exactly as it is. If the Princess finds him attractive enough, she will marry him and the Minister’s position in the government will be stronger than ever. Seungcheol nodded in understanding.

“But the brat,” he grit. “He refuses to uncover his face.”

“If I may be so bold to ask,” he started, unsure.

“Ask away.”

“Why does the Young Master refuse to show his face?”

“I do not know,” his father immediately answered, as if he had been preparing for the question to be brought up in the first place. “The first thing that comes to mind is he refuses to be married to her.”

“Does he wish to be married to someone else?”

There could be someone in the Young Master’s life, a common woman, maybe even another noblewoman, or even… Seungcheol blinked and did not let his thoughts stray. The point was, if there was someone else, marriage to the Princess would still prove to be most advantageous. To be the son-in-law of the potential Queen or even the brother-in-law of the potential King… he does fit the part. The thought of him in the Imperial Palace among the abundance of gentle-hued trees and flowers fit his beauty best.

“As far as I know, he does not…” he declared. “I simply think that he has been preparing for a common life, and he was. His sister was supposed to be engaged to the Crown Prince and him, to the simple life of a scholar. He was looking forward to it.”

Sister? The Young Master has a sister?

“Do not bother yourself with his sister,” the Minister almost read his thoughts. “You will not be able to meet her.” He took a few sips of his hot tea and finished it almost immediately. If anything, that was the signal that the conversation was ending. “All I want you to ensure is to capture him accurately. Although time is essential, I do not wish to hurry you, I have made that error in the past. I will give you a few months, and I will inform you when I need the portrait the most. I will not mind your methods; just make sure he does not find out. He has full authority over his residence and if he kicks you out, I will not be able to bring you back.”

--

How does one do that exactly? He kept on replaying the conversation in his head again and again, even when he and the Young Master had been in their classes. In what universe will the Young Master even allow him to see his face when even Mingyu has not in years? At this point, even trust was not enough for him to succeed.

Nevertheless, he had to try. It was what he was here to do.

“How do I do it again?” In their third meeting, Seungcheol made Jeonghan focus on centering the clay. He was smiling, thoroughly amused by the fact that his clay was a little crooked and did not look in the slightest bit similar to the sample that he had prepared for him.

“Keep your hand very steady,” he instructed under his breath. He placed his hands over Jeonghan’s hand, guiding the correct pressure. “Just keep pedaling, let the clay work for you. The steadier your hands are, the more symmetrical it becomes.”

“I have no problem when I only have to shape something small,” Jeonghan whispered. Neither of them needed to speak louder, as their foreheads had almost been touching with their distance.

“However, when I need to shape something bigger, I have to move my hands up and down.” There was absolute mirth in his voice, as if his learning challenges were highly amusing to him.

Seungcheol could not help but smile along. “Yes,” he agreed. “That could become a problem.”

They basked in the silence for a while, letting the sound of the potter’s wheel take over. Seungcheol’s hands remain touching the Young Masters’ and although it may be considered impolite to touch him in such a way, he did not complain. He guided them slowly up, keeping both their hands steady. When the shape looked a little more balanced, Jeonghan exhaled quietly. “ Oh, ” the lovely little noise settled in the middle of Seungcheol’s brain. “That worked.”

Seungcheol guided him a few more times, unable to separate their hands. However, eventually, he had to let go. “Continue up and down, keep it steady…” Jeonghan followed his instructions.

“Seungcheol…” the Young Noble whispered to get his attention. “Can you take this off my face?” He could not gesture using his hands because he was still trying to shape his clay, but he did not need to, the strands of hair blocking his vision were visible enough.

“Tuck them behind my ear, please.” Almost entranced, he hummed his assent, and gently took the loose strand of hair off his face and gently hid them behind his left ear. “There is more sticking to my face…” he added. “But they’re sticking there because of my sweat; you do not need to touch them.”

“No,” Seungcheol reached closer to pull the thin strands and push them aside. “I do not mind.” Jeonghan stopped pedaling, stopping the clay. He took his hands off the clay and sat up to look at him in the eyes.

“Thank you.”

“You’re very welcome, Jeonghan .”

--

Seungcheol stirred and was immediately alerted awake by the sound of voices. Still disoriented and confused, he dashed out of his room and onto the side of his house where he realized it came from, only to be looked at by a stone-faced Jihoon. The attendant went back to watching the retreating figure going deep into the woods. It was the Young Master. 

“Is no one going with him?” Was his first question, through the biting cold and his sleeping clothes. 

“No,” Jihoon simply answered. “We just wait here by the edge of the forest.” When he said we, he just noticed Soonyoung crouching beside him. He glanced and the attendant looked up. 

“Good morning, Master,” he smiled brightly. “Did we wake you? Would you like some tea? The cooks are making some, Mingyu is bringing them.”

Jeonghan’s figure had completely disappeared amongst the trees and Jihoon was no longer watching and just stood there. “Would you mind if we sit here?” He gestured to the wooden floor, and Seungcheol shook his head.  “Not at all,” he answered distracted, his voice still rough from disuse. 

“Would you rather drink tea inside?”

“We have to wait here for the Young Master,” Soonyoung explained, stretching his limbs. “He’s not in any trouble or danger but we don’t want to be called over when he does come back.” Seungcheol nodded but he was still too disoriented to form a coherent response. He decided to return into his quarters and sketch a few more rough drawings of Jeonghan. The more that he had the chance to stare at the uncovered parts of his face, the more he was able to make out most of his features. He had a high forehead and smooth jaw that curved elegantly into a semi-rounded chin. So far, he was satisfied with his rendering of his face shape, but what was it without the mouth, the nose, and eyes that he cannot seem to be satisfied with? He got their shapes correct, but for some reason, he kept on feeling like he was missing something. 

He apparently was taking so much time perfecting his drawings that he didn’t even notice multiple footsteps approaching his chamber. Fortunately, Mingyu arrived first and knocked quickly.

“The Young Master is coming,” he quickly threw his materials under the floorboard haphazardly, cleanly covering it with a pillow before the shadow of Jeonghan stopped outside his door. 

“ Seungcheol-ssi, ” he drawled. 

He quickly got up and opened his door before bowing deeply. “To what do I owe the pleasure, Young Master?” He paused a little and looked like he wanted to correct him but there were others in their presence so he let it slide. 

“It’s a beautiful day,” he pointed out, gesturing to the bright rays of the sun. Today must be the beginning of springtime. “Have you had any meals?”

“Not yet, Young Master.”

“Then come,” he turned a little. “I just got back from my walk and I’ve got much energy. The air is also splendidly cool, it would be the perfect day to dine at the pavilion.”

“As you wish, Young Master.” He smiled and walked back out and was immediately followed by Jihoon and Soonyoung. He shared one relieved look with Mingyu when he was safely out of earshot. “Were you…?” 

“Yes,” he sighed. “Drawing.”

“It is not noticeable, fortunately,” he pointed out. “I will wait for you while you change and we can walk back together.”

—

The pavilion was usually clear of anything and had not been used by anyone as far as he knew for the whole month that he had been there, teaching. The cooks crowded the kitchens, attendants ran around all over the place, usually the kitchen, storage areas, even outside the estate when they were asked to, the Young Master stayed within his main residence or walked around aimlessly, but not the pavilion. Maybe the only time he’d seen anyone be on it was when someone cleaned. 

That morning, they sat by the side that faced the pond and lilies, an array of food and side dishes laid out in front of them. “Do tell me, Seungcheol,” he hadn't even started eating yet when Jeonghan initiated the conversation. “Who is Old Goon?” 

Oh. That was right, they did leave the particular conversation unfinished when he first arrived. Seungcheol smiled. “Old Goon is an old man who lived within our village. He lived in the part of our village where he was surrounded by other musicians, both young and old. My master told me that Old Goon had been a musician at the Imperial Palace.”

Jeonghan’s eyes twinkled. “Mmhmm, continue. And please, eat.” He will try to do both without being impolite. “You may speak and chew, do not mind me.” He was so carefree, Seungcheol noted. He looked around at the attendants in the vicinity, their Young Master might not mind but they may. Despite that, Seungcheol did pick and start chewing on a radish. 

“He was young when he was trained in the Gayageum and was nearly twenty when he became a regular musician during palace celebrations.”

“How long ago has this been?”

“The former King had no heirs yet when he started there, Young Master.” Jeonghan’s mouth formed a small ‘o’ and his eyes glazed when he started calculating the years. 

“My father would have been a child then.”

“And so was my Master,” Seungcheol supplied. “He had an eventful life at the Palace, he says, but he moved out and retired. He became an apprentice at my Master’s shop and learned how to carve wood. Eventually, he used the skill to become an instrument-maker.”

“What instruments did he make?”

“Oh, almost everything,” Seungcheol remembered. He remembered being a small, starving child who hung around Old Goon’s house because he handed out porridge to the poor children in exchange for them to listen to his long winding stories of the past. “I remember his house had them hung, he had stringed, percussion, wind… he especially hated it when we started fooling around with the drums.”

“Did they sell?”

“Those that hung? Sometimes, but not often,” he nodded. “Musical instruments… they are not quickly replaced so what sold the most were the easily replaceable materials like drum brushes, strings, and personalized requests. Other than being an excellent musician, he was also a highly-learned wood-carver so he had personal orders coming in, mostly from nobles of neighboring villages and other musicians.”

Jeonghan smiled the entire time he talked. Eventually, he looked up. “Do you know about wood-carving?”

Seungcheol stared at him. “I do,” he admitted. “Do you want me to teach you?”

“Even just a little,” he smiled shyly, redness tainting his cheeks. “Just how to carve things into wood, not necessarily re-shaping wood.” He clarified. 

“Forgive my intrusion, Young Master,” Seungcheol tried voicing out his observation. “But… Do you want to be like Old Goon?”

Jeonghan was quiet, then he burst out into loud laughter. To say that the sound surprised him would be an understatement—Seungcheol was so dumbfounded that he almost knocked a glass off the table. “Oh, I apologize”, Jeonghan ground out while he continued laughing. “It’s nothing funny, I promise”. Mingyu came forward to reorganize the table then stepped away once more. “It’s just that I am so predictable, ” he finally explained when he stopped laughing. The suddenness of it all was not what startled Seungcheol, but rather the sound itself. The Young Master had always been quiet or soft-spoken and had always been modulated. That fact that it had come out of him at all was what surprised him. “I was even pretending to be subtle but no,” Jeonghan shook his head. “You saw right through me in mere seconds. Yes!” He exclaimed. “I want to be the old lunatic selling gayageums at a village while I tell children stories and play them music all day.” Seungcheol was not sure if he was being sarcastic. But the smile etched on the nobleman’s face was genuine. He did remember his father saying that Jeonghan was looking forward to a simple life. “I want to live in a small village, surrounded by small, laughing children…” he sighed before turning back to him.

“Why did Old Goon retire early?”

Seungcheol eyed him carefully. Was this something he could say to this young noble? It wasn’t completely a secret within their village but maybe it was because he was terrified of the young noble’s reaction. “He left the palace because of growing fear…”

“Fear of what?” The honest worry on Jeonghan’s features comforted him. Old Goon’s situation was not rare, even nobles were involved in them, but it was hushed enough to be careful about. 

“That he was seducing the King through his music and leading him astray, and sometimes even implying that his private meetings with the King were to influence his decisions.”

“Seducing..? Meaning?” His widened eyes were delightful, innocent, but still smart. He knew what Seungcheol meant, but he wanted to be clear.

“Old Goon’s affections were for men,” he finally clarified. “Maybe that’s why he never married. According to my Master, it was widely known, and no one in the court really completely did mind, but they were more mindful of the possible effects if Old Goon caught the King’s affections. He was young then, and according to many, very attractive, and he was the King’s favorite musician and frequently asked him to play for him privately.”

“ Oh, ” Jeonghan was thoughtful for a while, and he kept eating. While he chewed, Seungcheol watched him, read his reaction. Was this something revolting to him? Was the idea of a man being attracted to another man foreign to him? “That must have been hard.”

Seungcheol was temporarily taken aback and he had to blink at him a few times. “Why would you think so, Young Master?”

“Jeonghan, ” he corrected gently. “It must be hard for him not to stay with someone he loved. May it be the King or someone else, it would have been torture… to be torn between marrying a woman or staying alone your entire life.”

He smiled. His point of view was even kinder than Seungcheol had expected. “That is true.”

“Did he play love songs on the daegeum?”

“He did,” Seungcheol nodded. “But not around us, just when he was alone. Little children think daegeums are boring and sad. We liked it when he drummed.”

The rest of the meal continued in that manner, quiet conversations, mostly about music and their experiences with it. Jeonghan started talking abundantly about instruments and the sounds that different instruments make. It almost reminded him of Old Goon’s endless stories. “It makes me run out of breath, honestly.”

“Then why is it your favorite?”

“Because of the sound,” Jeonghan answered without hesitation. “I don’t know how to describe it… to me the daegeum sounds like low, secretive crying. It’s like screaming out for a lost love, or suppressing tears for a person lost,” Jeonghan looked at him and smiled. “It could be hopeful, though. But have you ever had those moments when you have been crying for so long, but by the end of it, you’re hopeful? That things will change, that love lost may return, that maybe not everything is gone? But you’re still crying?” It was so specific, but for some reason, Seungcheol knew what the feeling was exactly. He could even go back to a specific period of time just by the feeling. “I think the daegeum sounds like that.”

Seungcheol could not stop watching his face. Only a face like this could express so much despite being half-covered. “I would love to hear you play.” He blurted out.

Jeonghan looked surprised, but then quickly recovered. Before Seungcheol could even take it back, he answered, “Perhaps someday.”

--

Seungcheol had been living in Young Lord Yoon’s estate for more than a month when the rapeseed blooms started opening up. What once looked like mere grassland with the closed rapeseed buds now was littered with soft yellows like little bursts of soft sunlight. During afternoons, especially after pottery classes, Jeonghan liked to walk across the field, simply inspecting the rate of growth. He made Seungcheol come with him one afternoon. 

“We finished quite late today,” he noted quietly as the painter patted his hands and arms dry. “The sun will set soon and it will cast such a beautiful color on the flowers, you have to see it.” To Seungcheol, he was just pointing it out, so he didn’t pay it any mind. However, Jeonghan pointedly turned to him. “Please come with me.” Seungcheol stared back for a while.

Jeonghan’s eyes had a special impact on him. Maybe it was because it’s the only facial feature he knows by heart, but it has been the protagonist of his dreams as of late. The elegant dip of his inner eyes has been subject to most of them.

In one of the dreams, Jeonghan was flat on his back, hair long and loose and sprawled above his figure. Seungcheol was leaning over him, hair also untied and falling to the sides. His face was near; too near to be polite, but Jeonghan was not complaining and just breathed quietly as Seungcheol studied the creases of his eyes. Those were the hardest to perfect. He had his fingers on his face, tracing the shapes, the bridge of his nose, the length of his lashes… but he never attempted to uncover his face. He was just content like that, not seeing the entirety of Jeonghan’s face but content by the proximity.

He woke up feeling all kinds of confused. 

After a few beats of silence—he did not know how long exactly—he finally blinked himself back. “W-will the others be coming with us?”

“No,” Jeonghan answered. “Well, they’ll be standing by the edge of the field. You can keep me out of harm by yourself, right?”

“Certainly,” he answered without even thinking. “And you do those walks alone all the time. You are more than capable of keeping yourself safe.” 

Jeonghan smiled proudly. “I am.” He finally looked down at his arms which Seungcheol had been patting dry for quite a while. “I think they’re dried enough now.” Seungcheol pulled back instantly, only realizing that he’d been unnecessarily patting his hands dry for almost an inappropriate amount of time. Jeonghan chuckled at his reaction, immediately reassuring him that it was no bother. “I am even embarrassed that you have been doing things that my attendants are supposed to be doing.”

“I do not mind,” Seungcheol confessed. 

Jeonghan smiled at him, eyes crinkling pleasantly. He gently took Seungcheol’s wrist and held it tight while they both walked towards the rapeseed fields. The skin underneath his touch burns, as if his nerve endings were actually on fire; and he could feel the burn throughout his body. When Jeonghan let him go, he could still feel his skin against his. The young noble turned to him curiously, seeking, as if he could feel the tension too and he was trying to see if Seungcheol felt it too. 

“Are you alright?” He asked gently, reaching out once more to place a light hand on his lower back. Seungcheol gasped gently. He could not understand the wild screaming of his nerves whenever Jeonghan came near, nor could he put a name to it. 

“I am,” he smiled back.

“You look flushed,” Jeonghan pointed out. 

It’s your hand on my back. It’s your eyes on mine. It’s the smile on your lips. It’s you. “It’s the breeze, I think.” He settled.

“Is it too cold? Do you want me to ask Mingyu to get you more clothes? Or would you rather go back to your residence?”

“No,” they were standing by the edge of the field, and Jeonghan stopped to assess him. “I want to walk with you.” He smiled at him, then slowly walked ahead. Seungcheol promptly followed.

The sun was nearly setting over the horizon but the rays weren’t quite orange just yet. He listened to the sound of dried leaves being crushed underneath their feet, soft footsteps falling in sync, gentle and slow as they savor the cool breeze against their skin. Jeonghan stopped a few times to check the blooms, he would inspect them quietly, then point a few things out to Seungcheol. “Take this,” he plucked off and handed out one flower in full bloom for Seungcheol. Jeonghan turned to face him, and away from the blowing wind, cradling the lone yellow blossom over his palm. He stood almost forehead to forehead with Seungcheol as he waited for him to open his palm. “Be gentle with it, the petals are really soft.”

Seungcheol held out his palm and received the flower with a smile. “Is it for me?” He looked up a little to lock eyes with Jeonghan.

The young noble nodded earnestly. “It reminds me of you… I don’t know why.”

Seungcheol was about to express his gratitude when a particular breeze threatened to blow the cloth that covered Jeonghan’s face away, but Seungcheol was quick. With his free hand, he pulled one edge back close to Jeonghan’s neck to cover his face completely again. When he thought about it eventually, Seungcheol looked back at how at that moment, he had already been unknowingly protective of Jeonghan; that despite the fact that his goal was to see his face and that would have been his chance, his first instinct on his first opportunity was to cover him back up. 

“Careful, there,” he smiled at Jeonghan easily. 

“Thank you,” Jeonghan gracefully turned back around and Seungcheol started developing a dangerous thought. He started thinking, deep within himself—a thought that he even partially hid from himself—that he’d rather see Jeonghan. That he would prefer that his face was partially covered forever, than his back turned against him. He just wanted to look at him. To watch the lines on his face lift whenever he smiles, to watch him blink in surprise, to see his eyes turn into half moons whenever he laughed… during the good days, when Jeonghan wore the lower cut silk covers, he would even be blessed by the sight of his scrunching his nose whenever Mingyu would tell a joke. Those were very lovely.

While lost in his thoughts, he didn’t notice that the sun was already started to sink further and further into the horizon. “Seungcheol, look,” Jeonghan gasped and pointed to the flowers east of them. Orange rays reflected against the field of yellow, creating a beautiful gentle hue. If he had the chance, if he had the time, he would love to just take his paint and his parchment and sit there and paint. The most wonderful hues danced, and he could smell the sweet air all around him.

Jeonghan seemed to be enjoying the view, too, taking it all in despite the fact that he watches this view almost every afternoon. “I could never tire of this,” he spoke under his breath, as if he heard Seungcheol’s thoughts. “I don’t know if you will notice it but every day is not the same. On some days the sunsets are deeper in hue, sometimes the air is warmer, when the flowers have yet to bloom the air smells different… at times the air even contributes a different sound… no day is the same. But for some reason… I think today is perfect. The shade of the sunset, the smell of the air, and the breeze is singing pleasantly…” he turned his face a little towards Seungcheol. Just like the beautiful yellow blossoms, Jeonghan’s face was also beautifully illuminated by the sunset.

Seungcheol just stared. Jeonghan goes on these walks alone, and he was never accompanied, not even by his closest attendants, which meant Seungcheol had been the first to see this view up close.

It made him look like a lone, rare flower, and this sight was a gift for him alone. He did not think he would ever get through the day without saying it out loud. “I know you’ve heard this countless of times, My Lord,” he brought the formality back up as a sign of his reverence. “But you are very beautiful.” Jeonghan blinked at him. He was unsure if he had made him uncomfortable with the sudden declaration, but he could not take it back. After all, he was simply being truthful. He was searching for the right words to add when he noticed the tips of his ears flush a deep shade of red which quickly spread down to his neck. “Why are you embarrassed, My Lord?” He asked out of pure curiosity and nothing else. “I am sure I am not the first to say it.”

Jeonghan shook his head. “You are an artist,” he reasoned. “You must have high regard for beauty.”

Seungcheol could not believe that. Sure, it could be acceptable, but he was sure he had not been the first artist to point it out. “Surely I am not the first artist you have met in your life.”

He inhaled as if he had a retort, but he stopped himself and sighed. “Fine,” he smiled, he turned back to face Seungcheol, the sun giving way to the moon fading into his background. Jeonghan was the protagonist of this landscape, he decided. “You have caught me. I feel bashful because I have been waiting for your opinion.”

Seungcheol hummed, not quite getting what he meant just yet. He walked past him and back to the direction of the residence and he followed quietly, contemplating his answer. Nearing the end, it finally dawned on him. “You have been waiting to know if I think you are beautiful?” he finally asked.

Jeonghan refused to look at him and continued to walk ahead. Mingyu is ready with an open durumagi, and as soon as he was near enough, the ever-loyal attendant stepped closer to cover his master. They all walked back quietly, save for a little bit of chatter from Mingyu and when Seungcheol excused himself before he turned the other way towards his own temporary residence, Jeonghan finally turned to him. “ Yes. ”

“Pardon me, My Lord?”

“To answer your question back at the field… yes. ”

--

Seungcheol’s days were filled with Jeonghan.

On mornings, after he finished his early hikes or his early meditation near the clearing of lily of the valley’s, he would go back to sleep, and when he woke, he would invite Seungcheol to eat breakfast with him. This would usually be the time where they would talk about the artists’ village that he grew up in, the family that he was used to, the life of an artist, the freedom, the days spent catching grasshoppers instead of following their schedules, and music… it was the topic that Jeonghan loved the most. Although Seungcheol did not play, he loved to listen. Maybe that’s why he has always been one of Old Goon’s favorites. He was so fond of listening to music that he was one of the very few children to stay even when he stopped with his stories of the palace and sat there quietly playing his gayageum. Sometimes Seungcheol would bring in his materials and paint outside Old Goon’s window and face the big wheat field, painting while he listened to him play. Of course, he didn’t tell Jeonghan that. Well, he did, but he replaced himself with someone else.

“This man…” Jeonghan looked at the distance, beans forgotten and chopsticks set aside. “Who painted outside Old Goon’s window, is he part of your family?” Seungcheol nodded. He tried his best to be careful, to ensure that Jeonghan doesn’t start noticing the holes in that story. “Did he tell you why he likes doing that?”

“He did,” Seungcheol’s eyes traveled and landed on Jeonghan’s hands. One of them had a small spot of flour from the sticky rice that they had been eating. He kept on looking at it distractedly while they talked. “He said that the field and their swaying told a story, and Old Goon’s music told another. He said he liked experiencing the two together and creating a whole new story on his own.”

Jeonghan inhaled then exhaled. “Your village sounds beautiful.”

Seungcheol kept eyeing the powder, and in a moment of simple-mindedness, he reached over. But before he could touch his hand, he hovered and looked up at him. “May I, My Lord?”

Jeonghan nodded and even offered his own hand. Seungcheol took it with one hand, immediately feeling the soft warmth from Jeonghan traveling through his hand. It felt sensitive, as if he’d been painting the entire day—it was warm and tingly and weak that he had to tighten his hold—his other hand reached over to thumb the flour off. It took him two swipes to remove completely. And finally, he let him go. Everything felt foreign to him, he felt like a different person. Or better yet, he felt like the same exact person, only experiencing something for the first time ever. Only he wasn’t aware what the experience was. He was just aware that he was going through something phenomenal.

The afternoons they spent on classes. Before, they did not have to spend entire afternoons on classes but ever since Jeonghan asked him to teach him to carve wood, too, their afternoons were mostly full. But Seungcheol barely noticed the days pass, for the Young Lord was very easy to teach and picked things up very quickly. With pottery, he could now shape on his own and they have even started learning to decorate their work and coat them. 

At their times of quiet, Seungcheol sometimes wanted to ask about his engagement. But of course, he couldn't. Or could he? Moreover, he never had the opportunity to ask. He was not supposed to know of the Young Lord’s possible engagement to the eldest princess.

After their classes, Jeonghan walks through the rapeseed fields and waits for sunset there. He often asks Seungcheol to come along, and he does. Who would be foolish enough to deny that request and miss the opportunity to see Jeonghan in such light? On those walks, sometimes they chatted, sometimes they did not, sometimes they just walked along the rapeseed fields, sometimes they went further and further and once even into the sea of dandelions by the foot of the mountain.

Jeonghan bent to pick one and handed it to Seungcheol. They have matured through the spring and were easily blown by the wind but some, just like the one he had handed to him, were still full and round. This flower, however, unlike the one that Jeonghan had given to him first, was not something he could keep preserve. This one was meant to be blown by the wind, and not pressed against two parchment sheets, preserved and dried. He wanted to keep it forever.

At night, he either stayed inside his room and sketched, or upon invitation, he would visit the attendants’ quarters and play cards with those who did not need to be by the Young Master while he slept. On two occasions, the Young Lord even joined them for a few games before retreating back into his residence. Before he knew it, he’d been there for over three months and he has nothing but three paintings of the Young Lord, all of them had his face partially covered.

Those paintings weren’t what he was there for, but by god did he love those. The first painting was of the Young Lord standing in the middle, with the pavilion and the lilies on both sides of him, the other was of his retreating back as he trekked up the hill, deep into the forest, and Seungcheol’s personal favorite… the one he would probably never show anyone, was the one he called The Lord of Yellow Fields. It was the burning image of Jeonghan turning a little towards him, surrounded waist-high by bright yellow rapeseed blooms and the sunset sinking behind him.

After that moment, Seungcheol could barely get the image out of his mind. It was in the moments where he stops thinking, it was in the moments where he was and he stops and forgets what he was supposed to be thinking of because it is now replaced by Jeonghan’s gentle blinking; it was in his sleep. It was absolutely impossible. While he was learning under his Master Yu, he had been telling him that the time will come when he will come across a view so beautiful, and so breathtaking that he will not be satisfied until he paints it. And he found it in Jeonghan walking through the rapeseed fields. For days, he ignored the urge to spend even more time on painting something that he was not there to paint and thought he would be wasting his time on. But the urge just kept getting stronger and stronger, and he just had to do it. In the middle of the night, no less, illuminated only by a few candles.

--

On one of the mornings when Jeonghan did not summon him to eat together in the pavilion, he decided to, for the first time, go up the mountain by himself. He had already been assured by Mingyu the other day that as long as he did not go too high up and too deep into the forest and stick to the path and clearings, there were no immediate threats up there. Almost everyone goes into the mountain alone and no one has been in any major danger ever. So, he figured, why not? He might find more subjects to paint, or even some plants that he could use for paint.

Without an extra durumagi, and his hair haphazardly tied up, he quietly went up the mountain on his own. The path was clear and was partially paved, which led to where he did not know. He simply enjoyed the cool morning air and attempted to clear his thoughts. 

The night before, he had a new dream. It was still of Jeonghan, but instead of repetitive ones like the one in the field and the one where he was tracing the outline of Jeonghan’s features, the newer one was even more questionable in his standards.

In the dream, the Young Master was still sprawled in his sleeping garments with his hair on the floor and all around him, lengthy and beautiful. He could see the outline of his mouth slightly open in a quiet gasp underneath the silk cloth, and his breaths were shallow. Seungcheol was hovering directly over him and was caging him in, both of his hands were knotted with his hair. His touch was gentle but Jeonghan’s eyes looked wild and feverish, and he was saying something—he could still remember watching his mouth move but he could not remember what he said.

Slowly, Seungcheol let himself relax and put his entire weight on top of Jeonghan before burying his head on the crook of his neck and shoulders and sobbing against it. He could still feel the pain in his chest as Jeonghan’s hands ran circles all over his back, trying to comfort him. “It’s all going to be alright.” He remembered dream-Jeonghan say, but he kept on holding on to him and sobbing.

He woke up with tears staining his eyes and an ache in his chest that he couldn’t quite get rid of.

Eventually, he reached a fork in the road where two paths diverged. Without thinking, he went left and continued on the path that looked like it led to a body of water. Damp leaves, some moss, and more squirrels were spotted on the path which confirmed to him that there may be a body of water nearby, maybe a waterfall or something.

He kept on walking quietly as he tried to make sense of his dreams. Not just the extremely confusing one the night before, but all the confusing ones before it, too. In his dreams, it was mostly Jeonghan. Sometimes there was nothing alarming in them, just scenes of doing pottery together, walking around, talking, picking flowers together. But sometimes, they were alarming. Especially those with him in his quarters. He was not allowed to see Jeonghan in that state, merely in his undergarments and hair falling freely around him, and why he was dreaming about something that intimate he could not understand. The proximity in them scared him, the whispering, the touches, the privacy, the adoration—the underlying romance.

He knew he found Jeonghan breathtakingly beautiful. But so did everyone else.

At some point he started to think… really think… if his eyes saw Jeonghan differently than everybody else, and if the beauty he sees translates differently into his mind and soul compared to everybody else. He was so deep into his analysis of what was going on with him when he was stopped by a startled noise. He looked up from where he was standing and he found himself by the mountain spring that Mingyu spoke of when he first arrived. And in the middle of it, an undressed Jeonghan with his back turned.

“My Lord! ” he gasped in surprise. His long hair was bunched and were all over his right shoulder, which he used to cover his face. At that moment, Seungcheol scrambled for the dark blue silk cloth perched over a rock and immediately handed it out to the flushing Jeonghan. Why he didn’t just leave, he also did not understand and he could not make sense of his decisions that morning.

The Young Lord immediately covered his face with the cloth and turned around in the water to face him when he had finally secured the cloth. “What are you doing here?”

“I was just walking, My Lord, please forgive me,” he bowed. Looking back, he might have thought to stay to ensure that he gets the chance to apologize right away. “This is my first time up the mountain and I had been lost in thought…”

“Please, ” Jeonghan did not look angry, which relieved him immensely. “Do not worry, I was merely startled.”

Seungcheol looked around. The spring was wide enough for the entire residence to bathe in but it was obviously for Jeonghan’s private use. Overgrown bamboo trees arched over the spring which gave it shade, and made it seem colder than it probably already was. “Aren’t you cold, My Lord?” he finally asked in his concern. He was just standing by the side and he was already chilly, being in the cold spring while leaves swayed constantly could have been freezing.

“A little,” he admitted.

“Should we go, then?”

Jeonghan looked at him and seemed to consider for a while. He was absent-mindedly scooping water and soothing his own shoulder with it repeatedly, as if he was lost in his own thoughts. “Help me with my hair,” he commanded, and without thinking, he immediately rid himself of his shoes and bent to fold his baji up to his knees. Jeonghan waded closer to the surface until he was merely half covered by the water. He turned and leaned his back against a huge rock which Seungcheol climbed easily. His thighs were immediately soaked but the rest of his remained dry over the rock.

Jeonghan handed him his long, thick hair which Seungcheol meticulously brushed with his fingers and soaked in more cold water to rid him of the oil and honey that probably was applied to his hair every single day. He focused on the job before him and tried to ignore Jeonghan’s exposed skin and Jeonghan’s touch on his ankles. He kept on smoothing and soaking quietly, and eventually, he was given a comb.

“You are doing such a good job, Seungcheol,” Jeonghan complimented quietly. He kept on combing his hair until the strands were bundling up smoothly with each other.

“You have beautiful hair, My Lord,” he observed. His hair was longer than Seungcheol’s, almost up to his waist and was straight and was as dark as coal, contrasting his alabaster white skin. Finally, Seungcheol brought his hand up to Jeonghan’s scalp and softly… pressed with the tips of his fingers. He was merely trying it out, as it had been something that he had dreamt of in the past.

The moment he applied pressure against his scalp, Jeonghan relaxed against him and stretched his head back, neck almost completely bared towards Seungcheol. He gave another soft pressure, making Jeonghan sigh. He kept on doing it, massaging Jeonghan’s head with one hand, then eventually, he added his second hand, massaging the top of his head, his temples, the back and down towards his neck.

“Where did you learn this? ” Jeonghan’s voice was breathy and strained, sending shots of delight down his spine.

“Nowhere,” he answered truthfully. “It just felt like the right thing to do.”

By the end of that bath, the entirety of Jeonghan’s head had been laying on top of his thigh, soaking his baji through, but he did not mind. A particularly strong gust of wind made Jeonghan shiver and he blinked his eyes open, bleary and unfocused. “Did I fall asleep on you?”

Seungcheol smiled—it seemed like he had. “I did not notice, My Lord, but it seems like you have.”

Jeonghan smiled bashfully before sitting up straight. “We should head back,” he proposed. “Will you stand by the big tree with your back turned while I change?”

“Certainly, My Lord.”

--

The following morning, Seungcheol walked out to find Jeonghan outside his door, sitting on the floor and swaying his legs. When he stepped out, he was in his looser clothes and his hair was tied but wasn’t in a bun. It was so early he started thinking he was still dreaming. “Come to the spring with me.”

Seungcheol blinked at him a few times, trying to blink away the confusion and his muddled brain. “Where’s Mingyu?”

“I told him to keep on sleeping,” Jeonghan stepped up and stood closer to him than usual. “I told him you would keep me company.” He stepped even closer, and brushed his hair back with his fingers. He tilted his head to the side, as if to coax him into coming with him. “Are you still drowsy?” he asked quietly, hand running through Seungcheol’s hair repeatedly before stopping at his nape. “If you want to go back to sleep that’s fine, too.” Jeonghan’s voice felt like silk, soft and gentle, and he was caressing his skin so lightly, it almost felt like air against his skin. Seungcheol wanted to lean in.

To do what, exactly?

Seungcheol blinked himself back to attention but he still felt like he was under a spell. Jeonghan’s hand was still on his nape and was thumbing the spot under his ear. 

“Do you need help with your hair?” he comfortably leaned into the touch, feeling vulnerable and a little bit more brave because no one is watching them. 

Jeonghan hummed and reached over with his other hand to smooth his hair back once more and scanned his face. “I just want you there with me,” Seungcheol focused on the look in his eyes and the softness of his voice and he could barely breathe. It felt like he would not complain if this was his last view in the world. Is this what dying feels like? “Would you come?”

“I would,” he nodded, he was bewitched. He was not making any sense. “Will you wait here? I have to get some of my things.”

“No problem.” When Jeonghan let him go, he almost leaned forward to chase his touch but he stopped himself. 

That day, he did not simply sit by a rock to tend to Jeonghan’s hair but he bathed in the spring, too. It was almost too cold that early spring morning and the wind was almost biting, but Jeonghan was there, Jeonghan was near, Jeonghan was warm. This time, he washed his hair while he faced him, and he tried not to look up at him or they would be inappropriately close to each other. He instead focused on washing it clean and combing them with his fingers. The bubbling in his insides has gone up the surface and is sizzling underneath his skin, and he had no idea how to explain it. He felt like he should be doing something, but also, he felt like he should be stopping himself. 

“Seungcheol,” Jeonghan tried to take his attention but he could not look up, so he simply hummed while he continued to focus on his hair. Does he do this with others? Does he do this with Mingyu, too? “Seungcheol, I want to show you something.”

“What is it, My Lord?” If he paid more attention to his own voice, to the way he said things, he would have immediately noticed the change in the way he said My Lord. Back then he said it as a part of respect for nobility and for hierarchy, and a little bit of awe for the magnificent man before him. But now, the way he said My Lord had become personal, as if the veneration had reached his heart—he said it like he meant it, and Jeonghan was the one he respected the most, and the one he adored the most, the one he worshipped. 

“It’s something that I keep all to myself and is a big part of me,” he explained. His hand traveled from Seungcheol’s arm up to his shoulder, then his neck, then his jaw. He tilted it a little so Seungcheol would look him in the eye. Air was instantly knocked out of him as soon as they locked eyes and the breathless feeling returned. Looking at Jeonghan was killing him. “I want to tell you about it. I want you to know.”

Why?

Why were there things that he wanted to exclusively share with Seungcheol?

Why does the fact that he’s the only one Jeonghan has chosen to tell make him happy?

He was definitely losing his mind.

“Right now?”

“After this.”

—

Jeonghan’s hand was in his as they climbed deeper into the mountain in silence—he held on tight and even held Seungcheol’s hand close to his chest once before letting go—then he took it in his again. It confused Seungcheol, but to him, it also felt like the right thing to do.

It felt like they had been walking forever, and Seungcheol was about to ask where they were headed when they finally started approaching a clearing with a huge mound in the middle. It was a burial mound. He turned to look at Jeonghan sadly. He did not know who was buried there but the fact that it was buried this far and this deep made him feel like it was not just someone. They approached the mound and stopped at the edge of it. The clearing was filled with even more flowers, mostly lilies of the valley and other forms of lilies, beautiful and colorful. “I planted them all myself,” he smiled when he spotted Seungcheol staring at the flowers. “So she would not be alone.”

Jeonghan shivered but it was not so cold, not as cold as the spring, at least, so Seungcheol decided to wrap him in one arm to give him some warmth while the other kept on clutching his hand. “She was my sister.”

Do not bother yourself with his sister. You will not be able to meet her.

There’s no one who needs teaching here now.

“She was engaged to the Crown Prince,” he supplied. Seungcheol knew that but he could not say that or he would know that he had discussed this with the Minister. “Father had become drunk with excitement for power and controlled her rigidly… he had always been controlling, and rigidly controlled me as well so I had left to live to be taught by monks, I had not known…” Jeonghan’s usual calm expression had broken down into one of pain. “When she started to refuse to submit to his requests, he had become abusive…”

Seungcheol’s heart dropped, and Jeonghan looked like he was near tears. “I left her to suffer here.”

“You did not know…”

“I should have. I was her older brother; I should have done everything in my power to protect her,” Jeonghan shrunk into his side and buried his face against Seungcheol’s shoulder. He was not crying, but he sounded like he was about to. “One day, while I was in class I just got the news… she jumped off the cliff by the sea.”

Seungcheol gaped. He did not have parents, he did not have siblings, but those he grew up with were people he adored deeply, and it would crush him if anyone suddenly died. He could not imagine the amount of pain Jeonghan was in. “I’m…”

“You do not have to say anything,” he looked up from his shoulder, eyes still shining in the tears that he held back. He cupped Seungcheol’s jaw and looked into his eyes. “I just brought you here because I want to be clear and honest with you. After her death, my father did not give up and found a way to keep the power he was supposed to have and he wants me to be engaged to Princess Sunbin.” Seungcheol nodded, it was both in understanding and encouragement. He could not say anything or he would be revealing how much he knew. “But she needs a portrait of me.”

“And that’s why you keep your face hidden?” He prompted. Although he already knew that it was, he still needed confirmation from him.

“Yes, ” When Jeonghan caressed the side of his face was when he remembered that he had his hand there the entire time. It comforted him, for some reason. “So forgive me if I cannot…”

“I don’t mind,” he suddenly insisted. “I don’t need to see the rest of your face to know you’re beautiful.”

Jeonghan’s eyes dropped slowly and exhaled shakily. Suddenly, he leaned forward and pressed their foreheads together. “You’re too much…” he sighed. “You’re just too much for me.” Seungcheol knew that they were crossing a line that they should not but having him so near made him feel like some of the weight he had been carrying for a while was becoming less invasive. He felt like he could breathe again.

He pressed his eyes tightly shut, and for the first time, initiated the contact himself. He clasped both of Jeonghan’s arms tightly and pulled him a little bit closer, breathing him all in, basking in all of him. Jeonghan.

Jeonghan also pressed closer until their noses were touching, thinly divided by the silk cloth over the noble’s face. Seungcheol’s hand traveled up to his neck, down back to his shoulders, and back to his neck. The only time he had ever touched him was when he washed his hands for him after pottery, or when their skins brushed when he folded his sleeves for him, or when he had to tuck his hair back… but never like this. Never in the way he’s been dreaming of. Never this close and he had never been able to pour his heart out. He’d been too breathless for too long. 

Jeonghan still had a hand on his face and the other went around his waist to pull him even closer. They were pressed together, chest to chest, inhaling each other in.

“So you feel it too…” Jeonghan breathed.

He did not have to specify. What they felt was so exactly the same that they synched. He nodded furiously. As soon as he recognized it, the feeling bubbled back to the surface and felt even more intense. “ I do, ” Jeonghan was going to make him go crazy. “ Oh god, I do. ”

Jeonghan smiled widely, he could feel it with their faces pressed together. “I thought it was just me.”

“No,” he denied right away. There was no way he would let Jeonghan misunderstand him. “It’s not just you.”

Jeonghan turned his face a little to the side to inhale Seungcheol’s temple. He felt winded and felt like he was turning into liquid—everything made him weak. Through the silk, he felt him press a kiss against the skin beside his eye. “ Seungcheol ,” he exhaled against his skin. “Seungcheol, I want to kiss you.”

Please. He almost answered. He wanted him to; he was desperate for it, even. But he had remembered. He realized why Jeonghan was not doing it despite the privacy; apart from the fact that they were standing in front of his sister’s burial mound. “You can take it off…” he started. “I don’t have to see.”

--

When they descended the mountain that morning, Mingyu and Soonyoung had already been waiting at the foot by Seungcheol’s residence and they were forced to go on with their day without having the chance to clarify what Seungcheol meant by what he said. When they shaped clay together, they had some time to talk quietly, but they could not risk it while Jihoon was standing guard just outside the door. They kept on stealing glances at each other, excitement bubbling just right under their skin. When the day was ending, however, a familiar man arrived at the residence. It was someone some were pleased to see, but Jeonghan was disappointed to come across once more.

“My Lord,” Wonwoo bowed deeply. “Forgive me for coming unannounced, but your father has some urgent business with you.” That night, Jeonghan left with his attendants, Wonwoo, and the rest who arrived with him that afternoon. Seungcheol could merely watch as he left. 

He had almost forgotten how long and difficult the days were when Jeonghan was not there. It was even harder because his three closest attendants went with him and Seungcheol was left with no one to talk to. He did not have to see anyone nor do anything and so he decided to spend all his time painting. Now that he has had the chance to touch Jeonghan’s face through the silk, their noses pressed together, he has some ideas how some of his features were shaped. He was not confident about his estimations, however, and he had to draw and redraw over and over again but he was never satisfied with what he made. Something somewhere just kept on feeling wrong. Eventually, he started thinking if it was not the drawing that felt wrong, or the fact that he kept on drawing Jeonghan which would mean he may be married to someone else. And no matter how hard he tried, no matter how beautiful his drawing was, he absolutely hated it.

On the third day of Jeonghan’s absence, late that  afternoon, Seungcheol decided to walk through the rapeseed field alone and immersed himself in his thoughts. How could he continue trying to draw Jeonghan? What if he succeeded? What if the Princess decides to marry him? Would he just lose him? Jeonghan would have to live in the imperial palace, wouldn’t he? There will be a place for Mingyu, Jihoon, and Soonyoung there, surely, but there would be none for him. He was first and foremost, simply temporary. 

“Why are you deep in thought?” Seungcheol almost jumped at the sound of another voice. He whipped his head back, and Jeonghan was standing there. He’d come back. Something within his chest bloomed at the sight of him, and he could not help but smile wholeheartedly. He was wearing clothes which were much more formal than the ones he had seen in the past, with soft but bright colors and very intricate embroidery. “What were you thinking of?”

“You, ” he blinked at his own answer, surprised that he had been so upfront about it. But it was the truth and there was no reason to hide it from Jeonghan. He knew what he felt. Although, he might not know just how much. A soft flush immediately decorated the tips of the Young Lord’s ears.

“I came to see you right away,” he kept his head down, staring at Seungcheol’s hands. “Are they looking at us?”

Seungcheol looked up and squinted to get a look at the three attendants standing at a distance. They were facing them, yes, but they were talking to each other and not paying attention. “No.” 

Upon his answer, Jeonghan quickly reached for his hand and turned it face upwards, palm up. When he bent his head, Seungcheol had no idea what was happening, but then his hand went under his silk and soft lips were pressed against his skin. His breath hitched upon contact and he felt himself go weak. “I was longing to see you again.”

“Jeonghan…” he always feels breathless when he’s with him, and this time was no exception. 

“Mingyu is helping me,” he said quietly after letting his hand go. “Tonight he’s going to pretend to bring me up to the mountain but he will be dropping me off at your residence so we can talk.”

“Where will he be going?”

“Wonwoo is still staying at a nearby inn, he will be visiting. He will meet me back after two hours.”

“Does he…?” The underlying question was apparent and there was almost no necessity to finish his sentence. If Mingyu is helping them out, does he have an idea of what is going on? Can they trust him? But it was not like there was anything to hide in the first place, anyway. Nothing has happened. Yet.

“He does not ask questions,” Jeonghan started to smile. “But I think he does… he is very observant.” Jeonghan offered him his hand so they could walk back, hand in hand, only Jeonghan’s hand was behind him and their intertwined fingers were hidden from view. “I will see you tonight.”

--

Seungcheol made sure to keep everything he owned out of view and secured the loose panels. He felt the world turn so slowly while he waited, sitting inside his room as the cicadas sang just outside his window. The moon was growing brighter as the night grew deeper but it was very still. He started to think that Jeonghan may never come when light footsteps thudded across his residence and a slender silhouette stopped outside his door. He watched as Jeonghan stood there, hesitating, before finally clearing his throat. “Seungcheol?”

He immediately stood and slid the door open. “My Lord, ” he bowed deeply but Jeonghan stopped him by clamping his shoulders.

“There is no need for that,” he shook his head and patted him on the neck. “It’s just me… It’s just us.” The beating of his heartbeat accelerated, he could almost feel it in his throat. If there was something even more intensely ethereal than Jeonghan in softly colored clothes moving with the wind and the sunset behind him, it would be Jeonghan in his comfortable clothes, the soft, loose ones, and his hair simply tied against his nape, with the moon casting a gentle glow against his skin might be. “Can I come in?”

“You may do whatever you wish, My Lord,” he steps away and allows Jeonghan to enter his room, one flickering candle illuminating a single spot in his room.

“ Seungcheol, ” he chastised.

“You may sit anywhere comfortably, Jeonghan ,” he corrected himself with a light chuckle. “You will have to forgive me; it is taking me some time to adjust.”

Here merely sighed and settled on the spot underneath Seungcheol’s window which opens towards the mountain and leaned against the wall comfortably. Seungcheol follows suit and sits close, facing him. They were both quiet for a while as the young Lord was lost in his own thoughts. Wordlessly, he reaches for Seungcheol’s hand and fiddles with his thumb, lightly scratching the skin there. His hands were cold and his fingers were bony but they felt perfect against his own skin. Eventually, he sighed and looked up at Seungcheol. “I’ll forgive you through whatever.”

He felt like he was hit in the face with a strong gust of air when he said it. For quite some time, he had been haunted by the guilt of what he was there for, and the fact that Jeonghan was trying his very best to make sure that gets to live the life that he wants through the discomfort of concealing his face every single day and Seungcheol was disrespecting that was killing him inside. And for Jeonghan to say that he would forgive him through whatever? It was making him feel like he truly does not deserve the man sitting in front of him.

Should he tell him? Should he admit why he was there and what made them meet in the first place? Should he admit to Jeonghan that he has been betraying him all this time? It made him feel horrible and even more undeserving but he was unsure if he was quite ready to lose him just yet.

He once again did the thing that he did that afternoon when he took Seungcheol’s hand underneath his silk cloth and kissed the skin of his palm, but this time, his lips linger and hover over his wrist, his warm breath ghosting all over his skin. He lowers his head even more to press a kiss against his wrist, then another, then another, and another. Seungcheol’s skin was on fire and he felt himself tremble from Jeonghan’s ministrations.

“Jeonghan…” he breathed.

“What did you mean when you said I can take my cloth off without me revealing my face?” he looked up but he didn’t let go of his wrist and settled for caressing it with his thumb. Oh. Seungcheol reached for the long, narrow, white cloth that he had folded on his table and handed it Jeonghan. “More cloth?”

“That’s for me,” he whispered. “Cover my eyes with it.”

Jeonghan froze, stunned. His mouth was agape and he seemed to have stopped breathing. For a horrible moment, Seungcheol thought he had said the wrong thing, but then the man before him broke out a wide smile and pulled him forward to nose at his temple. “ So thoughtful, ” he whispered against his cheekbone, the low sound reverberating to his ears and sending shivers down his spine. “ So kind. ”

He could not help but smile to himself as he held onto both of his arms. He almost felt like he was being coddled—treasured. He felt like he was precious and every inhale that he makes against him makes him want to cry. Jeonghan momentarily halts and pulls back, “Are you sure this is alright?”

Seungcheol smiled, it was his time to confess his willingness to do everything for him. “I’ll do whatever makes you feel comfortable. And if this helps ease your mind about removing your cover, then there is absolutely nothing else in the world that would please me more than adjusting to it.” It was Jeonghan’s turn to feel bashful as another soft smile bloomed across his features. 

He stared at the beautiful man in front of him and noticed that he glanced at the cloth and a flash of hesitation passed through his features. He could feel the nerves taking over Jeonghan and he could see his brain working, trying to figure out the next step. To help him, Seungcheol made the first step. He took the cloth from Jeonghan’s lap and wrapped it around his own head, ensuring that both ends of the cloth completely covered his eyes. “I cannot see you,” he declared when he finished the knot behind his head. “Do you trust me?”

When he blocked out one of his senses, everything else seemed to heighten. But he could not hear anything from Jeonghan. He was moving, but he said nothing to answer his question. Seungcheol tried to reach for him once more but he doesn’t know where his hands are anymore. He was about to ask when he felt Jeonghan’s breath against his cheek and soft lips were pressed against his. He gasped at the suddenness of the action and he could not help but let out a small chuckle. “A little warning would have been fair.”

“Oh, heavens, was that alright?” He could hear the panic in Jeonghan’s voice but he immediately smiled it off and nodded earnestly. “I did not ask, I’m sorry.” His heart swelled in affection and he pulled at the front of Jeonghan’s thin durumagi to invite him back into his space. He found his neck through running a palm from his chest to his shoulders before he pulled him closer. The Young Lord completed the action and pressed another kiss on the side of his lips, another on his cheek, another on the tip of his nose, then back down to press another one on his lips. This time, Jeonghan lingered.

The kiss was close-mouthed and chaste, just the repeated action of pressing small kisses against each other. When Seungcheol smiled against his lips, he heard Jeonghan’s breath hitch before deepening the kiss, and moving his lips against each other. Seungcheol responded enthusiastically, the tingling of his lips intensified by the fact that he could not see. Jeonghan had his face in his hands and his lips moved against his fervently, as if he was trying to take him all in. Seungcheol responded equally as passionately, allowing himself to become lightheaded and carried-away by the intensity of it all. 

Seungcheol’s head pathetically followed Jeonghan and he made a whining noise when he broke away from the kiss and backed away, breathing heavily. “Jeonghan, are you alright?” His breathing was equally erratic. He was answered by some shuffling noises before a pair of arms came around him to pull the blindfold off. He blinked to readjust his eyes only to discover Jeonghan leaning his head against the wall with his eyes closed, silk cloth covering half of his face once more. It was crazy to think that just moments before, Jeonghan’s face was bare right in front of him. “Hey,” Seungcheol knelt up to shuffle closer to Jeonghan. “Are you alright? Did I do something wrong?”

“No,” Jeonghan shook his head before opening his eyes to look him in the eye. “I already told you… you’re too much for me.” He snaked an arm around Seungcheol to pull him closer before he buried his face against his stomach.

“Is… is that a bad thing?” he asked in a quiet voice. He would like to think that it’s a good thing. Jeonghan has said that to him twice, but he was always unsure whether he meant that in a good way or in a bad way.

“It’s good,” Jeonghan said quietly, giving him soothing circles on the small of his back. “I want to tell you how it is good, but I am scared that you might feel uncomfortable.”

Seungcheol melted against him. He knew that he was risking himself by doing all this and there were still so many things that they needed to discuss and consider… but he wants to ignore all that as of the moment. For now he wants to focus on the hand on his back, the breath against his stomach, and the feeling in his chest that constantly threatens to overflow. He did not want to think about not only the fact that this is a feeling only they can know, but also the fact that they are both on borrowed time. Whether Jeonghan marries Princess Sunbin or not, Seungcheol will be forced out of here in a few months.

No.

He can’t think about that right now. He still has so many things to prioritize… like giving his entire self to Jeonghan and being completely honest with him. This just can’t go on while he’s hiding such a big secret from Jeonghan. No matter how the young noble feels about him, at the very least, this man trusts him and any form of betrayal would break his heart. Jeonghan does not deserve that so he needs to find a way to tell him as soon as possible. 

—

Seungcheol came here with the upper hand. He was an artist, a teacher, and he was to be respected by the household as he was a mentor to their master. He was the one with the secret and the one hired by the Minister himself. But right at that moment, as he quietly carded his fingers through Jeonghan’s long, charcoal black hair with as much care as he could as he listened to him talk about his sister, he knew he no longer had the upper hand. He was Jeonghan’s and he could very well do as he pleases. 

“When we were little kids she kept complaining that she wanted pretty flowers all around this place,” he looked at the flowerbeds decorating the mountain. The flowers that thrived from water bloomed even bigger and healthier and he paid a lot more attention to them. “Her name was Nari…”

Lily. 

“How old was she?” Seungcheol massaged Jeonghan’s temple to relax him as he knew that the topic gave him a lot of mixed emotions. 

“When I saw her last she was only seventeen,” he sighed heavily and was silent for quite a while before he turned to face him. Wordlessly, he took Seungcheol’s hand in his and started washing the hand that had been comforting him all morning. His hands were much firmer than his, maybe because he lived his life creating things with them while Jeonghan just had his taken care of. “If I told you another reason why I have this cloth around my face, would you keep it a secret?”

Seungcheol nodded. “Of course.”

“She used to do this, too,” he mumbled while he busied himself with helping Seungcheol rinse. “She was only fourteen when she started a wearing silk cloth around her face… she told me it was pre-wedding preparations and keeping her features secret especially now that she is becoming a lady; to keep herself as pure as possible for the Crown Prince…” he swallowed audibly and the man before him had to hold his hand steady, offering his support. “But apparently it was to hide the bruises.” Seungcheol’s heart broke even more. He could not, for the life of him, fathom how these politicians managed to do such horrible things to other people just for power. And to his own daughter? “I wear it so he can see her everytime he looks at me and every time he struggles with me. I want to let him know that, like her, I will not go down without a fight.”

Seungcheol sighed. He thought the stories of the poor peasants who lived in their village were all the miserable, heartbreaking stories that he will ever hear of. He never thought nobles had them, too. He pressed a kiss on Jeonghan’s forehead when he realized. “Does that mean..?”

“That’s the reason he’s not forcing me to take it off and be painted, that’s the reason he has tricked me to get my portrait. He wants to get the Princess’ approval secretly, then pick me off in my sleep. He’s scared that if I find out beforehand that I’m going to take the chance and do the same thing as she did… jump off a cliff.”

“Jeonghan, ” that’s another horror he cannot—and will not—bear to think of. 

“I know she did not mean to pass the burden,” he ignored Seungcheol’s warning tone. “Maybe she did not think my father would find another way to worm himself in through me.” Jeonghan looked up at him, hopeful. “Maybe the Princess would get tired and find someone else… maybe she would not think I would be worth this wait.”

Seungcheol looked at his utter magnificence. Not just the perfection of Jeonghan’s features, but the fact that he had managed to feel this much without even seeing the entirety of his face. He could not find it in himself to agree. Jeonghan would be worth a thousand years.