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The idea of him, it was written into his head like code. Pulled from a dreamy abyss, beautiful and present, just as much as he could hope himself to be. It took power to resist it, the need to kiss him and make him his own but he told himself that he didn't have to worry. He had all the time in the world.
He presented himself out of the dark; A glowy gold light falling off of his chest when it rose and fell and when his feet hit the floor in rhythmic steps. He thinks he could listen to those steps for hours. It shimmered off of him like shattered diamonds that would never be fully broken. It was ironic how much of a betrayal his looks were to his personality.
This man in front of him was every script, every letter and picture and feeling all written into one and promised to the universe as some type of twisted refuge from the dark, and he didn't even know it. He didn't know how important he was, how many things had gone right because of him. Blood had been spilled and gathered up together and honored because of this man.
It was fascinating how to everyone else, he was honored and all he was to them was a king. For them it was a great deal, but for Hansol, he knew that it could be a great deal more. Hansol knew how important this man was to the universe.
It reminded him that the only things you would ever need, you lose. He hoped that if he’d ever lose someone, he wouldn't let it be Chan. Not now. Not with what he has done.
Chan had started a war, and Hansol was going to finish it.