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You opened your eyes to a million of stars dancing in the blue sky above your head. You had to blink at least ten times to chase them away.
Your body was aching, particularly your head and your stomach. You were lying on the floor, your white uniform stained with dirt and blood. Blood? A bit of theirs, of course, but also yours.
With a grunt, you straightened in sitting position to make a check-up. You moved each of your limbs, one by one, each of your fingers.
You had blood on your face because they knocked you out by hitting you at your temple; multiple bruises and cuts. The most serious thing was the wound near your stomach. You couldn’t see it well because of the uniform you were wearing but it was still bleeding and it was not looking very very nice.
You slowly stood up. Your head spined a bit; but you managed to stabilise.
Fine. Perfect. You could walk.
For the first time, you directed your attention to your surroundings.
It was calm.
And it meant the fight was over. Your colleague was lying on the floor near the backdoor of the house you were supposed to guard; their uniform turning grey with dirt.
You squatted down to touch their throat, looking for a pulse. Which you didn’t find.
Dead. It was upsetting, but you didn’t make a fuss of it; you didn’t have time for that. If there was still a thin chance for the mission to be a success, you had to take it, no matter the cost.
Cautiously, you opened the door of the house, one of your hands pressed against your wound, the other one clenched around the pommel of your sword. A drop of sweat ran along your jaw, as you gritted your teeth to prevent the cry of pain that was rising in your throat.
Nothing was moving inside. You couldn’t hear anything.
They escaped; all of them.
You pinched your lips, upset.
You had come forward to reach the centre of the main room, empty.
You failed. All of you failed the mission you had. You felt anger starting to bubble deeply in your chest.
“You?”
You jumped with surprise and turned so quickly that a painful whine escaped your lips, as you pressed a bit stronger your fingers on the wound.
Your eyes fell on the pale figure of a man with black inky hair, wearing dark clothes. He had a hand put on the pommel of a sword, his hair was messy and sweat was shining on his forehead.
He was looking at you with surprise; and of course, you immediately recognised him.
That man. You had already crossed his path; several times, even.
Enemies.
That was what you were.
Or, what you were supposed to be.
Nothing, absolutely nothing, should have gathered the two of you any other way than your sword stabbed in his heart; or his in yours eventually.
However, every time you had seen him, you secretly wondered if you would ever see him again; alive.
You didn’t know why he was so different to your eyes. Why he didn’t feel like your enemy at all. Why you were almost ready to let him ruin all you were working for. You just didn’t feel like it was right to fight him, you didn’t want it. Instead, you were just deeply and uncontrollably mesmerized by his aura. It was literally magnetic. You couldn’t explain it, it was something you were feeling deep in your chest and stomach, something that felt like dozens of burning butterflies.
And you knew that the simple fact of these thoughts only existing in your head was purely and deeply wrong.
You weren’t supposed to consider people like him like any other people. They were sabotaging everything you and your colleagues were working on, spreading chaos everywhere they went; since you were “order”. That was their so-called “mission”. Getting on your way.
And so was he. You hated him for that. Not exactly for what he was doing, but for the fact that he was on the other side; and not on yours. What would it have been like, if you could just stay together without the “right” reaction being fighting him?
All of this was making you so furious at yourself, so much you wanted to tear off the wings of the butterflies that chose to live in your chest, one by one.
You couldn’t feel any sympathy towards those rebels.
You were a soldier. You had a mission.
You frowned.
“What are you doing here?” you spat.
He raised an eyebrow, making your heart sink. His hand hadn’t left his sword; however, his grip had loosened a bit.
“Just checking. I…
— Checking, or staying behind your friends just so you can finish me off?”
He glanced all over the room, before he put his dark eyes on you again.
“I was checking if there were survivors or people left behind.”
He looked at you from head to toe.
“I guess I found one.”
If they could, your eyes would have probably thrown daggers at him. Your wound was hurting you, you could feel the blood pulsing under your fingers; you were upset, and here he was, his calm seeming to just make fun of you and the failure of your mission.
“Well, if you may…”
Your voice was as cold as ice. You didn’t have time for this. You didn’t have time for sympathy and feelings you were not controlling. You had to make your report. No time for…
“You’re hurt.”
He cut you in your angry thinking, and by a way you didn’t see coming.
“That’s tomato juice. Move.”
You stepped forward to pass next to him and just leave. You had had enough. You knew you failed but the fact that he was here, alone to remind you that they won this time, made it a hundred times worse.
You thought he wouldn’t move, because he didn’t until you reached the main entrance. Your hand on the handle, you suddenly felt a warm pressure on your arm.
You didn’t think twice. With your free hand -fortunately it was the good one-, you unsheathed your sword while turning on your heels; fire dancing in your eyes.
He gulped, his Adam’s apple moving against the cold of your blade.
His eyes went from the point of your sword to your face. He hadn’t let your arm go, though. Gritting your teeth, you hissed:
“Don’t. Touch. Me. Or I swear I won’t hesitate to kill you here and now, and take your sword with me as a trophy.”
Your arm was shaking, and your vision blurred. You were seriously about to puke, as pain was spreading from your stomach to all of your body; stabbing you with thousands of burning needles.
Had he taken your moment of weakness as a hesitation or not, his face softened a bit. And it made your heart whine at this sight.
“Don’t be stupid. You’re as pale as a dead. You won’t be able to make more than three steps outside; and even less be able to kill me.”
You were upset of course, and if you had had still enough blood for it, you would have probably blushed from shame. You let your arm and your sword down as you didn’t have the strength to bear it anymore, or you felt you would pass out. You were so tired.
“And so what? You want to finish me off now? Go on, I’m at your mercy after all!”
He raised his eyebrows.
“Who do you exactly take me for?”
You didn’t answer the question, as he pressed your arm a bit stronger. You didn’t even have time to realise it that he had pulled you to a wooden chair with a broken back.
You couldn’t help but look at him when he busied himself to rip a bit of his shirt to wipe off the blood from your wound.
He had sharp features, eyebrows perfectly drawn; and you had already noticed before that he had a tendency to raise his right eyebrow when he was surprised or perplexed; or even provocative. You had to admit that this specific habit tended to light a tiny blaze somewhere inside your chest; and it also tended to upset you a lot.
You had never really crossed swords directly with him; however, you had already seen the coldness in his eyes, that were a weapon on their own, and the sharpness of his strokes. You knew he was impressive. Dangerous. You knew he could kill you at any second, and you wouldn’t even realise it -it would probably be better anyway.
And yet, you decided to let your guard down.
Right now, he was so different from the fierce fighter you used to see.
He had a strange softness in his eyes as he focused on his task, that made them warmer; as the sun was hitting his face through a window, his irises looked more like honey, slowly flowing following his head movements. They were not dark at all, as you used to think.
The fire that was dancing in your eyes subsided a bit. For the first time, you wondered who he really was.
You suddenly tensed as one of his touches sent an electric discharge that went up your spine; and you regretted instantly you showed him another sign of weakness. You knew you weren’t weak, like, you were hurt so it was fair to admit it was painful but… well, you would have preferred to keep it for yourself.
His eyes met yours, and you felt yourself fall within the warmth of his irises. It was like you just forgot your pain. Just like his eyes healed everything.
“Sorry. It hurts? Just wait a second…”
He went through the bags that were hanging at his belt; and showed you a small phial filled with a brown liquid, a glint of satisfaction shining in his eyes.
“Take this. Should appease the pain.”
You couldn’t help but grimace.
“Am I really supposed to trust you that much?”
You were sure you were not; and it looked like what you said just hit the young man right in the face. Just as if he himself just realised the real situation in which you two were at the moment. You with your white uniform, him with his dark one; a stark contrast that was the indicator of your two factions. The fact that he shouldn’t be helping you right now. That it was not right.
“Oh, uh… well. You’re right. But I can assure you this is just a painkiller. Not trying to poison you or anything. I mean… look.”
He removed the cork with his teeth, let it fall on his lap; and with one gulp drank something like a third of the phial.
He grimaced, the taste probably absolutely awful; before holding out the medicine to you.
“Take it.
— You drank some painkiller, just like that, when you’re not even hurt. Aren’t you a bit weird?”
You let your remark escape your lips without even thinking about it. He raised an eyebrow -you suddenly felt that strange fire rekindling in your stomach, and nothing to do with the hole that was piercing it-, and a smirk appeared on his face.
“Oh, well, that’s to appease the bitter pain of you not trusting me.
— Tssk, shut up.”
He laughed a bit and insisted, the phial still in his hand.
You sighed; but the ache was getting stronger and stronger. In the end you didn’t hesitate much, and drank the brown thing in one go.
It was absolutely disgusting. The taste was a mix between some mud, stagnant water and other juice extracted from absolutely nauseating things. Leeches maybe.
You stuck your tongue out in a disgusted gesture.
“Yuk. You really have some improvement to make in terms of medicines.
— I guess you’ll teach me then.
— I’m a soldier, not a healer.
— They are not mutually exclusive.”
You rolled your eyes.
And suddenly, the bubble that had somehow appeared around the two of you broke as the harsh sound of orders and footsteps reached your ears.
You perfectly knew who they were. You opened your eyes wide. In any other circumstance, you would have been glad to hear them; as they would have found you, hurt, and would have brought you home and end of the story -more or less, until they would talk about the failure of the mission.
But, now that you were here with that man, all happily joking around and all with your opponent, you knew it was another story.
You looked at his face. He had put his hand on his sword, again; his eyes turned to the door.
Besides, you had a debt towards him now. Even two, since he 1) didn’t kill you, 2) healed you.
You didn’t have time. Without thinking much about it, you wrapped your fingers around his wrist. His gaze lingered on your skin touching his, as you hurriedly whispered:
“You can’t stay here. Not that I doubt your skills, but they must be like five or six, and I’m sure they’d dream of capturing you.”
You stood up with difficulty and showed him the backdoor.
He had followed you, but he was obviously hesitating as he glanced at you, repeatedly. He looked worried, but not for himself; for you.
“Come on! Move!” you pushed him.
And it wasn’t the same “move” that the one you told him a bit earlier. He obviously heard it, and a spark lit up in his irises.
“Will I see you again?”
You smirked.
“If you continue doing what you’re doing, probably.”
He answered your smile.
“I’ll establish my best strategies to strike then.
— You’ll bite the dust.”
He sniggered; and on these words he removed his coat before throwing it at you.
“Take this. You’ll tell them one of us just lost it before leaving the battlefield and you used it for your bandage. As a trophy, you know.”
You caught it, and by the time you looked at it and raised your eyes again he was already near the door. The voices were closer, and you looked at him with a glint of emergency in your irises.
He turned one last time to you.
“You can call me Seonghwa, by the way.”
Surprise hit you. Him and you, your identities were sensitive, you usually had to protect them as much as possible. False names, code names, that kind of things.
You raised an eyebrow.
“Is that your real name?”
He chuckled; and that sound made thousands of warm bubbles explode in your chest. His eyes made of honey lingered on you, and a mysterious smile crept on his lips.
“Who knows? You may have to meet me one more time to ask me again…”
And he disappeared on these words, light as a draught; letting a blushing you having to compose yourself again to actually lie properly to your colleagues who burst in the house a few seconds later.
It would be hard to lie that much. You knew it was dangerous and that it may not last long.
However, you loved that feeling of interdiction.
Of course you would see Seonghwa again, no matter the cost.