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After spending almost ages standing at the doorstep, gazing at his baby brother and worried sick about his well being, while deliberating whether he should or should not, Yeon enters. “You’re awake,” he notes, as he approaches Rang’s bedside, trying to sound as casual and unaffected as he can. Given what they have been through in the past - no, the future - it takes a lot on his part, but he manages it.
Rang tries to sit up, but brings a hand to the bandage on his stomach and groans. “I’m fine,” he objects, when Yeon rushes to support him. “It’s just a scratch.”
Bile rises in his chest as the events of their past unfold in his mind. Yeon looks away, as if doing that would make it go away. Yes, just a scratch, like the one he’d given him, centuries ago.
“You don’t have to fuss over me,” his dongsaeng adds, cheeks flushed with embarrassment.
Yeon clicks his tongue in disapproval. To the world, his baby brother might be a feared half-fox and an intimidating bandit leader, but to him, he’s still… his baby brother, the little boy he saved from the hungry ghosts. Ignoring Rang’s frown, he sits down beside him to take a proper look. “There’s some excess bleeding here.” He picks up the cloth on the floor beside the makeshift bed to clean it. “Let me—”
As if stung by his touch, Rang snatches the cloth from him. “I can manage.”
Although hurt by the reaction, Yeon does not immediately insist on continuing. He waits and watches while his brother makes an effort to bend and reach his wound, but when he winces, he takes charge again. “Lie back and rest,” he orders in a big-brotherly tone, and begins to gently wipe away the bloodstains. “It’s alright to accept help sometimes.”
“Not from you,” Rang snaps, but thankfully does not have the strength to resist.
“Why not?” But immediately, he regrets asking.
Rang stares daggers at him for a long moment. If eyes could kill, Yeon would probably be dead now.
Uncomfortable under the intensity of the glare, Yeon stops what he’s doing. “What?”
Rang makes a sudden move, then hisses in pain and lies back. “Really?” A dry half-smirk follows his question. “Do you really have to ask me that?”
“I didn’t—” I never intended to kill when I struck you, Yeon almost blurts out. He’s tempted to tell him everything- everything the Rang from his future already knows, but holds back. Messing with the laws of time might lead to consequences he might not be able to clean up. “Enough of arguing,” he gently scolds, instead. “For now, let’s be brothers. You can go back to hating me after you recover.”
“And you can get out of here and send someone else,” Rang starts to object. “A nurse—”
“That’s enough. You can shut up and lie still if you want to heal and live,” Yeon scolds, and that seems to work, for Rang obeys, though with a grudging look in his eyes. “Over 500 years old, and you still behave like a child.”
“How do you know what children are like?” There’s pain on his face; and no, it doesn’t appear to be from his physical ailment. “As far as I can remember …” Rang pauses, his gaze, cold and distant. “You were scarcely with me when I was a child.” Then comes a cloak of pain over the eyes that speak far more than words. “You abandoned me when I needed you the most. And when you came back, you—”
With a tremor in his voice, Rang falters, loses track of what he wants to say.
Yeon feels his accusation stab him in his chest. There’s so much he wants to tell him, but he cannot. Not at this moment. “We can talk about this later.”
Later. When it’s too late. When we barely have enough time. When I end up losing you.
Rang, however, doesn’t seem to be in the mood to give up the argument. “Why now? Why are you doing this for me?”
“Because you’re my blood,” he murmurs, gently drying the patch he’d just cleaned. “Because—”
I love you.
He wants to, but he can’t say it out aloud. Even if he does, would his brother believe him?
Rang quietens down after that, but looks away at the wall, deep in thought. Yeon is curious about what’s going on in his brother’s mind. He’s dying to ask, but to resist, would be the right thing to do. So he wordlessly goes about his task.
Until his brother clears his throat and turns to him.
“Yes?” Yeon prompts.
Rang blinks, as if he wants to say something. “Hyung—” But there’s hesitation in those eyes.
Yeon puts away the cloth and straightens. “Yes?”
“I never said I hate you,” says his brother, some colour, at last, flooding his pale cheeks. “Hate is too strong an emotion.”
Yeon is surprised, but doesn’t show it. He’s hopeful, but doesn’t want to put too much into it. His brother’s in a daze, wounded, under the influence of heavy medication. This is, perhaps, his groggy state talking, and before long, he’ll be back to his cocky, cheeky self. But he can’t resist saying, “And you should know that I want you to get well soon.”
Rang exhales, and nods. “Didn't mean to snap at you like that,” he says, with a sheepish ghost of a smile. “Thanks for saving my life.”
“Truce, then?” Yeon whispers, his hand on his brother’s cheek. “For now, at least? Until you’re back on your feet.”
“Truce,” Rang whispers back, easing into his touch. “For now,” he weakly reminds him.
A lump in his throat, Yeon says no more, but simply smiles.
When Rang leans back and closes his eyes, Yeon is both happy and distressed at the same time. He’s glad he got to see his brother one more time, but the thought of the future and how cruel it will be to Rang, suffocates him so much that he wants to run away.
But for now, he’ll take what he’s given. This quiet moment with his dongsaeng is a gift. He’ll cherish it. He’ll savour it now and call for it later, when his heart would be empty again when they'd eventually have to part. It might help lessen the pain that’s constantly been with him ever since Rang left this world.
“I'm doing this for you because I care for you,” he softly says, taking his brother’s hand in his. “Because I love you,” he adds, when he’s certain that Rang is asleep. “I always have. I always will.”