Chapter Text
As expected, Suho freaked out.
Javier woke before Suho had, but Suho- unlike Lloyd- was very easy to wake. The moment the mattress dipped with Javier’s weight as he stood up, Suho’s eyes drifted open, then snapped wide open upon being met with Javier’s naked torso.
“Oh my god,” Suho says, holding a hand to his face. Javier is pleased to see the barest blush in his Lord’s face. “Well.”
There’s a moment of silence. Javier says, “My Lord?”
“Oh, god, don’t call me that right now,” Suho hisses, flopping back down on the pillow. “It makes me feel bad.”
The pang in Javier’s chest is hard to ignore. “Why?”
“Because,” Suho says, groaning. “It’s hard to explain. Never mind.”
Javier is not happy with that, but he supposes it can wait for another day. “I presume my Lord remembers most of last night?” Javier straightens, stands up, and begins to put on the clothes he left on his chair the previous night. “You were quite tipsy.”
“I wasn’t blacked out,” Suho says, still muffled in the pillow. He turns his head to face Javier. “I can get you a bed in here, you know, if you’d rather not share.”
And now Javier feels trapped. How can he answer that? “Whatever is best for my Lord,” he says.
“Do you see how that doesn’t answer my question?”
That was the point, Javier thinks, somewhat bitterly. “Apologies, my Lord.” He takes a moment to compose himself. “Your mattress is quite comfortable. I am perfectly happy with the current arrangement.”
“And you’re not just saying that to avoid inconveniencing anyone?”
“No, my Lord,” Javier replies.
“Okay,” Suho sighs. “Good enough for me. Let’s get on with the day.”
A week later, they were back at the Frontera estate. Javier had spent every night sharing the bed with Suho, and he had to admit Suho had been right about his back. It was an unexpected, but welcome, benefit to the new arrangement.
It’s one of the rare times where Javier is not at his lord’s side. Lloyd Frontera is running around the property for now. Javier is looking around the room, trying to remember what it looked like years ago. Barren is what he remembers. No personality, no warmth, no life. Now, books fill the shelves and decorations cover the walls. It’s clean, albeit disorganized, instead of littered with broken bottles and trash.
Javier walks along the bookshelf and lays his eyes on Suho’s old journals, from when he had first come to their world. One of them has flopped over. He thinks he should put it upright again.
He doesn’t know what possesses him, but instead, Javier grabs the notebook and lets the pages fall open.
In the margins, he sees the faces of strangers- people who don’t look even a little familiar.
They’re very well drawn for what Javier assumes are just Suho’s sketches. Near perfect portraits of what seems to be the same two people over and over again.
At that moment, Suho walks back into his room. “Hey, Javier, I need- what are you doing?”
He doesn’t sound angry, more surprised, and Javier figures he’s been caught anyway. “Looking at your old notebook. You’re an artist?”
“Not really,” Suho says, and now he seems embarrassed. “I liked to draw, but I wouldn’t call myself a full-blown artist .”
“These portraits are…” And Javier loathes complimenting Suho, because he is insufferable when his ego is inflated, but he’s still in awe over the masterful skill that went into the details of these people’s faces. The drawings are small, being in the margins, but distinguishable. “Very well done.”
“Don’t hurt yourself,” Suho says. “Uh, thanks, Javier. But I’m not Michelangelo, or anything, so-”
“What?”
“Huh?”
“What is Michaelangelo?” Javier repeats.
“Oh. Artist from my place,” Suho says dismissively. “They’re just sketches though, Javier. Nothing like the royal family portraits.”
“Who are they?” Javier asks. “In these margins.” He realizes how out of character it is for him to push something like this, but his curiosity hasn’t been piqued by Suho like this for a long time. It’s like he’s discovered an entirely new side to his lord.
But Suho doesn’t immediately respond. “Uh… well, I’m honestly not sure if they’re super accurate anymore… photos didn’t come with me when I woke up, you know? But… They’re supposed to be my parents.”
“Oh,” Javier says, and once again, he wonders what kind of life Kim Suho lead before an angel dropped him in their world. “Photos?”
“Ah, they’re like… paintings, but immediate. And, um…” Suho frowns. “I honestly don’t know how to describe it to you. It’s never occurred to me how hard it would be to describe a photograph in a world where electricity is new. It’s like… a snapshot of a moment. The painting doesn’t look like it was painted, it looks like you’re right in front of the real person.”
Javier tries to wrap his mind around it, but can’t quite imagine it. “I… see. Do you miss them?”
“Every day,” Suho says. He’s smiling wistfully. “Don’t worry too much, though. They passed away before I came here.”
And Javier doesn’t know what to say. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s alright,” Suho says. He pats Javier on the shoulder. “We can be orphans together.” He gazes at the notebook. After a moment, he whispers, “I hope I don’t forget their faces. Ever.”
Javier couldn’t remember his parents’ faces anymore, either. He knows what they looked like- his mother definitely had silver hair, and his father’s was black. But he can’t remember where their laugh lines fell on their face, the angle of their noses, or how they walked. He doesn’t remember the cadence with which they spoke or their mannerisms.
“I think you’ve captured their likeness quite well,” Javier says. “Even without a photo.”
Suho laughs abruptly, like Javier has done something quite unexpected. “Thank you, Javier,” he says. “But, enough of the feelings talk. I came in here with a purpose - we have work to do.”
“Of course, my Lord,” Javier says, and he follows Suho out of the room.
That night, Javier is reading while Suho works on his project. When the clock reads 10pm, he closes the book and sets it on their nightstand. He says, “Suho?”
“Yes?”
“I’m ready to sleep.”
And Suho doesn’t respond. He takes a deep breath and spins around in his chair, elbows on his knees and hands clasped in front of his face. “Javier,” he says, “what exactly does that being our bed mean to you?”
Javier is sitting up in their bed. “What do you mean?”
“Does this ,” Suho says, gesturing vaguely, “mean anything… intimate to you?”
Javier decides to play dumb. “We have merged our souls via mana. That’s quite intimate as well.”
“That’s not the type of intimacy I mean,” Suho groans. “Normally- actually, here, too! Sharing a bed. Who does that?”
Javier’s facial expression doesn’t change. “Usually, married couples. Although unwed couples sharing a bed isn’t exactly uncommon.”
“Yes,” Suho says.
They stare at each other expectantly.
“Do I have to spell out exactly what I’m asking you?”
“It might help,” Javier says, because he feels like being a dick.
But Suho is smarter than Lloyd. “You’re not stupid, Javier.” He presses his lips into a flat line and doesn’t say anything else.
Well. It’s not exactly how Javier would have liked to start this particular conversation. He’s used to being admired, being the one who is chased- he thought if Suho was interested in him, he wouldn’t have to wait long. And Javier realizes, despite all the love letters he’s received and how many people have expressed interest in him, he’s not so sure how to do it himself.
“I have been interpreting it as a bit more than what a knight and his lord typically do.”
“And how do you feel about that?”
Now Javier is frustrated. He doesn’t understand the heat on his face or the unfamiliar, uncomfortable feeling in his chest. “I feel… happy.”
“Happy,” Suho echoes.
“My Lo- Suho,” Javier says. He fights every urge to look away from his lord. “I was not, never have been, and will never be able to be interested in Lloyd Frontera. But, my lord is no longer Lloyd Frontera. It is Kim Suho.”
After a moment, Suho says, hesitantly, “So you do interpret this… romantically.”
“I would certainly not be opposed to that.”
Suho rubs his face. “Javier, I don’t think you understand why I am asking you, judging by your cagey-as-fuck responses. I am in the body of your lord, and you just said that now I, Kim Suho, am your lord. You are my knight.”
“Yes,” Javier says, uncertain where this is going.
“I never wanted to pursue you,” Suho says. “I never wanted to put you in that position. I need you to tell me that yes, this is what you want, you are not doing this out of a sense of duty or obligation. I am not taking advantage of my position over you, you are doing this out of your own free will.”
Javier wants to laugh. It’s absurd, the idea that he could be controlled or forced to do things he didn’t want to, especially by someone with a mere title. “If I truly did not want to share the bed with you, I would not have, my Lord.”
Suho breathes out. “Okay. Well, that’s a relief.”
Javier almost feels insulted. “Did you think I would just do what you ordered blindly?”
“It is your duty to, isn’t it?”
“My duty is to protect you,” Javier says. “And I have abandoned that position only once, in Cremo, when I opposed your decision too strongly to follow you.” Javier gets out of their bed and walks over to Suho so he’s standing right in front of him. He leans down, hands on either armrest, and Suho looks at him, wide-eyed. With pleasure, Javier notes that Suho’s eyes flit downwards at his bare chest.
“I assure you, my Lord,” Javier murmurs, trying not to grit his teeth. “ Nothing I have done inside this room has been out of a sense of ‘obligation’. You have not forced me to do anything.”
He stands up straight again and returns to their bed, fighting every fiber of his being that tells him to kiss Suho right there.
“Okay,” Suho says breathlessly. “I believe you.”
“Good,” Javier says stiffly. “Please do come to bed soon, Suho. You can’t keep staying up well past midnight and expect to be productive tomorrow.”
“I was a civil engineering college student,” Suho says. “Trust me, I have mastered the art of productivity without sleep.”
“Suho.”
Javier’s tone must convey something words cannot, because Suho immediately says, “I’ll be there shortly.”
That night, Suho gives Javier the lullaby with their fingers intertwined.