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This is how it ends: hand in trembling hand, wavering tunnel vision and the smell of plum blossoms, blood, and rot.
Tang Bo thinks that this is a nice way to die; encapsulated by strong arms, bright pink eyes solely on him, soft black hair pooling around his face and neck, his hyung-nim’s precious tears falling on his chest. Everything hurts and he can’t move, a feeling like numb ice in every limb as he smiles and laughs around Cheongmyeong’s angry words.
He got the answer he needed when he asked Cheongmyeong to watch over his family and he thinks, if there’s any time to do it, it’s now. He may even get the answer he’s always wanted instead.
“Hyung-nim,” he rasps, a grin full of congealing blood. “My hyung-nim, can I ask you again? Please?”
“Fuck you,” Cheongmyeong replies, squeezing his hand tight enough that it brings a jolt of feeling back into his body. “Don’t you fucking dare.”
“Are you really-,” he cuts himself off with a feeble cough that tastes like copper and fire. “Are you really going to deny me this?”
A fresh fleck of blood slides down Cheongmyeong’s temple and Tang Bo, dazed and so painfully in love even now, follows the path of the drop fondly, watching it bloom into a wash of soft color as it meets the gathering tears on his chin. He always knew his hyung-nim would look absolutely perfect in red.
“Ask me later when we’re out of this shithole,” Cheongmyeong cuts in, and Tang Bo can feel the grip around his shoulders start to tighten again. “I’ll reject you then too, so don’t bother saying anything right now.”
“Aww, my hyung-nim, you’re really going to say no this time too?” Tang Bo can only laugh because they both know only one of them is seeing tomorrow.
“Obviously, I’ve said no every single time so save your breath,” and it should be cruel, it should hurt to hear but Tang Bo is happy to go through the motions one more time. “Just shut the fuck up and hold on to me.”
“You always know what to say to make a man feel confident about himself,” Tang Bo teases and groans and cries out when Cheongmyeong tries to move him - he thought he was numb but the gaping wound on his back flares back to awareness and sends his senses crashing into a frenzy. “Please! Please, no!”
The words leave his mouth with a sob and Cheongmyeong echoes the noise.
“Hold on, just-, just-, hold on. I’m sorry, please just hold on,” Cheongmyeong chants, immediately easing him back down. “I need to- I need to do this, the camp is only a few minutes away, Bo-yah. Please.”
“Sorry,” Tang Bo says instead, hand reaching up to cup Cheongmyeong’s face; he runs his thumb over his cheekbone, too prominent now, in the middle of war and ruin. “I’m sorry, hyung-nim.”
“Stop it,” Cheongmyeong begs and like with every aspect of their lives, he already knows what Tang Bo wants to say and do. “Don’t say anything, you’re going to be okay.”
“My hyung-nim,” Tang Bo coos, the pain fizzling out like a dying star and the cold creeping back in. “My beautiful hyung-nim - you can say no again, you can reject me again, but please. Please, can I ask you?”
The unspoken ‘one more time’ echoes like a memory, distant and precious, perfect in clarity and untouched by everything surrounding them.
“Fine,” Cheongmyeong bites out even as he presses Tang Bo’s shivering hand tighter against his face. “Fine, you stupid stubborn brat. Fine. Ask me.”
“Hyung-nim - no, Cheongmyeong-ah,” Tang Bo beams around his name, letting the shape and cadence melt into the roof of his mouth. “Marry me?”
The words come easy, he’s asked this question countless times - he’s said it more times than he’s even said his own name. It’s a question he’s taking to his grave, regardless of Cheongmyeong’s answer, it’ll be his epitaph if someone manages to collect his body and bury him, it’ll be the story that his descendants and his descendant’s descendants will tell to show that he loved and loved dearly.
Silly Tang Bo who staked his hope and despondence on a duel he was sure to win but lost so summarily and completely that the first words out of his clobbered mouth was a dazed and fervent “marry me?”. Foolish Tang Bo who was clobbered again by a flustered and disbelieving Cheongmyeong who rejected him without another thought. Helpless Tang Bo who sought and sought and fought and fought for his place by his side until his hyung-nim couldn’t pretend he wanted to drive him away anymore.
Unabashed Tang Bo who wormed his way into Cheongmyeong’s heart and was now the one breaking it.
“Who do you think you are, asshole?” Cheongmyeong bites back. “Did you even ask my family for permission to propose?”
Tang Bo, despite his failing body and wavering hold on his consciousness, is insulted.
“Of course,” he insists, frowning for the first time since he was nearly torn in half. “Your sahyung also said no and Cheongjin just laughed me out of the building but I definitely asked!”
It’s a dark and clear night sky above them but Tang Bo swears he sees the sun when Cheongmyeong barks out a laugh, painful and brittle like shattered glass.
“Then you know my answer.” Cheongmyeong whispers a tremulous smile on his face, he takes Tang Bo’s limp hand off of his cheek to lay it across his slowing chest like he’s tucking him to sleep.
His touch is gentle and soft, barely exerting any pressure, but Tang Bo can feel every tremor in his fingers. Tang Bo hates to ruin his hyung-nim’s work but he forces everything left in him to move his hand, catches a lock of Cheongmyeong’s hair waving over his cheeks, and presses a last kiss against it.
“Ask,” Cheongmyeong’s words come out wheezing and thin. “Ask again, Tang Bo. Ask me again.”
Tang Bo smiles like the darkness isn’t encroaching in his peripheral vision, like he hasn’t been fighting a losing battle, like he isn’t watching Cheongmyeong’s heart die right beside him.
“Marry me?”
“One more time.”
“Marry me?”
“One more, please.”
“Marry me?”
“Again, and then ask me again when we’re out of here, okay?”
“Always, hyung-nim, always. Please, will you marry me?”
“Bo-yah, just one more time, for me?”
Tang Bo tries and tries but his body is finally giving in - it’s with the last of his awareness, looking into lovely, frantic eyes, that he realizes he will never get his last proposal out. It’s okay, he’ll ask again when he wakes up.
This is how it starts: Tang Bo just saw the heavens and it looks like a beautiful man with a hand as heavy as iron.
He’s beaten mercilessly but nothing hurts - he honestly feels like he’s soaring even as his body insists that it’d be better to shut down than keep blinking. He jolts in place as he remembers, dragging his hair out of mud and rocks as he whips up, hoping to find the Plum Blossom Sword Saint still there, still around for him to glimpse just once more.
His heart starts to race in his chest. He’s still there, sitting against a tree and sipping out of a red bottle, perfect as a painting with nothing out of place. Nothing on him or about him says that he nearly drove Tang Bo’s skull into the dirt.
Tang Bo lost this fight totally and completely but he’s never felt more exhilarated. He’s never felt the rush of living and breathing, the adrenaline of nearly giving up his consciousness to this man’s fists, the devastation of losing for the first time, the humble realization that he’s been a big fish in a very little pond for so long.
“Oh, you’re up,” the man says, pink eyes blinking with a swath of black lashes - he’s disconcertingly pretty. “Thanks for that, it was fun.”
He throws him a cheery grin and gets up, stretching with his clasped hands in the sky, long hair falling across his shoulders like a dark river. Under the glow of the setting sun, he looks like something to be worshiped.
“Oh wow,” Tang Bo croaks out, throat in ruins after the swordsman had gotten a quick jab there. “Should we get married?”
“What the hell?”
Tang Bo clears his throat and tries to swipe the mud off of his face, like that would help make him look any more presentable. He forces himself onto his knees and clasps his hands together before bowing with his head to the ground despite his everything aching and screaming to just pass out.
“Tang Bo, Dark Saint of the Tang Family, formally requests your hand in marriage.”
“Cheongmyeong, 13th generation disciple of the Mount Hua Sect. I’m going to kick your ass again, you crazy brat.”
Tang Bo picks his head up off the floor, aghast. He sees Cheongmyeong cracking his knuckles with a smile straight out of hell and tries to scramble back, letting out a groan when his back hits a boulder.
“Wait, wait!” and sighs in relief when Cheongmyeong does, eye twitching and a snarl on his lovely mouth. “So, is that a no?”
“Of course it’s a no, are you insane?!”