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Yeosang presses his eyes shut with a shuddering sigh. There's got to be a better way for things like these to be resolved.
"A duel to the death." He repeats their words. Perhaps this time they'll hear themselves and have some sense knocked into them. "For my graces."
Wooyoung bows with a flourish, cloak bunching around his legs. The sun hits through the wisps of his long fringe drawing shapes on golden, golden skin.
"I swear to fight most honorably for you, my love."
Yeosang smiles. Does he think for a moment he's to be believed? The witch knows the moment a fight breaks out who's the one with a fist full of dirt behind his back. Wooyoung has never known how to do things honorably.
It's never been honor why he fell for him.
"Spare him no thought, my moon!" Mingi protests. "I shall earn your love or die in its pursuit."
And oh, sweet Mingi. He would most certainly die in the hands of a thief like Wooyoung, such a soft little bard. He is meant for tales of love and loss, not this.
He loves him for the things he can give in happiness, not death wishes said in romantic ways.
The thought of going forward without either of them lodges itself painfully in Yeosang's heart.
He crosses his arms.
"It displeases me most," He tells them. "That you'd harm each other for my sake."
"But—"
"My moon—"
"If you wish to prove your love to me, there are better ways."
That seems to pique their interest. Mingi reaches to hold his hand, Wooyoung quick to mirror his actions. He intertwines their fingers, pulls their hands to his mouth.
"Anything that pleases you." Says the bard.
"Anything." The thief echoes.
"Is it such an insurmountable task to live alongside each other?" He asks, eyes on their knuckles. "If my graces were not a concern, if- if you never had to doubt my love for you, how would you look at each other?"
"He's a thief ."
"He's a bard ."
"He is much too cunning."
"He is much too loose."
"He… is strong."
"He— what ?"
"I thought my death could make you fonder. My words last." Mingi whispers. "I never thought— but it is the proper way, is it not? For men, to fight?"
Wooyoung bites his lip. After a long moment, he shakes his head. "You love well." He says.
The breeze picks up, laying the blooms of the meadow as if in dance.
"Fighting is easy. Killing is hard but it's easier than— than this." Comes softly, shy. "This feels like catching a stab with my palm. I never know if… I can fight, but what else am I good for?"
"I hear plenty of good things from Yeosang at night."
That pushes a snort out of him.
"You listen to us?"
Mingi flusters chest to ears. "D-don't be ridiculous."
"By the gods, you do!" He cackles. "Do you imagine it's you there, bard?"
Yeosang giggles. Both suitors turn to him.
"I do, sometimes." He says. "Imagine us three together. But— you're tender, with each other. You kiss and you hold just like you do with me."
Wooyoung looks away first, eyes full of frantic consideration. Mingi watches him, searching.
"If you could get along, I would be plenty happy." He breathes against their knuckles. "But, now, I find myself wishing for a kiss."
"My moon…" Mingi's face softens, he leans in in time for Yeosang's hand, the one still in Wooyoung's, to turn his head towards the right. Towards the thief.
"Not me." He whispers into the skin of his jaw. "If you don't wish to, this ends where you stand, and I'll love you the same. But if you do. If you do ."
"He's— he's a thief." Mingi hisses, but it lacks heat. It distinctly sounds like he's trying to convince himself. "It is possible that he bites."
He smiles. "And would that be so bad, if he did?"
Yeosang's heart beats hard against his throat. He feels, not for the first time, that there is more room for his heart to grow into than he thought. To think— it was right there , this whole time! Though the arguing was too loud for them to hear.
Yeosang would not be the only one heartbroken had they gone through with the duel. He knows now.
"He does not wish to— " Wooyoung's words die in Mingi's eager mouth. Yeosang gasps.
They pull apart in time for three heartbeats to sound, but no more than that, Wooyoung's free hand in fiery hair as he pulls him in, messing Mingi's braid with his need. And by the gods does he love them , Yeosang thinks, would he lay down his own life for their happiness.
"You are right, love," Wooyoung gasps against supple lips, though he says it to the witch. "There might be... better ways."