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Dang Bo thought it would be nice seeing his home for the first time in years, and it partially was, but he also wanted to run away. He wanted to take hold of Cheong Myeong’s arms and drag him away from this place that dredged up unwanted memories.
In a room, there was only one person breathing. Gourds of liquor filled the table. Two cups sat on it, both were untouched.
Cheong Myeong wasn’t drinking yet. He was staring off into space instead. Or, that was wrong. He was staring at an empty chair where, once upon a time, Dang Bo would have sat.
“This isn’t what I meant when I said that you’re welcome to visit me whenever you feel lonely, hyeong-nim.”
Dang Bo chuckled hollowly as he sat down next to Cheong Myeong. In the spot that Cheong Myeong couldn’t draw his eyes from.
Cheong Myeong didn’t respond, since he didn’t hear what Dang Bo said. It was normal for Dang Bo now, but he wished he could chew Cheong Myeong out sometimes. The things he got up to! Honestly, you’d think he wasn’t afraid of dying.
Well, considering they had both died before, Dang Bo supposed it could be natural not to be afraid of death anymore. Although, he did wonder why he of all people was stuck on this plane of existence and not Cheong Mun or Cheong Jin. Maybe they knew he would watch over Cheong Myeong for them.
Cheong Myeong was the only one awake so deep into the night, yet he was pouring liquor for two. Dang Bo would do anything in order to pick up the cup and throw its contents at Cheong Myeong. Why was he wasting expensive liquor!?
“How many bottles are you going to guzzle down?” Dang Bo huffed out a sigh.
He wanted to swat Cheong Myeong over the head. He also wanted to place a kiss across his temple and promise that everything would be okay.
He couldn’t do either of those things, though, no matter how hard he tried.
His arm was out, and his fingers tried to curl around Cheong Myeong’s hair, but it was a futile attempt. There was no way to touch Cheong Myeong. It was the same for how there was no way for Cheong Myeong to hear what he said.
Dang Bo was trapped in the void between life and death. He was definitely dead, don’t get him wrong, but he still lingered. He wasn’t willing to part from his hyeong-nim. He followed him wherever he went.
He could remember following Cheong Myeong through the rest of the war against the demonic sect. He was there as Cheong Mun died, and when Cheon Ma declared that he would resurface again. He was there as Cheong Myeong died believing that he was alone.
Dang Bo really didn’t like that his hyeong-nim wasn’t able to see him.
Dang Bo glanced at the untouched cup that was set out for him. He couldn’t help but wonder if Cheong Myeong was drinking because he missed him, or if he missed him because he was drunk. He was going to keep his hyeong-nim company either way.
Sometimes, when Cheong Myeong was despicable to the children of Mount Hua, Dang Bo felt as if he was forgotten. But then he would see Cheong Myeong like this, lost in grief and melancholy, and throw away his intrusive thoughts.
“I really like you, hyeong-nim,” he said aloud, not having to worry about being overheard.
He never got the chance to confess his feelings. It was no-good of him, he knew, but he wanted to say the words at least once. He admitted it to himself freely in his head, but he had never stated them so blatantly.
Dang Bo always regretted not making his feelings known. He was scared of rejection at the time. He was fearful that Cheong Myeong wouldn’t reciprocate what he felt. It was silly now, looking back at it. Even if Cheong Myeong didn’t like him in the same way, he wouldn't throw Dang Bo away.
Even as Cheong Myeong drank away his grief and drowned his memories, Dang Bo wasn’t upset. He was simply concerned. He wanted to rip the bottle away. Maybe even pour the translucent liquid onto Cheong Myeong’s head just to make him upset and angry. A way to see an emotion that wasn’t sadness.
“I want to spend the rest of my time with you, hyeong-nim." His gaze fell down to his hands. His blackened fingertips remained even in this incorporeal form.
“... What?”
Dang Bo was startled. He looked up and froze. His eyes widened as he looked at Cheong Myeong, whose cheeks were flushed from alcohol, but alert enough to blink at Dang Bo in shock.
“Hyeong-nim…!?”
“Bo-ya!?”
Dang Bo smiled as his chest swelled with emotion. “It’s nice to be seen by you again.”
Cheong Myeong’s soft, surprised expression fell away. It was replaced with anger. Without skipping a beat, Cheong Myeong grabbed the nearest bottle and went to smack it against Dang Bo’s head.
Dang Bo didn’t dodge because he was a ghost, and yet—
“Fuck, that hurt, hyeong-nim!” Dang Bo clutched his head as liquor dampened his hair and robes.
Dang Bo exhaled shakily as he realized what happened. All they could hear was each other’s breaths in the silent room.
“You have some explaining to do!” demanded Cheong Myeong. He picked up another gourd and readied it in a throw.
Dang Bo lifted up his arms as a shield. “Truce! Truce! I don’t know what’s happening either! You’re a daoist! Be nicer!”
Cheong Myeong dropped the bottle and then grabbed Dang Bo’s head. His fingers gripped into Dang Bo’s hair, and pulled him into a kiss as liquor dripped down his skin.
Well, alright. Dang Bo didn't mind this.
When they separated, a shiver went down his spine when Cheong Myeong said, “You better get explaining, you bastard.”
Ah… hahahahaha. Don’t be too upset, hyeong-nim.