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The sound of the heavy rain as Heeseung's horse, Bambi, gallops through the forest is loud in his ears. It takes over all of his senses with how dense it is. He focuses on it, rather. But even that is not enough to keep his consciousness from slipping. To keep himself from succumbing to the ancestral whispers calling for him to come home.
He breathes in. Out. Grunts.
Not a wise decision.
Trying to focus less on the shockwaves of pain circulating rapidly beneath the flesh of his torso, he leans back further into the semi-warmth embracing him.
"Jay-ya!?" Heeseung calls out, voice breathless and thundering over the intense rain. "Jay-ya, do not pass out on me! Do you hear me!? You need to stay awake!"
If it were not for the fact that he could not move a single muscle unless he wanted to injure himself further, he would scowl. Bite back at Heeseung's fatuous comment. Label him an idiot. As if what he is asking of Jongseong is something he could control. He must not be thinking straight to say such a thing. He found Heeseung lucky that he could not speak due to the lack of energy he carried.
"We are nearly there, Jay-ya! It is just up ahead a few feet!" Heeseung tells him. "Let us make it until then! Yeah!? I know you can do it!"
And he wants to. God, does he want to.
But he knows he cannot.
The edges of his eyes are already darkening—had been for quite a while now. His vision has blurred what feels like aeons ago. There was only so long he could hold onto wakeness with debilitating pain radiating throughout his body.
So he shuts his eyes. And continues to listen to the ricocheting heartbeat beneath an ear.
Until every sound, every smell, and every touch gradually fades away into nothingness.
It seems as if the moment passes by in the snap of a finger. When he reopens his eyes, he is met with the sight of dim light and the sound of thunder in the distance. Slowly, his senses start to kick in. After a minute of silence and staring thoughtlessly, he feels that there are fingers running through his hair. Soothingly. He's lying on someone's lap, it seems. It comforts him. Feels familiar. He shuts his eyes to bask in the feeling. Of how it reminds him of his mother—
His mother.
Sudden flashbacks are playing in his mind. His twin brother, snatched from beside him. His father, heart pierced with a sword. His mother, decapitated, right before his eyes—
It doesn't hit him that he's sat up and begun wailing, mourning the deaths of his only family, until someone is embracing his entire body with their own and trying to console him.
He cries. Cries. And cries.
"It is my fault," he gasps out through a sob. "Everything. All gone. And it is all because of me."
"Jay-ya, no. Please. Do not say that. None of this is because of you. Please, do not blame yourself."
The voice. Jongseong recognizes it immediately.
Heeseung.
"If I had...been stronger. Stricter. Less immature. Braver. I could have—I could have been King. I could have prevented this. It is because—they saw us as weak because I could not ascend to the throne yet. Because I was scared and—and insecure—" His voice cracks, ending his spiel. The cries have ceased but the tears do not stop falling. "They took everything from me. Because I am too fragile and fractured. I hid behind a closed door. And now look at what has happened." Jongseong extracts himself from the embrace of Heeseung and turns away from him. "How am I supposed to face the people of the kingdom like this? How will they trust me? Who will I trust?"
There is a gentle touch to his cheek before Heeseung takes hold of his jaw and gently turns his face back into his view. He coos and wipes Jongseong's tears. "You have me, Jongseong," Heeseung reminds him, voice quiet.
But Jongseong shakes his head, pushing Heeseung's hand away. He misses the flash of hurt that crosses Heeseung's face. "How can I trust you? How do I know you're not planning my demise next? To take over my position and claim what is no longer mine? How do I know you are not like every other person who has tried to tell me the same thing and get into my heart—make me believe that they were truly on my side? How do I know you will not betray me just as everyone else I have known? How can I trust you, Lee Heeseung?"
Heeseung stares down at him, eyes wavering. His expression is...confusing. Jongseong finds it soft. And tender. It's a common expression he has seen upon Heeseung's face when Heeseung looks at him, too. He has always found it something like a puzzle he has to solve to see the full picture. But he has not figured it out yet.
"I understand why you are feeling defensive, Jay-ya. I do not blame you for feeling insecure—for being your own worst critic. I understand you. But I am not your enemy. And you are not an enemy to yourself. I have been by your side for as long as I can remember. I have seen you at your worst and at your best. Not once have I judged you for who you are or who you are not. I have visited you every year for months on end because I wanted to be here. With you. Truly, have I ever given you a reason to doubt me?"
It is quiet for a few moments before Jongseong shakes his head. "No," he whispers. "You have not." His bottom lip wobbles. "But how do I know you are not playing long-con? How do I know that years down the line that you will not betray me, and abandon all that is well and true? And leave me for the rabid wolves? How can I be so sure that I can trust you, Heeseung?"
The rain outside fills the silence between them. Heeseung does not answer Jongseong for a while. But when he finally does, Jongseong feels as if his world flips upside-down.
"Marry me, Jongseong," Heeseung finally says after several minutes.
Jongseong's head snaps upwards to gape at Heeseung with wide eyes.
"Marry me," Heeseung repeats. "And if I betray you, let the council of my Kingdom declare treason from the new King and behead me. Let that be my promise of faith. Let that show how true I am to you."
"I—Heeseung—you—" Jongseong stutters, face previously pale blooming into a pretty, pure pink. "Say—say you are not jesting. Lee Heeseung. Say you are not jesting."
Heeseung shakes his head. He takes both of Jongseong's hands into his own hands. Kisses his knuckles. "No jest, Jongseong. Nothing but truth. Marry me. Let us join hands and reign hell upon those who have wronged you. Wronged us."
He inhales and exhales a beat faster than normal. His heart races. A million receptors are going off in his brain bouncing back and forth. Up and down. Side to side. His face is still wet. Matted with tears. Throat dry. He probably looks messy. Unclean. Unattractive.
But Heeseung asks to marry him. He asks to marry Jongseong while looking at him with those eyes. Those big, beautiful doe-like eyes that resemble the jewelled brooches his late mother would wear. Those eyes that look at him like nothing else mattered in the world.
"I burned myself down to the ground," Jongseong whispers as he stares into Heeseung's eyes. "But you look at me like I became ashes and was reborn into a Phoenix."
A side of Heeseung's lips quirks upwards. Just slightly. Like he is amused by Jongseong's words.
"If it is not too late, can I ask of you to treat me the way you look at me? Soft? And tender? To love me hard? And true? You see the world in colours. But I view it black and white. If I can trust you, can you paint me a picture out of the lines that I live in all of the time? If I can trust you, can you keep my heart from building walls so high that you cannot get through? Can you truly love me soft and tender? Can you love me like—can you love me like that?"
"Can I love you like that?" Heeseung echoes, as if he is disbelieving of what he is hearing.
"Yes," Jongseong confirms, breathlessly. "Can you love me like that? I—I will keep repeating it if you did not catch me. Can you love me like that? Lee Heeseung? Can you love me like that?" Jongseong slips a hand out of Heeseung's grip. Caresses Heeseung's face, swiping a thumb over one of Heeseung's cheeks.
Some people are born to be miracles walking Earth. And Jongseong is much of an example. Because Jongseong is the broken and battered one. But he still treats everything so gently. With care. With thought.
If Heeseung were in Jongseong's shoes, he would have become a villain. Taken everything from the ones who took from him. Wreaked havoc everywhere he went. Everywhere he stood.
But Jongseong. He stays true to his love. To his innocence. To his faith. His sense of kindness never wavered.
It was truly admirable.
"Sunshine left today. You were caught in the rain and thought you were all alone. But I came to pick you up from your blues. And you think it is too late to ask me? To love you? Soft and tender?" Heeseung smiles—something sweet. But also something sour. Because he wishes that Jongseong did not feel the need to ask him in the first place. "I will love you like that. Park Jongseong. My one and only Jongseong. Of course, I will love you like that. Soft and tender. Hard and true. Every single way there is and more."
"Love me like that," Jongseong whispers in a hoarse tone, a stray tear sliding down one cheek. "Please. Love me like that."
Heeseung promises him.
"I will."
Then, he kisses Jongseong.
Soft. And tender.
Because that is how he said he would treat him.
Soft and tender.
And a long time later, when Heeseung embraces him once more to fill him up with unconditional warmth, Jongseong realizes one last thing.
Heeseung's kiss.
It tastes a lot like love.