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"Did you know you're currently the talk of the Sect, Hyung-nim?"
He was NOT startled. He was the Plum Blossom Sword Saint. The Tang brat's voice most definitely didn't make him flinch.
Tang Bo raised an eyebrow at the calloused hands choking the wine jar and the subtle snap of shoulder muscles tensing up.
One would think not to tease the mad dog in his state, but this was Tang Bo, the one who holds the trophy for being Cheong Myeong's most annoying leech.
"Was that a flinch? Did I just see a flinch from the mighty Sword Saint?" Tang Bo teasingly asked, jabbing at the older man's shoulder.
Cheong Myeong slapped away the offending hand and twisted his face in annoyance (with a hint of embarrassment). When did this damn brat become so observant of his body language?
‘Maybe he always has been .’ Cheong Myeong thought off-handedly. Especially since he was very stubborn about hiding injuries. Seems like Cheong Myeong accidentally trained Tang Bo to be a master body language reader.
“Oh dear, is Hyung-nim's age starting to show itself already? Maybe it's time for you to go settle on a desk and fill in paperwork instead, like the rest of the pruning elders.”
The impressive facial scrunch was an expression that the Tang wasn't able to currently see with Cheong Myeong still facing away, but the heavy aura still trickled out. An aura Tang Bo was very familiar with at this point. Tang Bo instinctively rolled up like a dying bug and braced himself, expecting a fist, an empty wine bottle, or a sword hilt (or all three) to fly his way… except… it never did. He parted his arms slightly and peeked at the other in confusion with a hint of worry at the elder's odd behavior.
“Hyung-nim?”
“Yah. Bo-ya.”
Cheong Myeong slowly rotated his head towards the cowering Tang and smiled. It was not the nice, rare smile Tang Bo oh so wished it was. No, those warped lips screamed death without moving.
“Do me a small favor, hm?”
“Eheh… Dosa Hyung-nim…?” Tang Bo squeaked out nervously.
Looks like Tang Bo picked the worst time to laugh at Cheong Myeong's misfortune. He really needed to get himself a silencing talisman.
A low growl came from Cheong Myeong.
Was there such a thing similar to an afterlife warranty? He was a little worried the Mount Hua Elder would chase him down after beating him to death once just to do it again.
The wine bottle shattered in the rough hand holding it.
Ok, update that to very worried and needing a coffin for his funeral after the afterlife.
Cheong Myeong moved with the lethal precision of a tiger on the prowl. No, that would be an understatement with the steam coming out those flaring nostrils. A dragon seemed more fitting.
“Get some wine from the heavens. I'd kill to taste some.”
The phrase “deer caught in the headlights” had yet to exist in the duo's timeline, but Tang Bo resonated with the expression on a personal level as the Sword Saint stalked towards him.
“W-wait! Hyung-nim! H-how about we share a cup of alcohol in the living world first? And talk about this?”
“No.”
“AAAAH, Mercy! Please grant this lowly one some merc-ack!”
The last visual memory Tang Bo had was seeing the pavilion's very brown, wooden floor turning white. He couldn’t help but wonder how nice marble flooring would be at the Tang’s pavilion Cheong Myeong frequents.
Cheong Myeong stared at the green blob flopping onto the steps. The image was getting increasingly familiar to him. The guy was completely knocked unconscious from one hit of the sheathed sword. The fool tried to scamper, but hadn't even tried to dodge.
Sighing, he dragged Tang Bo off the steps and onto the pavilion, laying him flat on his back. If his friend obtained several more bumps on his head from getting dragged, Cheong Myeong would blame the mosquitos. Tang Bo would be fine. He's endured worse beatings back when they first started getting acquainted.
Cheong Myeong knew Tang Bo's durability by the third day. The man who proudly declared himself as the Dark Saint would pop up again and again to play whack-a-mole several times a day. Except it was whack-a-leech.
Cheong Myeong sat back down next to Tang Bo's body and leaned heavily against a pillar. His eyes drifted closed, but his breathing gave away the fact that he was still awake. When Tang Bo was unconscious was when the leech’s presence brought the most sense of peace.
“Ugh.”
A groan made Cheong Myeong open one eye towards the source. See? Comes right back up. The sun barely even moved.
Tang Bo didn't move from his sprawled position and stared at the ceiling in silence, trying to regain his bearings. Maybe Cheong Myeong hit him harder than he should've.
“Hyung-nim, did you eat something bad?”
“Ha?”
Caught off guard at such a random question, Cheong Myeong snapped open both eyes and glanced at Tang Bo.
Tang Bo grunted as he pushed himself off the floor and sat up.
“On my way here, I saw a trail of beaten-up Mount Hua disciples. It's how I found you, really.” Tang Bo recalled.
“They were asking for it.” Cheong Myeong defended.
Tang Bo looked at Cheong Myeong dubiously.
“They looked at me funny.”
Tang Bo's eyes squinted in disbelief and threw his arms up like he was the one offended.
Quietly to himself, Tang Bo mumbled, “Note to self, Hyung-nim's emotional intelligence drops below the Tang Elders’ when tired.”
“What was that?”
A hand tightened over the sword handle again.
“Nothing, nothing!” Tang Bo frantically screeched, waving his hands symbolizing peace and surrender.
Sighing, Cheong Myeong let the topic drop, too tired to even care. For now. He’ll just let karma work its magic for him.
“Look, I'm fine. Just drop it, Bo-ya.” Cheong Myeong bit out, feeling a headache starting to form.
“Is that what the medic who helped give birth to you said? ‘ Drop it?’ . Hyung-nim, you must've been dropped on your head if you think I'm dropping this topic with your condition.”
“It’s no big deal. I can still beat up hundreds of Sapas without a problem.”
Tang Bo frowned and glanced at the pile of empty wine jars in addition to the shattered one.
He should check if his Hyung-nim cut himself.
“No big deal? Hyung-nim, I startled you without even trying. The only time I was able to do that was when I- ugh, no forget that moment.” Tang Bo recalled as he scooted towards the swordsman, signaling for his hand.
“On top of that, you hit me so hard I thought I saw my great great grandmother calling out to me with a batch of heavenly Sichuan wine.”
Cheong Myeong didn't bother trying to spark a second argument and held out his palm for his primary physician. No cuts. Tang Bo nodded in satisfaction and released it. Cheong Myeong stared heavily at the hand, warmth fading from the initial contact.
“Yeah, well that's ‘cuz it's…” Cheong Myeong gestured at Tang Bo, “Well. You. Why would I need to be alert with you?”
Tang Bo scooted away slowly. As sweet as that was, both cringed. Cheong Myeong had said that without thinking. Tang Bo experienced enlightenment along with horror at the foreign character his friend was showing, which defaulted to cringing.
“Ehem! I mean, because you’re a bratty weakling.” Cheong Myeong added frantically, eyes darting away in clear panic. “Besides, you brought that upon yourself!”
“...”
That cover-up was fooling neither of them, and both knew it.
“Okay… Let’s say I believe you’re truly fine. Why are you acting like Mount Hua banned you from alcohol?” Tang Bo pressed, deciding to spare Cheong Myeong some face. Or rather, he chose silence to live and see the next day.
“I told you! It's nothing . I’m just having some trouble sleeping is all.” Cheong Myeong insisted.
If Tang Bo wasn't staring incredulously at him before, he definitely was now. Tang Bo had received some intel about Cheong Myeong's short temper. He hadn’t thought it was because of sleep.
“Trouble sleeping?” Tang Bo questioned. “When was the last time you slept?”
“I’ll just take a nap after I finish these bottles.” Cheong Myeong replied, picking up one of the bottles and waving off the questions.
“That ‘nap’ looks to be overdue by several days. I highly doubt you're going to willingly nap ‘later’.” Tang Bo bluntly stated.
Cheong Myeong had no comment. Didn't even look like he was listening. Tang Bo looked up as if he was praying to whatever deity would empower him against this stubborn fool.
“Your Sajil, the one that hates my guts. What's his name again? Cheong Min? Jee?”
“Cheong Jin.”
“Yes, him. Cheong Jin.” Tang Bo nodded. “He asked me to help. ME! The one he treats like an absolute bug. Whilst hiding. In a basket. Pretty sure his dignity abandoned him there and went on a vacation with you.”
Cheong Myeong rolled his eyes. “He probably just read too many scary stories last night. Him and his ridiculous books.”
“With three other disciples.” Tang Bo added.
“How big was that basket??”
“Comically big. Why does your Sect even hav- wait a minute. Yah! Don't try changing the subject!”
Tang Bo pulled his hair in frustration. Cheong Myeong imagined Tang Bo going bald for a split moment before obliterating that image down the “never to think about” part of his brain. He's just glad Tang Bo wasn't a Shaolin monk and had shiny hair instead of a shiny head.
“Hyung-nim. Please .” Tang Bo begged, dropping all the playfulness.
Topic aversion tactic failed.
The desperation in Tang Bo's voice made Cheong Myeong internally squirm from where he leaned on the pillar. He hated when people directed that tone towards him. It made him go soft.
Chung Myeong mumbled a few curses under his breath. Sharing his emotions was his greatest enemy, he would prefer to bottle them up and throw them down a cliff.
It was just his luck that Tang Bo was down there to catch the fragile bottle for him.
“Ugh, fine. If it gets you to move on.” Cheong Myeong bit out, voice dropping low and quiet in exhaustion.
It took a few seconds, but Cheong Myeong mumbled out, “It's just… recently I've been getting… nightmares. Not a big deal. It'll go away eventually.”
“Nightmares, huh?”
Cheong Myeong said nothing more. That was all he was sharing with Tang Bo. He didn't want to remember how real the dream felt. It was as if he were drowning in helplessness as he watched the blood spilling from Tang Bo's abnormally still lips and the hollow eyes that gazed at nothing. The unfocused, dead eyes haunted Cheong Myeong throughout the night and into the daylight. Tang Bo's eyes were supposed to shine brighter than a furnace during winter. He didn't want to tell Tang Bo he wanted those eyes to keep looking at him, just as it always does. How was he supposed to share all… that… with his one and only friend? It was pointless since the Tang Elder was obviously still alive anyway.
Tang Bo pouted a little (an action he later denies; he's a grown ass man and grown ass men don't pout) when he realized that's all he was going to pull out of Cheong Myeong. The Dark Saint always got what he wanted due to the influence and fear he instilled in others. But this was his Hyung-nim, the only man who threw Tang Bo like a rag doll, buried him in the ground, and inflicted other humiliating beatings. This unfortunately meant if his Hyung-nim didn't wish to share, Tang Bo must respect it lest he gets tossed into the water nearby. Cheong Myeong's minuscule admission was more than anyone could pull out of him anyway. Had it been anyone else, Cheong Myeong would've beaten them (or run away in the case of Cheong Mun).
A long exhale carrying 40ish years worth of stress came out of Tang Bo. Tang Bo brought out his hidden pipe and lit the bitter herbs. He had been through this before with Cheong Myeong—the sapa bastard was too proud, too stubborn to admit he needed help. This time, though... he wasn’t letting himself lose the battle of stubbornness so easily.
"Look, Hyung-nim. I know you’re one of Kangho’s strongest, but you're still human, you know? You can't just keep running on alcohol like this. You need rest."
There wasn't anything Cheong Myeong could say to Tang Bo's concerned bickering. Tang Bo would've gone on, but Cheong Myeong turned away, signifying the swordsman was finished with the conversation.
They sat together without a word for a little while, having a silent agreement to shut up and move on from the topic. At least, that's what Cheong Myeong hoped before the noisy leech opened his mouth again. Apparently, one of the two didn't get the memo about the silent agreement.
“Hmm. Hyung-nim, would you come here for a moment?”
“You have legs, use them. Your mouth on the other hand? Please. Feel free not to use them.”
Neither moved the slightest and proceeded to initiate a glaring contest with each other.
“Oh, for goodness' sake. Just haul your ass over here please.” Tang Bo insisted, somehow politely.
Tang Bo knew Cheong Myeong wouldn't move without reason, so he reached for the not-so-secret stache within his spacious sleeves. It was a very familiar bag to all of Mount Hua after all.
The question of how Cheong Myeong moved from the pillar to Tang Bo despite stiff limbs would never be answered. Spectators would say teleportation, but logic says Cheong Myeong is simply just that good. Tang Bo learned to never question Cheong Myeong’s oddities and wore a smug face.
With mooncakes firmly secured in his stuffed mouth, Cheong Myeong twisted his body to escape the scheming snake. Before he could even place his hands down to lift himself, green sleeves wrapped around his torso and pulled him back.
“Hurmph?!”
The chipmunk-looking Taoist found himself flat on his back. His mind went blank as Tang Bo smoothly shifted to support Cheong Myeong’s head on his lap.
“Oo pashurf, eht oh of me!”
Bits of mooncake flew out of Cheong Myeong’s mouth as he flailed around. Tang Bo wrinkled his nose in disgust. Even with years of friendship, watching food fly from someone's mouth is never pleasant for anyone.
“Anyone ever tell you it's rude to talk when eating? I can't understand what you're saying, Hyung-nim.”
Tang Bo was lying, of course. The glare directed towards him made the command to let go blatantly clear. Not that he would listen even with the verbal command.
Between having to carefully swallow the sweets in his mouth or spit it out to avoid choking, Cheong Myeong chose neither and swallowed like a beast.
“WHAT IN THE NAME OF MOUNT HUA AND ALL ITS PLUM BLOSSOM TREES ARE YOU DOING YO-?!?”
Another mooncake was stuffed into Cheong Myeong’s mouth.
“No talking while eating, Hyung-nim!” Tang Bo chirped innocently. “Besides, this is much more comfortable than a wooden beam, is it not?”
Cheong Myeong paused. Tang Bo was right. Just because he had a high cultivation, it didn’t stop his neck from cramping up after sleeping upright. Of course, he would never admit it.
“Ugh, your lap is hard and lumpy. Also, a wooden pillar doesn't talk back.” Cheong Myeong complained, yet he made no move to roll off, choosing to shuffle into a more comfortable position instead. “I might get nightmares just from looking at your face at this angle.”
Despite the crude comments, Tang Bo’s face radiated triumph. Cheong Myeong had no choice but to direct his anger (embarrassment) towards inhaling the remaining mooncake.
It wasn't long before the feeling of contentment filled Cheong Myeong. Full, warm, and relaxed, he couldn’t help but nod off. However, he didn't fully relax, keeping his eyes slightly open. Lying on another's lap made him feel a bit self-conscious. The green eyes burning into his face didn’t help.
From this angle, Tang Bo could fully see the poor state Cheong Myeong was in. The usually mischievous eyes looked unfocused and sunken in. His hair was a mess from a clumsy attempt at tying it, and his face was sullen.
“Dosa Hyung-nim?”
“Mm?”
“Close your eyes.”
“Why?” Cheong Myeong snorted. “So you can poison me in my sleep?”
Tang Bo rolled his eyes and took a long drag of his pipe before blowing the smoke onto Cheong Myeong’s face.
“*Cough* Eugh *Cough*”
The smoke made Cheong Myeong's dry eyes slightly sting and throat itch. He would've strangled Tang Bo, but his limbs felt heavy. Cheong Myeong's display of vexation was limited to scowling at the culprit.
“Oops, looks like I did poison you.” Tang Bo purred. “And before you start picturing my demise with that glare of yours, it's just calming herbs.”
The confirmation didn't lessen the furious glare, even when Cheong Myeong felt his eyelids droop.
Tang Bo hummed lightly and covered the plum-colored eyes with his billowing sleeves, blocking out the sun.
As much as Tang Bo gushed over Cheong Myeong’s features, he knew such actions were necessary for the other to sleep.
Tang Bo wasn't oblivious, especially when it came to Cheong Myeong. Physical touch wasn't foreign between the two of them. He saw how his Hyung-nim’s face melted in relief at his touch. It was as if the warmth from the interaction was a reminder that Tang Bo was alive. He had seen similar expressions on patients who were haunted by a heavy loss.
Not to mention, the herbs lit in his pipe were weak. No veteran cultivator should've been affected as much as Cheong Myeong was. Otherwise, Tang Bo would've knocked himself out from the direct inhale.
“Close your eyes.” Tang Bo gently repeated.
This time, Cheong Myeong couldn't rebel against Tang Bo.
It was a slow process, but Cheong Myeong finally closed his eyes peacefully and his breathing flowed with the breeze.
Not long after, Tang Bo lifted his arms. He observed his Hyung-nim's face for any signs of discomfort. Only small snorts and the typical grumpy face greeted him.
Tang Bo was a weak man in utter love. He hadn't thought about the consequences of lending his lap as a pillow. There was a shadow of panic when Tang Bo realized he had to find a distraction quickly, before he started cooing and pinching the sleeping man. Rough movements would definitely wake up a storm called Cranky Cheong Myeong.
Looking around the pavilion, he found nothing noteworthy within reach. Only empty jugs were scattered on the floor. He let out a small huff and resigned to enduring the long afternoon trying to tame his overflowing affection.
It wasn’t until the sun started setting that the Mount Hua disciples noticed the long tranquility. It was an unusual trait when both the Saints were around. A cluster of youngsters following their sect leader would later find the two figures. Hushed whispers and fingers pointed in the direction of the Tang’s green and Mount Hua’s white uniforms bundled together as the elders slept under the blanket of plum blossom petals.
Cheong Mun ushered them away from the peaceful scene before the pair of troublemakers woke up. He wouldn’t be able to stop the gossip that would begin, but that stressful thought was a problem for the future. For now, all of Mount Hua needed the rest Tang Bo unknowingly granted all of them.
The Sect Leader had a sneaking suspicion this view would become common. He spun away and mentally prepared for the future marriage proposals that he predicted would come to his desk from the Tang family sooner than he expected.
EXTRAS (Warning: Angst, the fluff ends here!)
Beheading Cheon Ma felt like a dream, yet it felt so real. No, it was real. The blue sky was nowhere to be seen for miles, yet his Sahyungs and Sajils gaped up at it with unblinking, glazed eyes. They weren't going to move anytime soon. Cheong Myeong didn't want to know, but he knew.
Weight bore down on Cheong Myeong. It was strange considering the gaping hole where his arm should've been. Shouldn't his body feel lighter? Perhaps it was the blood of hundreds clinging to his figure, pulling him down to join the corpses littering the battlefield. Or maybe it was the exhaustion leeching off him.
Ah.
How he so dearly yearned for a different sort of leech.
Cheong Myeong couldn't remember the last time he had rested. He could hear Tang Bo's nagging in the back of his head.
"̵̪̑C̷͝ͅl̴̞̊ò̸͓s̶̔ͅe̷͔͋ ̶̭̈́y̴̡̛ó̷̠u̸̟͝r̶̢͘ ̷̤̾e̶̱̅y̵̤͂ě̵̥s̸̘͌.̸̦̈"̵̹̽
He fantasized about following the distant command with little complaint and relaxing into the soft Tang fabric. Regrettably, it was just his imagination. The reality was that Tang Bo had taken his ability to rest when he faded in his arms. Even though the familiar phrase whispered in Tang Bo's voice echoed coaxingly in his head, Cheong Myeong heard it as a horrible scream.
"C̶l̵o̵s̵e̵ ̶y̴o̷u̵r̶ ̵e̶y̴e̴s̷."
Aish. Stop nagging. How could he? Every time he closed his eyes, he was greeted with nightmares. Every time he laid to rest, blood would pool around him without those skillful hands to care for it.
He was so tired. There was no more energy to stay in denial. Cheong Myeong knew it wasn't like the other times where he could just open his eyes and everyone would be laughing, breathing, living. He knew better than anyone. After all, there was no Tang Bo hovering over him, impulsively squishing his cheeks until Cheong Myeong couldn't fake his sleep anymore and uppercutted the man.
Cheong Myeong scoffed. He felt like his age with all this sappy reminiscing.
Oh. When did he end up falling over? The ground felt warm and soft.
"Close your eyes."
Tang Bo's voice rang loud and clear, despite Cheong Myeong's sight steadily blurring. A nostalgic green blur filled his vision.
Fear gripped at Cheong Myeong. He didn't want to close his eyes.
"Hyung-nim."
Cheong Myeong felt warmth covering his eyes. It felt so familiar.
"Bo-ya?" Cheong Myeong wheezed out.
The voice called out for the final time. "Close your eyes."
A wave of peace blanketed Cheong Myeong. The warm tears went unnoticed when Cheong Myeong followed the voice quietly to a dreamless, eternal sleep.