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Baek Cheon pursed his lips, blinking frequently from excitement, picking green, unbloomed buds from a field he accidentally stumbled upon during a walk. He buys red flowers, in Huashan colours, for them, almost dropping coins because of his trembling hands. It was the first time he gave someone a bouquet of confession. The young flower girl looked at him with longing, insincerely congratulating his "chosen one", confident that the confession would be successful. But how many times had he already tried?
Cheong Myeong does not understand hints. Does not understand looks, does not understand hands extended for hugs, does not understand even the simplest and most uncomplicated "the moon is beautiful today". Baek Cheon is one step away from a pathetic, inelegant confession, where he begs on his knees for the other's attention, but... before that step, he needs to somehow catch the other's attention. To plant a spark there that will grow into a raging flame with the right care.
And so he picks poison ivy from the fence, decorating the bouquet with it, only because he has repeatedly caught the other's tender gaze on this cursed plant, more suitable for the Tang family than Huashan.
There are deep bruises under Cheong Myeong's eyes, which are almost invisible under his cheerful and aggressive demeanor.
Baek Cheong, numb from excitement, hands him the bouquet.
Cheong Myeong lowers his sword.
Yun Jong looks at him in disbelief from behind the other's figure, his whole face conveying "You were sent to carry an iron cart down the mountain and return with supplies, and you decided to get a bouquet NOW?! AND GIVE IT TO CHEONG MYEONG?!" They had known each other long enough and intensely enough that even such long messages were understandable at a glance.
Cheong Myeong turns his head to the side, looking at the flowers.
"This is for you. I... want to convey my feelings with this gift," Baek Cheon whispers hopefully, glad that only Yun Jong is next to them, who will not once again chatter about what he just saw.
He would like to give this gift in private, in case Cheong Myeong understands, if he gets embarrassed, and Baek Cheon could kiss him, but if Cheong Myeong is not training, then he is watching someone else's training or disappears so well that finding him is an impossible task.
"Have you brought the cart with supplies back yet?" the monster ignores him.
"...Yes."
Cheong Myeong deftly, smoothly takes the bouquet from his hands, looking at it, at the interweaving of green and pink, sprinkled with ivy, with a strange, too deep emotion.
The heart that had fallen soars from other's reaction, from furrowed brows, from silence instead of curses or mockery.
From the absence of refusal.
From hope.
* * *
One day, Baek Cheon walks into other's room looking for Cheong Myeong and sees a bouquet, already dried flowers, standing out against the empty room.
He can't suppress a smile from the happiness that bursts his chest at that moment.
* * *
He didn't want to fall in love. It's wrong - with someone so much younger, with a man, with his sajil and tormentor, who left more bruises than words. And yet this feeling flickered in his chest like a spark of light. As if all the essence, all the feelings gathered in one point in the solar plexus and exploded with emotions from every neutral touch of the other, from every smile, from one sight of a lonely back at the cliff.
He wants to make this back a little less lonely.
He wants to become someone important to this impossible person.
He wants Cheong Myeong.
* * *
And then Tang Bo appears.
Tang Bo this, Tang Bo that.
Everything Cheong Myeong says becomes Tang Bo.
Poison Ivy around his heart tightens in a death grip at the sight of intertwined fingers as the two go to sleep after a long sparring match.
Of course, this Tang sleeps in his sajil's room, ignoring the guest quarters. As if Cheong Myeong would let him sleep anywhere else.
Since the day the green-clad figure with the crooked pink hairpin came to Huashan's doorstep, since the day Cheong Myeong rushed forward, knocking the intruder down in his arms, since that day nothing has been as it should be.
Baek Cheon grips the practice sword until it cracks, watching the others' training. The dance, which is hard to follow with the eyes, is too fast and precise. None of them could keep up with Cheong Myeong. Not like this Tan did.
When they stand next to each other, the other's back no longer looks so lonely.
* * *
"I missed you," Cheong Myeong says quietly.
Baek Cheon freezes in front of the closed door.
"How many years have we not seen each other?" his voice becomes stifled, as can be from tears.
But Cheong Myeong never cries. Not sincerely. Not because he missed someone.
Baek Cheon leaves without knocking.
* * *
He must confess.
Before it's too late. Before Cheong Myeong throws away the bouquet, before he forgets what they went through together, giving his heart to some Tang, who wasn't there in his worst moments, who didn't even fight alongside him against real opponents. Didn't risk his life for him!
He must confess.
Even if it turns out pathetic and ugly. If his emotions are turned inside out in front of the other's eyes.
He must confess.
Otherwise, his heart will burst under the pressure of ivy vines.
* * *
Baek Cheon swallows, knocking on the other's room.
Empty.
* * *
The third time, he doesn't look for Cheong Myeong. He simply walks through the forest, gathering his thoughts and words before doing it.
'I love you,' his heart screams when he sees a familiar back.
"I love you!" he screams, clenching his fists. "Cheong Myeong!"
Everything freezes when Cheong Myeong turns around, the other's palms still on his cheeks, his own clinging to his green robe. His lips are red and bitten, his face is pink, his breathing is heavy.
They kissed.
And this Tang looks at him with triumph and possessiveness, knowing full well how difficult it is to change Cheong Myeong's mind. And that once he makes a choice, he will stick to it until the end, be it a decision or a person.
And that person is not Baek Cheon.
Baek Cheon runs away.
Shamefully, without waiting for an answer.