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Tang Bo is a happy man.
He's lucky to live in the same era as his hyung. To be by his side. To be his friend. To drink together, stealthily hugging the other's waist, lying on the other's shoulder. To choke on unspoken emotions, squinting in the other's light.
Cheong Myeong, in his dazzling brilliance, is like the sun. Distant and unattainable. Only a fool would try to get close, to put his hand in his heart, only to lose it along with his life.
Tang Bo absorbs all the warmth the sun gives off. Everything he's allowed—no more, no less.
To become the sun's equal, he still has to make an effort. But he doesn't give up — if not this time, then next time. He will overcome, physically or in an argument, this unattainable sun. He will become his equal. He will shine so brightly that he will threaten to eclipse the other, that he will have to be reckoned with. He will become a luminary comparable to the sun.
Because that's the only way to even have a chance of being worthy of reciprocity.
Cheong Myeong.
A force of nature. Invincible. Incredible.
Beside him, all "I love you" turns into "I will defeat you," flying out of his mouth with the same intimacy.
"I will defeat you. One day... soon!!!" Tang Bo promises drunkenly, lying on Cheong Myeong, who is content and slightly less drunk.
"Even in a hundred years, you won't be able to," he jokes back, as usual.
A rustle. A grip.
Tang Bo pulls him toward himself by the collar, looking into his eyes with a strange, painful determination:
"I will defeat you. I promise. I will."
They look into each other's eyes. One flickers between their pink irises, the other frozen by the unusual atmosphere between them.
"Calm down. What, have you drank too much?"
"I will. I will defeat you," Tang Bo whispers breathily. "You don't understand. I will really do it!"
Cheong Myeong only nods, confused. The wild drunk rests his shaggy head on his shoulder, hugging him around the waist.
The stars were especially beautiful that night.
* * *
After being reborn, the first thing Tang Bo notices is how tired the other's eyes seem. The second thing he notices is how the other's fighting style has changed.
Cheong Myeong soared to new heights, leaving him at the foot of the mountain.
Watching the other's shadow fight, Tang Bo swallows. With painful eyes, he follows the other's movements, the blade sharper than ever. In a battle without qi… he will lose. He won't stand a chance against this terrifying mastery.
He is further from his goal than he ever was.
Before him lies a sheer wall.
He has no time for despair.
The daggers feel heavy. He clutches them stubbornly and goes to train, silently hysterical about the impossible. All his targets crumble to pieces under the force with which he sends the daggers flying. But it's not enough. Nothing he does is ever enough.
And finally, out of breath, left without daggers... standing in the middle of the training field, Tang Bo finally gives vent to his emotions. His cold, emotionless face gives way to a grimace of pain, his fists clench until they tremble, his breathing spins out of control...
"Bo-ya, what happened?"
A familiar hand falls on his shoulder.
Reality slips away.
* * *
There's still a chance. If he puts his life on the line. If he throws himself like Cheong Myeong himself—without sparing himself, taking every possible risk. Train his body, surpass his limits. These damned limits he's been unable to cross for so many decades!
He must catch up with Cheong Myeong.
Catch up.
Or die trying.
Cheong Myeong deserves nothing less.
It's just that the man himself isn't thrilled with his approach.
"Tang Bo!!!" he roars, throwing his sword to kill the enemy who has snuck up behind him.
Turning around, Tang Bo coldly noted—a whole second too late. He needed to move faster. Before his body began to fail. Before his mind could no longer plan his next moves.
While Cheong Myeong, having taken the enemy's sword, fought his way back to Dark Fragrance, Tang Bo covered him, simultaneously deflecting attacks. It was difficult. The daggers kept running out, forcing him to summon them to him with his qi.
It was reminiscent of the war years.
The promise Tang Bo made to himself back then. A promise to protect Cheong Myeong at any cost.
He couldn't keep it in his first life. He's unlikely to be able to in his second, with his skills.
* * *
Cheong Myeong pins him against the wall after the fight, both angry and tense.
"What does that mean?"
"You need an ally, not a burden."
"Since when have you been a burden?!"
Tang Bo is about to snap back, but at the last moment, he realizes the implication of the other man's words, calming down a bit.
"I must become stronger," he insists stubbornly.
"Not at that price!" Cheong Myeong squeezes his shoulders. "You think you'll die and that's it? Once was enough for me. I'll drag you back from the dead and beat you to death!"
Tang Bo doesn't know how to explain that this has long been about more than just his desire to surpass Cheong Myeong, how to explain his emotions without revealing their nature.
At some point, "defeat him" became "protect him."
And Tang Bo failed at both of those.
"At any cost," he concludes grimly, clutching the daggers in his hands. Unfamiliar, but warm from the recent battle.
Cheong Myeong doesn't let go of him. His serious gaze tries to bore holes.
"Take back your words."
"Why the fuck would I?"
The swordsman grits his teeth, leaving bruises on the shoulders beneath the green cloth. Tang Bo returns the same gaze. For him, taking back his words means taking back the promise he made in his first life. Taking back his feelings. There's no way he'll give in so easily.
"Because I said so."
Tang Bo almost laughs.
"Are you saying I should remain forever weaker than you just because you said so? Hell no!"
"What difference does it make whether you're stronger or weaker?!" Cheong Myeong explodes. "The main thing is that you're alive!"
Searching for an answer in the other's eyes, he can't tell what he should take from Cheong Myeong's words. That he never even thought of him as a rival?
"Cheong Myeong," Tang Bo says sharply, "there are things I value more than my life."
"Such as?" Cheong Myeong barks.
'You.'
But he can't say that, can he? But he can't remain silent either.
"Pride," Tang Bo finally lies.
"Throw it away. It's worthless compared to your life. Hell, what could be more important than your life?!
Tang Bo goes limp at these words. Even knowing it's most likely a poor choice of words, he can't stop looking at the other's face, feeling hope spring up on his own.
Cheong Myeong... does he value his own life, or Tang Bo's, that much?
Tang Bo is a pathetic man. Just show him the reflection of his deepest desire — and he'll fall for it, losing his composure.
"Hyung..."
Cheong Myeong is silent, breathing heavily.
"Hyung, I think after what I'm about to do, you'll want to kill me with your own hands. Close your eyes."
A snort echoes in response.
"Whatever you're going to do, do it to my face. Coward."
...He really is a coward. He can't even get close under the gaze of those pink eyes, blazing with rage.
"Hyung, are you really afraid of what I might do?" Tang Bo squirms.
"You dare me?" Cheong Myeong squints.
"Yes."
One hand breaks away from Tang Bo's shoulder and swings. At the last moment, he dodges, causing the fist to land on the wall next to his head, not in his face.
"You weren't even aiming seriously!" Tang Bo remarks, offended.
"Should I repeat that more precisely?" the swordsman smiles, gritting his teeth.
"No, thank you."
Even in this life, Cheong Myeong has beautiful lips. Full, but not round, almost flesh-colored when left alone. If only he hadn't bitten them so often until they bled...
Tang Bo sighed and looked away, defeated.
"Idiot."
"I know. You're no less so."
"You're the bigger idiot. You won. Are you happy?"
"Hey!"
Cheong Myeong speaks quietly and ingratiatingly:
"Isn't that what you wanted? To defeat me. You defeated me in my idiocy, isn't that enough?"
Seriously? And his hyung is telling him this?
"I'm afraid you're still the biggest idiot in this room."
It's surprising Cheong Myeong still remembers his promises. But it's also bitter—he can't imagine why Tang Bo made them. Why Tang Bo promised so desperately.
"Stop taking me for an idiot who can't take a hint."
"And when was the last time you took a hint?!" Tang Bo asks, genuinely indignant, turning to him.
Cheong Myeong is completely serious.
"Like right now. You're a coward, Tang Bo. Do you really think I didn't get it?"
His heart sinks into his stomach. Tang Bo freezes, trying to interpret the other man's words, but stumbles against an angry, direct gaze that crushes him like a gnat.
"And what did you understand?" he asks hoarsely.
"That you wouldn't have done anything even if I had closed my eyes."
These words rub him the wrong way. Tang Bo plays along like a child, almost growling:
"Say that again?!"
With a smug, satisfied smile, Cheong Myeong repeats:
"You wouldn't have done anything. You'd have chickened out."
"Close your eyes."
His hyung looks at him for a few seconds and laughs, removing his hands and releasing his grip.
"Earn it first. You've been acting like a fool lately, rushing into battle like a headless rooster. Prove you won't die when I turn away, and I'll think about it."
And he leaves, leaving Tang Bo with more thoughts than he can handle.
* * *
The next battle doesn't happen immediately. Two weeks pass before the opportunity... Before the opportunity to kiss Cheong Myeong. During this time, the wounds have time to heal, and strength has returned to the exhausted limbs.
Tang Bo wants to throw himself into the thick of it, wants to experience life again on the edge of a knife, where perception is divided into thousandths of a second, but he holds back. All for the sake of what could turn out to be a misunderstanding.
He truly is a pathetic man.
* * *
Cheong Myeong puts down the sword he's been tending when Tang Bo enters.
One second.
Two.
In the dim light, the tips of the other's ears can be seen blushing. Tang Bo closes the door behind him.
"I held back my part, hyung," he begins softly.
And breaks off, seeing Cheong Myeong, sitting on the bed, close his eyes and raise his head.
His legs buckle.
He really has closed his eyes.
Inhale. Exhale. Take a step. Another step.
Hands on the shoulders, brushing against the shock of black hair behind them. Cheong Myeong shudders, but doesn't open his eyes. Up close, in the lantern light, a blush slowly spreading across the other's face becomes visible.
He's not imagining it, is he?
Their faces come closer.
Noses touch first. Tang Bo briefly rubs against the other's in a cowardly attempt to gather his courage.
Cheong Myeong doesn't pull away.
They're both breathless. Their lips meet in an innocent touch. An invitation he can't refuse.
Tang Bo is slowly going crazy. He allowed him. He allowed him to kiss! He was waiting for his kiss!
His heart is pounding in his throat.
First, a tentative movement of his lips, just to feel the boundaries. Cheong Myeong allows it. He allows himself to be embraced, allows to be bitten. He even responds—slowly, hesitantly, but he responds!
Even if Cheong Myeong bites off his tongue, he'll die without regret right now, just from the chance to taste it.
The tongue touches Cheong Myeong's parted lips, wetting them, and then glides further, like a snake.
A punch.
Before Tang Bo can even register Cheong Myeong's tensed shoulders, a fist hits him in the face, knocking him to the floor.
Compared to how pleasant it was to kiss Cheong Myeong—does the pain of blows even feel like a thing? But just in case, Tang Bo covers the blow with his hand, dramatically leaning back against the wooden boards. Just to avoid getting more.
He's about to get upset—apparently he was wrongly convinced the kiss was desired on both sides — but he freezes, realizing the expression on the other man's face.
A red, confused face with rapidly blinking eyes and lips rubbing together.
Tang Bo almost misses the other man's words.
"Was it that hard?" Cheong Myeong snaps at him, still blushing.
"What exactly?" he doesn't understand.
"Just doing it. Without 'I'll defeat you,' 'I'll protect you,' 'You'll kill me for this,' 'Close your eyes.'"
"Then why didn't you do it yourself?!" Tang Bo protests.
"Keep your eyes open, leech," Cheong Myeong rises from the bed, straddling his hips and bracing his hand near the hairpin. "I'll just show you this just once."
The other grabs him by the chest and pulls him closer, pressing their lips together, quickly pulling away, not giving Tang Bo a chance to try a tongue kiss again.
Tang Bo's hand rises to his lips, brushing them.
Cheong Myeong licks his lips.