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During one of the head-on battles with Darkness and White Star, Cale stood in a valley bursting with cacophony. From the magic and weapons being discharged, explosions numerously shattered the ground, and shouts abounded, people darting in a chaotic fashion this way and that.
Choi Han was off to the side, while Cale maintained his position at the center of their line of defense. He wielded his ancient powers to ward off a wave of fire, but that meant he didn't see the violent spear of dark smoke approaching from behind until it was nearly too late.
All of a sudden, with a blur of motion, Cale was snatched to the side against a frame of muscle. Choi Han was there, so quickly that it would have been convincing to say that he teleported. Then Cale and he were leaping through the air only to land safely a short distance away, the rest of their forces protected by a wave of dragon magic.
Cale sharply surveyed the field. Choi Han quietly guarded his side, sharp in his own way, in a fashion that would be terrifying if Cale had to bear the brunt of it face to face.
His arm was one hard ring of strength around Cale’s waist. When Cale glanced down, confused by the restraint, it fell away though he saw the imprint its grip left behind on his white silk shirt before he looked back up to continue observing the battle.
Hm, he had thought, because Choi Han in moments like these was like a terrified hound. Attached and clingy, he’d definitely squeezed Cale around the middle before he hesitantly let go.
But that was all Cale had the time to think; in the next moment both of them were jumping back into the foray. They were separated shortly thereafter, but Choi Han never too far apart, and then it was a whirlwind of magic, and power, and violence, and coughed up blood.
And then Cale was passing out, but that was par for the course.
.
After the battle, even after much of the cleanup, Cale strided into the palace at Rowoon’s capital, preparing his report for the crowned prince. He wasn’t watching where he was going, shuffling files and holograms and such, and so when people were at his elbow, it was to guide him, down this hallway, around this corner, through this door, et cetera.
“Ron – can you hold onto these until we get back to the carriage? I don’t have anywhere to put them, but they’re important.”
“Of course, young master.”
“Are those the receipts you were talking about, weak human? I don’t know if Darkness is going to be willing to pay for ‘restitutions’…”
“It doesn’t matter if they’re willing,” Cale responded. “At the end of this, they’ll pay every cent one way or the other.” He looked up. “It’s important to kick people when they’re down if you don’t want them to recover.”
Hong whispered from Cale’s ankles. “Noona – are we the villains now, nya?”
“Shh, Hong,” Ohn replied. “I think it’s meant to be a secret, nya.”
They walked as a collective down the hall and to the prince. Then, when Cale approached the prince’s study, as he usually did when it came time to report, Cale reached for the door handle. Guards were conspicuously missing – no doubt the prince’s doing since they needed to be discreet in their war against a secret and ancient organization.
But Cale didn’t get there as a gloved hand gently nudged him away only to tug at the door handle itself.
“I’ve got it, Cale-nim,” Choi Han came out of nowhere, making Cale eye him and tilt his head.
“Thank you,” he said as he dragged his eyes from Choi Han and to the open threshold. For a second, he thought he was noticing a few odd things like Choi Han’s strong grip, or his muscular arm, but that was ridiculous.
Cale pulled his hand off of the front of his chest – when had he put it there in the first place? – as he stepped into the room with a bright smile.
“The great and shining sun of the Rowoon kingdom!”
The rest of the party – including Choi Han who brought up the tail – crowded into the room before the door closed with a soft snick.
.
From there, Cale noticed Choi Han everywhere. Of course, Choi Han was almost everywhere Cale went, but this was different. It felt different, especially because what Cale noticed about Choi Han became first and foremost his hands.
“This way, Cale-nim,” he said as he led Cale someplace with a palm flat and politely on Cale’s upper back.
“Here you go, Cale-nim,” holding things steady until he was sure Cale had a firm grip on whatever he was being handed when Choi Han was fetching him things.
“You’ve got something on your face, Cale-nim,” when Choi Han absently wiped something off of Cale’s cheek – it wasn’t a cliche because it hadn’t been food, perhaps a fleck of thread from Cale’s clothes or a hair, he didn’t remember. But it had been warm, and kind of rough from the callouses because Choi Han hadn’t been wearing gloves. And Cale all of a sudden was noticing these things.
Hm, Cale had thought each time. His eyes lingered on how Choi Han’s didn’t. In fact, Choi Han was almost always looking away from him, like even in coincidence, they couldn’t meet. Like he was deliberately pointing them away from him, though he was never so obvious about it and so Cale couldn’t be sure.
Choi Han was always nearby, and Cale noticed his hands, and then one evening, it was just them two, Choi Han escorting Cale back to his quarters.
The kids had been sent ahead already, so it was really just Choi Han and Cale in the dimly lit hallway, their footsteps muffled by carpet. Even the guards had gone home (only those posted outside hadn't retired to their beds for the night).
“Goodnight, Cale-nim,” Choi Han said with a small smile on his face. His eyes looked at some point just to the right of Cale’s shoulder.
It wasn’t out of place, because a window was coincidentally there, and Cale watched him quietly through the space of the open door to his quarters. There was warmth over Cale’s elbow because Choi Han’s hand was there, a solid, quiet kind of presence. He wasn’t gripping, but neither had he released him.
Ho, Cale thought finally, the gears clicking, the lines lining, and all of a sudden, he knew why Choi Han had never met his eyes in these moments.
Eyes were too obvious, windows to the soul if the saying was to be believed; Choi Han was in love, he loved Cale, and he wished it to be kept secret. But his hands, evidently, were too bold to catch up to the program.
Cale gazed at Choi Han who turned to glance at him. By that point only a polite curve of a smile curled Choi Han’s lips and he appeared innocently curious as he met Cale’s eyes with his own.
Cale peered at Choi Han, and Choi Han faltered for a split second. It was gone before either of them could say something out loud, but Cale noticed because he had been looking and it was the confirmation he needed before he was stepping forward and curling his hand around Choi Han’s. Before it could fall too far, having released his elbow, finally.
Cale curled his hand around Choi Han’s, finally, tangling their fingers and finding an odd satisfaction from Choi Han’s widening eyes looking back at his. He kept his expression – well, he didn’t know, stoic maybe? Hopefully – as he looked back and he tugged Choi Han’s arm back around his own waist. Cale stepped forward and the door shut without anyone to hold it open.
In the quiet of the night, surrounded by silence, and only the dim flickers of the hallway torches and the moonlight shyly peeking through the windows, Cale and Choi Han met in the middle.
Cale kept his eyes open; Choi Han's were wide and shocked. Cale pecked Choi Han’s lips with his own, and when Choi Han finally gasped, startled into motion, he peeled away with half lidded eyes, a pleased smirk curling upon his lips.
“Just something to think about,” Cale told Choi Han with a squeeze of his hand before he released him.
Choi Han numbly let his arm fall, but he was frozen otherwise. Surprised, and humble, and flushed and going redder, and Cale left him there through the pounding of his own heart and calmly walked through the door to his quarters before letting it fall shut.
Thump, he heard softly through the wood of the door after it was closed and a wrangled sound, which made him smile more deeply, this time with amusement.
Cale approached his bed. The kids were already strewn about it, and crowded around some kind of coloring book. When he threw his blanket over all three of them, they shrieked, and he could join them from below the covers.
“Weak human – why are you looking at your hand? Did you hurt yourself?”
“It feels a little warm, that’s all,” Cale told them as he put his hand down, his fingers curled gently around themselves as if to preserve the shadows of sensation before they went slack, and he bid the children to come sleep. It was bedtime.
That night Cale closed his eyes with a smile over his lips, though he didn’t know it.