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"My day wasn’t bad at all," Keonho murmurs, his eyes fixed on the ceiling above their heads, "the cat at the market, you know the one with the white paw? She looked right at me, hyung. Right at me. And I swear she nodded. Like she understood. Like she was saying, 'Yes, Keonho, I would also like more fish scraps.' So I gave her more. And she ate it.”
They are laying down together on the sleeping mat, a handmade blanket drapped over both of them creating a safe, warm cocoon, Keonho was curled up beside James, close—too close and warm, his hands tucked between them resting close to james’s chest, as the oil lamp’s light flickered softly, casting dancing shadows in the room of their hanok, and the moonlight illuminating outside, slipping past the paper walls. James’s house was simple, too humble, but since meeting Keonho, he has always made sure to make it a lively place—theirs.
And while keonho is rambling, James just lays there watching keonho as he talks.
And keonho knows, he knows he's rambling. But it's late, and his filter is gone, replaced by a hazy, comfortable exhaustion. His voice is a low, sleepy hum.
“And her fur looked so soft," he continues, still not looking at James, "I tried to pet her, but she ran away. I think she's shy. Or maybe she doesn't like me. Do you think she doesn't like me, hyung?".
He doesn't notice.
He doesn't notice that James hasn't blinked in thirty seconds. He doesn't notice that James's lips are parted, soft and slack, curled into a smile so wide and so foolish that it should be embarrassing. He doesn't notice the way James's eyes are tracing every inch of his face—the sweep of his long lashes, the gentle curve of his jaw, the way his lips move around each word like they're tasting something sweet.
James is watching him like Keonho is the answer to a question he never thought to ask. Like he's a sunrise after a long, dark night. Like he's everything.
“Because I really want her to like me. She's the only cat in the village who comes near my stall. The other cats stay by the tavern. Probably because the tavern gives better scraps. But I give good scraps! I saved the best fish for her. The tail part. The crispy tail part that you don't even like. And she ate it. So she must like me a little, right? Otherwise she wouldn't have eaten my fish. Unless she was just hungry. That's possible. Cats are practical. They'll eat anything when they're hungry. So maybe she doesn't like me at all. Maybe she just wanted the fish. That's—“
Keonho finally looks over at James.
And stops.
James is staring at him. Not just looking. Staring with an intensity that borders on devotional. His eyes are soft, half-lidded, filled with a warmth that makes Keonho's stomach flip. That smile—that ridiculous, whipped, foolish smile—is stretched across his face, the smile of a man who had everything he ever wants beside him.
"What?" Keonho whispers, his cheeks igniting.
James doesn't answer. He just keeps smiling, his gaze trailing from Keonho's eyes to his lips to the little mole on his right cheek, and back again.
"What are you looking at?" Keonho's voice goes high and shy. He tries to hide his face in the pillow, but James's hand comes up to cup his cheek, keeping him there.
"You," James breathes, his thumb stroking the apple of Keonho's burning cheek. "Just... you."
"Stop," Keonho whines, but it's weak, dissolved by the way his heart is hammering.
"Why would I stop?" James's voice is barely a whisper, rough with sleep and something deeper. "You're enthusiastically talking about the cat at the market. You're lying with me with your hands on my heart. Your eyes are big and sparkling while you’re talking. And I'm supposed to look away?"
He laughs softly, that self-deprecating, lovesick laugh that makes Keonho want to hide under the blanket forever.
"Keonho, you look so unreal right now. The moonlight is on your cheek. Your hair is a mess. You have a little drool mark from earlier." He traces it. "And you're still the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. Can you blame me for looking?"
Keonho's face is on fire. He opens his mouth to protest, to deflect, to say something normal, but James doesn't give him the chance.
James leans close, his warm breath fanning over keonho’s cheek, and plants a soft lingering kiss on the corner of keonho’s mouth, long and warm with unspoken adoration, making keonho’s heart painfully thud in his chest.
“Hyung, you weren’t listening, were you?” Asked Keonho with flamed cheeks, his eyes bright from shyness as he looked at James.
“I think the cat likes you. Everyone would like you, Keonho. No matter what they are, anyone would be lucky to have your heart and have you look at them with only a smile of yours.”
"I—" Keonho stammers, blushing so hard he can feel it in his ears. "You can't just—"
"Just what?" James teased as his hand descended to rest on keonho’s waist, his thumb tracing circles on the skin covered by his worn robes, the touch is electric and soothing all at once. “Just tell you the truth?"
Keonho shifted closer shyly, his hands finding purchase over James’s jeogori and ascending until they found James’s neck, wrapping around his neck in a soft hug, as he gazed shyly at James.
“You're so poetic, Hyung," Keonho giggles, rubbing his thumb along the back of James's neck in slow, lazy strokes.
"You love it."
"I tolerate it."
James raises an eyebrow. "Your hands are around my neck."
"A strategic decision."
"Your face is the color of peonies."
"It’s the blanket !" Keonho lies, and James laughs—a low, warm sound that vibrates through both of them.
They fall quiet. The kind of quiet that isn't empty, but full—full of unspoken words, of heartbeats, of the soft sound of Keonho's fingers combing through James's hair and James's hand mapping the curve of Keonho's waist.
“Hyung. Do you ever think about the future?” Keonho asked suddenly after a while, cutting through the quietness of the room.
“All the time, and I can’t imagine a one without you in it” replied James softly, his hand never stopping the gentle caressing on Keonho’s waist.
“I— I—Hyung, You know what happens to people like us.”
James's heart shattered.
He could notice the uncertainty and fear in Keonho’s eyes, the vulnerability in his voice, Keonho looked too small and too deep in his thoughts, but James knew, he was sure of the consequences that came with a man having a lover, specifically a man.
If anyone knew, even the slightest of rumours, could lead them to be disowned by their families, they will have to face losing their professions, their home in the village, or even worse.
“Mrs. Kim’s daughter, Lady Soojin, the owner of the silk stall. she has always had eyes for you, Hyung. And she is very pretty too, small face and delicate features, and she wears fine clothes, unlike me.”
“Keonho—“
“She could give you everything you want.” Keonho said as his breathing started to increase, his voice cracking with every word, and tears started to catch on his long eyelashes. ” She could give you a family, she could give you a child, you wouldn’t have to bear anything or have fears about what we have right now. Why would you choose me, Hyung?”
James reached out and cupped Keonho's face in his hands, thumbs brushing away his tears.
"Keonho," James said, his voice firm but tender. "Look at me."
Keonho's eyes met his, red and watery, his face blotched red—and still so achingly beautiful.
"You are the most beautiful person I have ever seen," James said. "Not just in this village. Not just in this province. Ever."
Keonho's breath hitched.
"I have seen many people," James continued. "I have traveled to the city. I have seen nobles in their fine clothes and ladies with their painted faces. And not one of them—not one—has ever made me feel the way you do."
Keonho's tears fell faster.
"Lady Soojin ?" James's thumbs stroked his cheekbones. "She is pretty, I'm sure. But she is not you. She does not have your smile. She does not have your heart. She does not wait for me every evening with a warm meal and a soft voice."
Keonho sobbed—soft and broken.
"You are prettier than any girl I have ever seen," James said. "You are prettier than the moon and the stars and the flowers in the field. You are everything to me, Keonho. Everything."
Keonho threw himself into James's arms, his face burying in James's neck, his body shaking with sobs. James held him tightly, rocking him gently, pressing kisses to his hair.
"We can't get married," Keonho said, his voice shaking, and barely a whisper. "We can't hold hands in public. We can't tell anyone. We have to hide."
James feels his own eyes burn. He pulls Keonho’s face away from his neck, and tilts Keonho’s chin up with a gentle finger. The lights from the oil lamp and the shining moon casting a glow on Keonho’s face. And Keonho looks like a renaissance painting of grief—all dewy lashes, pink nose, and trembling lips.
“Hey,” James says, his voice thick with tenderness, and straining from trying to suppress the lump forming in his throat. “Look at me.”
Keonho looks up, locking his eyes with James’s. And James leans in and kisses the tears from Keonho’s left cheek, then his right. The salt is sharp on his tongue.
“I would marry you tomorrow,” James whispers against his wet skin. “In the mountains, by the river, we could even crash a wedding and pretend it’s ours. I’d wear the black jeogori you love. And you’d decorate your hair with the wildflowers you pick everyday. I’d let the whole village curse me if they wanted. I’d let your mom throw rice at my face. I don’t care about the village. Nor the traditions. I’m only sure of one thing and that I love you.”
Keonho sobs again, but it’s different now. It’s a releasing. He wraps his arms around James’s neck, face buried in James’s neck, squeezing tight, and James rubbed his back soothingly.
“You’re stuck with me,” James murmurs into his hair. “For better or worse. In sickness and in health. ‘Til death do us apart.”
“That’s a vow,” Keonho sniffles.
“I know,” James says. “I’m practicing.”
Keonho laughs—a wet, high, and a perfect sound. And then James starts nuzzling his cheek, breathing into Keonho’s warm skin and wiping the remaining traces of his tears.
“I love you so much, hyung," Keonho says as he gazes at James with soft, dreamy eyes.
James's breath catches.
"You're my family, my home," Keonho continues. "You're the first person I think about when I wake up and the last person I think about before I sleep. You're the reason I get up in the morning. The reason I try to be better for you. The reason I hope."
"Keonho."
"You're the best thing that ever happened to me. And I know we can't tell anyone. I know we have to hide. I know it's dangerous. But I don't care. Because having you in secret is better than not having you at all."
James's hands slide up Keonho's back, pulling him closer until their chests press together.
"I love you," James says. "So much. Too much. An amount that would scare anyone else.”
Keonho smiled, bright and beautiful, and snuggled closer, his face pressing into James's neck.
"I love you, hyung," Keonho whispered. "I'll always love you."
Keonho leaned in,—his hands tightening around James’ neck to pull him close—, meeting James halfways, their lips collided in a soft—unhurried kiss, it was so soft, and so warm, a kiss worth of million promises and reassurances. And Keonho let himself melt into it. To melt in the feeling of James pressed close to him. The feeling of their heartbeats steadying to match each other’s. To let the moonlight wash over them.
And let himself believe that maybe—just maybe—he can believe in forever. In a Future where he can be James’s officially.