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Romance has decided that Baby looks rather good in rings. Especially the ones he gives him.
Outside of the usual hanbok that most of their kind of demon wears, Baby doesn’t dress up much. He’s got a memorable enough face that he doesn’t really need to but Romance thinks that’s a waste. It’s unfair that such a naturally beautiful visage is often left neglected by its owner, but Romance knows he can’t force Baby into anything. Not anything he really doesn’t want to do.
Still, how he manages to make everything look good on him is hard to ignore. Eternal youth, baby-soft skin, sharp eyes, mouth often pressed into a thin line, unfazed, unamused, unimpressed— Baby pulls it all off. Romance isn’t afraid to admit he’s jealous that he has such a skill.
All that natural beauty, wasted. He barely lets Romance brush his hair for him sometimes, much less ‘Fuss’ over anything else— Baby’s words, not his own. But, sometimes, if Romance gifts him something, he might choose to wear it on his own.
Like the rings.
Silver, sturdy to account for the amount of punches Baby throws, and perfectly snug on his thin fingers. They stand out against the rest of him, a single sign of care put into his appearance— a sign of wealth, even.
The best part is, Baby rarely takes them off. There’s no reason to— rings are easy to slip on and forget about. Romance sees him wearing them all the time and it’s just so… Satisfying. In a way he can’t articulate. The rings just fit him. Perfectly. Like Baby was made to wear rings.
It’s just a pair of rings at first, meant to be worn together. A small accessory to spruce up the whole outfit and nothing more. Baby accepts it, wears it, and that should be the end of it.
Except the next time Romance goes out to buy food at the market, he comes out with another ring on top of everything else. A ring that matches everything else Baby wears. It only makes sense to give it to him.
He buys it without thinking twice about it. Baby raises his eyebrow when Romance gifts it but he tries it on anyway. Perfect fit, matching the other two. With a nod, Baby accepts it and drops his hand to his side. Romance feels something like pride swell in his gut, and tells himself he’s satisfied.
Three rings on Baby’s person, worn all of the time, never taken off. Every time Romance catches a glimpse of them, that swell of satisfaction courses through him. Rings look good on Baby, it’s an undeniable fact, and the fact that he has any at all is all Romance’s doing. That’s why it feels good. That’s why he liked giving them to Baby.
That’s why he wants to do it again.
It’s not just Baby. He gets a nice necklace for Abby, some earrings for Mystery, and a bracelet for Jinu. Things that suit them, things that make Romance feel good about giving to them as a sign of appreciation for everything they’ve done for one another. Little by little, Romance creates a little jewelry box, for himself and the others, and slowly fills it up. The others don’t wear everything he gives to them all the time, but he appreciates when they do. To give back, to give them just a little bit more beauty in their lives.
It’s not just Baby, but Romance isn’t blind to his own fixations either. He knows there’s something about Baby that’s different— something about the rings and him wearing them all the time. Something about the way he makes Romance feel.
Stirring, blooming, coming to life.
Baby with his unfair natural beauty, with his sharp tongue and decisive attitude, with his stubbornness and his overprotective behaviors, and with his rings. Romance’s rings, on his fingers, always there. Silver, sturdy, practical, gifted.
Anyone who knows Baby knows he doesn’t really do much with his appearance. Occasionally a haircut but that’s about it. The rings are an outlier— a sign of something else. Of care, of beauty, of Romance himself.
Romance wears a ring around his finger as well. Daintier, prettier, but also silver in color. Not quite matching, but matching enough.
He wonders, sometimes, if anyone else notices. Then catches himself, turns the question of why that matters on himself, and finds his answer.
Despite his name, this is a newer feeling. Romance has chased love all his life— he loved the way they described it in poetry and plays and books and songs. He longed for that feeling and hoped one day he would have that someone who made it all a bit less lonely. Someone he could escape with, to a place in the world they could carve out together, and make life worth living.
Romance chased it, but never quite found it. There were interesting people, beautiful people, but no butterflies. He could flirt and grin and wink to try and make others swoon, but he didn’t miss them like they said he would. There was never the same fixation, the longing of contact, the wish to be together and never grow apart—
For years, and years, and years, Romance sought out potential suitors but never found the love they sung about. The closest he ever got wasn’t romantic at all, and he had to keep on looking. Searching. Wishing.
Not once did he feel it, the way he was supposed to feel. There were glimpses of something at times, but never enough.
How ironic, he had thought, that someone like him could be so loveless.
Romance has had to have read hundreds of love stories by now. Being a demon gives you more time than you know what to do with. He knows the feeling they describe. The way they all say it feels.
Butterflies in your stomach. Fluttery, soft, airy.
Romance doesn’t feel butterflies when he sees Baby with his rings. But he does feel… Warm. A gently stroked furnace. Sitting in the grass on a sunny day. The earth, solid beneath his feet, grounding him. Sinking his fingers into the dirt, finding out how easy it is to fall into its embrace.
He’ll hear Baby laugh and that fire is fed, coming to life in his chest. He sees Baby’s eyebrows knit together as he thinks and sinks a little deeper into the earth, not crushed, simply cradled. He watches as Baby absentmindedly twists one of the rings on his fingers and something in Romance whispers, do you think this is what being in love is like?
He thinks it might be. And if it is, Romance needs to write his own poetry and songs and plays and books, because none of the others have captured what being in love is really like. It’s not a sudden rush at all, it’s a quiet realization that you’re already knee deep and wading deeper. It’s the realization of a fire that’s already been lit to keep you warm.
It’s silent. And powerful. And constant. And lovely.
When Romance cares, he cares deeply. He thinks about how they’re taking care of themselves, what their appearance is currently like, what others think of them, what they need, what he can do for them, and yes, fine, maybe he fusses. He wants to be helpful. Useful. To do something for them because they’ve done so much for him.
Baby doesn’t make that easy. Sometimes, he allows pampering and comfort and indulgences, but there’s a certain point where he deems it weakness and puts his foot down. Dodges Romance’s attempts to fix something about his appearance, waves off attempts to dress his wounds with the insistence that he can do it himself, and hates, hates, hates accepting money for himself. Gifts are the best way to work around this, but money? Baby looks at it like it’s an insult to even offer it to him. Says he can get his own if he needs it.
It’s infuriating. He drives Romance crazier than any of the other Saja Boys, not that Jinu is much further behind.
And yet, if Baby is the tides, constantly pushing forward then pulling away from him, then Romance is the moon who keeps reeling him back in. A push and pull, action and reaction, a cycle that is never broken.
“Baby, give me your hand.” Romance wastes no time once he’s returned from the market, holding his own hand out expectantly. Baby immediately squints at him from the couch, not quite suspicious but not not suspicious at the same time.
“Why?” He asks.
“I need to check something. Hand, please.” Romance gestures a little more insistently. With some reluctance, Baby stands and places his hand in Romance’s. With his free one, Romance takes out the new ring he acquired that afternoon and puts it on Baby’s pointer finger. It slips on with no resistance.
“Ha! It does fit.” Romance smiles, pleased with himself. Baby retrieves his hand, turning it over as if examining the ring from different angles. Then, his eyes dart over to Romance, more calculating than it’s been all the other times.
“Another ring? You really think I need one?”
“Who says there’s a limit?” Romance shrugs, feigning nonchalance even if some part of him now stirs with unease. “Besides, it matches the others. They suit you.”
Unlike the other times, Baby doesn’t just shrug and drop it. His eyebrows knit together— he presses when Romance isn’t expecting it. “You keep giving me rings.”
“I do.” He can’t deny that. “I’ve given the others pieces of jewelry too, you know.”
“I’ve noticed. But you keep giving me rings.”
“I told you, rings suit you. I have an eye for these sorts of things, you know.” He has a bizarre desire to run, as if there’s danger lurking in this very conversation. He no longer feels grounded or warm, more like an ocean has caught him in a riptide and is going to swallow him whole.
He does not fidget, does not move an inch under Baby’s gaze. Romance projects nothing out of the ordinary, even if he is abruptly unsteady on his feet.
Baby’s eyes flicker down to the rings, one hand coming up to twist the new one on his finger. It’s twisted once, twice, three times, before he pulls it off. Romance feels his claws twitch, feels the plunge into icy cold depths, even if his expression remains impassive.
“How come you don’t wear it?” Baby asks.
“Because I got that one for you.” Romance answers carefully. His heart is pounding. Abruptly, he no longer loves being in love. He decides he hates it, wants to forget it all so he can forget the ice of rejection as well.
“You don’t want them back?”
“I have rings of my own. That one wouldn’t even fit me; our ring sizes are different.”
Once again, Baby’s gaze meets his, as if searching for something. “You know my ring size? Because I don’t.”
Is there something wrong with that? With him? Romance wants to chide himself for overthinking it but he can’t seem to stop himself from thinking. His thoughts barrel on, unrelenting.
“I do.” Romance’s voice is a little weaker now, despite his best efforts.
“You bought a ring you can’t even wear for yourself?”
“Baby.” Romance’s voice comes out strangled. He has to take a deep breath to put himself back in control, no matter what he’s feeling inside. It’s firmly boxed, contained, and shoved to the side so he can smile and hold his hand out again. “If you don’t want it, I’ll take it back. With any luck, I can get my money back in no time.”
Baby’s face is inscrutable, an unmoving statue. Only his eyes move, shifting slightly, still fixated on his face as if searching for flaws. Romance is sure, if he looked hard enough, he could find numerous, but remains smiling anyways.
Then, his hand curls around the ring again, blocking it from view. “No.” He decides suddenly. “I think I’ll keep it.”
For the second time in less than ten minutes, Romance feels as though he’s temporarily forgotten how to breathe. “No?” He repeats, as if he’s forgotten what it means.
“Yeah, it’s my size anyways. Matches the others.” He slips it on again, making a fist to admire all the rings in question. He nods, seemingly in approval, as he did all the other times. “If you think it looks good then sure, I trust you. You know a lot more about that sorta thing than I do.”
His hand flops to his side as Romance finds himself at a loss. He quickly finds his footing again, squaring his shoulders and shrugging as if his thoughts weren’t running off on their own accord not thirty seconds ago. “Well at least someone appreciates that.” He makes a show of taking the compliment, as if it’s stroking his ego more than just reigniting his temporarily lost confidence. Romance wants to kick himself— what was that? Did he really let that get to his head?
Love, Romance decides, really does drive people out of their own heads.
Baby hums, flexing his hand. “They’ll make my punches flashier. Thanks.”
“Exactly. That’s one of the reasons why rings suit you so much.”
He keeps nodding, a little absentmindedly. His next actions however, throw Romance in for a bigger loop than anything did previously.
With one hand, Baby takes and tilts Romance’s head down and slightly to the left. Then, before Romance can respond, he plants a small, chaste kiss to his cheek.
Romance goes still. Baby pats his other cheek. “Good talk.” He says, then leaves before he can do anything to stop him.
He isn’t proud to admit it, but Romance stays there, utterly still, until Mystery comes and shakes his shoulder sometime later. He doesn’t know how long he remained motionless. He doesn’t want to acknowledge how hot his face was once he finally snapped back to attention.
But later, quietly in the comforts of his bed, Romance wonders if giving Baby any more rings will get him any more ‘Thank you’s, whether they be verbal or physical.