Chapter Text
PART ONE: THE PORTRAIT OF A BOY
The ringing of bells perturbed Taehyun out his slumber. Cursing he stumbled out of bed, blanket still stuck to his ankle while he prayed for the sound to stop. This was what he would hear when he reached the gates of Hell.
“Sir?” Taehyun swallowed a yelp when he stubbed his toe. Using that rage he pushed open the door. The rollers squeaked. “Sir?”
The door bounced against the jambs, slamming back shut. Taehyun barely managed to slip through. He swallowed a yelp. There was no need to embarrass himself further. Hands folded over his stomach he bowed.
Beomgyu didn’t acknowledge him. He was staring off into the distance, strips of white light slashing over his skin.
“Sir?” Taehyun repeated. He shuffled closer, floorboards creaking beneath his steps.
Beomgyu curled up in his sheets, gaze in his eyes hollowed out. “They say there are ghosts beneath the floors. I hear them, sometimes. They scream and cry, groan like they’re in pain. But only sometimes, when the moon is full.”
Taehyun froze. The branches scratched the window, tapping like the nails of a monster, lurking, awaiting the perfect moment to attack.
The lights flashed. A shallow cry.
Taehyun grabbed his chest, the yelp finally coming out. He followed the sound. He was met with the moon, round behind the trees.
<><><>
“A job?” Taehyun swirled the whiskey in his hands. “Tell me more.”
The man across him — Choi Soobin, as he’d introduced himself — crossed his legs, corner of his mouth twitching. He was tall, taller than anyone in this bar, wearing a suit no one in this area could afford. It was specifically tailored, Taehyun could tell, the waistcoat fitting snuggly around his slim frame. The material, it was not native.
His hair was pushed back, features looking sharper than they were in the dimmed lighting.
He was a rich man. Rich men usually requested Taehyun’s help. When one has much, they always want more out of fear of losing even more. A poor man doesn’t have anything to lose, a rich man can lose all he has.
“There is a house on the hill, far out of this town. Close to the border, even. There lives an old man, pushing his death. It won’t be soon before he kicks the bucket. He’s rich enough for his family to not have to work three generations down.” Soobin pushed at the edge of his glass.
“He married a rich woman, took her name. He handles in art —his own — and has built an empire off it. The appeal is that his artifacts are never to be shown, a mystery. They only get sold, but never to be put up for expositions. He exports all over the world, even to Europe. He has no children, or so they say.” Another push.
“What he does have is a nephew, son of his deceased wife’s sister. The nephew has never set foot outside that house.” A shatter. The glass hit the floor, breaking into a million pieces. It wasn’t heard over the chatters and laughter. “Convince him to run away — with you, preferably. Then get him sent to the nuthouse. He’s already quite the airhead, so it shouldn’t be too hard. He’s lucky he’s pretty, or else he won’t make it far in this world.”
Taehyun took in Soobin’s stance, his nonchalant smile, charming with deep dimples. Taehyun would want to ask him why, but that usually wasn’t part of his policy. Deep down he had a suspicion, but it wasn’t fact, so he’d keep it to himself.
Taehyun smirked. “What’s in it for me?”
“You can keep his belongings," Soobin said. “Sell them, make a little profit.”
The smugness on his face made Taehyun suppress the urge to roll his eyes. Patience. He needed patience to work this out.
He raised his hand, asking for another drink. Without looking at Soobin he said, “Add 50.000 to that.”
Soobin’s knuckles whitened around his glass. “That’s too much.”
“It’s the price of my services.”
“…Fine.”
A grin found its way to Taehyun’s lips. He patted Soobin on the shoulder, the man swatting him away. He grumbled something under his breath. Taehyun merely hummed, fingers sliding down.
“Glad we could come to an agreement,” he said.
Soobin shot out of his chair, all charm gone. He dusted off the spot where Taehyun had touched him. “Sure. A great agreement. Now if you’ll excuse me.”
Taehyun didn’t try to stop him, wasn’t bothered enough to do so. As he watched Soobin’s figure disappear through the crowds he lifted his whiskey to his lips again. His hands curled around the golden pocket watch he’d obtained.
A great agreement it was.
<><><>
He was greeted by a woman. Her black hair was tied up in a tight bun, grey streaks sneaking into it. The corners of her eyes were adorned by wrinkles, though not deep enough to call her old. Taehyun guessed she was in her mid-forties.
“Hello, Kang Taehyun,” she said as soon as he stepped foot on the new soil. “I’m Sunhee. I’m the housekeeper. Follow me, I’ll show you around.”
Perhaps it was the money hidden beneath the floor, in the walls, in all the nooks and crannies; the air smelt different there. Fresher, cleaner, lighter. What a life it had to be, to live away from everyone.
The house was so fucking big it was ridiculous. Sunhee gave him a quick briefing about the architecture, but Taehyun couldn’t care less about that. All he cared about was what was inside it, all the goodies and the valuables. It made his fingers tingle just imagining taking them.
“The Young Master’s routine is a simple one. He doesn’t ever leave this ground.” Sunhee shot him a look over her shoulder. “You will be taking over his language classes. Aside from that, you will supervise him throughout the day. You will be like his shadow, trailing his every step.”
Taehyun raised his brows. That was a little much for a mere tutor. It sounded more like a personal guard if anything. Next thing he knew they’d be telling him to bath and dress Beomgyu.
Sunhee halted, turning to say in a low voice, “His art classes, however, will be given by the master of the house personally. You will not interfere with those. Stay out of the Green Wing, especially the Green Room.”
Taehyun leaned back, eyes big. “I… understand.”
“Good.” Sunhee nodded curtly. “Furthermore, there tend to be blackouts. Like now. Don’t mind them. The house is so far away that the electricity doesn’t always reach here.”
She opened the front door, babbling on about how workers weren’t usually allowed to use it, but for the sake of learning the house’s interior it would be excused for today. Taehyun nodded, eyes about to pop out of their sockets.
Taehyun had gotten thousands of jobs, but it none ever required him to actually stay in his victim’s home. Usually he had to pretend to be some stuck up goon with a silly business preposition. If done right he’d would be out of their faces within 24 hours.
There was no place Taehyun would call home; he was always on the run. The town Soobin had found him in was a temporary stay. How the man knew of his whereabouts was a mystery to Taehyun, too, but nothing to dwell on. He’d get a good deal out of this. That was all that mattered.
Still, Taehyun would indulge in what would be his life for now. He couldn’t help but marvel at the beautiful imagery of the place. It was dark, not only due to the lack of lighting. The wooden furniture was a deep ebony, casting off any sense of light.
The walls were decorated emerald velvet, candle scones peeking from between them. From the ceiling hung a chandelier, rather modest for someone who had the privilege to splurge. Also the stairs were draped in green, not faded and battered by the feet that must’ve crushed them.
Everything looked that way, Taehyun realized. No specks of dust, no ruffles in the carpet, no footsteps on the floor. It was more a museum than a home. If Taehyun looked around he would bet money on someone sweeping after him as he walked.
It was too perfect, like it was something a person such as Taehyun wasn’t supposed to be breathing in the direction of, let alone be touching. He shouldn’t be living in a place like this, with walls high as those of a castle and artifacts which cost more than life was worth.
However, that wasn’t the most captivating; just by the stairs hung a big portrait. A portrait of a boy, wearing silk in the same shade as everything else, dark and grim. A round face, lips pink as a cherry blossom in full bloom, not smiling, eyes as dark as onyx boring deep into Taehyun’s bones. His hair brushed his eyes, falling in soft waves, the color of raven’s feathers.
Taehyun had to force his head to turn, force himself to look away. The compelling portrait of a boy, too beautiful to be real. The painter probably added some tweaks. Taehyun had heard of countless nobles who commissioned their artists to play with the reality, to reshape it to their wishes. Lucky bastards.
The clicking of Sunhee’s heels was dampened by the carpet, but it didn’t stop the steps from creaking beneath them. Taehyun could feel a burning in his back as he walked, for once thankful at how much Sunhee was blabbering to him.
The feeling, however, did not go away. At the top of the stairs he turned back once more, staring the boy in the eyes a last time. The longer he looked the more it drew him in. His ears rung, drawn in, fixating. He could stand there for hours and not notice the time ticking by.
He couldn’t do this.
“Taehyun?”
Taehyun snapped from his daze. “My apologies.”
Sunhee didn’t need to look to know. “That was the Young Master. He’s quite the charmer.”
Taehyun nodded, realizing he’d been staring again. He shook it off. He silently bid the boy goodbye, though he knew his mind would be filled with him that night.
Sunhee led him to a private area. It was not so much a room, more like a storage area they hadn’t needed and decided to fill up with a bed instead. There was barely enough space for Taehyun to make his way to said bed, the walls narrow and the nightstand an unnecessary waste of space.
“Sir Beomgyu sleeps next door. He uses the bell by the door to notify you. Be sure to answer to it.” Sunhee waited for Taehyun to let the words sink in. It must’ve been clear on his face that they weren’t, because she sighed and started backing out. “Rest for now. You have a lot to see tomorrow.”
<><><>
Kang Taehyun wasn’t even his real name. He’d had multiple names over the years, but for now it was Kang Taehyun. His birth name wasn’t one he wanted to remember anyway. Not that it bore bad memories; Taehyun didn’t know his parents, didn’t know if they’d abandoned him or if he’d been stolen. If he knew what it was, then he’d probably start mourning his lost youth.
The youth he’d had wasn’t even that bad. He’d had a best friend his age, Kai, who taught him how to fake cry and how to hide bills when inspected. He’d been raised by the town’s antique store owner, Daehyun, though behind the scenes he was a con artist with some tendencies to kleptomania.
(Most of the artifacts they sold hadn’t needed to be stolen in the first place, but Daehyun’s grabby hands got the best of him. It made profit, though.)
Back when he was younger, Daehyun used to send him and Kai on small errands where they used their innocence to trick the fainthearted. It was an easy game. As Kai distracted them with a sob story about losing his mother, Taehyun’s hands would slip into their pockets. It earned him a good amount, especially a child, who had no clue what worth money held.
As they got older, the jobs go bigger. Taehyun was proven to be a skilled pickpocket and mainly focused on that. Kai, however, was a smooth talker. His charm was his tongue, hypnotizing victims into believing what he said was right. He was an actor, a performer. Had he still been alive, he’d probably have gotten the job.
Taehyun’s hands mindlessly held onto his neck. He leaned his head back against his headboard, staring at the sinking crescent in the sky. He shouldn’t get caught if he doesn’t want to follow the same fate.
<><><>
Sunhee slid the doors open. “The Young Master is ready to see you.”
Clasping his hands together Taehyun prayed it would stop them from shaking. He pulled back his shoulders. The doors were big and heavy enough to crush him if they ever fell, leaving nothing more than a splat of what he once was. They made him jump when they slammed shut behind him.
He looked up.
Into the eyes of an angel.
There he was, Choi Beomgyu, the Young Master. Taehyun tensed up at the sight of him, completely losing his face when Beomgyu’s eyes graced him. Had his hair not hung in them, Taehyun would’ve been paralyzed.
It wasn’t so much that they were intimidating. Quite the contrary; his eyes were soft as those of a doe. Unsuspecting, though curious, they ran over Taehyun’s body, taking in every inch of him. Taehyun didn’t want to squirm, but he couldn’t help it beneath that gaze.
Fuck. Beomgyu was beautiful. They could’ve warned him to what extent. In fact, his portrait was nothing compared to reality. The portrait of a boy, not as compelling as the truth. Beomgyu’s skin was tanned, glowing golden in even the gray sky. He didn’t need the light to radiate warmth. His hair bounced, linen shirt closed up to his neck.
“Sir.” Sunhee bowed, so Taehyun followed her lead.
Beomgyu hummed, a deep, low hum that vibrated through Taehyun’s bones. Taehyun was a confident person. He was aware of his abilities and how he excelled in them. Taehyun rarely failed and when he did he knew how to get away with it.
Sunhee nudged Taehyun in the side. “Your letter, Taehyun.”
Taehyun’s eyes widened, but he was quick to compose himself. He dug into his pocket, bowing as he handed over the frilly paper, yellow and crackling. It was tied up with a red ribbon, bow and all. He wondered what Soobin had made up about him.
Beomgyu didn’t look at him, dainty fingers untangling the knot. The ribbon fell to the floor like the leaves do in fall. Taehyun watched it lay out, red like a flow of crimson.
“I’ll take my leave,” Sunhee announced.
Like that, there were only the two of them left. The room was a dreary gray tone, the walls papered in a similar color, though had it been light it could’ve been a pale blue. Pink flowers of a a cherry blossom were woven into it, brining Taehyun back to the pink of Beomgyu’s lips.
The room was not so much a bedroom, but more of a small house within a house. Of course it had a bed, too snug for two, yet too large for one. There was a teapot set on the round table by the window, closets and furniture decorated by porcelain vases. Fine china, Taehyun noticed. There was a dresser with a tall window, showing his face from three different angles, so many perfumes lined up Taehyun swore the scents made him dizzy.
Beomgyu sat himself down in one of the chaises, crossing his legs.
“You were recommended.” He played with the letters in his hands, skimming more so than reading. “For what expertise?”
Taehyun’s heart beat in his throat.
(Taehyun scoffed. “Literature? I have never picked up a book in my life.”
Soobin looked like he was biting back some mean comments, though didn’t try to fake a smile. His gaze was cutting, a little twisted. Taehyun was used to it. He knew how to handle bastards, even better how to outsmart them.
“Can you read?” Soobin asked.
Taehyun nodded. He could. Not well, but well enough to know the prices of certain things and what materials they were made of.
“Then you’ll be fine,” Soobin said. “It doesn’t take too much. Ask him the meaning, let him ramble, egg him on by mentioning something random like color symbolism. If he answers, tell him he’s made a valid point. Connect it to human psych for good measure, or the inevitable end of this life.”
Taehyun raised a brow, disbelief crossing his lips.
Soobin leaned back into his seat, fingers rubbing his lips. “Beomgyu isn’t the brightest. He’s easy to fool.”)
For good measure, Taehyun bowed again. “I was the tutor of my previous master. I taught them of poets’ works. I’m hoping that I could enlighten you too.”
Beomgyu rubbed his temples. “I’m not too great at literature. The letters make my head hurt.”
“I believe you can learn it.”
“You do?” Beomgyu walked over to him, face so close it made Taehyun’s breath hitch. “I trust you. Don’t break it. You can take my things, steal my clothes, my jewels, but don’t break my trust.”
Taehyun stiffened, folding his clammy palms together. “Yes, Sir.”
Beomgyu didn’t smile, instead wore this dreamy expression. It was a mystery to guess what he was thinking about.
The clock struck once, twice, up until twelve. Beomgyu let out a soft ‘Oh’, turning on his heel. “I must leave now. It’s quite a shame we won’t have our first class today.”
Taehyun pulled out his pocket watch, double checking just in case. It was twelve indeed.
He bowed. “Have a nice—“
The door shut in his face.
<><><>
“What must I do during the time he’s gone?” Taehyun asked Sunhee.
“Explore. Get familiar with the area. You’ll be here for a while, so thankfully there is enough to see. It takes a lifetime to find all that’s hidden in this place and even that could be too short.” Sunhee sighed. “I have to continue my duties now.”
She shuffled away quickly, leaving Taehyun on his own amidst the strange area. It looked different now that there was light, though it wasn’t much. Even if it was day, it was still grim. The colors were at least seen now, the green deeper and shinier, the ebony showing the patterns of wood.
Taehyun stared back at the portrait, skin tingling at the realization that this boy actually existed, was flesh and bones just as himself. Up to now he seemed nothing as how Soobin had described him. An airhead wasn’t supposed to be intimidating, wasn’t supposed to bring Taehyun’s knees to a tremble.
Choi Beomgyu, the boy in the portrait, what a work he was.
<><><>
“And as the sun rose from the East, I sank. I sank into the earth, chasing the inkling of night.” Taehyun looked out the window, pretending his skull wasn’t a hollow shell. “What do you think that would mean?”
Beomgyu looked up at him with big eyes, lips in a pout. “I wouldn’t know.”
Taehyun nodded. It would be easy, what a lie. Beomgyu asked too many questions, asked too many terms Taehyun had only vaguely heard when Soobin had helped him ‘prepare’. It seemed he would be the one needing a tutor around here.
Taehyun wasn’t as good at acting as Kai, but he’d picked up a thing or two. The longer he spent in this place he realized lying was getting easier. He didn’t have to think twice about his expertises, pretended that he was squinting in thought and not because he had a hard time reading the ink squiggles.
What he wasn’t getting better at was answering Beomgyu’s questions.
“Think harder,” Taehyun urged. “I can’t be giving you all the answers.”
“Just one hint?” Beomgyu bit his lip. “To get me on the right track?”
With a sigh Taehyun made his way over, circling the room. He tried bringing his attention to anywhere but Beomgyu’s big eyes, glossy as he thought.
“What do you think?” Taehyun asked.
“I don’t know…”
Beomgyu was like a puppet, or more so a doll. A marionette stuck to a string, moving as the master pleased. He had no mind of his own, or perhaps was too gullible, believing every word told.
“What is the color of the sunrise?” Taehyun decided it would be no point waiting.
“Orange?” Beomgyu’s answer was more of a question. “And the night is black.”
“Orange, yes. And perhaps the night is more of a very dark blue.” Taehyun couldn’t help but smile when Beomgyu let out a noise of agreement. “Enough hints, now.”
Beomgyu played with the pen, looking down. “Poetry is always about love, isn’t it?”
Taehyun’s mind ran a blank. Love? Well, sure, artists liked that, right? Artists rambled about love all the time.
“…Yes. Yes, of course!” Taehyun praised. “That’s a very good point.”
Beomgyu’s face lit up. Fuck literature; Taehyun had to learn how to keep his heart under control.
<><><>
The bell rung.
Taehyun’s eyes shot open. He fought his way out of his sheets, drowsy with sleep as he made his way to Beomgyu’s chambers. The bells kept ringing, accompanied by whimpers.
“Sir?” Taehyun wiped the exhaustion from his eyes, bowing. “Sir, I’m here.”
Beomgyu’s hand slipped from the rope, face lifting from the pillow in his arms. His eyes were glossy, bottom lashes fighting to keep his cheeks dry. Taehyun quietly sat down, mattress dipping beneath his weight. Beomgyu shifted closer to him.
Taehyun cupped Beomgyu’s cheek. “What’s wrong?”
“I had a nightmare,” Beomgyu mumbled.
He held the pillow to his chest, hugging it like his life depended on it. His eyes were trained on the glass of the window, blank. Beomgyu usually looked blank outside his routinely hours.
“I’m sorry,” Taehyun said under his breath.
“Why are you apologizing?” Beomgyu asked.
“I… wouldn’t know what else to do. Therefore I apologize.”
They fell into a silence, though the world never stilled even when no words were being spoken. There was still the ticking of the clock in the background, distant hooting of owls, the rustling of wind. The silent cries from beneath the floorboard.
Beomgyu grabbed Taehyun’s wrist with big eyes. “Sleep with me.”
“S-sorry?”
“Keep me company. I won’t be able to fall asleep otherwise.”
Beomgyu scooted, patting the empty side of his bed. He’d already curled up into his covers again, clearly not up for discussion.
Hesitating, Taehyun joined his side. He could feel Beomgyu’s cold feet brushing against his legs, could feel the heat rolling off his body. All Taehyun’s muscles were tensed up, feeling the springs in the mattress as Beomgyu moved closer to him.
“You’re so soft, Taehyun. So very soft,” Beomgyu whispered, breath hot against his neck. “Can you hug me?”
Taehyun was by now trembling. In fear or excitement he didn’t know. “If that is what you wish.”
Beomgyu turned him around, burying his face in the crook of his neck. Taehyun might’ve been smaller — not by much, but Beomgyu curled up into him like he was meant to be there. Taehyun wasn’t a romantic, not at all. He didn’t think of such things, didn’t have his heart ramble nonsensical rhythms of affection, yet here he was, stuck, analyzing Beomgyu like he was an artifact.
He internalized the way his hands rested on the curves of Beomgyu’s body, how they felt, slender and soft. He was dressed in thin linen, leaving not much to the imagination. If only that was out of the way, Taehyun could feel him, could touch him and bare his desires.
The bed was a snug fit, forcing the two of them close together, especially with Beomgyu’s excess of pillows. Taehyun’s hands hovered for a moment before he placed them on Beomgyu’s head, running his fingers through his hair. They were both tired, boundaries be damned.
Beomgyu sighed against him, Taehyun relaxing with it. Why did all that matter, when he was already holding Beomgyu like this? It was a shame he’d have to let it go soon. He’d have to see Beomgyu’s pretty features fall into those of despair, into pain and agony. There would be no more soft murmurs, no more innocent doe looks.
But for now, he needed Beomgyu to trust him. And it seemed it was working. Taehyun was doing this for the job. Beomgyu was a blooming flower who needed nurture before it was chopped.
<><><>
The ways Beomgyu spoke and moved were out of this world, though Taehyun wasn’t too certain it was in the positive sense.
Beomgyu didn’t walk, he floated, light steps on clouds, silent as a ghost. Graceful and always poised, Taehyun never caught him by surprise. Whenever Taehyun turned to face him, Beomgyu was already looking at him, hidden implications licking at his onyx irises.
Taehyun trailed after him, watching the wind ruffle Beomgyu’s hair as Beomgyu tilted his head back, letting it caress him fully. His clothing stuck against his body like bronze-poured silhouette, flowing silk dancing. He was dressed in soft blue, brighter than the skies ever were in this place.
Taehyun’s feet ached, the pebbles in the road giving him an unwanted massage, but Beomgyu didn’t seem to be done with his walk yet. He never was. Rain or shine, clouds or clear, Beomgyu would finish his routine. He never strayed from it, diligent like a child following their parents’ instructions. He wondered if Beomgyu could even think for himself, if he ever thought at all.
He never complained, let his handmaiden tug at him, cut his lesson off when the clock struck twelve, returned after dinner and finished his nightly session with Taehyun. He stared out of the window an awful lot, asking questions about Taehyun and life beyond the gates.
He always looked blank, like a paper to be filled with words, a canvas to be splattered with paint, though not realizing his didn’t need it at all. Beomgyu didn’t need anything to become more beautiful, however it was true he didn’t know much.
Taehyun recalled his conversation with Soobin, how Beomgyu has never left this place. He knew only the plants that grew here, knew only the authority of his uncle and the company of his servants. He knew the walls confining him as the entire universe; the only thing he shared with the world was the sky, which he barely looked at.
Hopping down the bridge, Taehyun joined Beomgyu’s side. He looked up, meeting Beomgyu’s confused stare. Taehyun merely giggled, walking backwards.
“You’re acting silly,” Beomgyu said.
“I’m just using my energy.” Taehyun stretched, exaggerating his groans. “I haven’t moved all day. I’m a little stiff.”
Beomgyu cracked a small smile. A small smile was better than no smile. Beomgyu rarely smiled, Taehyun suddenly realized.
Taehyun frowned; Beomgyu had all the riches in the world. He possessed more than anyone could dream of, yet he rarely smiled. Curiosity clawed at Taehyun’s skin, the questions invading his brain. He had always been told he was too curious for his own good.
Taehyun hesitated, but he had to ask. “Sir, if I may ask… Are you happy here?”
Beomgyu paused, tilting his head.
Taehyun immediately raised his hands. “I’m sorry, that was rude of me. I shouldn’t have asked.”
“No, it’s alright.” Beomgyu put on another one of those dazed expressions. “I don’t think I would know what happiness looked like even if it slapped me in the face. Besides, having you by my side is plenty.”
Taehyun stopped in his tracks. He let out a loud laugh, too loud for something that wasn’t even funny.
Beomgyu stared at him blankly, blinked, didn’t speak.
Taehyun cleared his throat. “I’m sorry.”
“Why are you always sorry?”
“I seemed to be getting on your nerves.”
“I can assure I would have made it known, had that been the case.”
The finality in Beomgyu’s tone shut Taehyun up. He didn’t want to go against Beomgyu too much. After all, he had to make Beomgyu feel at ease around him, did he want him to trust him. He’d said he trusted Taehyun, but that didn’t make it true.
Beomgyu’s earlier words rung in his ear, how close he’d been, the warning undertones. Trust easily given could be taken with even less effort. Taehyun ignored the itching of his skin, instead thinking of all the trinkets stored in Beomgyu’s room.
They continued walking, Taehyun trailing closely behind. Beomgyu’s pace was lethargic, making Taehyun’s limbs even more sore than they already were. He moved like time would stand still, stretching out the moments for as long as he could.
Taehyun kicked his feet ahead of him. “Where is your uncle?”
“Uncle?” Something crossed Beomgyu’s face, features hardening for a slip second. “He doesn’t show his face much. Only for meals does he leave his wing. The Green Wing. He seems to enjoy his time there.” He stopped again, looking Taehyun right in the eyes. “It’s where my parents went mad.”
The corner of his mouth twitched, eyes crinkling. It wasn’t a smile, but Beomgyu had moved along before Taehyun could decide what it could’ve been.
<><><>
Every day at noon Beomgyu would leave for his art classes. He didn’t return until dinner. Taehyun didn’t have all that much to do in this house, so spending those hours was proven to be a task. He wasn’t entirely sure on which grounds he was permitted to enter and what was forbidden, but he figured snooping around wouldn’t do much harm. As long as he didn’t get caught.
Taehyun wandered around, going through the door not for servants, ignoring the nasty stares of the maids he was receiving. For a little kick he tapped his shoes, scattering mud all over the floor before leaving. He smirked hearing the frustration.
He wasn’t usually a troublemaker and liked to keep a low profile, but no one here knew him and for once he was one of the higher ranking ones.
It was odd how he hadn’t seen the actual master of the house, though Sunhee had told him he liked to keep to himself, in his own wing. Taehyun wasn’t welcome there, but he’d at least thought he’d greet him out of courtesy. Oh well, maybe it was better he didn’t know Taehyun’s face. Then he could die peacefully.
Maybe it was true that when people started dying, they would retreat to be with themselves, find peace within and contemplating all they did. Perhaps it was the shame of their actions finally kicking, or the realization of their own vile existence.
Taehyun kicked at the rocks watching them plop down in further in the grass. Impressive, how strong his kick was. He hopped over the stones in the pond, walked through the rose arches and crossed the land. The town he’d been staying in wasn’t even this big.
Taehyun could only dream of such money, of living so sheltered from commoners that it was a mystery what was going on in the world. It was a bit like a pond of koi, where they were trapped in a closed off area, not knowing what they were deprived of, swimming in circles day in day out, thinking it was a great big lake.
It was ridiculous how Taehyun had to walk through a whole wilderness before reaching the other side of the house. Ridiculous. If he were outside he could’ve crossed a whole market place and some extra stores outside of it. But it would be worth the struggle, because he was here at last.
Taehyun pressed his lips into a thin line, fighting the euphoric laugh bubbling in his throat. So this was it, the great, forbidden area. Taehyun wasn’t great at following the rules. He looked over his shoulders, then ahead of him. If he ran no one would see him.
His palms were clammy, heart thundering like a drum, but he made it. A bunch of maids were giggling on their errand. Taehyun slid around the corner, holding his chest while he waited for them to pass. Their voices faded into the distance. He peeked out his head. Gone.
Hiding his chuckles, Taehyun snuck through the door. It shut with a bang too loud. Taehyun bit his tongue to stop himself from cursing. No one had come; he was safe.
He was in the forbidden area. It was dark, the blinds made so that minimal light could come through. Taehyun fished one of the oil lamps from the table. The smell made him light in the head and it would definitely blow his cover, but there was that itch of curiosity once again, digging its nails into his flesh, giving him a push in the back.
The light flickered. Taehyun opened the vents, waiting for the flame to stabilize. Sluggishly he brought the lamp up, fingers tingling with what he would meet. The wing had to be off-limits for a reason, which made Taehyun only want to see it more. Forbidding something always worked counter effective.
Taehyun raised his gaze, squinting in the dark. He gasped. Bile rose to his throat, the repulsive scent of the lamp only fueling his nausea. If he didn’t get out of there he’d spill his guts right over the planks.
He blew out the fire, bringing the room back to darkness, for once inviting the darkness to hide the horrors light revealed.
The floorboards vibrated, followed by a hollow scream.
Knees weak Taehyun slammed the lamp back down, and ran. He ran and ran, hoping the forces working against him would push away what he’d seen, but the image was forever burned into his mind.
<><><>
Taehyun crossed Beomgyu in the halls. He was alone. The sun had started setting, which meant it had to be close to evening; Beomgyu was returning from his art classes. His clothes were crumpled and frilled, hair even more tousled than usual, sticking up. He hadn’t seen Taehyun, gaze empty.
He couldn’t face Beomgyu, not now. He wasn’t sure if he could ever.
Taehyun tried slipping away, but to no avail.
“With me, Taehyun.”
There was something about Beomgyu’s tone that made it clear it wasn’t an offer to be refused. Beomgyu’s voice was deep, demanding. Cutting, even, sending shivers down Taehyun’s spine.
Taehyun nodded, shuffling after Beomgyu. The clicking of Beomgyu’s heels was defeating, springing off the walls like shots of a canon. It amazed Taehyun how loud wood could sound, when he’d always thought of it as a soft material. It was used to nurture; it built houses, fed fires, but so too was it used for spears and arrows, the hilts of guns, rulers against skin.
Taehyun opened the door for Beomgyu to enter, shutting it after them immediately. Beomgyu liked his privacy, especially after his classes. Usually he didn’t even let Taehyun in until he’d fully freshened up.
“Taehyun, would you please help me?” Beomgyu picked at the back of his shirt, moaning softly in frustration.
The fabric slipped from his shoulder, sinking down at an excruciating pace. Taehyun couldn’t stop from staring, eyes latching onto the clavicles standing out against his skin, his head twisted in a way that made his neck all so accessible. It glistened in the light like fine china, with all the shadows painting delicate patterns.
Taehyun licked his lips. A doll, so easy to play with. But Beomgyu didn’t know what he was doing.
“It’s not my job to…” Taehyun forced himself to look away. “I don’t think I should.”
“I can’t concentrate when I’m distracted.” Beomgyu heaved a sigh, rolling his neck. “If I don’t get cleaned up then our nightly session will be futile.”
Taehyun swallowed away all his nerves, though that only seemed to feed the fire in the pit of his stomach, flames licking at his insides, turning him to ashes from inside out. His fingers hovered over the buttons, trying to block out the warmth which only a human body possessed.
A doll, getting dressed and made up and played with as pleased. Put him in a scenario and he would act it out with no complaints, following the script perfectly like he didn’t know any better. Beomgyu’s shivered at Taehyun’s touch, letting out a soft gasp.
Taehyun pushed it back, biting the inside of his cheek; Beomgyu didn’t know better. He didn’t know. Though, Taehyun wasn’t too sure, yet he shouldn’t be thinking in such ways. Taehyun was nothing more than a worker to him. Taehyun shouldn’t let his thoughts run wild.
The fabric fell the floor with a thud, floating like lilies in a pond. Taehyun’s gaze fixated on the vertebrae where the neck met the spine, hands itching to just rest on them, feel them beneath his palms, have another gasp slip Beomgyu’s throat.
Beomgyu looked over his shoulder, the profile of his face sharper in this light. “Will you bathe me?”
The images it sparked in Taehyun’s brain dabbed his cheeks in pink. Shame crept up on him. He lowered his head. “That’s not my job.”
“I don’t trust my handmaiden,” Beomgyu said. “I think she wants me dead.”
“How so?”
“She looks at me funnily, her hands shake as she pours the essentials in. She inspects the bottles too closely for someone who has used them for years.” Beomgyu's gaze seemed to cut right through Taehyun, knocking the air from his lungs. “I’ve sent her away since.”
Taehyun didn’t speak, not daring to lift his head. Cold fingers lifted his chin. He was met with Beomgyu’s onyx eyes, seeing his reflection in them. Taehyun tried looking away again, but Beomgyu’s grip was of iron, contrasting with how fragile he looked.
“You’ll have to pick me up from my classes now,” he whispered in Taehyun’s ear. He finally released him. “Now, will you prepare my bath?”
If Taehyun hadn’t known better, this was what torture must’ve been. When he’d gotten caught for pickpocketing as a child they’d been more merciful than this. Longing hurt more than the crackling of whips, the breaking of his skin. Longing for the unattainable was the greatest punishment to greedy souls.
Taehyun tried to stop it, truly he did, but his gaze and Beomgyu were opposite poles on a magnet. It took incredible strength to keep them from meeting, something stronger than the natural forces.
Taehyun caved. He let his eyes roam Beomgyu’ from his perfect face down to where the water met the air, flower petals clinging to him like a second skin. He was built as he was delicate, with some scrapes adorning him. They weren’t big, but they were noticeable enough for Taehyun to pause.
The water colored a murky color, red swirling ink on a paper, no, like lint in the wind, hanging from trees and poles, either a celebration or mourning.
Taehyun’s fingers brushed them. “Do they hurt?”
Beomgyu didn’t flinch, didn’t even seem to notice. He followed Taehyun’s gaze, then shook his head. Softly he answered, “Not anymore.”
“I’ll clean them for you. Hold on for a moment.”
Beomgyu nodded, worrying his lip between his teeth. It broke Taehyun’s heart to leave him alone this way. He squeezed Beomgyu’s shoulder with a soft smile before finally parting ways. He rummaged for a cloth, knocking over a whole lot in his haste. It wasn’t his job to clean that up, he reasoned.
“There. I’m back, Sir.” Taehyun kneeled down by his side, running the cloth over the wounds, fresh and old. The cloth soaked up the blood, the cuts much smaller than they’d seemed at first, all swollen and uncared for.
The questions scratched Taehyun’s throat, fought to be coughed up. What happened? How? Who did this? But Taehyun was already crossing too many lines, lines that were already blurry to begin with, now fading.
Beomgyu’s fingers ran over Taehyun’s arm, fine hairs rising at how icy they were. Taehyun’s breath caught in his throat.
“S-sir?”
Beomgyu murmured muddled words under his breath. Eyes shut he leaned back, resting his head against the porcelain. His lashes fanned out on his cheeks, lips parted in a slight smile. “You care for me so well, Taehyun.”
Beautiful. That was the only word that could come to Taehyun’s mind. He wasn’t like the poets; he couldn’t shape sentences in a way that made them more like pictures. If Taehyun could show his mind it wouldn’t even suffice to what Beomgyu was. Even now, with them touching, with Beomgyu’s dampened whimpers of pleasure, Taehyun couldn’t believe he was real.
“Would you wish to join me?”
If Beomgyu kept this up it would be Taehyun ending up a losing his sanity.
<><><>
“Have you ever had a friend, Taehyun?”
A friend? Taehyun’s mind went back to Kai with his cutesy voice when he wanted something, his giggles about everything. He remembered Kai when he was brought to the town’s square, noose around his neck. He remembered Kai’s laughter when they ground disappeared beneath his feet and he was left dangling, still laughing, choking on it, before going limp.
“I’ve always been… traveling.” Taehyun chuckled to himself, too loudly once again. “So no, I haven’t. What about you, Sir?”
“I don’t know,” Beomgyu said. “I have never left this house ever since I’ve lived here. The farthest I’ve gone it by the slope of the hill. There isn’t an awful lot of company that comes by. But I think… I remember a boy coming by. Every now and then.”
“A boy?”
Beomgyu played with his watch. “Hmm, yeah. He hid behind the stairs, watching the portraits. Followed me around a lot, too. He thinks I never caught him, but I could see him. He looked a little sad. I’ve never seen him smile. He disappeared one day and has never returned.”
Taehyun hummed. “So, is friendship what you think this poem is about?”
“I’ve read about connections in books. Like you see a person and your souls align, merge into one.” Beomgyu stuttered in his actions. “I’m not sure what relationship that might be. I’ve never… I don’t know much about love, nor about friendship. I wouldn’t even know sunshine was it not for a short summer.”
Taehyun felt that question hammering against the back of his teeth again, like a caged beast craving freedom. Did Beomgyu not do that, crave what was out there? Crave to see the world and relish in its beauty and its monstrosities?
Taehyun could ask it again, the simple question: Are you happy here?
That was the goal; to have Beomgyu leave this life behind, leave all he had and disappear from the surface of the earth. Then Taehyun could finally live in leisure as well, not constantly on his toes, wondering when he’d be found out.
He had to work faster, knew he could, but the thought of leaving Beomgyu’s side left a bitter taste on his tongue. It made him shudder, the mere thought of it. He wouldn’t even dare imagining it; how much worse would it be when it happened?
Beomgyu was precious. He was a delicate flower that needed guidance to bloom, to reach the sun and flourish, then, as he died out, needed to be stripped of his buds and cared for until the season returned to sun and life.
Taehyun leaned back against the window, inspecting all of Beomgyu. When Taehyun had met him he’d been beautiful, but now Taehyun could only describe him as ethereal. He could tell exactly how Beomgyu’s breathing was when he slept, how undisturbed and peaceful he looked, could connect the moles on his skin to create constellations.
He could tell what color his eyes would glow when the sun shone down on them, sat on the grass with cherries between his lips, shaking his head for Taehyun to pull out the stem. He was yet to hear Beomgyu laugh, but he knew his secret smiles and small giggles were already beyond price.
Fucking hell. Those stupid poets were getting to his head.
“I felt that with you,” Beomgyu said then. “When you touched me, I felt our souls aligning. Is that the connection they speak of?”
Taehyun’s voice was lost. His mouth opened, but nothing came. He looked out the window, pointing down at the paper. “How… What could they mean by ‘blackened is my soul, parted from your graces’? What could it mean in the context of life and death?”
<><><>
Taehyun’s day was cleared from schedules. He’d been informed of by breakfast, though Sunhee wasn’t willing to elaborate further. It only lead Taehyun into a spiral of pondering. The month he had spent there he’d never had a day off. Even Sundays were spent somewhat productive. Beomgyu still went on walks and Taehyun followed him, sat with him and they just talked. It didn’t have to have meaning, didn’t have to be linked to poetry — thank the heavens, because Taehyun was going to lose his mind if he’d see another alliteration.
It was all odd, but Taehyun’s brain was starting to hurt and his thoughts were running in circles. So now, bored out of his mind with absolutely no attempts at doing changing that, Taehyun was laying on his bed, staring at his ceiling like it was interesting.
A month. He’d been stuck here for a month. And he was nowhere close to progress. Well, he’d gotten closer to Beomgyu, if that was something to count. Beomgyu seemed like he trusted him enough to have casual conversations with, but it could also be the lack of company the boy had grown up with.
Beomgyu was innocent to the point of it being pitiful, sometimes getting on Taehyun nerves — before he remembered how scary Beomgyu could be. His eyes were always big with confusion, shoulders drooping when he didn’t understand something. He was unaware of just how much his actions were driving Taehyun crazy, how they kept him up at night.
Rerunning time spent with Beomgyu was supposed to be a nightly activity, but with how things were going they were starting to seep into the day. Taehyun could scream into his pillow, but he wasn’t sure if that would help anything. He’d rather not embarrass himself; Beomgyu was right next door.
Then there was the house and the weird air it had to it. No matter how much Taehyun tried shaking it off his back tingled whenever he was wandering around the grounds. It could just be the maids, but they would’ve been louder about it. When he walked it was silent.
Taehyun was interrupted by knocking on his door. Opening it, it revealed Sunhee.
“What is the occasion?” Taehyun asked.
“Follow me.”
Taehyun frowned, though followed without complaint. She hadn’t gotten over her mood during breakfast. He tried keeping his head ahead as much as he could. It was hard if in every corner loomed a presence, only visible to those who noticed it. Of all times Sunhee had chosen to stay silent now.
When he arrived outside he saw all the staff lining up, Beomgyu at the head of them. There was no sign of his uncle.
Taehyun tried catching his attention with a smile, but Beomgyu barely glanced in his direction. He had his chin held high, shoulders pulled back. Untouchable, like he should be to Taehyun. It was a sucker punch to the gut.
Puzzled, Taehyun joined Sunhee’s side, folding his hands. The maids were unruly, giggling amongst themselves and pointing in the distance.
Taehyun squinted. Over the squabbling and chirping he could hear something in the distance, grumbling. A black dot which seemed to be closing in on them. He wondered why they were all gathered here when it would clearly take a lot more time for it to be close to them. The air was cold, too. Too cold for the season.
At last a black car pulled up in front of them, pebbles groaning beneath its weight.
“The Count has arrived!” Sunhee announced.
It was as if reality had set in, everyone straightening out their clothes and fixing their posture. Taehyun followed along for good measure. He’d learned some manners while staying here, though he wasn’t sure if he was proud of it.
The car doors opened at an excruciating pace. One leg, an arm, a face. Deep dimples and a cocky smile, tailored suit snugly fitting a slim waist.
Taehyun’s heart dropped to his stomach.
Soobin tipped his hat, accepting the greetings with a blinding expression. He scanned the faces one by one, eyes narrowing when they finally fell on Taehyun. They never left.
“Welcome,” Beomgyu said, more out of politeness than actual hospitality.
The smile never left Soobin’s lips, but it had become way less charming. “It’s a delight to be here.”