ok short story: what a ride huh!!! this chapter alone is 18.2k words (around 3k words over the previous chapters combined) and really challenged me!!! >< besties know i have not written long fics before (at least i have not finished them) but i am SOOO COMMITTED TO THIS I HOPE THE PROCESS KNOWS IM TRUSTING HER and anw multiple POVs are exciting and all that, and i hope it went well... i cant even tell at this point.... anw

this was supposed to be for beloved @motherdanger's birthday, but it took too long :((( pls accept it anyway hehe mwa mwa

“I should like to see your hometown.”

They have stopped by the edge of Joowon’s hanok that looks over the mountains; huge silhouettes in the distance where the sun would rise in the mornings. A breeze comes in from the west, carrying with it the scent of balsams, and Han Joowon sees the landscape reflected in Dongsik’s eyes—the color of freshly-tilled earth in the summers, the color of warmth and comfort.

“What ever do you mean, my lord? I grew up here in Hanyang. At the kisaeng house.” Dongsik’s voice is gentle, accommodating like it always sounds. Though there is a lilt to it. A certain hesitance he has not heard before. Joowon grapples to hold it, to pull the mask and see the man behind. Even for a short moment.

“Sometimes it is as though you long for someplace else. Away from Hanyang. Far from the kisaeng house and the palace.”

He does not elaborate on the look Dongsik has during those moments. The distance in his gaze that tells Joowon he is not truly seeing what is in front of him, that he is someplace else in his mind. Somewhere far and warm. Somewhere Joowon cannot reach him.

Here, if he reaches out, he knows Dongsik will let him. Like he always does. Out of obligation or desire, Joowon has not yet distinguished. But he is not a fool, and he knows that the division between him and the only man—no, the only person—who has caught his attention is not just the social caste.

There is something hidden in Lee Dongsik. It’s in his gaze, the way he carries himself, the way he sometimes smiles, and the way he sometimes feels beneath Joowon’s touch.

When he was younger, Joowon liked to venture into the smith’s workplace. He used to watch them work with steel and fire, each hit of the hammer on the steel ringing in his ears while the weapon sharp enough to kill him forms. He wonders if being with Lee Dongsik is the same. If every touch is like working with steel and fire, if every cry of pleasure would end in tears of pain, sharp enough to stop his heart from beating.

“Home.”

“Home,” Joowon agrees. Though the concept is foreign to him, nothing but flashes of a smile from a mother he no longer remembers.

Dongsik sighs, the kind that ends with a small smile. Joowon watches him remove his gat and tilt his head towards the sun. His eyes trace Dongsik’s profile, caress the slope of his nose, his lips, the line of his neck. He captures in his mind everything he could and tries not to think of why he feels the need to do so.

“I suppose there will be nothing to see.”

“Nothing?” whispers Joowon, “There is you.”

“Hm,” Dongsik turns to him, “But I am here, my lord.”

Joowon almost reaches out, his hand already halfway through to close the small distance between them. Caught.

It takes him a while to reply, enraptured as he is by the sun shining in Dongsik’s eyes—making them look like the expensive ambers the members of the court flaunt on every chance they get. But this is better than those jewels. Invaluable. Joowon would have conquered hundreds of lands if it meant those eyes would keep looking at him.