𝘢 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘺.

❛  and you’re wrong. this isn’t fairytale. that’d just be narratively inaccurate. would you wear a disguise just because you got caught once, or because you think only a disguise keeps you from getting caught?  ❜ because last he checked, she wasn’t in one when he ran into her in the building where joker’s fanatics had decided to shoot up gas and bullet. ❛  i love the idea of being interesting and cool. i’ve watched all the bond movies. love the idea of you prying a little less though.  ❜ the visor locks onto the side of her ear when she fluffs out her hair. the outline of a square capturing an earring, something shiny. his eyes stay on her face, observing intently.

" sure your face just looks like this, little red riding hood. your mirror must be thrilled, " florence deadpans with a roll of her eyes. she has crossed paths with a few vigilantes, usually with more criminals than those heroic figures, but she thinks red hood is more alike to her mind than the kind of sewer-dwellers that all fan themselves over the possibility to be the city's next-best clown when the real one's locked away ( or hiding wherever . . . hopefully far away from florence's grayscale area of expertise. ) she's been considering declining more of her job offers in gotham, but sometimes the reward is too good to pass up, and she also sees it as an exercise in her work, a challenge to rise for, to meet. " wow, you really put thought into someone asking you why you're in this costume. that's actually impressive, " she hums at the end, giving him another look up and down, and wonders how he even manages to move around as well as he does in, well, all of that. it seems more of a hassle than a party trick.

❖ an offer from a gentleman, accepting.

❛  you could have asked, ‘why the red hood?’ or,  ❜ he says, with an explanatory gesture of his hand between them, as if to point out the differences between them. ❛  or, have you ever been caught stealing? because then i would have to say, yes, i have. i was caught stealing something very big and important once. then you could say— ha, well, i’ve never been caught.  ❜ you understand, his spread hands say, in a separate gesture. this was going somewhere, and he saw it in her eyes, that she was waiting for him to get to the point. the thief he hadn’t seen the last of. small city, this gotham : and so, he was dragging it out only to flog her patience some more.

as they began walking, hayun allowed his body to sway closer to ian's, because he could have not been able to stop himself either way, falling into step besides him. the town was filled with more people today, perhaps due to the fine weather, the crisp air sweeping in a breeze through the cobbled streets bringing color to hayun's perpetually flushed cheeks. he always feared that it made him look too young, that he had to ensure ian that he was not a boy anymore, far from it, but it felt foolish to even bring up, so hayun bit his tongue and kept walking. how good he was at that, always in motion, he had discovered when he was a little past ten years of age, much to his father's and brother's detriment, who always had a hard time keeping up. ian did not, hayun thought with a soft hum, leaning into the hand on his back which settled against his skin with a certain heat, without preamble, warm even through the layers he wore. " i've been to lanayru a few times, " he admitted, things not even hajun knew, because if he did, he would surely tie hayun up like one of their horses and never let him out of his sight again. his older brother, always so worrisome. " they say there's an ancient dragon on top of the mountain, guarding the spring of wisdom. i am not surprised that her royal highness would be interested in the history of such a, " he paused for a second, trying to come up with the right word; hayun knew he could not bring up the zora, who were as kind as they were chivalrous. not that it was any of ian's business anyway, hayun was easy to fluster, so it did not mean much or anything at all, surely. still, better to not even mention it. " prominent place? i don't know, but the great spring is very beautiful, if you can make it there. apology accepted, by the way. i understand her fascination. " he bumped his shoulder against ian's arm in a gentle, friendly motion just as they were about to enter the market but is paused briefly by the weight around his neck; ian's hand, his mind helpfully supplies, and yet hayun almost stumbled over his own feet, over air, over anything; his cheeks burned as he tried to keep up with ian's assured steps. nothing ever ruffles him, hayun thought with silent wonder, the tutor so steadfast that he could only marvel at him.

for a strange reason it makes idris feel oddly protective over hayun, which the younger does not at all need and is greatly misplaced for someone who seems quite thorough in his explorations of the kingdom they live in. and yet idris can't shake the notion, having sneaked up on him despite his better judgement, a quite different feeling to the milder awareness he used to feel for his late spouse, who never invited this kind of protectiveness on them and would have laughed at idris for it in a sweet but amused fashion, and who'd undoubtedly tease him for it now. before anything else, all the old love, rowan has been his dearest friend for good reason; they'd have called him out on this ever-growing affection with not an eye batted. shaking the thought away with a minute flick of his chin, he has to look down the moment hayun's arm slips between his elbow and his side and pulls him along to one of the stalls, some of hateno's more notorious farmers. " the princess is very interested in seeing a glimpse of that dragon, though you sound like you've already seen it. should i invite you to one of her lessons, you may exchange your experiences and curiousities with each other. if she could, she'd be as adventurous as you, hayun, " idris notes before he turns towards the couple manning the stall, a cow herder and her wife working the vegetables patches. as if hayun just read his mind moments prior, idris can't believe they are in front of this particular stall, but he offers hayun his best smile after perusing what is on offer. " a loaf of bread, goat cheese, and a few of the vegetables skewers, " he orders and pays, leaving a hefty tip and a promise the princess would return to the market soon as well, then taking the cloth it is all wrapped in into his free hand while he steers hayun along with him through the market, finding that the other seems quite happy to just be lead for now.

" i know you are the fun one, i would never dream of claiming anything else, i just wanna make sure that you are not hating every second of this, " he replied, punctuating the words with an eye-roll; eli meant well, of course, and hideo would never want to displease him in any way and he rarely took any offense, either. it was easy like that between them, always had been, and he wanted nothing more than to live like this forever. if his boyfriend wouldn't be so averse to the mere idea of marriage, hideo would have proposed a long time ago, perhaps after they won the world series. but eli did not like that much fuss about anything, least of all getting married, so hideo tucked those thoughts away and instead tilted his head a little, enough to search eli's eyes with his own, gaze warm and soft and far too intimate for the corporate ballroom they were in. he took a sip of his scotch and hummed, savoring the taste of it on his tongue; something he only ever really got away with while they were on vacation. this was as good as, he figured. " well, you see, i do have eyes and they function mostly well enough. you think i won't notice someone like that in a room? very much like you to find the prettiest guy in the entire room and rope him into a conversation. " he was teasing and eli knew it, but a morsel of truth was in there as well. to him, eli was the center of any room they were in and it was no surprise that people would be drawn to him, how open he was occasionally scared hideo because he knew that it invited all sorts of eyes and ears, but eli knew how to draw his own boundaries. that, too, was admirable.

" i don't hate every second of this. or any second of this. food's a little blend but i thought it'd be. not like anyone here really cares about that, " eli jokes, eyes crinkling at the corners, chin nudging into hideo's shoulder more from where he remains plastered against him. to have the possibility to find refuge in hideo in a crowded room like this, in public, is a novelty eli feels will take a long time to wear off, if it ever will. eli's patience has somehow only found a worthy cause in hideo's comfort, in giving him the room to breathe in a profession where his safety was paramount to his success, and if the reward for this would have only ever been to be loved by him it would have been more than enough, ten times over, but eli's beyond elated to see that hideo has found the strength, the courage, to seek the space to flourish right in the centre of this profession he also loves so much. it is something that should be so easy and sadly isn't, so eli is going to be the last that would ever keep count. he never even did, and would never start. leaning in to press a kiss against hideo's temple, close to his ear, eli's arm curls around him more, until a good part of him has draped itself over hideo's shoulder before he moves back a little again. " at least you were watching me. you're off the hook, " he replies although he knows why hideo was looking around and ended up being focused on eli's conversation with the younger player - same reason why he found eli in that room full of people years ago, as like always calls to each other, if only in recognition of itself. if there presence eases the heavy heart of at least one other person, eli'd find that a bonus to follow hideo to these boring functions, well, that and the hardware hideo's been apt at bringing home. ( not to mention when he brought himself home afterwards, a day eli always circled red in his calendar to free up too, for good reason. )

the air was crisp and cool, the sun a warm glow in the sky, as bright as anyone would love to have it on an early spring day, and hayun was standing by the castle wall, feeling rather illicit this close to the royal guards when he had no permission to be anywhere near castle grounds. of course, he had snuck in an out of too many places to count in his lifetime but this was different: he was supposed to be here, he had just been early or the one he was supposed to meet with was running late; however you were to put it, the situation did not change one bit. it took some time to make it from their estate to castle town, long enough to warrant taking one of his steeds, stealing it away right under his brother's nose, which was now tended to in one of the stables close to the border of the town. hayun had walked the rest of the way, enjoying the good weather and fresh air, but now he suddenly felt adrift, like he was loitering, doing something he was not supposed to. it set him a little on edge, this waiting which he was not used to unless his father called for him or hajun punished him with a silent hour of tending to their tedious books, knowing fully well that hayun had a hard time with numbers. he sighed then, loud enough for one of the guards to turn towards him, so he shifted closer to the wall. really, if the tutor wanted to take his sweet time, that was his goddess given right but a warning would have been nice. a pebble, perhaps, thrown out of a window, or a leaf in the wind, or anything, really, hayun thought, staring hard at the gray stone of the wall. really, despite the many years of turmoil the castle was still standing, well-built and imposing. his brother would like that sort of thing, hayun mused, architecture and craftsmanship, boring stuff he never shut up about it. just as hayun reached out to put his palm to the wall he was yanked back by the collar of his overcoat, and he felt his heart surge into his throat. the guards had finally gotten to him-

" goddesses, " he said, louder than he intended to, closer to a shriek, but whoever had pulled him aside just slid a hand over his mouth, and then there was the heat of a body close to his back, a familiar scent, the dark, fine fabric of the royal tutor's jacket a contrast to the white of hajun's robe, and he couldn't help but sigh, stifled by the palm over his mouth. hayun wanted to do something irately foolish like press his mouth to the inside of ian's palm, but the teacher was far too proper as to not scold him for it. hayun secretly liked it, how ian always appeared to be above everything, almost frozen in time, but no, he was not one of those folkloric heroes, instead he was just one diligent man who cared for the education of the royal family. " can you let me go no- thank you, " he muttered, but ian did not give him any chance to say any more, pulling his hand away just in time to set his fingers close to hayun's collar, by his neck, and he could feel the warmth of his skin so close to his bare neck that he felt a tingle run down his spine. then, he felt a tug first on his sleeve, lower down his collar next, closer to where the two halves of his jacket were folded over each other, tied together by a braided rope of silver silk, and he looked down at ian's hands gently tucking his clothes into order. doing so with such a deftness that hayun felt as if he had done it a hundred times before, as if he had always dressed hayun, who could do nothing to fight the heat inside of him, that surely colored his cheeks pink.

when he finds hayun, he walks past the castle guard with quick and sure steps, leaving them to their impending break for lunch, and surprises him with the lateness of a man who's vowing in this very moment never to be late again when it comes to meeting up with him. maybe this explains the playful hand he puts on hayun's face, or the swooping heat he feels when hayun's strong back sits snugly against his own chest for a moment even through the layers of his jacket and shirt, or maybe idris has not met many new people outside of the castle in a good while. all of this can be possible and he does not plan to inspect the reason for this joy he is experiencing, a lonesome joy he thought long gone from him but has been brought back to life by hayun, and that makes him do something as strange, and yet second nature to a man like idris, to fix the wayward appearance of hayun's clothes, undoubtedly shifted askew and loosened from his travel. the north-west of hyrule field always sees strong winds from tebra coming in. hayun does look a little windswept, strands of his hair a frenzy around his forehead, but it makes him appear rather dashing; as adventurous as one can, and idris' heart soars dangerously at the sight. " the princess was very curious today. she debated me on the history of lanayru. i had a hard time to get away, " he explains honestly, his hand tying hayun's ribbon close again, silver pale against his fingers and hayun's waist solid and warm where his arms shift against it. finishing up, idris looks up at him. " it won't happen again, i promise. will you accept my apologies? " he says when they take a step apart from each other, hayun's gaze bright, almost heated, where he traces the entirety of idris' face.

ian had showed him around the city, had taken him to china town and some fancy dinner place he usually recommended to his local clientele, and hayun had found himself listening to the other man and his carefully accentuated words. it was stupid to read so much into it, to even entertain it, but hayun couldn't help himself when ian had been so kind and so forthcoming and so disarming; he had shown hayun the apartment he lived in, high ceilings and everything tidy and neat, and hayun had definitely not thought about what it would be like to kiss his very gracious host on that couch, or what it would feel like to be pressed into the very fine sheets of his spotless bed. instead, he had kept his thoughts to himself and simply listened some more; ian had so much to tell about his work and the things he enjoyed, that work made him do, which fascinated hayun endlessly. it was not necessarily unheard of where he came from, but back home, things were far more spiritual, motivated by ancient rituals and traditional beliefs. in ian's world, love was a math equation, and hayun wondered how he fit in there, and then promptly reminded himself not to think anything of the sort. said kept teasing him as soon as he returned to arizona, though hayun was sure that ian hadn't told him anything about their impromptu meeting, those few days in january that they had spent together. and yet, no could do: whenever ian texted him, hayun was stuck in that memory, imagining himself at the other's kitchen table instead of in his own bed in his brother's house, staring at a phone screen in the dark. it was terrible for his already horrendous sleeping schedule but he couldn't stop, even though he knew that ian did not think of anything romantic, or at least wasn't ready to. he probably saw hayun as a younger brother, or a good friend. which was fine, of course, friends were also good company and besides, hayun was used to fighting his own feelings with tooth and nail.

london suited hayun, dangerously so, and it has taken all of idris' sense to not do something rash, to put on this young man what he couldn't even put on the rare blind date irene tried to set him up on to blow off some steam and he staunchly refused every time, a song and dance for the sake of it than anything else. he could have kisses hayun in london, between the fridge lined with postcards and wedding invites and the kitchen island never touched by anyone but idris until hayun gave it a quick feel when he walked through the place. idris could only thank himself once hayun was gone that they weren't at home, they weren't in cork, because only god knows how little idris would have been able to be tactful, graceful then. it would have felled him cleanly, the new image of someone in his home, the home that carries all the heart of him that matters, and that he hadn't felt the urge to invite anyone to until he met hayun and they started talking. idris had dreamed of it only once, when he was back home a month after hayun left london, and it was the first time someone else followed him into his dreams. he stayed up far too late to read hayun's texts about his recovery while staying with his strict brother and kind but woefully subjective sister-in-law, information he soaked up readily and stored away in a new box in the corners of himself, one with hayun's name on it, and when he fell asleep hayun was there too, in the recesses of his mind, and the taste of his mouth and the warmth of his smile, eyes shy and still so alight. idris has yet to forget about this dream, and los angeles was no better idea than london, but he knew he'd try it for himself the moment he got his flights cleared and his itinerary approved by his boss. the free spot on his arrival date from a workshop in new york glared back at him - with his heart in his throat, he'd never been able not to see what he could do with that.

and yet, he had spent the entire day, no, the entire week looking forward to ian's arrival. it had woken him up earlier than usual, and he had used those hours to get a run in, usually prone to foregoing most cardio when he did not really need it, because he thought it would help clear his mind a little, his feet on the pavement, running through streets that were never really empty and never really quite as dark as those nights in seoul, where he would run until he could not breathe and sweat dripped down his forehead, staining his sweater and undershirt. it did nothing to alleviate the anxiety weighing on his chest, that bled neatly into excitement and had him linger longer in front of his mirror, in front of his wardrobe: would ian care much about what he would look like tonight? said had told him that they had lunch plans so maybe there was an off-chance that they would run into each other somewhere at the stadium, though hayun knew how unlikely it was. lightning so rarely ever struck twice, and if it did, it had yet to happen to him. maybe they were just friends, anyway. the text messages, and that one time they had seen each other a few months ago could be filed away, explained away by some deniable plausibility. the matchmaker was so rarely forthcoming and hayun did not have it in him to pry as much as he wanted to. he did not think that it was his place to intrude, some memories were not his for the taking. so, perhaps, this didn't have to mean anything. but why was it all he could think about during practice? they were drilling runs until the older guys looked as if they would keel over any second and hayun felt his jersey stick to the small of his back and his chest, and after, they put him in the cage for a few reps. he had to improve after his lackluster last season, cut short by shoulder surgery and a slow ramp up that took him out until the postseason. not ideal, he knew, so he had something to prove, at least. hunger was what they needed and he had a lifetime of it in the hollow of his throat.

texting with hayun has become a habit, morning and evenings and in between, usually trivial nonsense about idris' work that he realised must sound sort-of frivolous and cooky to someone who knows not a lick about this kind of industry, the social economy and currency of people wanting for love as much as they want for a new care or a better job, more so. but he enjoyed the back and forth, hayun asking all kind of questions and sounding genuinely interested in the books idris read for work, or the films he watched for work, or the art galleries and museums he didn't visit for work but checked out when he was travelling for work. hayun has seen idris' flat in london, but not the place in cork, and idris has yet to figure out how much he wants him to, how much he wants this to happen; how no one but him has been in this space ( well, and his family, a few friends ) but no one he felt the urge to text, who he has thought of in the mundane hours of commuting or when he set up the logistics of other people's dream dates, who has followed him into his dreams. sometimes idris caught himself twisting the ring on his left hand around, never on the right one, as if it can help give him clarity for this ghost of a feeling slowly morphing into something corporal, with shape and a beating heart, a smile on a flushed face and eyes hidden under a baseball cap. the dinner has been idris' idea, because despite his packed schedule and the fact that he'd be on a plane back to london in three days, he couldn't help it. somehow, in the depths of him, the chance of letting this slip through his fingers felt as wrong as jumping right into it. he needs a middle ground, something tangible he understands and hayun is aware of too, to make sense of all of this. matters of the heart, it seems, have not become more logical to him over the last seven years. more illogical actually.