Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

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"Excuse me?" Wonshik stood up straight, wooden crate still in his hands. A figure stood at the gate to the yard, hands demure on the stone wall. His expression was hard, long dark hair tied back low behind his head. Wonshik didn't recognize him as another delivery boy, nor a beggar or fan. He was a stranger.

"Good day! How can I help you?" He stepped over to the wall that separated them, smile hopefully warm and inviting. The man only held his eye for a moment before averting his own. His voice was whisper soft, almost swallowed up by the summer afternoon bird song.

"Are you employed with this circus?" Wonshik blinked before he understood where the man was going. He turned around to set down the heavy crate before leaning on the gate by his elbows.

"Yes sir. What do you need?" The stranger took a step back from Wonshik's nicesty, put himself just out of range. Without the wall between them, wonshik could see the bag hung heavy behind his back, the sheathed sword on his hip. "Oh, I see. You saw the posters, didn't you?" The stranger nods. From a pocket in his waistcoat he pulls out a folded piece of paper. It's the very poster Wonshik was referring to. He hands it to Wonshik.

"I was hoping such a position was still available." Wonshik takes the keys from his pocket to open the gate. He holds it open for the stranger. "You're actually my first taker. Come on in." The stranger stays put a moment before nodding once. He fixes the strap of his bag and steps through the gate. Wonshik shuts it behind him.

"Have you ever worked a job like this before?" The stranger stands awkwardly in the middle of the yard, surrounded by the morning's deliveries. He nods.

"I've been a personal guard for ten years." Wonshik whistles, then laughs.

"You may actually be over qualified then. Tough work?" The stranger shrugs a shoulder. His posture is rigid and well trained, save for how his gaze remains averted. Likely military.

"It's all I've ever known." Wonshik offered his hand. The stranger hesitated before he shook it, hold firm for such a thin hand.

"I'm Wonshik. You can think of me as the second in command here."

"Taekwoon." Wonshik nodded before setting hands on his hips.

"Could you set your things down from a moment?" Taekwoon frowned at him, confused, but obeyed. He dropped his heavy bag to the ground. He hesitated with his sword, but eventually removed it at Wonshik's encouragement. There was a tenderness to his touch to the weapon, as if he couldn't bear to part from it. He stood before Wonshik unencumbered.

"We don't have much trouble. Pickpockets during shows, and people coming in on delivery days like today." Wonshik gestured at the gathered crates and barrels.  "Usually they're not people that are armed, or trained in anything. We just need enough hands on deck to make sure when it does happen, we're ready." Wonshik couldn't help his grin as he bent at the knees, ready to lunge after Taekwoon. His stance immediately changed in response, on guard. "Ready?"

"Is this necessary?"

"Gotta make sure my security is up to snuff."

Wonshik lunged to grab Taekwoon at the waist and drag him to the ground. Taekwoon easily maneuvered around him, dodging the attack. Where Wonshik may be strong, he wasn't incredibly nimble. He couldn't help a laugh as he tried again. Taekwoon was ready for him, ducking low to avoid his fist. He swiped his own leg around, catching Wonshik by the ankle and sending him down onto his knees. His laugh cut off into a gasp at Taekwoon’s heel in his back, right by his neck. He forced the strong man down, bent over like he was about to kiss the ground.

"Stand down," he ordered, suddenly as clear and commanding as a bell. Wonshik moved quickly, throwing off Taekwoon’s balance so he had to waste his attention catching his feet under him. Enough time for wonshik to get back and capture the other. He took his arm and twisted it behind his back, keeping him close to his chest.

"That was pretty good." Wonshik yelped and released Taekwoon when a foot stomped down on his toes, hard . Taekwoon put space between them once he was free. Wonshik simply whined over his pain. "Fuck, got me good."

"Do you yield?" He was still posed to strike, should Wonshik not. The glare suited his sharp eyes. Wonshik waved a hand, nodding.

"I yield, I yield. You can stand down." Taekwoon relaxed, though there was still energy in him as he fidgeted in place. A few hairs had come loose from his tie. "Think you broke one of my toes," wonshik laughs as he shakes out his foot. The nerves were sparkling under his skin. Taekwoon shook his head.

"That's not likely. I would have had to step harder. You're wearing boots."

"I won't ask how you know." Wonshik set his hands on his hips as he caught his breath. Taekwoon seemed barely phased. He was redoing the belt for his sword. "But I'll take it that means that's not just for show." Taekwoon paused before he nodded and resumed the task.

"Yes. I know how to duel."

"Oh, that could be a good act too! If you're-"

"No." He cut Wonshik off decidedly, scowling. Wonshik cringed inwardly. Touchy touchy.

"No act then, just guard duty."

Taekwoon nodded before lifting up his bag to rest it on his shoulder. "You want to stay here then?" Wonshik gestured to the heavy bag. Taekwoon nodded.

"I don't have anything else." Wonshik frowned, heart panging for the stranger. He remembered when he first came here, when he first met Jaehwan and the then ringmaster. He remembered begging for any sort of employment, anything to keep him off the street after he got dumped from his former job at the docks. The ringmaster had been a godsend back then. If he could show the same level of empathy he was given then, he would.

"We'll be glad to have you. We have plenty of apartments available for you to stay in, and you'll get a healthy pay on top of that." 

Wonshik went wide eyed as Taekwoon bowed deeply. It felt a little inappropriate, to be thanked with such reverence.

"Thank you."

"You don't have to do all that..."

"You don't know the depths of my gratitude." Wonshik chuckled awkwardly, forcing Taekwoon to stand back up right.

"Okay, okay, you don't need to do all that." Taekwoon frowned, but said nothing. Wonshik's cheeks felt warm.

"Let me just... show you around. Give you the tour." Taekwoon nodded. He followed Wonshik from the yard to the back door of the circus. Wonshik asked another stage hand to bring the rest of the supply delivery in before leading Taekwoon through the winding halls of practice rooms, dressing rooms, and performance ring. "Maybe we'll even catch the ringmaster so I can introduce you!"

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“You have exits off stage there and there, and the main entrance there.” The two stood in the center of the performance ring, Wonshik pointing out each set of doors. “There's an exit behind those stands that leads directly back outside, and doors out to the yard and stables backstage.” wonshik watched as Taekwoon began to stalk about the performance ring, studying the area. It wasn't unlike a wild animal scoping out their territory. “Most shows we only fill up the first three rows of seats, but there's at least one full house a month.”

“Will there be other guards?” It was a little endearing how serious he was about all of this. He treated guarding a circus like it was the royal family. 

“Depends on how many more folks like you come in. On show nights, most of the stage hands are managing the audience.” Taekwoon nodded. He walked to one of the doors backstage without a word and Wonshik was tripping to follow. 

“I'll be reporting to you then?” Wonshik chuckled awkwardly. 

“You're really professional about all of this.” 

“You've brought me in. It's only right I do…” he pauses and it catches Wonshik off guard. The rest of the sentence perches on the tip of his tongue while he tastes some kind of memory. Wonshik watches in fascination. “Everything in my power,” he finishes softly. There's a glimpse of real emotion there, some kind of sadness. 

“I appreciate that- you, I mean. For being so.. dedicated to the work.” Wonshik flushed at his fumbling. He wasn't sure what to do with himself around such a steady, frigid composure. Other than, apparently, embarrass himself. He walked directly into a prop cart, jostling the contents therein. Surprise very quickly usurped the minor pain as Taekwoon took his elbow. 

“You're alright?” 

“I walk into things all the time, don't worry about it.” Taekwoon’s fingers were long and his grip firm. His eyes skated over Wonshik before he let go. It made Wonshik's hair stand on end. 

“Try to be careful.”

“If I try, it'll only get worse. You should see me on show nights.” Wonshik laughed at himself, remembering exactly why he wasn't trusted to help the performers backstage with costumes or props. “Maybe we can have you make sure I don't break anything if we have enough people apply.” he nudges Taekwoon, too full of flustered energy to resist. Taekwoon only budges minutely. 

“If that's where you would rather have me.” Wonshik isn't sure if he'd be able to handle this ominous presence following him wherever he went, fixing his mistakes before they could even occur. It was a bit… unnerving. Maybe if he could get the other to open up a little. 

“We'll have to see how things go.” Taekwoon simply nodded.

“Across the street are the apartments where most of us stay.” They had walked through the entirety of the main building together. Wonshik had shown him where Jaehwan’s dressing room was, should he ever need the ringmaster, where deliveries were stored, where he could find just about any circus employee he could ever need. It felt like too much information to give all at once, but Taekwoon remained silent and absorbent. When he did speak, it was only toward the job at hand. 

“Me and Jaehwan are on the same floor; and if you wanted to be with us, I know there's still a few empty rooms there. We're all really close here.”

“That would be fine.” he followed wonshik up the stairs as he continued to talk. 

“Me and Jae always have our doors open, if you ever need anything at all. There's a chance you could have a flatmate, or at least a neighbor, eventually. We get a lot of people that don't stay for very long, but we make them comfortable while they're here.” They followed the hallway down to a set of doormats. “This is me, and Jaehwan’s just across. If you ever need anything, all you have to do is come in.” Wonshik opened his door for Taekwoon, smiling. “I’d knock first with Jaehwan, however. He might be a little.. eccentric for you.” wonshik couldn't imagine what it was going to be like when they eventually met. He only hoped it would end pleasantly. He wanted to get to know this odd man. Taekwoon stepped into the apartment, looking about just like he did in the performance ring. 

“You're an artist.” He was looking at the easel that sat by the window, a half finished still life of a robin sitting on the canvas. Wonshik felt a little pink in the cheeks. 

“I'm trying to improve with living subjects.” Taekwoon didn't stop staring at the half painted bird. The same mute, unreadable expression as always. “I normally do the posters and backdrops for shows.” 

“It's very well done.” Wonshik had to fight ducking his head and kicking his feet at the compliment. He hadn't expected Taekwoon to be capable of such a thing, stupid as it sounded. But Taekwoon did praise him, with no sign of malice. 

“Thank you. Do you- do you paint yourself?” Taekwoon shook his head. 

“I make children seem like masters.” A joke! Taekwoon actually told a joke! Wonshik was so surprised and delighted that he laughed harder than he should have. There was a human being under all of that. 

“I'm sure you're being modest.” Taekwoon didn't reply, finally moving on from the bird. He looked about the apartment. For once, it didn't seem like he had a goal in mind. He wasn't casing the place, merely looking at it. They were all the same simple apartment. One bedroom, one bath, a kitchen with space for a dining table. Wonshiks was… admittedly not as tidy as it could have been. He resisted picking at any messes Taekwoon’s eyes landed on.

“It's comfortable.”

“I would have cleaned, had I known I'd be having company.” 

“It's your home to do what you please with.” Taekwoon leaned down to look at a porcelain figure of a dog. 

“Jaehwan got that for me. He loves cute tiny things.” Wonshik had fussed about it when he opened the box, said Jaehwan shouldn't have. He was surprised it had survived this long perfectly intact. Wonshik's luck hadn't touched it yet. 

“You two are close.” Not a question, but Wonshik nods anyway. 

“We've been here forever, it feels like. We came in about the same time and he attached himself to me from that moment on.” Wonshik had admittedly not taken it as in stride as he made it sound. Being a young boy fresh out of tragedy without a friend to ever call his own, Jaehwan was overwhelming. He was touchy, sweet, flighty. Things Wonshik eventually grew to love. Though, flighty had now shaped into a fiery temper. The ringmaster wasn't scared of a thing these days. 

“You're a very welcoming person.” Taekwoon turned to face him. He didn't appear to notice that Wonshik was stock-still with surprise. “May we go to mine so I can set my things down?” Wonshik blinked, trying to get himself under control. He could blame his reaction on how he didn't expect the compliment from the other. He felt bashful because it caught him off guard, that's all. Wonshik nodded, accidentally bumping into the wall behind him trying to gesture for Taekwoon to leave first. Taekwoon’s stare, for a fraction of a moment, almost seemed critical. He looked at Wonshik like a fascinating bug before the expression was gone and he did as Wonshik directed. 

“Of course! Is next door alright with you?” There were apartments open on either side. Taekwoon might appreciate the marginally more peaceful of the two as his neighbor. Taekwoon agreed. He probably would have taken whatever Wonshik told him to, regardless of his own feelings. 

“Shikkie, what are you doing?” Jaehwan’s bright voice came from the hallway behind Wonshik. He let Taekwoon in and allowed him time to look around. Time to set his things down and plan their more permanent homes. Wonshik smiled as he turned to see Jaehwan in the doorway, trying to peek around him. 

“Jae! I have someone for you to meet.” Jaehwan let himself be taken by the shoulders, dragged into the barren apartment by Wonshik. Taekwoon stared at the two, unreadable. 

“This is our first official circus guard!” Jaehwans smile immediately trumped Wonshik's, like a shot of direct sunlight. Taekwoon shifted under them both. “He came in today to apply and almost made me eat the dirt.” Jaehwan easily slipped out of Wonshik's hold, flittering over to Taekwoon. 

“He did?” 

“This is Taekwoon. Taekwoon, this is the Jaehwan I keep talking about.” Taekwoon’s eyes darted between the two while Jaehwan just smiled over his shoulder. 

“You talk about me, Shikie?” 

“You are the boss here now, remember?” Jaehwan couldn't respond. His attention was quickly caught by Taekwoon bowing forward, bent right at his hips. At least Jaehwan was getting the same treatment as Wonshik. 

“Thank you for this opportunity,” Taekwoon muttered. Jaehwan’s giggle was almost shrill with delight. 

“What a gentleman! How precious!” Taekwoon stood back upright, clearly taken aback. He frowned at the exuberant praise. If jaehwan noticed, he didn't acknowledge it. He took one of Taekwoon’s hands. “It's lovely to meet you, Taekwoon. Did Shikkie explain everything to you already?” Taekwoon stared at the offending hands holding his own, but he didn't try to pull away. 

“Thoroughly, yes.”

“I probably over-explained, if anything.” Wonshik rubbed the back of his neck, sheepish. 

“If I had needed you to slow down, I would have told you so,” Taekwoon reassured in a roundabout way. The way he had put it made Jaehwan snicker. Wonshik jabbed him in the back. 

“Be appropriate.”

“Now where's the fun in that?” Jaehwan stuck his tongue out at Wonshik briefly. He turned his attention back to Taekwoon just as quickly. “We’ll get a contract written up as quick as possible for you, then. We run everything through my uncle. He's the owner of all of this.” Jaehwan gestured at the room, meaning the circus at large. 

“Thank you.”

“Where did you work before? Have you ever been in a place like this?”

“Jaehwan,” Wonshik tried to cut him off. Taekwoon had not seemed keen addressing his past, the way he kept dancing around it. It wasn't unlikely it was a sore subject, considering the past of the other two men in the room. Expectedly, Taekwoon bristled at the question.

“I was a personal guard, never for a circus,” was the curt answer. Decidedly all he would say on the matter. Jaehwan hummed, thankfully not so air headed as to not see when someone was uncomfortable. 

“Maybe you can protect Shikkie from himself then.”

“I'm right here!” Jaehwan laughed at the offended cry. Wonshik's attention was taken right off of him when he saw the smallest of smiles touch Taekwoon’s face. Almost like he was trying to fight the expression but the slightest of traces still shone through. Wonshik would have made the greatest fool of himself the world had ever seen if it meant the new hire would do it again. 

⤫-⤬-⤬-⤬

Lee Jaehwan, the twenty-five year old ringmaster of the Lumen ad Somnia circus, was tired. His arms ached after hour upon hour of drawing bowstrings taught and his hollow stomach had begun to growl, lamenting the dinner he’d skipped in favor of archery practice. It growled so loudly, in fact, that he nearly missed the sound of quiet little sobs emanating from somewhere nearby. 

He locked the stable's back gate and stepped out into the alley that ran along one side of the circus proper. It was a cold night. Cold and dreary; dark clouds hanging so low they seemed to be touching the rooftops. And it had just begun to rain. 

“Hello?” he called, slipping the latchkey into his pocket and peering through the gloom for the soft sounds source, “Is someone there?”

A shift in the shadows caught his eye. 

Jaehwan moved toward it with a growing sense of concern. “Is something the matter? Are you hurt?”

Another shift. “Who are you?”

“Jaehwan,” said Jaehwan, inching closer. Moving slow. Not wanting to startle the person he’d happened upon. “My name is Lee Jaehwan.”

“Do you work at the circus?” the person asked, suspicious. They had a lovely voice, deep and rich. To Jaehwan’s ear, it sounded the way a sip of brandy warms the pit of your stomach after the initial burn fades away. 

The person, who Jaehwan could now see was huddled on the ground with their back to the fence, was just as lovely to look at as their voice was to listen to. It was a boy, maybe a few years his junior, with luminous brown eyes and a perfect rosebud mouth. Even as the rain began to plaster the boy's shoulder-length golden hair to his skin, Jaehwan was sure he’d never seen a more beautiful person in the entirety of his life. 

“I do,” Jaehwan nodded, crouching at the boy's side and smiling his warmest smile, “I’m the owner’s nephew. The ringmaster too, as of last week. Why do you ask?”

The boy arched a brow and looked him over through narrowed eyes, shrewd, as though he didn’t believe Jaehwan's claim. 

“I’m usually much more impressive looking, I promise, but I’m sure-” Jaehwan gestured vaguely up at the sky, “This drizzle isn’t doing my image any favors.”

“I need a job,” the boy said after a few seconds of charged silence, “And a place to stay. Somewhere to hide.”

A puzzling person, Jaehwan thought, quite a puzzling person indeed. The ringmaster had always loved pretty puzzles. 

“Then, you’ll have them,” he replied, straightening up, “I’ll speak to my uncle tomorrow and we shall find a place for you in the circus. And in the meantime, come along with me. I live just across the road with some of the other performers. It’s dry and warm and there’s plenty of food to go around.”

He extended a hand to help the boy stand, but to his surprise, the boy snarled and snapped his jaw shut like he was trying to bite Jaehwan’s fingers. Every inch of his body rigid with tension. 

Jaehwan didn’t flinch at the alarming display, staying still, neither reaching closer nor pulling his hand away. “None of that, little bunny,” he chided, tone gentle, “I won’t hurt you, I promise you that, but I cannot help you if you’re going to be violent with my employees.”

They stared at each other for a few moments. 

“Will you trust me?” the ringmaster prompted, “I’d be honored if you did.”

Slow, visibly hesitant, the boy nodded and took his hand. Jaehwan carefully pulled him to his feet, sparing a moment to wipe away the tears and raindrops that mingled on the boy's cheeks.

“Why are you being so kind? You don’t even know my name.”

“Because,” Jaehwan began to walk, leading his new friend down the alley when the boy failed to let go of his hand, “I’ve been in your place before. I came here begging for a job when I was fifteen, and I wasn’t nearly so composed as you are. I’m not in the business of turning away people in need.” 

They crossed the road and Jaehwan held the door open as the boy skittered into the lobby of his apartment building. 

“I’m Hongbin,” said the boy, glancing at the ringmaster over his shoulder as they made their way to the stairs.

Jaehwan smiled. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Hongbin.”

⤫-⤬-⤬-⤬

“Taekwoon, come on!” Wonshik whined as he followed Taekwoon’s well worn path through the back halls of the building. 

“I have a job to do, as do you.” Taekwoon didn't even spare him a glance. There was something so regal about the way he kept his arms folded behind him as he walked, surveyed his territory. No sword on his hip, but there might as well have been one with the way he carried himself. 

“A job that isn't necessary because it's five o'clock on a Wednesday.” Wonshik gestured at a window as they passed. “And it's pouring outside! And it's not like there aren't people in here practicing! Please, Taek.” They had seen Jaehwan practicing his archery just minutes earlier, and you could hear the rain pounding on the roof of the building and panes in the windows. 

“Why do you want my help?” This time Taekwoon spared him a glance. He glossed over him like it was a ridiculous wish to pursue. Wonshik huffed with an over dramatic eye roll. 

“Because all you do is work. Do you know what they say about all work and no play?” 

“So it's not work you want my help with?” It was a clever little gotcha on his part. That was what Wonshik had said. There was a touch of something to Taekwoon’s face that Wonshik was starting to learn was mischief, subtle as it was. 

“I might have just said it was work because you'd be more likely to say yes, but that's not the point!” Taekwoon finally stopped walking, turning to face Wonshik. He had cut his hair in the few months he had been here, now too short to tie back. If Wonshik told him how cute it was, he probably would have ended up on the end of the sword. He pouted at the other, his best attempt at replicating the cute act Jaehwan had used against him so many times. “Take a break, just once, Taek. For me?” He even batted his lashes. Jaehwan would have been proud. Taekwoon’s face didn't betray him with any emotion. He only blinked at Wonshik. 

“Will you leave me be if I say yes?” Wonshik nodded so quick he probably strained his neck. 

“Yes! I will never bother you working ever again.” Taekwoon raised his brows in a manner that clearly said that he doubted that claim. Wonshik bounced on his toes with victory so close in sight. Finally, finally , Taekwoon sighed. 

“I will give you until dinner, then I'll- Wonshik!” He didn't need to hear the rest. He hissed out a cheer before snatching Taekwoon’s arm and dragging him back down the way they had come. Taekwoon followed, not that he had much of a choice. “Would you be careful?” He chided at Wonshik's over eager stumbling. He deserved a prize for holding out longer than Taekwoon could stand to deny him. 

“You said you weren't working.” Wonshik had forced Taekwoon into sitting down on his couch, the guard looking over at the easel, at the work in progress Wonshik had abandoned. 

“I wasn't. If I had to sit here in the quiet staring at that canvas any longer I was going to burst into flames.” Taekwoon looked at him with skepticism. 

“You don't enjoy what you do?” Wonshik lost some of his puffed up energy. Became something a little softer. 

“I do. All the quiet simply begins to feel,” he shrugged, “lonely. So…” he gestured at Taekwoon on the couch. Taekwoon nodded, like he had come to some decision in his head. He seemed a little less tense. 

“So you just wanted my presence in the room.” He didn't say it with malice. It sounded like the idea actually reassured him. Wonshik frowned at him. He crossed his arms over his chest. 

“Taekwoon, have you ever simply relaxed for a moment?” He gave Wonshik an offended look at first, before his eyes fell as he considered it. Wonshik resisted the urge to groan. If that was a question you had to actually consider… 

“Of course.” 

“Doing what then?” He plopped himself down next to the other man. “What would you do if there was no job to go to, no chores to do? What's a day all to yourself look like?” He nudged the other. He tried to make his smile encouraging. Taekwoon looked at the floor, considering it.

“I don't recall having a day such as that.”

“Pretend then. Pretend you're a normal person who would rather die than do work on a day as dreary as this.” You could still hear the rain and howling wind outside. “What's something you would only do on a day like that?” Wonshik tried instead. Taekwoon probably thought he didn't deserve a break, never allowed himself to have one. What did he never do for the pleasure of it? 

“I have nowhere I need to go.”

“Correct.” 

“Nothing that needs done.” 

“Not a single thing.” Wonshik dared to drop an arm around Taekwoon’s shoulders and give him a squeeze. He wasn't shoved off immediately. Progress. 

“I suppose,” he paused and part of Wonshik felt like he was pulling teeth trying to get anything out of him, “I would allow myself to sleep in. I haven't done so since I was a kid.” 

“That's a good start! No need to be waking up with the sun on a day like this. You can't even see it out there.”

“I might… go somewhere for a breakfast then. I was quite used to having food made for me back at my… previous employment.” He said it like it was a delicate matter, like he had escaped from a shady illegal business and not whatever outfit he had left. 

“There's this really nice Cafe a few streets from here. No stopping you from paying them a visit sometimes.” wonshik certainly wouldn't tell if the man played hooky for an hour or two. It would probably be of greater benefit if he did. He was always wound so tight. The exasperated look Taekwoon gave him was almost… fond. Wonshik squeezed him again. “What then?”

“I suppose, if the weather is so bismal, I'd come home. Maybe I would write to my sister.” He rubbed his hands together. Thoughtful, rather than nervous. 

“You have a sister?” He nodded.

“Older than me. I don't write as much as she would like.” Wonshik felt something melt in his chest. 

“I'm sure she would appreciate it, then.”

“What would you do?” Taekwoon looked at him finally. They were so close it made Wonshik giddy. He restrained himself as best he could. 

“I'd come and bother you, of course.” and there again, was that minute thing he called a smile. Wonshik could have jumped for joy. “I'd make you have lunch with me. I'd make you sit down and sketch with me so I can show you you're not as bad as you say. I'd let you beat me in every game we know.” He could see it clearly, a whole afternoon annoying the shit out of the icy Taekwoon. Trying to make him smile more.

“Why do you not believe me?” It wasn't a refusal to all these hypothetical plans, it wasn't wincing discomfort. He wasn't as shut off to people as he played. Wonshik took a moment to get over his surprise before he shot up. It startled Taekwoon. He watched as wonshik gathered paper and charcoal. He slapped them down before Taekwoon. 

“Prove it!”

“I'm sorry?”

“Draw something, anything!” Wonshik shamefully realized he might have been coming on too strong. He sat down on the opposite side of the table with his own paper and stick. “Look, I'll join you.” Taekwoon continued to frown at him. “Let's do a… chicken.” Wonshik blurted the first animal that came to mind. “Rooster, hen, whatever you want.” 

“Wonshik-”

“Please, Taekwoon,” Wonshik whined again. He'd come too far now to back down. “For me. Just one.” Taekwoon stared at him, clearly trying to out last him. If there was one thing Wonshik was, it was a stupid fool. 

Despite all odds, Taekwoon did pick up his charcoal. Wonshik failed to not snap his in half in his excitement.

“It's… interesting.” Wonshik tilted his head at the four legged, winged creature. 

“It's horrific,” Taekwoon corrected. Wonshik did his best to not laugh, he truly did. It was out of his control however. He snorted and set the paper down. The artistic choices were even more jarring beside Wonshik much more average chicken. Merely two legs on that one. 

“Alright, it's pretty bad.” He beamed up at Taekwoon. “I'm happy you tried anyway.” Taekwoon blinked at him. There was an urge somewhere in Wonshik to tuck some of that inky black hair behind his ear. “Thank you.”

“You make it difficult to tell you no.” Wonshik laughed, nodding. 

“I was trained by the best.” Jaehwan could beg and plead with the best of them. And when that didn't work, he started smacking. “Stubborn as a mule and twice as dumb, his uncle would say.” 

“You're not stupid.” He said it like it was a fact, like one says the sky is blue. Wonshik ducked his head at the warmth to his cheeks. 

“You flatter me.”

“I'm only saying what is true.” The answer was a touch too fast, like he didn't want Wonshik forming the wrong impression of the innocuous comment. He pointedly dropped his eyes down to Wonshik’s sketch. Wonshik's smile faltered at the odd  reaction, but he said nothing. Taekwoon would still be a mystery, even if Wonshik was trying to figure him out. 

⤫-⤬-⤬-⤬

The moment his new friend was safely ensconced in the ringmaster's apartment -having a bath to rid himself of lingering rain- Jaehwan slipped out into the hall. Quick steps bringing him to the door opposite his own. 

“Shikkie!” he knocked, giddy, almost frantic, “Shikkie, open up!”

The door flew open to reveal his best friend, his closest confidant, handsome as always despite the concern furrowing his brow. “What!? What’s wrong?!”

“Nothing!” Jaehwan replied, pressing a fingertip to Wonshiks lips to quell any further questions, “Nothing’s wrong, I only came to tell you not to bother me for the rest of the night.”

Wonshik ignored the fingertip, tilting his head. “Why?”

“Because- I’ve just rescued a sad little bunny and I don’t want you to frighten him. Too many strangers, you know. I’ll introduce him tomorrow, I swear.”

“A bunny? As in a rabbit?”

“Of course not,” Jaehwan lightly slapped his friend's shoulder, “Don’t be ridiculous! He’s as lovely as a flower, you’ll see tomorrow, and it seems that he’s been through quite an ordeal.”

His friend blinked at him, perplexed, but Jaehwan didn’t have time to waste on idle chitchat. 

“Don’t come visit tonight, please? You’ll see him tomorrow.”

“Fine,” Wonshik sighed, watching the ringmaster hurry back to his own door, “Just- try not to get yourself into trouble.”

Jaehwan grinned over his shoulder, “I never make a promise I cannot keep.”

⤫-⤬-⤬-⤬

“So, Hongbin, tell me about yourself,” Jaehwan said, his voice a pleasant hum, a steaming mug of tea cupped between his hands, “How did you find your way to my enchanting establishment?”

Hongbin sat at the small kitchen table across from him, fresh and clean and flushed from the hot bath water, practically inhaling the bowl of noodles Jaehwan had prepared for him. 

He was wearing Jaehwan’s clothes, the spare set of practice clothes that Jaehwan always kept clean in case of emergencies; dark navy cotton trousers that were held up by a drawstring and a matching shirt with long sleeves. They were the most comfortable garments that Jaehwan had been able to find on such short notice. He’d wanted his new friend to be comfortable. It seemed of paramount importance that Hongbin be comfortable. 

“I’m from Requiem,” Hongbin replied, in between mouthfuls, “I was born there. It’s the only place I’ve ever known.”

Requiem, Jaehwan thought, nodding. He’d visited Requiem several times. It was only prudent to investigate one's competitors, even if they were located several cities away. He’d never enjoyed the place. Unlike Lumen ad Somnia, the Requiem Carnival was meant for those who found cruelty entertaining. There was nothing artful about the performances that were put on for the vulgar shrieking masses within it.

“So, you’re a runaway?”

Hongbin nodded, shifty embarrassment flitting over his angelic face. “I couldn’t be there anymore. I couldn’t take another day of watching those monsters hurt my horses- but people talk. I heard some of them talk about Lumen ad Somnia. Circuses are all I know; it was the only place I could think of to go.”

Well, that would certainly explain the instinct to bite. Spending prolonged periods of time at Requiem could make even the sanest man feral, let alone being raised within its ranks. 

Jaehwan nodded in return. “You like horses?”

“Yes, very much.”

“I’ll show you the stables tomorrow then. We have quite a few horses that I’m sure would be overjoyed to meet you.”

For the first time, Hongbin's eyes brightened and his mouth curved up in a smile. Exposing his bright white teeth and dimpling his cheeks. The sight of it made Jaehwan’s heart swell. He heard himself coo, felt himself reach across the table to fondly tap the underside of Hongbin's chin, blind to everything but that smile. 

Hongbin allowed the touch, not protesting, but Jaehwan forced himself to pull back. Not wanting to test that allowance and not wanting to invade his new friends personal space too much. 

“And you? Did you grow up in the circus too?”

“Ah,” Jaehwan looked away, focusing on the twinkling lights he could see through the kitchen window, “No, I didn’t.”

“But I thought you said your uncle was the owner…”

His new friend's expression grew wary at that; at the insinuation that Jaehwan had lied. Jaehwan hastened to correct him, “He is, but he isn’t my uncle by blood.”

“What do you mean?”

“I was a runaway too,” Jaehwan explained, choosing his words with care, “But not from a circus. I was raised in a brothel. Taken in and apprenticed to a courtesan when I was very young. Like you, I couldn’t stand to stay there anymore, couldn’t witness the hateful things being done to my friends -to me- in that place. I ran away from my madame when I was fifteen and found a job here as a stable hand. The owner, now my uncle, took a great liking to me and adopted me into his family.”

Not the whole story; it wouldn’t do to frighten his new friend away with all the gory details, not so soon anyway. But it was enough of the truth to put Hongbin at ease. Jaehwan hoped so. 

“Oh,” Hongbin whispered, brown eyes very wide, a forkful of noodles hanging forgotten between the bowl and his mouth, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked.”

“Yes, you should have,” Jaehwan replied, “Information is the most valuable currency in this world. And your trust isn’t something that should be granted lightly.”

Hongbin blinked owlishly at him before reaching out to pat the back of Jaehwan’s hand. The gesture brought a hint of warmth to Jaehwan’s cheeks. 

“How old are you?” the ringmaster asked, clearing his throat, “And what’s your family name? I’ll need to tell my uncle so we can draw up an employment contract for you.”

“Twenty-four-”

“Only a year younger than me! You’re the same age as my best friend! I’ll introduce him to you tomorrow.”

“-And I don’t have a family name. Nobody ever thought to give me one. They just called me Hongbin.”

“That’s easily remedied,” Jaehwan took a delicate sip of his tea, “I’ll give you mine if you’d like. Lee.”

Hongbin smiled again and Jaehwan couldn’t keep from beaming. “Lee Hongbin… it sounds nice.”

“It does,” the ringmaster agreed, “it suits you. We’ll be a set. A pair of runaway Lee’s.”

⤫-⤬-⤬-⤬

As he’d promised, Jaehwan brought Hongbin to meet his uncle first thing the next morning. 

Their evening had been spent in companionable calm. Jaehwan had cleaned the dishes and given Hongbin a book of mythology to read, only leaving to take a quick bath once he was satisfied that Hongbin was settled on his sofa. 

The sleeping arrangements, however, were a bit more complicated than he’d anticipated. 

The ringmaster had offered his new friend his bed, thinking he himself would sleep on the sofa, but Hongbin had refused. Hongbin had said he wasn’t used to sleeping on beds or sofas or anything at all. He insisted that he was accustomed to sleeping on the ground, and everything else felt too squishy. 

So, wishing to be an obliging host, Jaehwan had helped Hongbin build a nest of blankets on the living room floor and bid him goodnight. And, when he woke for a brief moment long before sunrise, it was with only mild surprise that he found Hongbin curled up asleep on the foot of his bed.

Hongbin had returned to his nest when Jaehwan woke again around seven, but the ringmaster wasn’t fooled. Nor did the ringmaster miss the flash of silver that was knotted carefully in the ribbon Hongbin had used to tie back his hair, wearing it in a low ponytail as was the current fashion for men. While he cooked them breakfast, Jaehwan had snuck enough glances to surmise that the silver thing was a ring. A ring that had been lying on Jaehwan’s vanity and was no longer in its tray when he’d checked. For some reason, Jaehwan found that he didn’t mind. 

“Are you pleased, bunny?” Jaehwan asked, his arm looped snugly through Hongbin’s as they walked across the yard to the stables, Hongbin's freshly signed employment documents in his free hand. Lee Hongbin, contracted as acrobat in training, equestrian vaulter in training, room and board, weekly salary of…

He glanced at the golden beauty beside him. Hongbin was wearing his clothes again. Not practice clothes, but a pair of slim cut trousers and a gray waistcoat, the collar and cuffs of his white shirt ironed crisp. They were of a height, similarly built, and his things fit Hongbin almost perfectly. 

“Very.” 

Hongbin was leading Jaehwan now, practically dragging him the last few yards into the stables.

Jaehwan tapped him lightly under the chin. “Good.”

If Hongbin heard his reply, he gave no sign of it. The horses in their stalls had captivated the entirety of his attention. 

“This is Sugar,” Jaehwan gestured to a mare, her coat the color of freshly fallen snow, “She’s my special favorite girl.”

Approaching slow, smiling so wide that it nearly touched his ears, Hongbin rested his palm flat on the bridge of Sugar’s nose. Looking into her eyes. Letting her grow accustomed to his smell and the feeling of his hand before beginning to pet. Running gentle fingers through her neatly brushed mane. 

Leaving his friend's side for a beat, Jaehwan took a cube of sugar from the tin on a shelf mounted over the hooks that held the reins and  bridles. 

He offered it to Hongbin, and to his surprise, his new friend took a little bite. Nibbling at the sugar before letting the horse eat the remainder from his open hand. 

Hongbin must have felt Jaehwan staring and turned to shoot the ringmaster a defensive glare. “What?”

For the first time in recent memory, Jaehwan found that he was speechless. He was almost never speechless. 

“Sugar cubes are expensive. I can’t let her have all the good treats.”

“If you want some sugar, all you need to do is ask,” Jaehwan found his voice and he gifted his friend a cheeky wink, “I’d be more than happy to oblige.”

Hongbin smacked him on the shoulder, and he turned back to the horse, but not quickly enough to disguise the flush creeping up his face.

“And-” the ringmaster added, speaking softly so as not to be overheard by the people milling around them, idly prodding the ring hidden in his new friend’s hair, “The next time a shiny trinket of mine catches your fancy, there's no need to steal it.”

Very much blushing now, Hongbin shot Jaehwan a sidelong look. Still defensive but ashamed as well. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, reaching up to untie the ribbon, “I’ll give it back, I shouldn’t have touched-”

Jaehwan interrupted the apology, catching Hongbin's hand and weaving their fingers together at their sides. “No need for all that. You can keep it. But there’s no need for you to steal anymore. I’ll give you anything your heart desires. As I said, all you need to do is ask.”

“Hey!” called a voice from somewhere close by, cutting through the dull hum of activity that always buzzed in the background of the circus yard. 

Jaehwan easily recognized it as belonging to Wonshik -that timbre was unmistakable to his ear- but the sudden sound startled Hongbin. A heartbeat later, he was pressed up against Jaehwans back, ducked down so a loose strand of his hair tickled Jaehwans ear. Hiding behind someone who was the same height was a tricky thing. 

“No need to be frightened,” Jaehwan murmured, turning his head slightly to look back at his new friend as Wonshik approached, “You’re safe with me, bunny.”

The abrupt movement must have caught Wonshik off guard because his expression displayed obvious concern. 

“This,” Jaehwan continued, a bit louder, wanting to put both of them at ease, “Is Kim Wonshik. He’s- well, I suppose you can think of him as my second in command. He’s a helping hand to all who need him and he calls the shots in my absence. Shikkie, this is the newest addition to our little family. His name is Lee Hongbin.”

“Hello Hongbin, it’s nice to meet you,” Wonshik said, bending a little to try and catch Hongbin's eye and smiling his warmest smile. 

As gently as he could, the ringmaster shifted around so he and Hongbin were standing side by side. Letting a supportive hand rest on Hongbin’s back. He felt his new friend’s hand knot in the fabric of his shirt and it was exceedingly difficult to stop himself grinning. 

“Wonshik can be trusted, bunny,” he hummed, hand drifting up to lightly scratch at the nape of Hongbin’s neck, “He’s even more gentle than I am. And, besides, part of his job here is to keep us all safe. I trust him with my life, you have nothing to fear where Wonshik is concerned.”

It took a moment, but the tension began to bleed from Hongbin's body and he relaxed, standing up straight. He even murmured a quiet, “Hello.”

Wonshik smiled again, more at ease now that he wasn't being glared at with suspicion and distrust. “What are you going to be doing here at Lumen ad Somnia?”

“I’m training to be an acrobat,” Hongbin replied, “And vaulting, but I don’t need much training for that.”

“Then it’s good that Hwannie brought you here; you’ll be working closely with the horses! It sounds like you have experience with vaulting?”

Hongbin nodded. “I came here from Requiem. I have a decent amount of experience.”

Jaehwan watched his best friend's expression smooth over, no doubt understanding the same subtext of that comment that Jaehwan had understood last night. Hongbin came from Requiem and Requiem broke people. It put Hongbin’s skittish behavior in context. 

“I see,” Wonshik folded his hands behind his back, the kind smile curving up the corners of his mouth once again, “Well, I worked as a stable hand along with Hwannie when I started, if he hasn’t told you already. I’m no good at either acrobatics or vaulting, but if you ever need anything -any help- don't hesitate to come to me.”

“You’ll be seeing a lot of him if you stick with me,” Jaehwan added, winking at his best friend, “Shikkie here is my closest confidant.”

“Well-” Hongbin's eyes were straying back to the horses, “It was nice to meet you.”

Jaehwan made a shooing motion at his best friend, wanting his lovely bunny’s undivided attention, and Wonshik backed off. “It was nice to meet you too.”

“See,” the ringmaster said, once Wonshik had disappeared, safely back inside the main building and out of earshot, “No need to be scared. Don’t let the muscles fool you; he’s softer than a teddy bear.”

Hongbin had started petting Sugar again, stroking down the side of her long neck. “Softer than you?”

The ringmaster laughed, he couldn’t help it, taking another sugar cube from the tin and holding it up to Hongbin’s mouth. “Far softer. When someone or something threatens the people I care for, I’m afraid that my temper grows teeth. But that’s not something you need to worry about, bunny; you’ll only ever witness such displays from behind.”

“Behind?”

“Behind me,” Jaehwan clarified, watching his new friend nibble at the sweet, eating from the palm of his hand like a delightful songbird, “Safely behind me. I told you that I'd keep you safe. The only time you’ll see my anger is when it's in defense of you. I protect my friends.”

“Oh,” Hongbin sighed, licking a stray crumb of sugar from the corner of his lips, a hint of that adorable blush coloring his cheeks again, “Good.”

⤫-⤬-⤬-⤬

Taekwoon had met Hongbin while he was taking inventory. What needed to be restocked, what they had more than enough of, what needed to be pulled out at performers and stage hands requests. He had only seen one or two people gathered in the building, practicing their talents. He didn't know when Jaehwan came in with the newest addition. 

“Pst! Precious!” he jerked his head to look over his shoulder. He couldn’t help a scowl at the nickname Jaehwan had taken to calling him. The ringmaster was standing in the doorway, smiling a little tense. 

“Yes sir.” Taekwoon turned to face his superior, rigid and as formal as he was in his past life. While he wasn't a friend to Jaehwan, he still gave him the respect of his employer. Even if it was Wonshik that may have hired him. Jaehwan pouted his lips. 

“I told you to just call me Jaehwan.” Taekwoon licked his lips. 

“Of course. I apologize, Jaehwan.” The name was tacked on like dead weight, clearly meant to be another sir . 

Jaehwan looked to his side and spoke too quietly for Taekwoon to hear yards away. He was clearly holding someone's sleeve or hand, trying to encourage them forward. 

“There you are. See? Nothing to fear.” Finally, a man came to stand next to him. His expression had Taekwoon’s hackles immediately raised. His glare was only lessened in its menace by the way he was standing behind Jaehwan, like he was trying to hide. There was something doll-like to him, or perhaps statuesque. Taekwoon had seen artfully carved marble that resembled him before. Jaehwan didn't break his hold on him, even as he spoke. 

“This is Taekwoon. He's new, just like you.” He looked at Taekwoon. 

“The very first official guard here at the circus. I’m sure-” Jaehwan paused to grace the elder with a look that threatened grievous bodily harm, “-He will do everything in his power to keep us all nice and safe.” 

Then, returning his attention to their most recent acquisition and smiling bright enough to put the sun to shame, “Taekwoon; this is Lee Hongbin. He will be training as an acrobat, as well as amazing the crowds with his skill as an equestrian vaulter. Isn’t that just delightful?”

Taekwoon sniffed. “Quite.”

Hongbin had come out from behind the ringmaster by then, making a valiant effort to appear brave in the face of the unknown, but his fingers were still tightly curled around Jaehwan’s wrist. 

“It's nice to meet you, Taekwoon.”

There was a thought that came to Taekwoon. Jaehwan was clearly doting on the other, clearly obsessed if the way he spoke to him and touched him and glared at Taekwoon meant anything at all. He was fawning after him. Taekwoon remembered hearing the conversations through the doors, Wonshik mentioning a new performer, a distinct lack of Jaehwan about. He used to spend seemingly all his time fawning after Wonshik. Taekwoon would always be gracious and thankful towards the ringmaster, as a superior, but it didn't mean he had to like the man as a friend. He didn't like how he stuck close to Wonshik, baby him and make him act like a fool in his embarrassment. He didn't like all the teasing he did that Wonshik simply took in stride. Simply the two standing beside each other was enough to make Taekwoon clench his jaw.

But here he was, treating a stranger in almost the same way. Here he was giving all that affection to someone Taekwoon couldn't concern himself less with.  Not Wonshik. Here was someone that seemingly swallowed up all of Jaehwan's affection. Maybe all he needed was a distraction. 

Takewoon bowed his head. “And to meet you, Hongbin.” It was so simple now that he considered it. Jaehwan just needed a distraction, someone he didn't have to share. “Your safety is my first concern, just as everyone else's.” He almost smiled to himself. He would take care of Hongbin, especially if he kept the ringmaster's attention so well. “Don't worry about a thing.” 

Both an appropriate and satisfactory response, Jaehwan thought, gifting the guard a simpering smile. “Thank you, precious. Bunny and I appreciate your dedication to the cause.”

He was very aware of Hongbin’s fingertips pressing against the thin skin of his inner wrist. The jump in his pulse that the contact inspired within him; a jump that Hongbin surely felt as well. 

“Now, we’re off to the shops! Bunny needs some clothes of his own so he doesn’t have to continue borrowing mine. You’re welcome to accompany us, precious, if you’re so inclined.”

“I’m afraid I’m quite busy at the moment. Enjoy your outing,” replied Taekwoon, and Jaehwan nodded. Giving the guard’s boney cheek a fond little pat. 

“Then perhaps we’ll see you for dinner.”

With that, Jaehwan shifted Hongbin’s grip from his wrist to his elbow, leading the younger back the way they had come. Blissfully unaware of the hate-filled look burning a hole in the back of his head. 

It was a herculean display of self restraint that Taekwoon didn't smack away the ringmaster's hand the moment it touched him. Part of him hoped something tragic would befall them on their outing, but he reasoned that would be something that would devastate Wonshik. He sighed as he looked back down at the list. He just had to bear it. His only recompense was the time he could have with Wonshik now. Daunting to consider what he would do with it. 

It should not have come as a surprise to Taekwoon that he'd attached himself so closely to Wonshik. It should not be a surprise that he was so fond of Wonshik and how he treated him. What was a surprise was the kindness, the consideration, he showed Taekwoon. Taekwoon wasn't blind to who he was, how cold he seemed. He knew he was a difficult person to become acquainted with. It was a skill he never had to practice before. What mattered most all his life was that the life he held in his hands was safe. The feelings and concerns of those that weren't his charge meant nothing. He was merely a sword, a weapon to be used. An excellent sword he had made himself. No one could come close to him or his charge without being cut. All save for the one night he left his charge. He was a well trained blade, until his most grievous fault. 

Wonshik made him feel like something beyond that, however. Taekwoon could see how he tested his patience, and yet he continued to persist. He looked after Taekwoon in a way that seemed illogical to him. Taekwoon, please take a break. Taekwoon, have you eaten yet? Is everything comfortable in the apartment, Taekwoon? It could easily just be neighborly concern, but it made a warmth spread in the guard’s chest. It made him quickly foster a fondness for the artist. It was attention Taekwoon wasn't familiar with, the concern for his well being. The well being of the blade was no concern unless it began to fail to cut. But Wonshik took the blade to the stone, polished the metal and sharpened the edge. Even when there was no battle to be won. Taekwoon had never thought he might long to be Wonshik's blade, be anyone's blade ever again.

Yet there he was, wasting time he should spend on his duties planning how he would ask Wonshik for some of his time. 

⤫-⤬-⤬-⤬

“You seem to be settling in well,” Jaehwan  remarked a handful of days later, watching Hongbin across his small kitchen table. 

Everything had gone as seamlessly as it could have so far. Hongbin was easily beginning to integrate himself into daily life at Lumen ad Somnia. Being used to life at Requiem didn't do him much good here. The two establishments were as different as night and day. But even so, he was doing well.

Hongbin was growing accustomed to being with Wonshik, no longer feeling the need to hide whenever he approached. And, much to Jaehwan’s surprise, Hongbin was very comfortable around Taekwoon. Perhaps it wasn't so surprising after all; the grumpy little kitten and the feisty bunny getting along. Lack of conflict was always something that Jaehwan appreciated. He was happiest when all of his friends were at peace with one another.

And, most importantly, to Jaehwan, his and Hongbin’s companionship was blossoming. 

Hongbin still insisted on sleeping in his living room blanket nest, but he was always snug on the foot of Jaehwan’s bed when the ringmaster woke during the night. 

He had offered Hongbin the spare apartment next door, thinking that his new friend might enjoy some space after a life of communal living, but Hongbin had grown so panicked at the suggestion that Jaehwan backed off immediately. More than pleased to keep him close if that's what his new friend preferred. 

The ringmaster had taken him shopping for everything he would need. Practice clothes, a few nicer outfits, chalk for his hands, wraps to keep his wrists and joints strong. And Hongbin had used a bit of his new salary to buy the ringmaster a present. A silver brushed pendant; an oval medallion, roughly the size of Jaehwan’s thumb nail, that depicted Apollo ringed in rays of sunlight. 

It hung on a thin leather cord and Hongbin had done his best to explain to a baffled Jaehwan that it was a thank you gift. Referring to the compilation of Greek mythology that the ringmaster had given him to read the first night he arrived.

It was a beautiful little trinket, and an even more beautiful gesture. Jaehwan hadn't taken it off since Hongbin had hung it around his neck. 

“I like it here,” Hongbin replied, once he swallowed the piece of French bread that he dipped in his tomato soup, “Honestly, I've never felt so welcome anywhere in my entire life.”

“I’m pleased to hear it,” Jaehwan hummed, patting the back of his friend’s hand. Such a small, delicate hand. “Watching you find your place -a place where you feel a sense of belonging- is an honor.”

“Why?” Hongbin asked, eating another bite of bread. Jaehwan heard the crunch of crust cracking between those straight white teeth, and an unconscious shiver pricked up the length of his spine. 

“Because it's a beautiful thing. Like watching a wildflower bloom.”

Hongbin blushed, and Jaehwan smiled.

They finished their supper together, talking of nothing important, and Hongbin insisted on doing the washing up. 

“Now, bunny,” Jaehwan said, once everything was done, “I planned to go out with Shikkie this evening for a bit of mischief making. You are more than welcome to join us if you'd like.”

Hongbin looked up from the sink, visibly alarmed, and Jaehwan stopped talking. 

Shut his mouth. 

Hesitated. 

“You're also welcome to stay here; I offered to remind you that you're always included…” 

“Where is it that you're going?”

The tone was sharp, and it took Jaehwan aback. “Just to a pub or three, nothing extravagant,” he replied, bracing a hand on the countertop rather close to Hongbin’s hip, “There’s no need to look so scandalized.”

“Will there be women there?”

“I'm sure there will; women are everywhere,” Jaehwan cocked his head to one side, “Why do you ask? Are you in the mood to sample the company of a woman tonight? I know where all the best ones are kept…” 

“No,” Hongbin spluttered, “Of course not!”

“Of course not?” Jaehwan repeated, his amusement unable to be hidden, “Why of course not? Don’t you have a taste for women?”

“Do you?” asked Hongbin, accusatory. Blushing again. He grew so defensive so easily, even when it came to such a nonsensical topic as sexuality. 

“Sure, I do. I have a taste for women, men, and everything in between,” the ringmaster took a half step closer to his new friend, deeply enjoying the flustered look on Hongbin’s lovely face, “Does that make you uncomfortable, bunny?”

Instead of voicing a response to that question, Hongbin turned and walked out of the kitchen. Moving toward the sofa with steps that fairly screamed petulance. He practically threw himself down upon the cushions and snatched up his half finished book. “I’ll stay here. Enjoy your evening of mischief making.”

Jaehwan sighed, so utterly fond of this person that he knew he must seem ridiculous. 

“Very well,” he hummed, pausing on his way to the door to stroke Hongbin’s golden hair, “Don’t wait up for me too late.”

⤫-⤬-⤬-⤬

Several hours later, dizzy, giggles overflowing from between his parted lips, Jaehwan nearly fell across the threshold of his apartment. Whether the unsteadiness of his steps was brought on by the wine filling his head or the friendly shove Wonshik had given him, the ringmaster wasn’t sure. Truth be told, he didn’t care what the culprit was. All he cared about was that he managed to catch himself on the sideboard. 

The apartment was mostly dark. Only a single flickering lamp lit the living room. Its amber glow made Hongbin’s hair sparkle. His friend was still awake. 

“Bunny?” Jaehwan called, leaning back against the door so it swung shut, steadied somewhat by its firmness, “I told you not to wait up.” 

“I couldn’t sleep,” Hongbin replied. Quiet. Lacking any and all emotion. “You’re drunk.”

The ringmaster grinned. “I’m afraid so.”

He stood and crossed the room in several silent steps. Took Jaehwan by the hands and led him deeper into the apartment. Away from the kitchen. Along the short hall to the bedroom. 

With almost businesslike efficiency, Hongbin began to undress him. Freeing the knot that secured Jaehwan's tie. Slipping his waistcoat buttons from their loops. Unbuckling his belt and loosing the clasps of his suspenders. To the ringmaster, the movements were nothing more than a blur. A hand on his shoulder, a finger brushing his abdomen, a palm pressed to his neck.

“Did you find a woman?” asked Hongbin, pushing Jaehwan down to sit on the edge of the bed and disappearing into the bathroom. He reemerged a moment later with a glass of water and held it to Jaehwan’s slack mouth, urging him to drink.

Dazed and bewildered as he was, Jaehwan could do nothing but comply. “No.”

“A man then?”

“No.”

“Someone in between?”

“No.”

Hongbin placed the glass on the nightstand and stared at Jaehwan for a moment. Simply stood there and stared at Jaehwan in the shuddering dark with such intensity that it stole the breath from the ringmaster's lungs. 

And then he was moving again. Around to the other side of the bed, on top of it, settling against the pillows and tugging Jaehwan so they were lying next to each other. Wrapping an arm about Jaehwan’s shoulders, petting Jaehwan’s short crop of black curls, pressing swift gentle kisses to Jaehwan’s temple. 

Jaehwan could hear the steady thrum of Hongbin’s heartbeat like this, with his head resting on Hongbin’s chest. And, some faint flicker of consciousness that wasn’t heavy with liquor noticed that the stolen silver ring now circled the base of Hongbin's middle finger. 

“Go to sleep,” whispered into his ear, “Go to sleep.”

The ringmaster fell asleep without a word of protest, shrouded in the warmth of Hongbin’s arms. 

When he woke in the morning, head aching and mouth dry, Jaehwan’s memories of the previous night were hazy and confused. And Hongbin was still asleep on his blanket nest in the living room.

⤫-⤬-⤬-⤬

Chapter Text

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Cute art by @Monsterboyf

⤫-⤬-⤬-⤬

Jaehwan stood with his arms crossed, back to the outer stable wall, watching Hongbin practice. 

He watched Hongbin urge Sugar into a steady canter.

He watched Hongbin raise himself up to standing, his flat ballet-adjacent shoes flush against the quilted pad secured across Sugar's back. 

He watched Hongbin bend at the waist, taking hold of the handles on the vaulting belt Sugar wore in place of a saddle, and kick up into a handstand. 

Hongbin held the pose as the horse continued to move around the yard's perimeter, and just when Jaehwan was sure his friend's strength would give out, Hongbin released one handle; holding the entire weight of his body with a single arm. 

The smattering of people in the yard all began to applaud, shouting praise and encouragement. Jaehwan applauded as well. 

Beaming, flushed with exertion, Hongbin reversed the move set. Holding on with both hands, folding so his feet returned to Sugar’s back, standing up, then lowering himself so he was sitting side-saddle. 

When Sugar rounded the yard again and approached the stables, Jaehwan clicked his tongue, signaling for her to stop. She slowed to a trot and then a walk, lowering her head to bump her nose against the ringmaster's cheek. 

“You did so well, my special girl,” he chirped, nuzzling her right back, “And you, bunny!”

Hongbin slid off the horse and dropped to the ground, wobbling a little between Jaehwan’s arms. The ringmaster had only reached out to steady him but gave in to his overwhelming need for contact and caught Hongbin up in a hug.

“You, bunny, are absolutely sensational,” Jaehwan sighed, exceedingly proud of his newest acquisition. 

It was Hongbin's first official day of practice and his new friend had been nervous all morning. Waking up before dawn and already doing stretches in the living room when Jaehwan got up. He’d barely eaten the porridge Jaehwan had made for breakfast, which was a glaring divergence from Hongbin's usual inhalation of any food that was placed in front of him. On top of that, he’d been very quiet right up until Jaehwan led him into the stable yard. 

But then, as soon as the horses came into view, all of Hongbin's tension and nervous energy had melted away. Leaving nothing but calm confidence in its wake. 

He was a remarkable person, Jaehwan thought, twirling his fingers through Hongbin's golden ponytail. Wondering, as he did so, what miracle of fate had urged his and Hongbin's paths to cross. 

“Thanks,” Hongbin replied, breathless, even a bit giddy, “I’ve missed this. I was only out of the saddle for a few weeks but I was worried I'd forgotten everything.”

“Not a chance. That was an expert display if I've ever seen one.”

“I’m just glad I didn't fall and snap my neck.”

“You know, you’re quite strong,” Jaehwan prodded his friend's bicep, “It’s hard to tell simply by looking at you.”

“Well,” Hongbin snickered, uncharacteristically cheeky, “You haven't seen me without a shirt.”

Jaehwan grinned. “How bold you are this morning, bunny!” he laughed, “What if I say that I don't believe you? Will you prove it to me?” 

To the ringmaster’s complete surprise, Hongbin reached for the hem of his practice tunic and began to lift it. 

Jaehwan grabbed his wrists before he could. Suddenly feeling more flustered than he’d been in a very long while. “Don’t be so scandalous, bunny!” he gasped, pressing close to whisper in Hongbin’s ear and still holding on tight, “Save that sort of display for when we’re alone. I don’t want to share the sight of you with anyone who happens to be walking by. You’re far too lovely for them.”

Hongbin blushed at that, adorable heat rising in the apples of his dimpled cheeks, but his hand did stray to Jaehwan’s waist for a few seconds, which the ringmaster decided was a step in the right direction. 

He was growing quite fond of Hongbin; Jaehwan would freely admit it if questioned on the matter. How could he not be fond of such a handsome, mysterious person? The circumstances of their meeting only made their bond feel stronger. If the universe was so keen on the two of them crossing paths, who was Jaehwan to disagree?

“Would you like to do that, bunny?” Jaehwan asked, coy, pressing even closer so they were chest to chest, “Would you like me to see you that way?”

It must have been the vaulting -the demonstration of his talent- that stole Hongbin’s usual air of shy indifference away and replaced it with the strong surety he was displaying. Because again, to Jaehwan’s complete surprise, Hongbin reached around to rest a hand on the small of his back. Leaning into Jaehwan, cheek to cheek, and whispering, “Perhaps I do.”

The ringmaster giggled, delighted, but he shimmied free of the embrace. “So charming! You know just what to do to make my poor weak heart flutter.”

Hongbin watched Jaehwan retrieve the tin of treats and feed a cube to Sugar, stroking her mane for a moment. The vaulter looked so incredibly pleased with himself. 

“Now,” the ringmaster clapped, “Get practicing, my sweet bunny. I’ll come and fetch you when it's time for lunch.”

“Yes, boss,” Hongbin grinned, “Whatever you say.”

⤫-⤬-⤬-⤬

Taekwoon felt foolish acting like this. 

He stood in the doorway to the training room, watching the sole person in it work. The room was used by acrobats, strongmen, nearly every member of the circus. Their work required fine physical condition. While Wonshik wasn't a performer, he seemed to hold himself to a similar standard. He was working with weights, barbell on his shoulders while he squatted up and down. His form was immaculate, Taekwoon could see that even from so far away. He could see the muscles of his back and legs work, a carefully sculpted masterpiece. He had failed to notice the guard yet, eyes fixed forward on the mirror. He was making sure his form remained proper. Words had dried and reduced to dust on Taekwoon's tongue. 

He must have been at practice for some time. Sweat rolled down his brow and his shirt clung to him where it had been soaked through. Pink settled deep in his cheeks and his lips were parted so he could breathe. And count, if their subtle movements were any indication. Fifteen pound weights were on either end of the barbell. Not exactly concerning, but nothing to scoff at either. It all explained the beautifully crafted physique he had. Strong enough that Taekwoon felt it when Wonshik side-hugged him. His mess of hair that was usually pushed back out of his face hung over his eyes and Taekwoon wanted to walk over simply to lift the bangs from his eyes. Maybe even the hair on his nape, which seemed to be hiding a tattoo. 

“Taekwoon!” Wonshik was startled when he finally saw a glimpse of the guard in the mirror. It was comical the way he was trying to hide himself in the door frame. Wonshik laughed as he came up from his squat. “Good lord, you scared me!” he turned to face Taekwoon, barbell still across his shoulders and hands clutching it. It made his arms all the more noticeable. Even with the complaint, he beamed at Taekwoon. No harm done. 

“I didn't mean to startle you.” Taekwoon came out from the doorway. He had obviously been caught. There was no way he would be able to pass off not being there.

“Do you,” he dropped the barbell down with a resounding thump on the padded floor, “need something?” Wonshik shook out his arms, the soreness there. He waited for a response while Taekwoon simply stared at him. He had seen very few tattoos. None had the artistry of what Taekwoon could glance from his spot several feet away. His wrist, his elbow, his nape, his collarbone. He forgot what he had come here for. “Everything okay?” Wonshik tried again, smile now becoming a little concerned. Taekwoon deliberately blinked, trying to fix his focus. 

“Yes.” There was a pause that bordered on painful. He folded his arms across his chest. His smile turned playful. What had Taekwoon come here for? 

“Did you come to check up on me?” he was teasing. Somehow, it gave Taekwoon a feeling not unlike he had been caught doing something bad. A child with their fingers in the cookie jar. “Worried I might break something?”

“Should I be concerned about that?” Did he mean himself or the equipment? Why was he still smiling like that? Taekwoon frowned at the heat rushing up to his face. 

“You're always telling me to be careful.” He shrugged. His smile now more shit-eating than anything else. “Thought that's why you were staring.” 

It unfortunately hit Taekwoon years too late that Wonshik was trying to embarrass him. He was trying to imply some perverse satisfaction from lurking in the doorway. He thought Taekwoon was ogling. 

“I-” Wonshik started laughing before Taekwoon could even form a sentence. He at least tried to cover his mouth with his hand, not that it did anything to disguise the grin. Taekwoon’s grip on the door frame was white knuckle. 

“I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm just messing with you.” He caught his breath, regaining his composer. “You got so red.”

“I was not staring at you.” Stupid. Wonshik clearly thought so too by the way he raised his eyebrows. 

“You weren't staring at me,” he agreed, clearly skeptical but willing to play along. 

“Yes.”

“So… what were you doing then?” Delicately, like he was trying to guide a child to a conclusion. 

Taekwoon was here to ask a question. A very simple, easy gesture of comradery. He wanted to ask Wonshik for his time. It shouldn't have been difficult. He shouldn't have been as tense as the final seconds before a duel. He didn't need to be looking for any possible thing to say beyond what he intended. Yet he was. Yet he felt nauseous with Wonshik's expression softening the longer the guard took to answer. It wasn't appropriate to ask, he decided. If Wonshik wanted to spare his time, he would offer as much. Taekwoon shouldn't intrude. What more, what would it imply by him asking? What would Wonshik think of him after this baffling display? The display he was still watching with a look that sat somewhere between pity and empathy. Taekwoon felt weak in his knees.

“Would you have lunch with me, Taekwoon?”

“What?” Wonshik eased down to the barbell, removing the weights as he spoke. 

“Would you have lunch with me? If you're not in the middle of your patrolling.” He placed the plates and bar back where they belonged, nice and tidy for whoever next came to the room. “You don't have to, of course.” He finally crossed the room to Taekwoon. Because he was standing in the doorway. Blocking the one exit to the room. 

“I'm not patrolling.” He was. “I was about to leave before I came here.” He wasn't. He put off his own lunch until everyone came back from theirs, just to be safe. The same instinct that had him wake up first and go to sleep last.  Someone had to always be aware. 

“Great! We can go together then.” Taekwoon nodded, turning his eyes away from Wonshik's smile. 

“Yes.”

“Were you going to go somewhere special or just home?” They left the doorway together. Taekwoon tried to force down the feeling that he was playing hooky. If Wonshik didn't mind, it must be okay. 

“Home.”

“Ah, good. I definitely need a change of clothes.” Wonshik chuckled, pulling his shirt from his chest repeatedly like he was trying to cool down. Right beside him, Taekwoon could make out the words above his elbow and on his collarbone. He could clearly see the hills and valleys his muscles made with the little gesture. 

“Yes you do.” Wonshik laughed at that, the blunt honesty of it. 

He would simply have to make a second attempt. 

⤫-⤬-⤬-⤬

A little over a week later, Hongbin was sitting on the living room floor, watching the ringmaster prance around in his new costume. 

Jaehwan had only inherited the ringmaster’s position a few days before Hongbin found him. He’d explained to Hongbin that his predecessor had retired early. Her husband still worked at Lumen ad Somnia as an acrobatics trainer, but she’d wanted to prioritize family. Two young kids, you know, it would be a shame to miss their childhoods because she was wasting all her time at work.

Jaehwan’s uncle owned the circus, managed finances, but he wasn’t involved in daily operations very much. Only the business side of things. Hongbin couldn’t help but be glad about that.

The one time they’d been in the same room, when he was signing his contract, Jaehwan’s uncle had made him feel sickeningly uneasy. Hongbin couldn’t pinpoint why he felt that way, not exactly... something about his demeanor; staggeringly affected. The breathy timbre of his voice. The way he casually touched Jaehwan’s hair and face and arms when no touch was required at all. It was an uncomfortable interaction to witness, to say the least. 

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Hongbin knew he should feel guilty for thinking so poorly of his benefactor. The man who’d granted him employment and gave him a home and paid his salary. But, to Hongbin, it wasn’t the uncle who’d saved him. It was Jaehwan. 

Jaehwan had plucked him from the dirt and fed him and given him somewhere to sleep, not the uncle. Jaehwan had opened his home to Hongbin, opened it still, when Hongbin was nothing more to him than a stranger. Jaehwan had vouched for him and shown him the ropes of Lumen ad Somnia -a circus so unlike the carnival he was used to that they might as well be different species- and taught him to navigate through the place. Jaehwan looked after him, gave Hongbin his time, even when that time should have been spent on more important things. 

Hongbin was so grateful that he didn’t know how to find the words to express it. He wasn’t sure that a strong enough word existed at all. 

“What do you think, bunny?” Jaehwan chirped, pausing his lap of the living room to stand before Hongbin, “I think it looks quite impressive, don’t you agree?”

Hongbin did, in fact, agree. 

Jaehwan’s costume was strikingly androgynous. Tightly fitted black breeches with a gold stripe down the outer side of either leg, tucked into knee-high boots with a bit of a heel. Jaehwan wore knee boots every day, but the buckles on this pair were missing, laced up instead with a strip of scarlet satin ribbon. That scarlet was mirrored on his jacket; deep red velvet, cropped short so it ended at the narrowest point of his waist. Horizontal stripes of gold cord spread across his chest like vines. The stripes lengthened the higher up they went, until they reached the braided cord that formed epaulets on his shoulders. The collar and cuffs were stiff, also trimmed in gold.

The top hat on Jaehwan’s head had a gold band around it, and the white gloves on Jaehwan’s hands were clean and bright. But, to Hongbin’s eye, the most striking detail of the costume was the half corset that Jaehwan wore in place of a belt. It was entirely coated in black rhinestones, hiding the place where his jacket and breeches met, cinching his waist down to a neat twenty-three inches. It was fastened at the back with an enormous gold satin bow, giving the illusion that Jaehwan was wearing a tailcoat.

“Quite impressive,” Hongbin agreed, drinking in the sight of his savior, “You look beautiful.” 

That last wasn’t a lie. Hongbin had found Jaehwan beautiful right from the start. Even soaked through with rain water. His black hair was glossy, shining indigo when it was kissed by the sun. His elfin features, when combined with the mischievous twinkle in his big brown eyes, were undeniably charming. His lithe, strong body radiated energy, like a figure from ancient myth. Apollo or Adonis... 

The pull he exerted on everyone around him was gravitational. Like he was the sun itself, and everyone else was simply caught in his orbit.

Hongbin hadn’t told Jaehwan any of that. Nor had he told Jaehwan how much he longed to touch. Jaehwan flirted outrageously with him, but Jaehwan flirted outrageously with everyone. There was no guarantee that his amorous inclinations would be requited. Hongbin hadn’t thought he could face rejection so soon after finding safety in this place. He’d only been brave enough to hold Jaehwan, care for him, when he knew the ringmaster was too drunk to remember that care the next day. When it was safe to embrace him in the silent dark. 

Simply clutching Jaehwan close, watching him fall asleep, was enough to convince Hongbin that his feelings were not just a passing fancy. 

He hadn’t expressed any wish like that out loud, hadn’t acted on such wants, since that night. Not brave enough. But, perhaps now...

“Jaehwan?”

“Yes, bunny?”

Hongbin got to his feet, slow and careful. The heart that allegedly lived beneath his ribs began to beat. The palms of his hands began to tingle and itch. 

This was not a conversation he’d ever imagined having. Not with his upbringing. 

In Requiem, love was a concept to be mocked and sneered at. It was something intangible. Like God. Something that the ignorant optimists of the world could believe in so they were able to sleep at night. Something for the stupidest part of humanity to cling onto the way a child clings to a safety blanket. Nothing more than an illusion; a vail thrown over the harshest realities of life.

Carnal intimacy was different. Sex was like fire. Hot and emotionless and ready to devour everything it touched. Any sadness, any hatred, any pain. All were reduced to ash in its wake.

Hongbin was no saint. He was more than familiar with sex. Empty, emotionless sex, that everyone around him used like a narcotic. But he wasn’t familiar with ‘making love.’ He had never been taught to recognize the sensation of caring about a person; not simply caring because of loyalty to those he lived with, but because he wanted to care. Wanted to make a person smile, to make a person laugh, to make a person happy, to make a person feel protected and safe.

And now, here he was, with the blinders of Requiem lifted from his eyes and his foreign heart beating so fast that he thought it might burst.

“Stop for a minute, please,” he said, catching Jaehwan when the elder skipped past. Gripping Jaehwan's arms and holding on tight, “I want to tell you something.”

“Don’t look so serious, bunny,” Jaehwan huffed, placing one of Hongbin's hands on his waist and draping an arm around his shoulders, pulling Hongbin along like they were doing a waltz, “Cheer up! It’s been a glorious day, and tomorrow will be even more glorious still. There’s no need to be so stoic all the time.”

“Right now, there is. For me at least.”

Hongbin felt the pressure between them shift. The moment when Jaehwan stopped pulling and let the younger lead their steps. As pliant and relaxed as a sleepwalker in Hongbin's arms. Eyes closed and mouth quirked in a smile. More than willing to go wherever Hongbin led him.

“Why?”

“Because I want to tell you something.”

“You said that already, bunny, and that has nothing to do with your sour expression.”

As they continued to move, the younger guiding the elder around the room in slow circles, Hongbin tried to smooth out his features. Unfurrow his brow and unclench his teeth.

“I’m taller than you and these shoes,” Jaehwan murmured, “It’s so odd not to be on eye level with you.”

“Not that much taller,” Hongbin replied, “Only an inch. I guess that means you’re on level with my eyebrows.”

“And what lovely eyebrows they are! Perhaps I should wear heels more often!”

“You wear heels every day.”

“No, I don’t!”

“Yes, you do. Everyone recognizes the sound of your footsteps. We can hear them clicking out in the hall when we’re in the practice room.”

“You liar.”

“It’s true; whenever the trainees hear you coming, they make sure they look busy by the time you walk in.”

“Those mischievous little scoundrels!”

“And your perfume too. I can go into a room an hour after you’ve been there, and still smell that vanilla and rosewater.”

“So... You know the sound of my footsteps and the scent of my perfume. I’m honored that you pay so much attention to me, bunny.”

“And that is exactly what I wanted to tell you,” Hongbin said, raising his hand to spin Jaehwan around before pulling the ringmaster against him once more, “That I pay so much attention to you.”

At last, Jaehwan blinked. His movements were still graceful and fluid, but his gaze was sharp. Darting back-and-forth between Hongbin's eyes like he was trying to read something hidden behind them.

“Do you want to know why I turned down the offer to stay in the spare apartment?”

Jaehwan’s gaze narrowed even further, but he nodded. Lips parted just a touch. Back muscles tight beneath Hongbin's palm.

“Because this building is not what makes me feel safe. Not the windows, not the walls, not the locks on the doors. This apartment is not my home. It hasn’t felt like my home; not one time since the first moment I set foot inside it.”

“I didn’t know you were so unhappy with the accommodation, bunny,” Jaehwan said, his lilting voice hollow and cold, “I can make other arrangements. You can move into the dorms with the other trainees if you would be more comfortable, or I can check for a vacancy in one of my uncles other properties.”

Hongbin frowned. “You didn’t let me finish.”

The ringmaster shifted in the vaulter’s grip, giving up even more control of their dance, so that it now felt like Hongbin was pulling him along by force. “Then, by all means, finish.”

“You are what makes me feel safe,” Hongbin said, measuring each word so it came out exactly right.

Jaehwan stopped moving all together. Frozen in place like he’d grown roots in the hardwood floor.

“The sound of your footsteps, and the smell of your perfume. The softness of your skin, and the shine of your hair. The way you open your mouth when you laugh, and the way your eyes scrunch up when you smile. This apartment is not my home. You are.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” was not the response that Hongbin expected.

Frankly, he hadn’t known what he expected, but that was certainly not it. And the confusion he was experiencing only worsened as Jaehwan continued to speak.

“You are not allowed to feel that way about me, Hongbin. That’s not how things work with me.”

“What do you mean?”

“There are rules when it comes to me. Boundaries. I can love you, love others, because it makes me a better leader. I’m better if I care for the people around me. But no one is allowed to love me back. Not Wonshik, not Taekwoon, not you, no one. It’s far too dangerous.”

“What are you talking about?” Hongbin asked, at a complete and total loss. He didn’t understand how to process what the ringmaster was saying. 

Jaehwan stepped closer, still staring daggers into Hongbin’s eyes. Now he was the one that looked serious. Deadly serious.

“I am a protective person, Hongbin. I protect those I love as ferociously as I am able. That fact does not change when the person I am protecting my loved ones from is myself.”

Hongbin fell a half step away, but the ringmaster wrapped his arms around his neck and drew him back.

“I care very deeply for you, bunny. Perhaps more than I should after such a short time. But you will not love me. You will not. Do you understand?”

“No,” Hongbin flatly replied, “I do not understand. Why are you allowed to love me when I can’t return the sentiment?”

Jaehwan leaned in so his forehead rested against Hongbin's. Those heels threw off the sense of balance that usually ran between them, forcing the younger to look up in order to meet his gaze.

“I was made to be fucked, Hongbin. I was made to be admired, and touched and petted and caressed. To be played with. To amuse oneself with. To be mischievous with. To break the rules with. I was not built to be loved.”

The younger swallowed around the hard lump that had swelled in his throat.

“I’m far too harmful to be loved, so you will not love me. Am I making myself clear?”

‘No,’ Hongbin wanted to shout, ‘You aren’t being clear at all. You’re being as cryptic as a puzzle box, and I don’t know how to open you up and touch your heart. I don’t care what you were built for; I love you regardless.’

But he didn’t give voice to any of that. All Hongbin managed was a stilted little nod.

“Good,” Jaehwan smiled, a lazy wicked smile, his lashes fluttering as the tips of their noses touched. So close that he was breathing Hongbin's breath. “Now that you understand my rule, my only rule, we can move on to something much more pleasant.”

“And what would that be?”

Hongbin didn’t know whether Jaehwan had actually rejected his confession or not. The ringmaster's logic was far too twisted for him to follow. But the sense of heady joy that their current proximity was inspiring in him only made Hongbin more sure of himself. More sure that he loved Jaehwan, no matter what Jaehwan had to say on the matter.

The ringmaster kissed him. As quick and searing hot as a bolt of lightning from heaven.

“Will you take me to bed?” he asked, so cloyingly sweet that it made Hongbin dizzy, “I would very much like you to take me to bed.”

Hongbin was already pulling him toward the bedroom before Jaehwan finished the sentence.

⤫-⤬-⤬-⤬

Taekwoon felt marginally more confident in the approach of his second attempt. It was after dinner, a typically calm time where the circus de-stressed before eventually falling asleep. Taekwoon knew Wonshik was in his own apartment, having heard him leave from seeing Jaehwan and Hongbin to return next door. Oftentimes, Taekwoon could hear him through the walls if he concentrated hard enough. Not that he ever intentionally did so. 

Taekwoon’s hand settled on the doorknob before he second guessed himself. He opted to knock instead. 

“Come in,” Wonshik called from inside. Once again the guard had that feeling from the doorway, too late to back down. He came in quietly. “You don't have to knock, Taek.”

“I didn't wish to disturb.” Wonshik sat at his kitchen table, turned out to the side as he worked on the boot in his hands. Shining them, Taekwoon could immediately tell by the smell of conditioner and polish. They were a pair Taekwoon hadn't seen before. 

“You aren't. Sit.” He pushed out the chair beside him with his foot, inviting Taekwoon to take it. He returned to buffing small circles into the leather. He fully expected Taekwoon to take it. 

There was a nostalgia in Taekwoon sitting next to Wonshik as he buffed the leather of the high boots. A memory of being a young boy taught how to do the same by his then lieutenant. The smell of the polish he had used, the gruff tone of his voice. The moment had eased the shame from earlier in the day when he insulted Taekwoon’s care of his uniform in front of the rest of the detachment. Men in their position needed to keep themselves presentable, had to be as kept together as the royals and dignitaries about them. He taught Taekwoon after their drills, worked his own worn leather boots beside the boy. He told Taekwoon that if he caught him in such a sorry state again, he would shine the entire detachment's boots. A lovingly chastising grandfather or uncle. 

Wonshik had clearly done this a number of times himself. He was relaxed as he buffed in the wax polish into the black leather. He had only just started, considering the other boot beside him on the ground. They weren't unlike Taekwoon’s own.

“I like to shine them before shows. You feel out of place with everyone in costumes if you don't dress your best.” Wonshik gives Taekwoon a scant glance, a soft smile. 

“You've taken good care of them.” The unpolished boot on the ground was hardly blemished at all, only a little dull in certain spots. A little dust on the sole and laces. 

“It took a while to get used to having nice things. I still take care of them like I can't replace them.” 

“You didn't come from means.” Wonshik chuckles, shaking his head. 

“That's putting it generously.” His laugh rolled in his chest, warmed the kitchenette with its noise. “I didn't have a thing but love growing up,” he says it so sweetly, so simply. He doesn't think anything of it despite it halting Taekwoon’s breath in his chest. There is no sorrow for all that he went without. He had all he needed. “You learn to hold onto things when you live like that, take care of them.” He was singing to the choir saying it to Taekwoon. All he had was the role he had to play. All he had was the expectations of him. 

“Then you came to the circus.” Wonshik shrugs a shoulder. He admires his work, tilting the boot to catch the gleam of candlelight on leather. There's a familiar look on his face. Two sketched chickens on a coffee table. 

“There were some bumps along the road before that, but yes.” Wonshik is satisfied with his work. He drops the boot to the floorboards and puts the cap on the polish for the moment. “I lost my mother, then my job, then I came here.” He takes the horsehair brush to brush the dirt and dust from the shoe. Had Taekwoon not been listening, he would have thought Wonshik said something mundane. He was listening. He was listening closely and feeling his heart agonizing for Wonshik. He gulped around emotion. The room filled with the soft sounds of bristles on leather. 

“I'm sorry.”

“I think coming here was the best thing I've ever done. Having a job, a place to stay, somewhere that would take care of my sister. I don't think I could have picked any better.” 

“You raised her.” The solidarity, the recognition, does not hit Taekwoon like a great force. It's as though something had merely come into focus. Of course he had taken care of his family, just as Taekwoon had. Of course they had to provide. Wonshik met Taekwoon’s eyes, soft and understanding. 

“You had to do the same?” 

“She's older, but it was simpler for me to take the responsibility.” Wonshik nodded. 

“You're a good man, Taekwoon.” He blinked. Wonshik didn't repeat himself, and he didn't break his stare.

“What?” Wonshik's smile stretched a little wider. Not mischievous, and not a smirk. 

“You're a good man. You take care of everyone around you.” Wonshik didn't break no matter how long Taekwoon stared at him. He didn't laugh, didn't push any further. It was simply a compliment. Taekwoon didn't know what to do with it. He swallowed again. 

“It's my duty.” A chuckle. 

“My knight in shining armor.” Taekwoon tried to ignore the bitter taste in his mouth at the name. He tried to not let it sink into that aching pit in his soul years in the making. 

“I'm not.” 

“Who takes care of the knight?” He posed it like a genuine question, a philosophical exploration. Taekwoon wanted to shy away from the true meaning like a blade to the hand. Who took care of Taekwoon, if he took care of everyone else? If he spent all his time making sure the people around him were safe, when did he spend the same time for himself. The sword could not take itself to the grindstone. 

“Himself, those within his unit, his charge, depending on the circumstance.” His literal answer seemed to amuse Wonshik. He let out a breath of a laugh as he went back to brushing the boots. Taekwoon’s lungs felt like they had room to expand again. 

“Knights must be close to their charges.”

“Knight isn't a title in use anymore.” It was pure pedantics. Taekwoon would do anything to avoid the real conversation that was trying to be born. 

“Guards, then,” Wonshik corrected. “They get very close to their charges?” He glanced up at Taekwoon again. The idea of a hand to the knife became even more apt. Taekwoon felt as though he were teetering dangerously close to something that would kill him. The tip of the rapier was pressing the meat of his belly. He clenched his hands together in his lap, still trying to appear at ease. 

“Their charges are everything.”

“What happened to your last charge, Taekwoon?” His voice was satin soft, whisper quiet. His eyebrows turned up in a sorry expression. Taekwoon chose to believe his arms didn't appear to shake. He had to force his jaw to loose up enough to answer. 

“He's gone.” Wonshik nodded, grim, like he already had figured out the answer before he asked.

“I'm sorry. I can tell you cared a lot about him.” Taekwoon cared too much. He held the knife in a white knuckle grip and bled for it. The blade on the king's hip was a tool, not an heirloom to be cherished and displayed. 

“He chose me specifically. After he had passed, there was no need for my service.” Even if he had been asked, he would have refused. He couldn't do it again. 

“Then you came to the circus.” He was quoting Taekwoon’s own words, bringing the conversation circling back. Taekwoon nodded, nothing more to say.

Wonshik set the horsehair brush on the table. A soft click. With that freed hand, he reached out. Taekwoon’s throat closed at the soft touch to his joint hands. He lessened his hold on his own hand. Not so white knuckle and tense. Wonshik's touch was like a hand to a frightened animal. The careful respect of fingers on the sharp edge of the metal. 

“I'm grateful that you did come here, Taekwoon. And I promise,” he leaned in to catch Taekwoon’s eye, smile soft, “You'll never have to go through that again. You're safe here.” Taekwoon blinked at him, refusing to speak. Anything he could say, emotion would betray him. Wonshik didn't seem to anticipate a response regardless. He squeezed Taekwoon’s hands. His hand was strong, calloused along the palm from labor. Taekwoon wanted to hold it. The feeling of longing to crested up in his chest like a typhoon. He would have jumped had it been any more sudden. He moved his hands again, unlacing them. Wonshik began to pull away and the grief at such a thing was so strong in Taekwoon that he ended up snatching it back. He took the cherished touch like a feral street hound to meat scraps. Wonshik didn't resist giving it. His hand was warm, dirty with wax polish. Shame hit Taekwoon at the impulse to kiss his knuckles. It would be too much affection. Wonshik swiped his thumb over Taekwoon’s own knuckles easily. Thoughtlessly. 

“I'm happy you're here, Taek.” 

⤫-⤬-⤬-⤬

The next morning, Jaehwan had walked Hongbin across the street and into the circus proper, only bidding the younger farewell when Hongbin’s acrobatics class was seconds from starting. 

But Hongbin didn’t remain in class like he was supposed to. He stayed for an hour, because he knew that Jaehwan was going to an archery range offsite that day, and wanted to be sure that the ringmaster was actually gone. 

He excused himself, saying he just had to use the restroom and would be back shortly, and then made his way through the maze of hallways to where he vaguely remembered Wonshik’s office to be.

Because Hongbin was still very confused. 

Jaehwan's words the previous night had confused him. Jaehwan’s actions had confused him as well, although he wasn’t quite ready to pick apart the intricacies of the sex they’d had. It was really the words that he needed help understanding. Jaehwan’s only rule. 

The one person he could think of to supply him with answers was Wonshik. Wonshik was Jaehwan’s second in command, Jaehwan’s best friend, had known Jaehwan the longest as far as Hongbin was aware. So, Wonshik was who he would ask. 

The door to Wonshik’s office was slightly ajar but Hongbin knocked anyway. It was polite. 

“It’s Hongbin,” called Hongbin, wrapping softly on the wooden doorframe. 

“Come in.”

Wonshik looked up from the sheets of schedules in front of him. He smiled at Hongbin as he stepped into the room.

"Everything okay, Hongbin?" The vaulter frowned, but that was the face Wonshik saw most from him, especially when Jaehwan wasn't around. It wasn't outwardly concerning. 

“I wanted to ask about Jaehwan.” That was, however. Wonshik set down the pen. He gave Hongbin his full attention. The two hadn't seemed to have any troubles recently. Everyone seemed to be quite happy with one another. 

“Did he do something?” Hongbin didn't say yes, but he didn't deny it either. 

“Not exactly,” Hongbin replied, “I’m just- he said some strange things to me last night and I'm confused. Thought you might be able to provide me with context.”

Wonshik nodded, tilting his chin at the empty chair that waited in front of his desk. “Sit. Tell me about it and I’ll see if I can help.”

Hongbin sat. 

All at once, the discomfort of the situation rose like bile in the back of his throat. What if Wonshik didn’t actually know about the rule? What if it was a secret that Jaehwan had told him and now he was about to spill that secret to someone else? Or what if Jaehwan would be upset that he was speaking to Wonshik about their private interactions in general?

No. It would be fine. Jaehwan had specifically said Wonshik’s name, after all. There was nothing for him to be nervous about. 

“He and I were talking,” Hongbin began, fiddling with the drawstring on his practice trousers, “And I tried to tell him how much I care about him, because I do. I do care about him. But he said that I wasn’t allowed to. He was allowed to love me, but I wasn’t allowed to love him back. That he wasn’t built to be loved.”

The vaulter heard Wonshik sigh, a sound of commiseration.

“And then he proceeded to act like it was a perfectly normal thing, and then we- it doesn’t matter. I just hoped you might know why he thinks that way. I don’t understand it at all.”

“Jaehwan is,” Wonshik tried to phrase it as delicately as possible, “complicated.” He'd been in Hongbin's place at one point. He sympathized with that confusion and frustration. Jaehwan was someone who deserved love more than anyone Wonshik had ever met before, so why wouldn't he accept it? He survived off of attention, but he drew a hard line in the sand at love. “He's been through a lot. His clients, his Madame, they all did things to him that he never should have gone through. That made him think a certain way. He's always been like that.” He knew Hongbin was aware how much of Jaehwan's past showed in his actions, his personality. It was impossible not to see it, even if the two weren't as close as they are. “I've always thought that he sees it as a way to keep himself safe, keep everyone else safe. I never got an answer one way or another but…” Wonshik sighed again. He gave Hongbin a sorry smile and a shrug. “You just have to meet him in the middle. You love him, you treat him like you love him, you just don't say it. You don't let it consume you. The two of you just find that place between.” It had baffled Wonshik when they were younger. His first taste of sweetness was Jaehwan. He didn't know how to sip rather than devour. He didn't know how to temper his hand. It took great trial and error on his part. 

“Jaehwan is a bit like dancing.” He picked at his fingers. Filled with fond nostalgia at the memories. “You let him lead you, show you how close you can step in before you get too close. Sometimes he's confusing, and you'll trip; but you'll recover. You'll keep dancing. When we were really close, like you two, I learned how to be comfortable. I learned how far he would let me go before it was too much like love. You have to learn what the limit is for you.” When he looked up, Hongbin was simply staring at him. He didn't seem that relieved. Wonshik chuckled, rubbing his neck. 

“That probably didn't help all that much, huh?” 

Hongbin was clenching his jaw so tightly that it was a wonder his molars hadn’t cracked. He couldn’t speak for a full thirty seconds. It felt like there was a hand wrapped around his neck. 

“They did things to him?” he whispered, once he had sucked down enough air to exhale the words. 

“Yes... The clients- at the brothel? His Madame didn’t take him off the streets out of the goodness of her heart...”

Wonshik sounded more confused now than Hongbin had felt when he sat down. But this-

“Jaehwan told me that he ran away because of what he witnessed there. He never said anything about things being done to him.”

“Oh,” Wonshik murmured, the warm expression on his kind face melting off like candle wax, “I thought he told you. He said that he told you where he came from, I thought-”

But Hongbin forgot how to be patient. 

“What did they do to him?” he interrupted, glaring across the table at Wonshik, “What exactly did they do to make him think he’s unlovable?”

Wonshik shook his head, eyes on the tabletop but not truly seeing it. “I think it would be better if you asked him that, but- it was a brothel. I'm sure you can use your imagination.”

Hongbin knew a lost cause when he saw one. The second in command wasn’t going to give up any more information than he already had, and it was clear that, if he’d realized Hongbin was unaware of all of this, he wouldn’t have said anything at all. 

“Thank you,” Hongbin said, angry and quiet as he got to his feet, “For the advice. I’ll let you get back to work. I should be in class.”

“You’re welcome, Hongbin. I’m sorry that I couldn’t be of more help.” 

Wonshik watched him walk away, eyes conveying exhaustion more than anything else. 

The vaulter wanted to be upset with him, but his rational mind wouldn’t allow it. Wonshik had been Jaehwan’s friend orders of magnitude longer than Hongbin. If Hongbin had a friend like that, and someone tried to grill him about their personal life, he probably wouldn’t have said anything either. 

So, he wasn’t upset, but the focus of his confusion had changed. The things Wonshik did share helped to put the ringmasters' strangeness into perspective. It wasn’t so much confusion he felt at this point. Really, it was frustration. Frustration and righteous indignation that people had-

Hongbin shut the door and then turned around, aiming his steps back down to the practice rooms, but he walked smack into someone that had been waiting just outside the office.

It was Jaehwan. 

“God,” Hongbin gasped, startling so hard that he fell back to press himself against the corridor wall, “Christ, Jae, you scared me!” 

“My apologies, bunny. That wasn’t my intention...” 

Hongbin wiped his mouth on the back of his hand, trying to slow the pounding of his pulse. It felt like his heart was lodged in his throat. 

“...But I must admit, that was an intriguing chat the two of you were having.” 

When he looked up, Hongbin saw that the ringmaster's smile was icy. It didn’t reach his eyes. 

“I thought you were going to that archery range this morning,” he said, like it was some kind of excuse. 

Jaehwan nodded. “I did. But, unfortunately, the rain last night wrecked the field, and it won’t be open again until the ground dries out. I was turned away as soon as I arrived.” 

“Oh,” was all the vaulter managed to reply. He stared at his hands, at the ring he stole from Jaehwan that now lived snuggly on his middle finger. Not brave enough to meet the ringmaster's gaze.

Jaehwan reached for him and Hongbin took hold of his arm, allowing the elder to guide him away from the office. Still not looking. 

“Please don’t skip your lessons, bunny. If you no longer wish to attend them, just tell me so.” 

“I do want to attend them. But I needed to know why you-” 

“Why I am the way that I am?” 

 In his peripheral vision, Hongbin saw Jaehwan nod. Thoughtful. Almost wistful. 

“I’ll answer any questions you have, bunny, but later. Once both of us are finished with practice.” 

“Okay,” Hongbin whispered. 

He wasn’t sure if Jaehwan was angry with him or not, but at this point, he wasn’t willing to turn down an offer of information.

⤫-⤬-⤬-⤬

As he so often did these days, Jaehwan watched Hongbin across the small table in his kitchen. Their meal had been eaten, and the dishes had been cleared away. No distractions or buffers between them anymore. The night around them was quiet. 

Jaehwan had quite the shock that morning when he went to visit his best friend. In the mood to exchange idle gossip, only to discover that his lovely bunny was already there. Not safe in the lesson where Jaehwan had left him, but rather interrogating Wonshik about Jaehwan’s own past. 

The ringmaster couldn’t blame Hongbin for being curious. He hadn’t exactly been open about the circumstances of his youth. After all, it wasn’t a subject that often came up in polite conversation. He hadn’t wanted to frighten Hongbin away. He couldn’t fault Hongbin's choice to ask Wonshik instead of someone else either. Thinking Wonshik had answers was an astute guess to make.

“So, bunny,” he hummed, tentative, drumming his fingers against the table top, “You have questions for me, yes?”

Hongbin twisted the stolen silver band with quick little flicks of his thumb. A nervous habit he picked up ever since Jaehwan allowed him to keep it. “Yes.” 

“Ask me then.” 

“Why-” Hongbin hesitated. Swallowed. Jaehwan took his hand atop the table and wove their fingers together, trying to comfort. “Why didn’t you tell me the truth?” 

“I did tell you the truth. I told you that I was taken in by a brothel Madame when I was young.”

“But that’s not- You are a boy. I assumed you meant that she apprenticed you to follow in her footsteps. To learn how to run the business. Not- It’s not usual for a boy to go into that field, if that’s what one even calls it. I never for a single second thought you were...”

“You know what they say about assuming,” Jaehwan replied, forcing a small smile, “But I never lied to you. How could I expect you to trust me if I lied to you?”

“I’m glad you didn’t lie, but please, explain it to me properly. Explain why it’s too dangerous to love you.”

Jaehwan felt his lips thin with displeasure, and he sat up straight. This conversation was already irritating him, but he wouldn’t complain. He’d agreed to take part in it. Offered Hongbin the chance to ask whatever he wanted. In hindsight, that may have been a stupid thing to do. 

“And don’t just say the same thing over again like you did last night.”

“Does this really frustrate you so much, bunny? Besides, I thought our time together last night was quite enjoyable,” Jaehwan pouted, “But it seems that I spoiled it for you.”

The younger flushed even as he scowled. “You didn’t spoil anything.”

“Didn’t I?”

“No.”

“Well that’s good to hear.” The ringmaster hummed a wordless hum, touching Hongbin's cheek. Trying to smooth the furrows from Hongbin's brow with the pad of his thumb. “I only wished to make you comfortable here, bunny; it saddens me, knowing that I’ve caused you so much turmoil.”

“Just talk to me then.”

“I’m afraid I’m not very good at talking.”

An exasperated hiss slipped from between Hongbin's teeth, and he shot to his feet, stomping away from the table so fast that it made the ringmaster's head spin. He had already reached the door by the time Jaehwan caught up. 

“Don’t touch me,” Hongbin snapped. 

Jaehwan didn’t touch him.

He blinked stupidly at the ferocious glint in Hongbin's lovely brown eyes. Doing everything that he could to shove down the pulse of fear that flared in his gut.

“Bunny, don’t go,” he tried, voice far too pleading to his own ear. 

“I’ll be back, I just need to- need space. I need to calm down and I need space and I need fresh air.”

“Okay,” Jaehwan nodded, fighting off the impulse screaming inside his head that he should lock Hongbin inside with him and kiss his anger away. “Okay, I’ll be here when you return.”

Hongbin came from Requiem and Requiem broke people. 

At least Hongbin knew his own limits. Knew when he needed to remove himself from a situation. That was a miracle, frankly. It was lucky that the poor thing was as stable as he was.

The hour of waiting that followed Hongbin's departure was agony. 

All Jaehwan did was pace, wearing down the carpet more with every lap of the living room. Digging his nails into the flesh of his palms. Trying to figure out how in the world he could explain why he felt the way he did. 

Nobody had ever challenged Jaehwan on this particular boundary before. Not really. Even Wonshik, his sweetest Wonshik, had been confused at first. But eventually he learned how to manage. He never pushed back quite so hard. 

Maybe this was Jaehwan's fault. Maybe the ringmaster had let Hongbin get too attached too quickly and that was why Hongbin‘s reaction was so strong. But Jaehwan knew that he wouldn’t have been capable of pushing Hongbin away. Of forcing space between them. 

How could he say it? 

How could he say it without actually having to say it? 

Because saying it would shatter the walls of defense Jaehwan had built to keep himself safe, to compartmentalize, to shield him from all of the dreadful things he’d done. That simply could not be allowed to happen.

When the front door swung open, Jaehwan's relief swirled out of him in a sigh. Almost lightheaded from the force of it.

“Bunny, you came back!” 

“I said that I would, didn’t I?”

To his credit, Hongbin looked remarkably calm. The fresh air and space had done him good.

“You did,” Jaehwan agreed, “But still- I was worried.”

Hongbin shook his head. “No need to worry. I can look after myself.”

He vanished into the bathroom before Jaehwan had a chance to say anything else.

The ringmaster perched on the sofa cushion like it was a cliff edge. Hands knotted in his lap. Listening to the sound of running water.

Hongbin had on pajamas when he reemerged. Pajama bottoms, anyway, the gray and white striped pajamas that the two of them had picked out at the shops. His golden hair was damp and loose, swishing around his bare shoulders as he walked over to his blanket nest and collapsed atop it.

Jaehwan worried his lip. “Didn’t you want to talk?” he tried, wincing at the sound of Hongbin's sharp exhale. 

“No point,” the younger replied, book already open in his hand, “There’s no point asking again if you’re this averse to giving straight answers. It’s not worth getting worked up over.”

Slow, hesitant, the ringmaster stood, crossing the room to kneel at Hongbin's side. 

“Then, don’t ask,” he said, “Let me try to tell you instead.”

The younger glanced up from the book and went still. No doubt seeing the panic shining through the cracks of Jaehwan’s face. “I’m ready to listen if that's what you want.”

Jaehwan nodded, more for his own benefit than for Hongbin's. “May I touch you?”

Hongbin nodded in return, so Jaehwan took his perfect hand, clutching it gently between both of his own. 

“You understand by now the kind of childhood I had, yes?” 

“Yes.” 

“And you can imagine the way that such a childhood might shape a person, yes?” 

“Yes.” 

“Then,” Jaehwan closed his eyes, forcing the words out no matter how deeply they were cutting up the inside of his throat, “I’m sure you can imagine the lengths a person would go to escape from such a life. The things that someone would do if they were determined to survive.”

He could feel his body beginning to tremble, but was powerless to stop it. 

“Many people have claimed to love me during the course of my life, bunny. I have seen what it does to them. Loving me turns them into monsters. I don’t care if you don’t believe me when I say that, because it’s true. I know it’s true. And I never ever want to see the people I care for meet the same fate. I couldn’t bear watching them turn into monsters as well. It would ruin me. Irrevocably ruin me.”

The breath he sucked in felt like swallowing shards of glass. 

“That is why no one is allowed to love me.”

“Jaehwan...”

“No, listen,” Jaehwan interrupted, “I’ve never stopped fighting, bunny, not for a single day. I want to be able to live without the shame and the guilt that was forced upon me by the monsters that claimed to love me. I am willing to do whatever it takes to die free.”

A flash of memory like an electric shock made Jaehwan flinch. The plan he put together when he still lived under his Madame’s roof. The long term client of his that was so very generous. That would surely take him in if Jaehwan came crying on his doorstep. That had no children or family to speak of. That owned a circus-

“Every day,” he repeated, blinking his eyes open, “Even now, I fight for my freedom every day and-”

Whatever else he'd been planning to say choked off in a gasp 

Hongbin tugged him forward, cradling Jaehwan in his arms and kissing the crown of Jaehwan's head.

For the first time in years, the ringmaster felt a traitorous tear slide down his cheek. 

“That’s enough, darling,” Hongbin whispered, forming the words against Jaehwan’s temple, “It’s enough. I understand.”

Jaehwan clung to him, not willing to let go even as Hongbin maneuvered them around. Lowering Jaehwan to the floor so gently, his blankets cushioning Jaehwan’s head. Looking down at Jaehwan through those wide brown eyes.

“I wont love you,” he said, stroking Jaehwan's hair, “Not until you’re ready to be loved.”

Jaehwan hiccuped. “Do you promise?”

“I promise.”

The ringmaster pulled him close and kissed him hard. Smothering his sobs against Hongbin's skin. His tears wetting the strands of Hongbin's beautiful golden hair. 

“Thank you,” he replied, so quietly that he could barely hear himself speak, “Now please, I beg you, take me to bed.”

⤫-⤬-⤬-⤬

The third attempt, in any other universe, would have been a success. 

Taekwoon had purposefully volunteered to help Wonshik prepare the ring for the next show. If they spent long enough together, Wonshik would exhaust himself of all the things he wanted to say and it would leave Taekwoon the space to finally ask. That's what he had hoped, at least. It was a sound plan in his mind, and he was determined to not let it end in failure. For a third time. 

Taekwoon was in the stands sweeping out dust and stale popcorn and wrappers from the seats. Wonshik wasn't far away, stringing garlands of stars about. Decorated for show time, the circus truly lived up to its name. 

“Are you sure you don't need help?” Taekwoon asked yet again as he watched Wonshik climb down the ladder and drag it to the next point. 

“I am capable of being independent, Taek.” It was a tease. He was smiling as he climbed back up the rungs. 

“I am aware. The question stands.” Wonshik looked back at him over his shoulder, grin turning mischievous. 

“Do you fret this much over everyone, or am I special?” Taekwoon scowled at the question, burnt a hole in Wonshik's forehead. His bangs were wealthy sticking to his face again. Taekwoon pointedly swept a candy wrapper off onto the circus floor. The way it fluttered in the breeze soiled the frustration of the gesture. 

“You have proven to need it the most.” Wonshik laughed in response, stringing the garland around the pole. 

“That's not fair! You don't spend time with anyone else.” Taekwoon froze for a moment, glad Wonshik couldn't see. Was he spending too much of his spare time with Wonshik? 

“I spend time with Hongbin,” he argues. While it's not nearly as much as Wonshik, it is still true. He felt an inexplicable kinship to Hongbin. He didn't have to say a word for their time together to be enjoyable. Though the subtle thieving he could live without. 

“But you hate Jaehwan.” 

“I don't… hate him.” Yes, he very much disliked the man, but hatred felt a bit cruel. So long as he minded his own and didn't speak to Taekwoon, he was perfectly fine. When he was paired with Hongbin and didn't address Taekwoon at all, he could even be likable. 

“I believe you, precious .” Taekwoon nearly tripped over the seats at the use of Jaehwan's nickname for him. Wonshik even used Jaehwan's sickeningly sweet tone, making it almost sing-song. it was different from his low voice, from his sarcastic smirk. 

“Don't.” 

“Sometimes I think he does it just to bother you.” He steps off the ladder to move it again. Nearly the whole area is ringed in golden metal stars. 

“He succeeds.” Wonshik laughs again at Taekwoon’s blunt honesty.

“I can tell. You get very,“ he grasped for the right word, “prickly.”

“I have to be diligent, even if he annoys me.” A small cloud of dust forms when Taekwoon sweeps out the last row of seats. It didn't seem to be sat in as often. “He's my superior.” Wonshik frowned at him, arms still over his head.

“You can tell him to stop if he makes you uncomfortable. He'll listen if you say something.” 

“There's no need.” 

“Hey.” Taekwoon stopped, looking up to meet Wonshik's eyes. He was uncharacteristically serious. “You don't have to grin and bear things here. You can have limits.” It was a reassuring sentiment. Wonshik clearly meant it as well. But he was still the one above Taekwoon. He was still the supplier of his income and residence. He could take that away if he so chose. It was something Taekwoon knew like someone knew their own home. He turned his gaze down again on the dustpan. 

“I'll keep that in mind.” 

“Good.” 

Wonshik finished hanging decorations and Taekwoon had cleaned out the rings and stands. Taekwoon then supported the much taller ladder as Wonshik secured the lyra far above the ring. It went up and down easily, as needed. If it needed to come down for maintenance or to make room for other acrobatic acts, it was as simple as unlatching it from its chain. Wonshik had clearly done this routine hundreds of times. Taekwoon explains how he thought Wonshik would be afraid of heights. He laughs in return. He would never be an acrobat meters off the ground without a net beneath him, but he could handle a ladder. 

“Would you ever perform?” 

“Maybe. I don't think I could be like Jae or any of the other big performers. I could help though. Be a side character, you know?” Taekwoon thought he could disagree. It wasn't hard at all to imagine Wonshik commanding the ring all by himself, stealing the show. He had a presence that was near gravitational. The pull to a warm flame on a frigid night. Taekwoon would like to see Wonshik in that form. 

Wonshik pushed his bangs back out of his face once he took the last step off the ladder onto solid ground. They were close enough now for Taekwoon to pick up the pink of Wonshik's cheeks. 

“Aren't you hot in all that?” He gestured to Taekwoon, dressed as he always was. 

“I'm fine,” he answered, even if he could feel hair stuck to his nape with sweat. While it wasn't particularly hot that day, they were working, and the building easily trapped humidity after a rain like last night. 

“You've got to be burning in all that. You can take it off.” Heat rushed up into Taekwoon’s cheeks as his brows raised. 

“I'm sorry?” Wonshik reached out and tugged Taekwoon’s waistcoat pocket. Taekwoon swayed at the pull, too stunned to resist. 

“Your waistcoat. It might help. Or at least roll up your shirt sleeves.” Taekwoon’s first protest was a reflexive but it's my uniform but he realized quickly how stupid that would make him sound. He didn't have a uniform, beyond what he had self imposed. The next was why do you want me to strip which simply made him sound insane and prudish. He suggested a single piece of clothing that exposed nothing. Innocent as taking one's coat off. If he said that, Wonshik would naturally counter back with why do you think I want you to strip? The Wonshik in his mind smiled when he said it, ready to mercilessly mock Taekwoon for the embarrassment. He would get a very clear idea as to who Taekwoon was, false or not. I can’t was equally ridiculous, though more passable as normal. He simply couldn't be less than dressed near him. Didn't want to be. Simple. 

“Taek, stay with me here.” Wonshik cut through the guard's mad dash for an excuse in his mind. He didn't seem to have a care in the world about all of this. “You don't have to.” He tugged that waistcoat pocket again, smiling sweetly. “But if you want to, I'll do it with you.” He released Taekwoon, and before he could question what that was supposed to mean, pulled his shirt off over his head. It ruffled his dark hair. 

“ What are you doing ?” The whisper was so sharp it was nearly a hiss. Like a whistling teapot. Wonshik was perfectly unphased. “I work like this all the time. It's no big deal if you're not out in the sun.” He tossed his shirt over to the stands, at ease with his bare chest exposed. “Now you'll still be more dressed than me, and I won't die of heat stroke. Win-win.” 

“That is not-” his anger made it hard to articulate anymore. His chest was just as sculpted as his arms, if not more so. Delicate cursive rested on a collarbone like a signature on the dotted line. There were faint pale scars, and where his clothes hid him from the sun was clear in tan lines. There was a perverse temptation to reach out and touch golden skin. 

“Not what?” 

“The problem.” He forced his eyes back up to Wonshik's face. He had a befuddled expression that set Taekwoon's hair on end.

“Is it because it's me?” It was a miracle he didn't reach out to strangle Wonshik dead. He asked it so innocently, with such a genuine worry. It wasn't because it was him, but it was at the same time. Had Hongbin or Jaehwan said the same, he likely would have refused and that would be the end of it. Wonshik chose to take things a step further out of some sense of commiseration. He was bare chested and sweat warm a scant two feet from Taekwoon like it meant nothing. 

What if it did mean nothing, Taekwoon finally asked himself. What if, in actuality, he was being odd? The thought almost made the world sway. Was it far more odd for him to react so strongly than if he didn't care? What was Wonshik trying to do here? What did he expect of Taekwoon exactly? 

“There you go,” Wonshik encouraged as Taekwoon fitfully undid the waistcoat. He slung it over his shoulder as he undid the button at his wrists and sharply rolled his sleeves above his elbows. He looked like an overworked busboy. He set his hands on his hips. “Good job.” Wonshik beamed and Taekwoon sincerely considered how he could bludgeon the man without losing their relationship. 

There was a false sense of peace as they continued. Taekwoon eventually acclimated, trained his eyes where to properly focus and settle. Wonshik was the same as ever. The only major embarrassment Taekwoon had to face again was when bringing the paper lantern up to Wonshik. He was hanging them while Taekwoon brought them up to his reach on the ladder, far too delicate to just be hauled up all at once. He took the navy lantern, but stopped. 

“Your hands are so veiny.” Taekwoon spared a glance over at his own wrists. Thin and boney as the rest of him. His veins were prominent on the back of his hand and up his wrist. 

“We're working. I'm thin.” he managed to fight jerking his hand away when Wonshik took a hold of one of his hands. His thumb trailed lightly over the most prominent of them. 

“They're handsome.” Wonshik clearly meant it genuinely, but then he snorted at the terrible wordplay. He laughed even more at Taekwoon’s unamused expression. He went back up the ladder giggling away. 

“Did you take that from one of the clowns?”

“Hey now, our clowns are funny!” 

“That would explain why you are not a clown.” Wonshik gaped down at him comically. 

“How rude!” His attention turned back up to attaching the lantern. “I'll have you know I can be very funny.” 

“On purpose?”

“What do you mean on purpose?!” Taekwoon was thankful Wonshik wasn't looking down at him, because he couldn't resist the smile that started blooming like an invasive weed. 

“With intention. Planned.” Wonshik huffed, beginning to step down. 

“What crawled into your bed this morning?” 

“Should I be checking for bed bugs?” Wonshik helped Taekwoon school his face out of the smile by pinching his cheek. 

“You know what I mean.” He let Taekwoon go to fold the ladder back up. “The last one should hang about there.” He pointed over at a spot above the top stand. The seats didn't reach high enough for one to simply stand on them to attach it. 

“The ladder is too wide for the walkway.” Wonshik looked between the ladder in hand and the spot.

“I think you're right.” Taekwoon fixed the bunching sleeves at his elbows. Wonshik was looking at him.

“I can go to the back and see if we have another that's more narrow.” He turned to check the storage room, but was stopped by a pinch to his shirt. Wonshik was holding the fabric between finger and thumb. “What?”

“I have an idea.” Taekwoon frowned. 

“Wonshik, I'm not letting you try to fit it up there. You could seriously get hurt falling from that high-” 

“Not that. Come on.” One last tug on the shirt before he started climbing the stands. Taekwoon sighed and followed him up. It was a compass tattooed on his nape, hidden just beneath his hair and clothes. Taekwoon kept looking at it like a guide on an antique map. Wonshik handed Taekwoon the lantern once they were both standing on the top row of seats. They were just wide enough to have both feet flat and steady. 

“Do you trust me?”

“What?” Taekwoon squinted, but Wonshik didn't give anything away. 

“Do you trust me?” 

“Yes, but I don't see what that-” Wonshik's smile came back in full blinding force. 

“Hold on to the lantern then.” Taekwoon tried to question him, even as he did as he was told. 

“What are you- Wonshik!” Wonshik had dipped down in a flash. He wrapped his arms around Taekwoon’s legs, pressing them hard into his chest and lifting him up off of them in a swift movement that made Taekwoon’s heart stop momentarily. His hand reflexively flew down to take Wonshik's shoulder in grasp, keeping him from folding over Wonshik's shoulder like a sack of produce. 

“Can you reach the hook?” It was a holy blessing that Wonshik had his head turned to the side, ear to Taekwoon’s hip bone. 

“Why was this your solution?!” Taekwoon couldn't help the shrillness in his voice. Wonshik's laugh was a wheeze, shaking Taekwoon in his hold. 

“Just look and see!” Taekwoon looked up, refusing to let go of Wonshik's shoulder for fear of falling. The hook was, in fact, right there. He'd be able to place the lantern if he just let go. 

“I see it.” Just like when he looked down, he saw the roots of Wonshik's hair, his strong shoulders and arms holding him up. Muscles taut with effort. 

“Put the lantern on then, it's just a chain.” He bounced Taekwoon slightly, fixing his hold. The guard could feel the jut of his hip bone pressing into Wonshik's cheek and he tried his very hardest to not consider it. “I've got you. You can let go.” 

“You promise.” 

“I swear I'm not going to drop you. Swear on my grave.” Taekwoon hesitated. He slowly pulled his hand away, the two of them finding the balance to keep him upright. There was just a small chain to hang it from the hook, slim enough you wouldn't even notice it looking up from the seats. Taekwoon was quick in attaching it, wishing to be back on the ground as soon as possible. He supported himself with both hands on Wonshik's shoulders. 

“Now put me down.” Wonshik did not. He instead moved his head to look up at his work. The two met eyes and stared. 

“You're really red.” 

“Wonshik.”

“Are you okay?”

“Put. Me. Down.” No one would be able to handle Wonshik looking up at them from that spot. Taekwoon was not the odd man in this situation. His train of thought was to be expected when another man was so dangerously close to you. Wonshik turned his head again and reversed his process, squatting down to put Taekwoon back on solid ground. He had to forget the way his bare skin felt against his palm. Wonshik stood back upright. He shied under Taekwoon’s scowl. 

“Too much?”

“Completely unnecessary.” Taekwoon’s heart was drumming in his chest and he tried not to play with his hands at a wave of humiliation. 

“It got up there!” Wonshik argued, gesturing up at the unlit lantern. 

“Wonshik.” The man dipped his head like a dog curling its tail between its legs. 

“You're right. I apologize.”

“Thank you.” Taekwoon folded his arms over his chest. “You could have told me what you were intending to do. At the very least then it wouldn't have been such a,” the humiliation gently strangled him for trying to form words to describe it, “pose.” He couldn't look Wonshik in the eye anymore. His collar had suddenly become absolutely riveting. 

“Pose?” Wonshik repeated before he went wide eyed. “Oh! Oh I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable, I didn't even think about it, oh my god.” Taekwoon wasn't sure what to do on this end of the embarrassment. Wonshik was usually the one that humiliated him. It was jarring to see him flushing and stumbling over apologies like a little boy. “I wasn't thinking about where I was…”

“Please stop.” Wonshik snapped his mouth shut and nodded. Flush went all the way down to his chest when he was embarrassed and Taekwoon tried to not consider why he would care about such a thing. He felt imbalanced. 

“Think first, next time.” It felt like the most apt advice, not that he thought there would be another instance of this considering how mortified Wonshik seemed. Taekwoon cleared his throat. “I wouldn't want you to be seen like that.” Somehow, Wonshik seemed to actually become worse. He was back to being wide eyed, and he went visibly stiff. 

“Huh?” His voice was oddly pitched. 

“I wouldn't want you to be seen in such a way?” Wonshik laughed, but it sounded like it was being squeezed at him. He looked anywhere but at Taekwoon. 

“I mean, many have seen me in far worse.”

“You do this frequently?” Taekwoon raised his brows. He was starting to have a suspicion that maybe they were having two entirely different conversations. Wonshik cleared his throat. 

“Not that, exactly. But… things like it. Probably much worse.” 

“I don't think I understand.” 

“Don't worry about it.” Wonshik waved a hand, moving down the stands as quick as he could. “Let's just finish up. It's nothing.” Taekwoon simply watched before following. Obviously, he didn't want to discuss it any longer. It was easy to forget when Wonshik tripped over the last row of seats onto his face. Taekwoon rushed down the rest of the steps to his side. Wonshik groaned, but didn't move to fix himself. 

“Please don't.”

“You didn't hurt yourself?” He was trying to not find it funny. He was trying very hard. Wonshik shook his head. 

“Just my pride.” They say to not kick a man while he's down, and Wonshik frankly couldn't get any more down if he tried. Taekwoon pat his arm instead, silently comforting. 

“Could I ask you a question?” He sat down beside Wonshik on the circus floor, staring at the compass on his nape and angel on his side. 

“Go for it.” This was it. All he had to do was ask a simple question. Taekwoon had the baton of power while Wonshik was busy nursing his pride. Maybe he'd even be distracted from the oddness of the request, from the near desperation of it. Taekwoon had started to notice a certain longing every time they parted ways for the night. It may have been driving half mad. He sighed. 

“If you have the time…” his heart was somewhere in his throat. He laced his fingers together to stop from twisting them nervously. 

“Pardon me?” 

In any other universe, the third time would have been a success. 

Wonshik pushed himself up at the strangers call from the doorway. There was a man at the entrance to the ring, smartly dressed and poised with his hands politely clasped. He wasn't one of the performers or stage hands. Taekwoon got to his feet. 

“Can we help you?” There was a clear change in his tone now that it wasn't just the two of them. The man stepped in while Wonshik picked himself up off the floor. 

“I was looking for your leader here. There's someone I believe to have taken up employment here that I've been sent to retrieve.” His voice was as clear and sweet as a bell. His expression was professional neutrality, until his eyes very obviously skated over Wonshik. He had a hand on Taekwoon’s shoulder. The stranger smirked at him. “Quite the welcome.” Taekwoon’s jaw clenched into a vice grip, but Wonshik only chuckled. 

“Excuse my appearance, we were just getting the ring ready. Who are you looking for?” 

“Nothing to apologize for there, dear.” He was practically cooing. Wonshik was lucky he still had a hand on Taekwoon, lest he come close to strangling the man. “I'm looking for a man that goes by Hongbin. He and I are part of Requiem. Were, that is. I've been led to believe he ran off here.” That explained the kind of discomfort that settled in Taekwoon with the stranger. He did not seem to have Hongbin’s feral nature, but he did have an air of danger. He was the kind of man Taekwoon wouldn't take his eyes off of in a crowded room. 

“Oh,” Wonshik sounded cautious. He wasn't sure what to think of him either. Still, he offered a hand to the man. 

“I'm the right hand to our ringmaster here. Wonshik.”

“Cha Hakyeon.” He took Wonshik's hand. Rather than shaking it, he brought the knuckles to his lips in a delicate kiss. His smile was hauntingly cat-like. “A pleasure.” 

“I believe Hongbin and Jaehwan are practicing in the yard,” Taekwoon spoke up. The contact between the two broke. When Hakyeon faced him, it was with much less misplaced affection and charm. 

“How convenient.” 

“Jaehwan is not going to be pleased with this,” Taekwoon muttered to Wonshik as they both led the man to the back door. He was just a few paces behind them, but Taekwoon had no concern over if he heard or not. 

“We can't just pretend he's not here.”

“Jaehwan won't let him leave.”

“What if he chooses to?” Taekwoon just nearly avoided scoffing at the idea. Wonshik, a man of such great faith in those around him. 

“Why would he?” Wonshik frowned. He held the door open so the three of them could step out into the yard. 

“Look at that, up there,” Jaehwan pointed to a weathervane shaped like a rooster that perched on the roof of one of the buildings that stood beside the yard. It was five stories high, so tall that Hongbin had a hard time making out the hint of bronze that the ringmaster indicated. 

“You can't hit that from here,” Hongbin crossed his arms, “Not a chance.”

The ringmaster grinned. “Want to bet on it?”

“Sure.”

“How much?”

“I want your hairpin,” Hongbin replied, “The gold one that's shaped like a dagger. Your hair is too short to use it anyway.”

Jaehwan hummed a thoughtful hum, but nodded. “And what do I get if I win?”

“What do you want if you win?”

“A kiss.”

“Deal.”

The vaulter and the ringmaster shook on it. 

However, just as Jaehwan raised an arrow from his quiver and nocked it, the door that connected the ring to the yard swung open. 

“Lee Jaehwan!” called a voice. A voice that plucked on the strings of Hongbin’s memory. He knew that voice. Knew it well. 

Jaehwan spun around and promptly broke out in joyful laughter, jogging across the yard. Meeting the newcomer half way. Shrieking as he was spun around in a tight hug. “Yeonnie, my love! It’s been too long!”

But Hongbin didn’t follow the ringmaster. Actually, he was fighting back an overpowering urge to duck into the stables and hide behind the horses. Hakyeon couldn’t be allowed to see him, but he couldn’t make his feet move. 

Part of Taekwoon mourned the fact it was such a warm welcome between the two. Considering his purpose in being here, he thought it reasonable for Jaehwan to act like a rabid animal. Wonshik frowned beside him, trying to remember if he had ever met the man Jaehwan seemed to know so well and simply forgot. They remained at the door, just as Hongbin remained stock still on the opposite side of the two. His reaction at least seemed logical. 

“Oh, you look even more darling than when we last spoke!” Hakyeon held Jaehwan's face in hands, cooing at the grinning ringmaster. “It's been far too long. I've missed your visits.” he glanced over Jaehwan's shoulder at the man he was with before he interrupted. Almost unrecognizable, so clean and healthy there in the sun. Hakyeon wouldn't have identified him if it weren't for the wide eyed, horrified expression pointed his way. He knew that face unfortunately well. “My,” a soft little gasp of a word. “Hongbin, is that truly you?” Hongbin's eyes darted away and back to him, marking escape routes. He didn't have many that Hakyeon wouldn't be able to beat him to. “I hardly recognize you!” He couldn't keep a proud note from his voice. “They've done quite well by you here, hm?"

Hongbin didn’t respond. It felt like he’d swallowed his tongue. 

Jaehwan slipped an arm about Hakyeon’s middle, turning halfway to glance at Hongbin over his shoulder. “You know bunny, do you, my love?”

“Of course,” Hakyeon replied, tiny lines of cruelty creasing around his smile, “Everyone at Requiem does. He’s quite a star; quite popular, especially among those of us who work with the animals.”

The ringmaster’s smile didn’t falter, but his eyes grew cold. Hongbin could see them icing over even from twenty feet away. “He is a star, indeed. I don’t believe I’ve ever met a more talented vaulter than my bunny.”

Hakyeon hummed in agreement. “Then, I’m sure you understand why I’m here.”

The beating of Hongbin’s heart quickened. Fear made his hands begin to shake so he stuffed them into his pockets. Still unable to make his feet move. This was what he’d been afraid of, why he’d told the ringmaster he needed somewhere to hide. Perhaps he should have lied about where he came from or used a fake name. Not taking precautions like that had been a mistake. 

“Didn’t you come to see me? I know how difficult it is for you to stay away from things you want,” the ringmaster pouted, carding his fingers through Hakyeon’s hair, “You always say I’m so pretty; you must have come to see me.”

“Pretty you are, Jaehwannie; so, so pretty. But seeing your pretty face is just a bonus, I’m afraid.” Hakyeon tipped his chin in Hongbin’s direction. “I’ve come to retrieve Requiem’s runaway.”

Wonshik stepped into the conversation, though didn't side right beside either of them. Just over Hakyeon's shoulder with a concerned crease to his brow. Hongbin was visibly beyond uncomfortable, almost looking sick standing there. And Wonshik saw the tension across Jaehwan, subtle as it was. He knew his best friend long enough to see the little shifts in his demeanor.

“I'm afraid that may be easier said than done, sir. We've already contracted Hongbin you see.”

“That is quite the dilemma, hm?” He almost seemed to be teasing. He frowned at Hongbin like he was a misbehaving child. “Just what have you gotten yourself into, Bin?” Hongbin did the most he could in scowling at Hakyeon. That brought back even more familiarity. Hakyeon had seen that petulant expression countless times. “I'm afraid I simply can't just return without him, as much as I'm sure we all would like otherwise.” He spared a glance for Jaehwan and Wonshik. Taekwoon knew the feeling in his gut as he watched from the sidelines. He had been witness to so many negotiations like this. So many politicians and dignitaries puffed up on their own ego expecting an agreement without so much as a word of resistance. So, so many Hakyeon's that had Taekwoon biting his tongue in the back of meetings, at state parties, at trade negotiations. He was once again biting his tongue and pitying the toy the dogs were scrapping over. 

“And I don't think I can let you do such.” Wonshik's tone was light, but his words said that he was set in stone. There was a bit of satisfaction to be gained in how Hakyeon looked at him. Like he didn't anticipate resistance. 

Hongbin was staring at the back of the ringmaster’s head, silently begging him to look. To turn around and meet Hongbin’s eyes. To reassure Hongbin that he wouldn’t let this happen. 

But Jaehwan didn’t turn around. Every single drop of his attention was focused on Hakyeon. 

“I assume you brought his contract along? From Requiem? That would be the only acceptable grounds for his return,” Jaehwan asked, casually stepping out of the friendly embrace. The heel of his left boot kicked up a small cloud of dirt. 

Hakyeon nodded, tugging a folded sheet of paper from the inside of his sleeve and presenting it to the ringmaster. “Naturally.”

“It’s a shame… Seeing a man of your station reduced to nothing more than an errand boy.” Jaehwan took the paper and scanned it quickly. He snorted under his breath. “This would never hold up in court. You should really advise your superiors to find better legal counsel. I have recommendations if they need it. But I’ll humor you this time, my love, since we’re such good friends.”

“No, wait!” Hongbin exclaimed, unable to stop the words from escaping, but Jaehwan waved him to silence. The vaulter grit his teeth and swallowed. 

“Then, you’ll give him back?”

“No. Hongbin will never set foot in Requiem again as long as I live. But I’ll give you the next best thing.”

Jaehwan pulled his billfold from inside his jacket, plucking a blank check from it and moving around so he could use Wonshik’s back like a desk. Quickly filling it out with the pen he’d pulled from Taekwoon’s pocket. 

“There,” he passed both the contract and the check to Hakyeon, “That should be more than enough to compensate for their losses. One and a half times what they claimed his value to be.”

Hakyeon blinked at the ringmaster, nonplussed, but Jaehwan was already walking back to Hongbin’s side. 

“Now, my love, you’re welcome to stay for a while if you aren’t in a hurry to return to your masters. My home is always open to my friends.”

Bending at the waist, Jaehwan retrieved the bow he’d dropped a moment ago, nocked an arrow, took aim, and loosed. The weathervane spun despite the conspicuous lack of wind; Jaehwan’s arrow lodged firmly in the rooster’s eye. 

“Don’t waste your breath trying to convince me to give him up, Yeonnie. I’m afraid I won’t be so generous the next time you try.” Jaehwan was already towing the vaulter toward the door by the hand, but he winked at Hongbin over his shoulder, “And you, bunny, owe me a kiss.”

With that, the two of them vanished into the safe embrace of the circus building. 

Hakyeon stared at the check in hand, the hefty sum scrawled on it. 

“He's grown really attached to Hongbin,” Wonshik explained the obvious for him. It would have come off as smug if it came from anyone else's mouth. Taekwoon came to his side. 

“It would be best to give up now.” in a perfect world, that would be the end of it. He would be a fleeting annoyance and everyone could return to their lives as usual. Taekwoon could make his fourth and final attempt. 

“I'm not sure if they'll be impressed or simply butcher me for this,” Hakyeon muttered with a self-deprecating laugh. Wonshik pat his back sympathetically. 

“Jaehwan's offer still stands. You don't have to rush back.” Taekwoon bit down his own thoughts on the matter. None of his business, not under his control. Hakyeon sighs and pockets the papers, tucking them back where they had once come from. 

“A night then, if it's not too much of a burden.” He batted lashes at Wonshik sweetly. 

“Of course not.” Taekwoon was beginning to think Wonshik might be an idiot. Hakyeon gave Wonshik a smile and brushed his arm demurely. 

“Thank you. It's such a long trip to make twice in one day.” 

“Would you have still stayed had we let you take Hongbin?” Hakyeon seemed a little miffed at the interruption of his flirting. He played it off with a shrug. 

“In that case I would at least be traveling with company, and I wouldn't return to whatever they have planned for me.” 

“Is it truly so cruel there?” Wonshik knew of Requiem. He had gone to a show with Jaehwan once, maybe twice. More so, he knew that Hongbin had gone through hell there. Hongbin was only one member of likely hundreds, however. Hakyeon tsked, tapping a finger under Wonshik's chin. Taekwoon heard his breath falter at the touch. 

“They would eat a sweet thing like you up.” His touch couldn't have ended soon enough, in Taekwoon’s opinion. Wonshik cleared his throat, nodding stiffly. 

“I see.”

“I'm sure you can piece an image together from all the horror stories Hongbin likely told you.”

“He described all of you as sadistic animals.” Wonshik smacked Taekwoon’s side for his comment, true as it was. The guard wouldn't be fooled by all these polite airs Hakyeon was putting on. He wasn't so easy. Hakyeon, surprisingly, didn't react in anger. He instead chuckled. 

“Yes, that sounds right.” Wonshik and Taekwoon exchanged a sidelong glance. Taekwoon begged in his mind to revoke the invitation for him to stay. Wonshik, obviously, was none the wiser to it. 

“Hongbin has recovered quite well. Perhaps all that's needed is some time away.” Hakyeon hummed. He glanced at the door the ringmaster and vaulter had left. 

“He did seem quite tame.” 

“Well.” Wonshik clapped his hands together. He was trying to change the conversation as quick as he was able. “If you'll be staying, the least we can do is show you around.” 

“I would be very grateful for that.”

“It's only a night,” Taekwoon muttered to him. 

“Jaehwan said he was welcome to stay as long as he liked.” Like Taekwoon wasn't aware of what Jaehwan had said. Hakyeon put a hand to his heart, like taking an oath. 

“I won't overstay my welcome, dear.” Taekwoon didn't bother to tell him that he already had. He simply walked back to the door from which they came. The two followed behind.

“Are you a performer as well?” Wonshik asked him idly as they walked through the back hall. 

“Not like Hongbin. I work with the animals. My times in the ring are only as an aid.” 

“We should show you the menagerie then. You may appreciate it.”

“I would appreciate anything you showed me, dear.” Taekwoon stopped walking ahead of them abruptly so that Hakyeon was forced to accidentally walk directly into him. Hakyeon only chuckled and apologized. Wonshik easily stepped around them, showing off the ring they had just spent the afternoon decorating. Taekwoon glared into the back of Hakyeon's head as he moved to follow, listening to Wonshik explain the concepts of the circus. 

“I would have thought Jaehwan and Hongbin would have come in here,” Wonshik muttered with a worried crease in his brow. 

“They likely went back to their apartment,” Taekwoon suggested as he joined the pair in the ring. Wonshik worried his lip with his teeth as he looked at the entrance door. He turned to Taekwoon with a sudden thought. 

“Would you stay with Hakyeon so that I can go check on Jaehwan?” 

“What?” Taekwoon’s blood went cold. 

“Jaehwan gets destructive when he's upset. I don't want him to…” Wonshik made some kind of gesture that alluded to the rest of the sentence. Burn the building down, perhaps. His eyes pleaded like a kicked dog. At least he saw that what he was asking of Taekwoon wasn't something simple. Taekwoon tried to find a fight he could put up. 

“Go check on him.” Taekwoon sighed. Wonshik slackened with relief. 

“Thank you.” He looked to Hakyeon while itching for the door. “We can speak properly later. Sorry!” He jogged off for the door before doubling back to snatch his shirt from the stands. “Don't forget this!” He tossed Taekwoon’s waistcoat back to him, smacking him square in the chest with the fabric. He went out the door as he tugged his shirt back over his head. 

There was a moment of quiet as Taekwoon pulled it back on and buttoned it. It was almost tolerable until Hakyeon hummed. 

“Did I interrupt something with my entrance?” Taekwoon glared at his sleeves as he unrolled them. 

“I don't know what you're implying, sir.” Hakyeon turned to face him. The cat-like smile was back. 

“I'm sorry dear, I don't believe I caught your name before.” He held out a hand. Not like a handshake, but as if Taekwoon was supposed to set his own in it. Let his own knuckles grace the stranger's round lips. 

“Taekwoon.” Taekwoon should have broken a molar with how tight his jaw was. 

“I'm sorry, I didn't quite catch that.” he had to be testing the guards patience, the way his smile swapped out for a put on pout. Convincing as a fox trying to sneak into the hen house. 

“Taekwoon.” He spaced out the syllables, in case Hakyeon was simply dull. He returned to smiling, nodding softly. He stopped waiting for the hand that was never coming. 

“Taekwoon, what a sweet name.”

“Whatever you're attempting to do won't work.” Taekwoon would not be a fool. He would not be mocked in his own home. A friend, a guest, it didn't matter. Hakyeon laughed, poorly hiding it behind a hand. 

“What am I attempting to do exactly?”

“You might be cozy with Jaehwan, but that doesn't mean I trust you.”

“And what could I possibly do to earn that trust?” Everything Taekwoon seemed to say just slid directly off of him. He didn't care for anyone else's opinions, much less Taekwoon’s negative ones. It was like this was a game to him. Taekwoon turned to guide him to the menagerie. He didn't look to see if he followed.

“You won't.” 

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Jaehwan's costume reference by @Nestras_rvng

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Chapter Text

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Every step that Jaehwan took felt like the birth of an earthquake.

He had done his absolute best to keep his temper under control in front of the others, in front of Hakyeon. Not wanting to frighten his friends or give Hakyeon the impression he was easily rattled. He’d aimed for an air of haughty in difference as cover. 

But now, stomping up the stairs in his apartment building and clutching tight to Hongbin’s hand, Jaehwan’s mental grasp on his temper was slipping. 

“I can’t believe him,” the ringmaster hissed, unlocking the front door and tugging Hongbin inside before slamming it behind them, “I really can’t believe him!” 

Hongbin didn’t bother trying to pull away; perhaps sensing the futility of such an attempt until Jaehwan was ready to let go. “I can,” he replied, “I know him. Have known him for a while. Nothing he could do would surprise me at this point.”

Jaehwan was so angry that he could barely see straight. Barely hear the words leaving Hongbin's mouth. 

He began to pace, more out of habit than anything else, since it had been a quick way to burn off some of his temper’s extra heat ever since childhood. He’d been chastised for it often enough. For being a brat, for being too sensitive, for lacking self control. 

Jaehwan had been called crazy more times than he could count. Some clients had actually enjoyed him more because of it. Because he was a fighter. 

But, the older he'd grown, the more he learned how necessary it was to be able to calm down. To be able to stop himself from lashing out at everyone and everything around him. To cool off in front of people who posed a threat. So he taught himself a few tricks. Pacing. Slow, deep breaths. Pinching the thin skin of his inner wrist with his nails. 

They helped, but not all the time. Not when he was caught off guard, certainly not when he felt ambushed, and when the people he cared for were involved? Not fucking likely. 

“How do you know him?” Hongbin asked, standing in the center of the room with his arms crossed now that Jaehwan had released him, “I wouldn’t have picked you out as the type to run with his crowd.”

Jaehwan heard the poorly veiled accusation in the question, but it didn’t penetrate the thick haze of fury buzzing around inside his skull. “I don’t know him. Well, I do, but not very well. I’ve visited Requiem before, you know, for business. He gave me a tour...”

“And that’s all he gave you?”

Not pausing to think the action through, Jaehwan snatched a little porcelain frog figurine off the coffee table and hurled it at the wall. The tinkling crash sounded like music to his ears, and he reached for something else to break, not caring what it was, but Hongbin grabbed his wrist before he had a chance. 

“Don’t, darling, don’t smash your treasures over nothing,” Hongbin said, tugging Jaehwan closer, holding Jaehwan’s hand against his chest when the elder tried to wriggle free, “You’ve put a stop to his nonsense already, and I can’t properly thank you for that when you’re so upset.”

Jaehwan lost the thread of his thoughts, staring into Hongbin's lovely brown eyes. His anger shifted into something more frantic. 

“Of course, I put a stop to it. I won’t allow anyone to harm you, bunny. The only way you will return to Requiem is of your own free will. If anyone ever tries to take you there by force, I’ll kill them myself.”

He cupped Hongbin's perfect dimpled cheek, running his thumb back-and-forth beneath Hongbin's eye. Feeling Hongbin's smile. 

“You know that, don’t you, bunny? You know I’d never let anyone hurt you?” 

Hongbin nodded, expression growing softer by the moment. “I know. And thank you, really, I mean it from the bottom of my heart.”

“Oh, bunny-” 

The front door swung open and Jaehwan whipped around, the knife always concealed down the side of his boot already in his hand by the time he realized it was Wonshik. 

“Don’t scare me like that!” the ringmaster shouted, forgetting to modulate both his tone and his volume. 

Hongbin's strong arms came around him, holding the elder still and secure, but Wonshik raised his hands. 

“I didn’t mean to startle you, honey,” he replied, as soothing as always, like he couldn’t see the tip of the blade that was level between his eyes, “I just wanted to make sure you were all right.”

Jaehwan stomped his foot, all of his anger surging right back up. “If you two weren’t in here, I’d have burned this fucking nightmare to the ground already!” he hissed, waving his knife around to indicate the general surroundings, “I have brought him up here, locked him in, and reduced everything on the block to ashes!”

“And what good would that do?”

Jaehwan snapped his mouth shut, trying to unclench his jaw. 

“It wouldn’t do any good,” Wonshik said, stepping further inside, “All it would accomplish is making all of us homeless and getting yourself thrown in jail for murder.”

His best friend definitely pried the knife from Jaehwan's grip and ducked down to slide it back into its hidden sheath.

“Besides,” he continued, straightening up and giving the ringmaster a fond smile, “I’m proud of you for handling the situation so calmly. I know it must’ve been difficult, but you did very well.”

That was a cheap shot, Jaehwan thought, mutinous, even as his anger began to subside once again. Wonshik expressing anything remotely close to pride when it came to him always made Jaehwan swell with stupid, childish joy.

“It was difficult,” he muttered, tilting his head and leaning into the gentle pat Wonshik gave his cheek.

“I know. And you, Bin, are you okay?”

“I am,” Hongbin replied, “All thanks to Jaehwan.”

The ringmaster felt himself melting under their combined softness, and he pouted.

Wonshik nodded. “Good. I should get back- I left Hakyeon and Taekwoon alone. But will you promise not to commit any arson if I leave? Or, do you need me to stay?”

“I promise,” Jaehwan sniffed, his pout strengthening, “Go and rescue our precious little kitten. I have my bunny to keep me company.”

“Good,” Wonshik repeated, giving the ringmaster a tap under the chin before disappearing back the way he’d come.

As soon as the door was shut, Hongbin spun Jaehwan around, tangling his lovely hands in Jaehwan's hair. “Now, about that kiss, I owe you...”

⤫-⤬-⤬-⤬

Taekwoon finally relaxed when Wonshik stepped up to be beside him. 

“How is he?” They kept their eyes on Hakyeon, who was surrounded by the circus dogs. He was laughing at the mothers snout in his hair. 

“The building is still in one piece, so I think it's as good as it can be. Hongbin is doing good with him.” Wonshik looked to Taekwoon with a smile, hand gently resting on his back. “Thank you. I know this wasn't something you would have preferred.” It wasn't difficult to see how uncomfortable he was with Hakyeon. Wonshik could see the tension all over his body, hear his tone revert to something more akin to when he first came to the circus. Taekwoon blinked at him and nodded, forcing his eyes away back to Hakyeon. He could see that he was glancing at them. 

“It would have been unreasonable for me to refuse.” Wonshik resisted the urge to remind him what they had talked about before. They had an audience after all. His hand on Taekwoon’s back slid to his arm. 

“Still, I'm grateful.” Hakyeon rose. A puppy stood up on his leg to beg for its attention back. 

“Jaehwan is well then?” Wonshik snapped his attention to him with a smile and nod. 

“Yes he'll be alright. Perhaps a bit more protective of Hongbin for the next day or two, but he should be settled by the time they go to bed.” 

“Good to hear. I know how he can be when he's,” Hakyeon waved a hand, “worked up.” 

“Do you know Jaehwan well? You seemed quite close.” Hakyeon cooed at one of the dogs, rubbing its head sweetly. It's tongue lulled out of its mouth happily. He was surprisingly gentle with all the animals he had seen. 

“Passing stars. We saw each other whenever he visited Requiem.”

“I've gone along with him once or twice before. It's unfortunate I seem to have missed you.” Granted, he had never stayed for long after the shows. The displays within frankly made him queasy. Jaehwan was the one who socialized after. Hakyeon had a smirk back on his lips. A coy head tilt. 

“It is quite unfortunate. We’ll have to make up for the lost time.” Wonshik ducked his head with a chuckle. It was unfair how mercilessly he was trying to charm him. Even worse was its level of success. 

“I suppose so, sir.” Hakyeon huffed. 

“Oh enough of this ‘sir’ business. I heard enough of it from dear Taekwoon here.” Taekwoon let out his own displeased noise at the name. Quiet enough only Wonshik could hear.  “Just Hakyeon is more than enough.” Wonshik nodded.

“If you insist, Hakyeon.” Hakyeon preened at his answer.

“That's a dear boy.” Wonshik shyly twisted his hands behind his back, praying that Hakyeon couldn't see it. His pride had taken enough of a bruising today. He wouldn't let the stranger have a leg up on him so soon. “Now that you're here, you simply must introduce me to all of your animals.” Wonshik fumbled for the keys he always had tucked in his pocket, nearly dropping them. He left Taekwoon to start guiding Hakyeon back to the cages. Hakyeon was more than happy to walk as close as possible. Taekwoon silently stalked behind them both. 

“If you take your time going back, I may be able to have one of our trainers introduce you properly. They know the animals much better than I.”

“That would be lovely.” Wonshik was frankly scared of half the animals they kept. He much preferred a barrier between them and him, whether it be their cage or their trainer. None of them were aggressive animals, the trainers made sure of that. Still, a beast was a beast.  

“What do you keep at Requiem?” He didn't recall any animals in the performance he saw, save for the horses.

“Dogs, horses, a chimp, elephant. Many have come and gone.”

“An elephant?” Hakyeon chuckled and nodded at Wonshik's shock. The three stopped at the huge aviary cage. 

“She's recent. She's not ready for shows quite yet.” Wonshik could see a new emotion cross his face. Something like resignation as he stared up at the birds. They sang sweetly despite him. 

“Where do you get such an animal?” 

“I am from a long and proud family of animal traders, hunters, and poachers. My father has a special interest in those of the exotic variety.” It came off scripted, rehearsed. He had boasted his proud lineage many times before. 

“How does his son end up in the circus?” Taekwoon spoke up behind them. It startled Wonshik, but Hakyeon only snorted. 

“As a deal the circus couldn't refuse.” He looked back at Taekwoon. His look dared Taekwoon to ask him to elaborate. The guard only stared back at him, expression flat. The same face he made when speaking with Jaehwan. 

“They get animals and a trainer to go along with them?” Wonshik tried. Hakyeon held a hand to his chest in lieu of a bow. 

“They were eager to sign, you can imagine.” Wonshik thought he might like to see it in action. His presence with humans was already so commanding it seemed put on. How would it be with the animals? “Would you?” Hakyeon gestured to the lock on the cage. Wonshik fumbled with the keys to do so. 

“Just- be careful.” 

“I wouldn't dare to hurt a feather on their heads.” 

Hakyeon held his hand out just beyond the door of the cage, calm and still. The birds seemed to not notice him at all. He whistled sweetly, nearly identical to one of the songs the birds would sing. They looked at him, the hand he offered. After a moment, one dove fluttered down, perching on his fingers. Its head swiveled quickly to look at the men. “What a sweetheart.” He slowly pulled his hand from the cage. The dove only adjusted its footing. “Beautiful thing.” He held his other hand up to the bird, letting it see and smell him. It shifted further down Hakyeon's hand at the graze of a pet.

“You sounded just like them.” 

“I've learnt many bird calls. Doves are quite easy to replicate.” The dove cooed softly, as if to provide an example. Hakyeon happily copied it. The dove flapped back up to a perch when Hakyeon brought it back inside the cage. “They're well trained. Ours are much more sensitive.” 

“Do they react as well to you as ours?” Hakyeon shut the cage door.

“I'm one of the few they'll behave for. It's the same with Hongbin and his horses.” Hakyeon gave a breath of laughter. “Or was, I suppose.”

“Ours took to him quickly.” Wonshik believed the two safest places in the world to the vaulter were beside Jaehwan and in the stable. There was an indescribable peace to him when he had a brush to Sugar’s coat or Marzipan's mane. 

“He loves them,” Taekwoon adds. His budding friendship with Hongbin always made Wonshik happy. He was seeing Taekwoon gradually crack open. Hakyeon chuckled and began to walk to the next cage. 

“I'm certain he does.” 

⤫-⤬-⤬-⤬

“Now, this is who I wanted to see again.” Hakyeon spoke as they came upon the last animal. They had walked through the entire menagerie, stopping to greet what animals Wonshik was willing to release. Neither Taekwoon nor Hakyeon seemed to have a single reservation about the animals. Taekwoon’s lack of fear surprised Wonshik with all the caution he exercised elsewhere. Perhaps, even with his reservations, he trusted Hakyeon's expertise. “I've never seen one in such a beautiful condition.” The tiger in front of Hakyeon, Balam, ignored his gushing. She laid on her side with her tail lazily wagging. She let out a gruff noise that sounded like annoyance at the disruption of her nap. 

“Have you seen many tigers?” 

“Living, just twice this close. There was a family trip to India.”

“Were they similar to Balam there?” Wonshik wasn't knowledgeable of the breeds of tigers. Balam had been at Lumen Ad Somnia almost as long as he had been. 

“I remember them being smaller, more stripes and more color.” He shifted, trying to get in her sight line. “She's Siberian, if I had to guess.”

“It wouldn't be wise to release her.” Taekwoon took Hakyeon's place beside Wonshik. He watched the animal tamer move around the cage. 

“I wouldn't want to even if her trainers were here.” Wonshik saw himself as justified for his paranoia around the cat. Her tired yawn that exposed giant fangs was defense enough. 

“They're much calmer than Bengals, Siberians. Not as aggressive or territorial.” He wasn't fully concentrating on talking to the two. He skittered his hands across the stone floor like she was nothing more than a housecat. 

“An animal is still an animal,” Taekwoon argued. Circus animals could be unpredictable at times, especially if treated poorly. Wonshik had heard of many instances where a rogue circus animal had to be put down after a tragic accident. 

“Man is far worse than a tiger. Terrible creatures.” It took wonshik a moment to process what Hakyeon had said. Taekwoon obviously didn't need the same, scoffing. He didn't say anything more. 

“Would you prefer to spend all your time with animals rather than people?” Wonshik would easily admit intrigue. Hakyeon didn't seem to struggle at all socially. He seemed a perfect model of what a man of his upbringing should be. He would expect the sentiment more from Taekwoon than Hakyeon. 

“Would you not?” 

“I think I'd be lonely without people.” Hakyeon stood, swiping the dust from the knees of his trousers. 

“Yes, you seem quite the sociable type.” He tapped under Wonshik's chin, as if that was something he could physically see. Wonshik didn't startle away, though he was clearly surprised. “Friend to everyone, aren't you?” Wonshik shrugged, casting his eyes down. 

“I try to be.” Hakyeon hummed. 

“Sweet thing.” There was the staring again. Wonshik could feel it crawling  over his skin as Hakyeon took him in. He fought the urge to shy away. 

“Its getting late. We should show him where he'll stay.” Taekwoon was only looking at Wonshik when he said it. Hakyeon's opinion was immaterial to him. Him speaking was enough to break the staring, at least. Wonshik nodded. 

“You're right.” Back to Hakyeon. “I'm sure you're tired after all your travel.” 

“Eventful as this all has been, I have yet to be exhausted.” His smile made it clear he meant to imply a double entendre, and it made Wonshik chuckle. “But please, do lead the way.” Taekwoon immediately moved to leave, not looking to see if they were following. His irritation was clear just from the way he walked. Wonshik felt crushed between the guard's agitation and Hakyeon's physical presence. He stuck so close. 

“You should have everything you need for a night, but if you don't you can just ask me!” Hakyeon strolled around the apartment. It was the last one left unoccupied, right next door to Jaehwan and Hongbin. Bare bones, just like Taekwoon’s months back. “Jae and Hongbin are just next door, and me and Taekwoon are across from you.” 

“Separately,” Taekwoon clarified. Hakyeon smiled to himself as he looked in one of the kitchen cabinets. 

“Prefer the personal space?” 

“Taekwoon is rather new here, actually. I wouldn't expect him to want to move in with a stranger.” Wonshik chuckled at the idea, the image of the face Taekwoon might have made back then if Wonshik suggested it. He had warmed up since he first got hired, especially to Wonshik, but he might have walked right back out if that was his only option then. 

“You've gotten quite close, then.” Taekwoon set his jaw. Wonshik nodded with a grin. 

“Oh, of course! He's a dear friend now.” Taekwoon looked at Wonshik. Surprised at the sentiment. Wonshik just smiled back at him, close-eyed and genuine. Taekwoon could only manage to nod back at him in response. When he looked back at Hakyeon, he was watching them again. 

“Those back home would just eat you two up.” It was almost a sneer, the smile on his face. Not unlike the look he had for Hongbin. He’s quite a star; especially among those of us who work with the animals . Those in question would not be kind in their enjoyment. Taekwoon’s hands clenched in his pockets at the idea of being Hakyeon's entertainment. 

“Metaphorically, I hope,” Wonshik humors. Hakyeon pauses for a moment before he laughs. Something actually genuine for the other two to perceive. 

“Oh you are delightful!” Wonshik preened at the praise, smile big and bright. Finally, something he and Taekwoon would agree on. 

“Will you be needing anything else for the night?” Taekwoon cut through their moment. Hakyeon's laugh faded out, and he glanced back over at the kitchen. Before he could answer, Wonshik hit a realization. 

“Its dinner time!” 

“Indeed it is.” Cool as water, hands folded in front of him again. Wonshik gestured out the door. 

“You must be famished after everything. Please, I'll make something.” Hakyeon simply gestured for him to lead the way. Taekwoon caught Wonshik’s elbow when he walked straight into the door frame. 

“I'll help you.”

“You don't have to.” Taekwoon was already damn near dragging him to the artist's apartment. “I'm sure you'd prefer some time to yourself.” Taekwoon leveled the man with a look stern enough to penetrate his skull. He nervously chuckled in reply. “Okay, okay. If you insist.” Hakyeon followed behind them as they entered Wonshik's apartment. Taekwoon let go so Wonshik could rummage through his kitchen for a meal. 

“Quite the leash you have on him,” Hakyeon muttered beside him. Taekwoon’s years of standing on duty kept him from whipping his head around to gawk at the little comment. 

“I don't know what you mean.” Wonshik was beginning to pile pots and pans on the stove top.

“Does he not remind you of a puppy?” Hakyeon was leaning too close into Taekwoon’s space. His voice was too suggestive. “So sweet and eager to please.” Taekwoon clenched his fists again. “But with just enough of a bite.” He looked to Taekwoon with a grin that only showed his ill intent. “Or, tell me, is it all just bark?” 

“Wonshik is not a dog,” Taekwoon spat. The gaul to suggest as much. Wonshik was as free and beautiful as a star. To cage him would be the greatest indignity. He was filling a pot with water as they spoke. “Whatever you believe about our relationship,” he met Hakyeon's eyes, “You're wrong.” Rather than backtrack or apologize, Hakyeon simply blinked back. Whatever Taekwoon said was not going to get through his thick fucking skull. 

“What's on the menu, my dear?” He asked Wonshik instead, going to meet him in the kitchen. Taekwoon couldn't wait for tomorrow to come. 

Taekwoon was prepared to never let Wonshik into a kitchen again. By this point, he had taken over the cooking and reduced the artist to his aid. Hakyeon was perched in the doorway, carrying on conversation with Wonshik. He was part of the problem, Taekwoon quickly deduced. Wonshik had only burnt his hand when Hakyeon had called him handsome in a passing comment. His skills were still abysmal, however. It should not have been a surprise that someone so accident prone carried that trait into the kitchen with him. 

“Have you always worked here?” Wonshik shook his head as he stirred the pot for Taekwoon. 

“I've been here since I was fifteen; but I didn't grow up in Lumen, no.” 

“How did you come across it?” Taekwoon listened to them as he sliced into the onion on the cutting board. 

“Same way Taek did.” He gestured over at the guard with his head. “I saw the posters they had posted for artists and performers.”

“And which are you, dear?” He looked Wonshik over, briefly. Just a flick of the eyes this time. “Would certainly be a handsome strongman or acrobat.” Wonshik chuckled awkwardly. 

“Just an artist. I wouldn't be good in the ring.” Hakyeon cooed, pouting. 

“Oh, surely you don't believe that. I think you would be riveting. Don't you, Taekwoon?” The knife met the cutting board loudly. Taekwoon paused in his dicing to answer. 

“If he wanted to, he would do well,” he muttered, barely loud enough to catch over the noise of cooking. 

“Oh he would do more than well! You would be fantastic.” Wonshik hung his head over the pot. He was only pink from the steam. 

“You're very kind. Both of you.”

“I would be content simply watching you read from textbooks.” He smiled at Taekwoon from over Wonshik's shoulder. “Wouldn't you, Taekwoon?” Taekwoon squinted at him, trying to gleam an intention from him. He was trying to make him squirm, just as he was with every forward comment. Taekwoon brought the board over to the pot. Wonshik only took a single step away, keeping them close. 

“I would encourage him no matter what the performance was.” He used the knife to push the vegetables in. Wonshik watched him. 

“I'd do the same for you, Taek.” His look made Wonshik trip over his words, "If you ever want to try it, that is. I'm not trying to coerce you into anything.” He put his hand down in defeat, only to shoot it back up to his chest at contact with the hot stove. Taekwoon hadn't stopped staring at him. 

“Alright?” Wonshik nodded, trying to not cringe at his fragile pride rearing its head again. Hakyeon hummed softly from behind him. 

“I believe you're making the poor thing nervous, Taekwoon.” Stupidly, Wonshik pointed to himself as he glanced back at Hakyeon.

“Me?” Hakyeon was leaning forward just enough, smiling just that bit too wide. 

“Do we make you nervous, Wonshik?” There was a distinct feeling of being trapped between a rock and a hard place. Taekwoon was right there beside him, and hakyeon was a scant few feet away in the only exit from the kitchen. Taekwoon, at least, didn't exude the same kind of pressure from his side. He was as still as he ever was. Hakyeon was the pressing force. Wonshik forced a chuckle, unsure what else he could do. He shrugged.

“Why would I be nervous?” Taekwoon looked around him, scowling unabashedly in Hakyeon's direction. 

“Does he need to be?” It was a challenge. Was hakyeon going to do something where Taekwoon would need to step in? He was eager to,  if so. Hakyeon held up his hands in mock surrender.

“Of course not. I was merely saying that he seems… flustered.” It being pointed out so directly did not help Wonshik's case. He avoided looking at either of them, favoring stirring the pot's contents. 

“I simply don't… host often. Yes.” Gaining confidence in the lie. “I'm simply out of practice.”

“You don't have a habit of hosting your darling Taekwoon?” Taekwoon huffed at the title. The walls seemed to squeeze just that bit tighter. 

“Well- no. Not formally, I mean. He visits every other night, but I don't,” Wonshik could not pass the blush off as coming from the steam any longer, “it's nothing like this.”

“Oh?” 

“Enough,” Taekwoon finally interrupted. He left Wonshik's side to take the cutting board and knife to the sink. Wonshik let out a sigh of relief. Hakyeon was still watching, but at least he wasn't pressing any longer. 

Wonshik simply didn't know what to do with himself around people like Hakyeon. People who commanded a room, who were so open and forward, who were so touchy with a practical stranger. He'd only been at Lumen Ad Somnia a few meager hours, and he was already so affectionate on him. And that affection felt… off somehow. He couldn't tell what it was, or if it was even real at all, but he had such a sense of ulterior motives from the man. Part of him worried if it was the right move to play gracious host for Jaehwan. Then, he had invited him to stay. Wonshik trusted Jaehwan, as senseless as he could sometimes be when he was lost to his passions. He knew jaehwan cared about all of them more than anything in the world. He wouldn't take the risk of inviting someone with cruel intentions. But then, he could have also been placating. Lessening the burn of such a vicious rejection for Hakyeon. Wonshik walked himself in circles about everyone's intentions. He would talk to Jaehwan about it when he had a chance tomorrow. He could trust Jaehwan at least to give a straight answer. 

Taekwoon too, he thought as the man came over to turn down the flame. He didn't look at Wonshik, concentrated on his work with the same expression he had when he did anything. Taekwoon was easy to read, in an odd kind of way. He seemed upset by every little thing to an outside perspective, and wonshik had felt that way when first getting to know him. He wasn't, truly. He was soft, more than a touch shy. He never seemed to be putting something on for Wonshik. The closest he came was when he struggled to try and get close to him. Wonshik immediately identified the problem when Taekwoon first lurked in the doorway. He didn't seem to know how to ask for the things he wanted, or maybe didn't know if he was allowed to ask for them. Or maybe even what they were in the first place. So, he tried to act like he didn't want them. Fortunately, at least around Wonshik, he was a pretty fucking awful liar. But wonshik was glad to hold his hand through it. Wonshik trusted him to be honest. 

“It's ready.” Wonshik jerked out of his thoughts at Taekwoon’s voice. He went to gather bowls for them. Hakyeon turned round to clear the table for them. Taekwoon filled the bowls in Wonshik's hands and the artist took them to the table so they could all sit down. Hakyeon had gathered everything into the spare chair, but he held a sketchpad in hand, staring down at it thoughtfully. 

“The table tends to become a place where I just drop things,” Wonshik tried to explain. Hakyeon didn't look up as the artist set down dinner. 

“These are beautiful.” 

“Those are just for practice.” Taekwoon joined them, took the chair to Wonshik’s right. He would be between the two, hopefully keeping the peace. 

“If these are merely practice…” Hakyeon set the sketchpad down with everything else. Wonshik smiled shyly. 

“You flatter me too much.”

“Where is the harm in that?” Hakyeon quipped as he stirred the contents of his own bowl. It reminded wonshik a bit of the early days before Hongbin or Taekwoon. He and Jaehwan were always eating together, sitting close and laughing as they talked. They should have meals together more often, the four of them. 

“Are you so sweet to every man you meet?” It was half a joke. Wonshik was simply trying to tease him. Hakyeon hummed.

“Only those who capture my interest,” He easily answered, blowing on his spoonful. 

“You have many interests, then.” Hakyeon laughed at the comment Taekwoon muttered lowly. Clearly intended to be a jab. 

“Maybe you just keep particularly fascinating company.” Taekwoon shot him a look across the table, but said nothing. The food was delicious. Wonshik tried to tell Taekwoon as much, but the guard insisted that Wonshik had helped. It was overly generous, considering the artist had burnt himself no less than twice. Taekwoon wouldn't budge however, refusing the praise as always. He glared into his bowl when Hakyeon tried to agree with Wonshik. 

“Such a humble man, isn't he?” Wonshik shrugged, trying not to appear to be choosing sides. 

“A little humility isn't a bad thing.” Hakyeon scoffed. 

“More than just a little with him.” 

“I won't take all the credit when it isn't deserved,” Taekwoon argued. 

“You nearly shoved me out of the kitchen.” Taekwoon’s scowl hit Wonshik for just a fraction of a second before it was focused back on the food in front of him. 

“You were distracted.”

“Guilty as charged.” At least Hakyeon was aware of what he was doing before. 

“But I still could have made dinner.” Between spoonfuls. “Granted, it wouldn't have been as good as yours.”

“I would like to avoid you accidentally killing yourself or burning the room down where I can.” Hakyeon snorted on the other end of the table. He seemed quite amused by the two of them. 

“what good care he takes of you.” 

“It's my job.” 

“As though you take no pleasure in it.” Taekwoon paused at the reply, caught off guard. Hakyeon merely smiled at him, chin on his hand. “I've never seen a man so willing to serve another.”

“He's very professional about his role. He would do the same for Jae or Hongbin.” Taekwoon nodded slightly, perfunctory. Hakyeon clicked his tongue. 

“Oh no, it's different with you. Is it not, Taekwoon?” The guard finally met Hakyeon's eyes, glared at him. Was there flush creeping up his cheeks? “Wonshik is special, is he not?” He quirked one perfect brow. Taekwoon’s lips twitched, like he was failing to form words. “The difference between you with and without him is night and day. Nearly another man all together.” 

“He's the closest with me out of anyone so far.” Wonshik smiled at Taekwoon, trying to assuage his embarrassment. “We just fit together.” He most certainly was flushed. His eyes seemed to beg Wonshik to put him out of his misery, or maybe to allow him to kill the man across from him. 

Hakyeon finally stopped pushing, though he did still stare. His look was ice under Taekwoon’s skin. There was a familiar, oddly comforting feeling to Wonshik seemingly ignoring Taekwoon’s plight. To his charge ignoring his discomfort. This place should feel like home to him. Though, the supportive hand on his arm was new. Wonshik gave his forearm a passing squeeze as a brief means of reassurance. His hand lingered, thumb resting just over a vein that Taekwoon prayed he couldn't feel thumping with his pulse. 

“Will you be leaving come the morning?” Wonshik asks Hakyeon. It lifts some pressure off of Taekwoon. He's allowed to breathe again. 

“We shall see.” Wonshik frowned. He was still touching Taekwoon. The guard stared at the hand, at the fine knuckles. 

“Please don't make another attempt at Hongbin. Jaehwan won't budge.” No one would be able to save him if he made a second attempt at taking Hongbin away. It was a miracle he survived the first. Hakyeon shook his head. 

“No, I know not to press my luck with him.” A pause to eat. There was a subtle difference between him and Wonshik that showed which one of them had to endure etiquette training as a boy. “I simply wish to take advantage of my time away from Requiem.”

“Do you not get away often?” Wonshik took his hand away from Taekwoon. He tried to not mourn the loss of comfort. Hakyeon gave a humorless laugh. 

“Not if they can help it.”

“Do they treat everyone there like they did you and Hongbin?” Hongbin used to be something of a songbird in a rusted cage, from Wonshik's understanding. He would understand why Hakyeon wasn't eager to go if that was the case. 

“Only those with the spirit to fight it.” It was said like a joke, but none of them laughed. “Hongbin and I aren't exactly identical.” A snort came from across the table. Wonshik tilted his head. 

“How so?” 

“This isn't his first attempt at running off, simply the first success. I don't get such a lock and key.”

“Because you don't try to leave?”

“And go where?” Hakyeon scoffs. Wonshik frowns in response. “No, because I am simply persuasive.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“People are quite simple when you know the right things to say.” The cruel note to his smile again. A man who knew just how to get what he wanted. Just who he needed to step on to get there. The candid admission floored Taekwoon. He almost seemed proud of the fact he was apparently skilled in manipulating people. Grimly, he considered what that meant about everything he said to them since he arrived. “I can leave as I please, I simply have to keep the others from addressing it.”

“I'm sure your father appreciates you leaving your place.” Hakyeon grins at Taekwoon, speaks with a wink, 

“What he doesn't know doesn't hurt him.” But he would find a way to know, Taekwoon wants to argue. He learnt the hard way long ago that ignorance may be bliss, but it was fleeting. The truth always revealed itself. He hoped Hakyeon's comeuppance came soon. 

“I take it the two of you aren't on the best of terms.” Wonshik had never known his own, nor what became of him. The question never came to him as a thing to ask when he was just a boy. Hakyeon placed his spoon in his bowl, rising from his seat. 

“Oh no, he simply wants the best for me.” He promptly took the dish to the kitchen to clean out the bowl. Wonshik exchanged a look with Taekwoon. The flush had died out, back to his usual irritable calm. Wonshik poked at Taekwoon’s free hand, just as an affectionate gesture. Taekwoon’s gaze dropped to their hands. 

“I suppose I should allow you two to pick up where I interrupted.” Hakyeon stood just behind Wonshik's shoulder, back to that familiar pose from before. “Unless this was all a form of invitation.” He gestured at the table, referring to the dinner. Wonshik looked up at him. He gave him a confused frown. 

“Invitation for what?”

“When I came in, you were both quite alone and disheveled on the floor.” The smile stretching his face was cat-like. Taekwoon’s gut suddenly felt hollow. “And dear Taekwoon seemed rather irritable about the interruption.” Hakyeon patted Wonshik's shoulder. “No need to play naive.”

“I'm not sure…” Hakyeon leveled Wonshik with a skeptical look. Wonshik clearly ran through the memory in his head. The moment of realization was clear. “You thought-”

“And I'm happy to let you get back to it, with or without me.” Wonshik let out some kind of sound between a scoff and a squawk. Heat rushed up to his face. 

“No, no! We weren't-” an awkward laugh, “I'm not trying to-”

“Such a shy thing, isn't he?” Muttered to Taekwoon. Taekwoon did not entertain him. 

“Why are you so insistent?” What did he see that made him so unwavering in his perception? What was Taekwoon doing wrong? 

“Because I've never seen two men deny a relationship so hard while making no effort to disguise it.” Like they were the weird ones. Like the answer was so obvious it was moronic to ask. 

“We're not- it's not a relationship.” Wonshik was pointing between him and Taekwoon. He looked at the guard as though he were some kind of lifeline waiting to be thrown out. He was just as uncomfortable about the insinuation as Taekwoon. It was a bitter kind of comfort to know they felt identically. 

“There's no reason to try and fool me.” Offended, like they were trying to call him an idiot. There, underneath all that puff and grandeur, Taekwoon could finally catch a glimpse of the real man. Of the delicate pride that made his very center. It only showed itself for a moment, in Hakyeon's mild offense. “You could have simply said no and I would have bid you goodnight.” 

“Hakyeon, no. We’re truly-” Hakyeon dipped his head in a form of bow. 

“Thank you for the hospitality. Good night.” Wonshik still gaped at Hakyeon as he made his exit, trying to find the words to his argument. Too little too late, the animal trainer had left. The quiet that remained was enough to make Taekwoon’s ears ring. He heard the spare apartment’s door shut through the walls. 

“We aren't together, are we?” As though Taekwoon would have decided such a thing on his own and didn't bother to tell Wonshik. Idiotic as it sounded, Wonshik's concern was genuine. He wasn't humoring Taekwoon with an unfunny joke. He was truly afraid that was the case. Taekwoon stood, half eaten dinner in hand. 

“You will never need to worry yourself with that, Wonshik.” He took his bowl to the kitchen as Wonshik seemed to sag with relief. Taekwoon washed both the used bowls thoughtlessly. An energy he firmly ignored buzzed just under his skin. 

He would never need to worry about such a thing. Taekwoon had promised he would never do something like that again. 

⤫-⤬-⤬-⤬

Wonshik stood in the entryway, simply staring at Taekwoon on the other side of the room. The scant morning sunlight poured in from the window beside him, only reaching the crown of his head. It was silent, save for the birds singing outside. 

“Are you… shining it?” Taekwoon had his sword out of its scabbard and was running a dark cloth over its metal. It shone, even without the sunlight on it. Impeccable condition. Taekwoon nodded. 

“It's a morning ritual.” He continued a few moments more before he looked up to Wonshik. “You're awake early.” Wonshik cleared his throat as he nodded. He had expected Taekwoon to still be disheveled, freshly woken up by the artist knocking. He was already dressed however, ready to leave any second once he slipped into shoes and stashed the sword. 

“I couldn't fall back asleep.” Taekwoon nodded. His eyes fell back on the sword. “I wanted to,” Wonshik crossed his arms, shifting in his slippers, “make sure you were well.” Taekwoon stopped again, squinting at Wonshik. 

“What for?”

“Last night seemed upsetting for you. I simply wanted to…” Taekwoon’s expression relaxed minutely. It was a beautiful sword. He held it with the confidence of a man that was born with it already in hand. Part of Wonshik wanted to step in closer to see if there were any intricate details carved in. “Check in with you,” He finished lamely. 

“I am fine.” 

“Ah, good. That's good.”

“Are you doing well?” He softly asked Wonshik in return. He wasn't looking over at him anymore. He didn't seem focused on the blade either, however. 

“Oh! Yes, yes I'm… well.” He cringed at the awkward sound of it. “Not used to being awake before you've already left.” 

“I prefer to be there before anyone else comes in. As a precaution.” Wonshik nodded, rocking on his feet. 

It felt odd to talk to him now. What Hakyeon said stuck to him like tar and the thought of it both put him to sleep and woke him up. He thought he and Taekwoon were together. Wonshik wouldn't have cared were it anyone else. He had been with jaehwan before, so that was no chip off his shoulder. He found Hongbin kind and handsome. He understood why Jaehwan was so fond of him. If he hadn't staked his claim over the vaulter and Hongbin expressed interest, Wonshik wouldn't turn him down. But Taekwoon was different. Taekwoon needed a more… delicate approach than what Hakyeon had. He was more bull in the china shop. Wonshik knew that, at the very, very least, Taekwoon had some kind of base interest in him. So skittish to be touched, so apparent in all his staring at Wonshik. If nothing else, he seemed to like Wonshik in a bodily way. But he was so fucking timid. Any kind of flirting, of gawking, he resolutely ignored and pretended hadn't happened at all. He needed to be lured out of his shyness, like a feral cat from the streets. Wonshik worried that Hakyeon had undone any kind of progress. 

He wouldn't be against being with Taekwoon, like Hakyeon thought. It was not a disinterest in him that made what he said so unwelcome. He wouldn't mind sitting down beside Taekwoon every morning to watch him go about this unspoken routine. Taekwoon looks at him in the present moment when he does just that, but he doesn't try to send wonshik away. There is no denying that Taekwoon is beautiful. Not at any point, but especially not now with his face still soft with sleep and his black hair tucked behind his ears and his expression calm. Taekwoon was obviously attractive. It didn't need to be said. Still, Wonshik stared at him as he polished the steel. He was also protective, and doting, and sweet when he wanted to be. There were times he was even a bit of a bully, in the fun kind of way Wonshik loved in flirting. He couldn't tell if Taekwoon was trying to flirt, however. He was so staunchly dedicated to Wonshik that it felt almost selfish to not like him in return. Wonshik never met someone so willing to put him above themselves. 

The blade was not intricate up close. It was actually rather plain. There were signs of use that spoke to its age, but if one couldn't find them, they would think the sword was freshly forged. Taekwoon cherished it deeply. Wonshik remembered when he carefully placed it down during their first meeting. 

“How long have you had it?” Wonshik doesn't mean to whisper. Something about the atmosphere of the room draws him to. It matches Taekwoon’s normal soft tone well.

“Six years, I believe.”

“It's in amazing condition.” Taekwoon nodded. He shined the ball at the end of the hilt. “Do you have any others?” 

“I'm trained in many weapons, but this is my only sword.” 

“Bows?” 

“Not as well as Jaehwan, but well enough.”

“Guns?” 

“A pistol, namely. My old charge kept shotguns and muskets, however.”

“But you carry a sword?”

“I'm always indoors, and in close quarters.” He turned the sword in place to examine it. “I don't have a pistol in my possession, regardless.” 

“Are you a good shot?” Wonshik had seen a few sharp shooter acts. There had been a big trend of “wild west” inspired acts in the last couple of years. It was a compelling role to imagine Taekwoon in. He shrugged.

“So I've been told.” 

He stood from the chair, sheathing the sword. He hung it from his hip, and it immediately took Wonshik back to months prior. Their first meeting. 

“Was there anything else?” He rested his hand on the hilt of the sword as though it were one of the walking sticks Jaehwan took with him to parties. Wonshik stood to balance them back out. 

“No, no. I just wanted to check on you.” Unexpectedly, Taekwoon frowned. His gaze cast downward.

“I… appreciate your concern.” there wasn't a lick of confidence there. It was a guess as to what Wonshik expected as a response.  Wonshik grasped his arm as a fleeting comfort. 

“I try my best to take care of my friends. That includes you.” Taekwoon’s eyes came back to his. There was a worry there. That wonshik was merely humoring him and would sweep the rug out from under his feet. The artist merely smiled. 

“I…” he sighed, stepping away from Wonshik's reach. “Thank you.” Wonshik clapped his hands together, ridding himself of the urge to reach right back out again. He tended to struggle with the balance of how much he should touch Taekwoon. 

“Well, I'll let you get to it then.” Taekwoon nodded. 

“If you are making your way down, I can wait and walk with you.” Wonshik's heart gave a little flutter at the image of Taekwoon accompanying him down. Holding onto the guards arm like Jaehwan did to Hongbin when they were out. He shook his head, accidentally slamming the front door into his foot. 

“No, that's quite alright.” He ignored Taekwoon’s concerned look. “I need to speak with Jae.” Taekwoon’s expression gave way to resignation as he locked his door, nodding. He was the only one who locked their interior door, since all the exteriors were already secure. 

“Very well. Good day.” 

“Good day. I should be seeing you later in the evening.” He still had work he had to do today. He always ran into Taekwoon at least once. The guard nodded and turned for the stairs. His turns were always so clipped, like he was in a march. Wonshik didn't move until he disappeared down the first flight of steps. 

He stepped to Jaehwan's door and eased it open quietly. He only popped his head in. “Honey? Are you awake?” 

It wasn't worth waking him or Hongbin if they weren't up already. He only wanted to update the ringmaster on everything that happened after he and Hongbin left them. To make sure they were all on the same page. Maybe, if Jaehwan was in a more docile mood, he could also ask about his own perceptions of his and Taekwoon’s relationship. If the subject naturally arose. It wasn't important enough to work himself up over. 

“Barely,” Jaehwan answered, voice still pitched low with sleep. He was standing in front of the stove, heating up the kettle. Hongbin wasn't anywhere to be seen yet. “How'd you sleep?” 

Wonshik easily stepped in to help. He gathered mugs and tea for Jaehwan while he wrapped his gown tighter around him. “Clearly not as well as you.” 

Jaehwan bumped his head against Wonshik's shoulder. Wonshik gave him a little squeeze in return. “What's got you so excited, Shikkie?”

“I just finished talking with Taekwoon. I've had time to wake up.” Nothing to do with some kind of nervous energy that started creeping up his spine. Jaehwan hummed. Wonshik spooned sugar into one of the mugs for Jaehwan. 

“Bunny doesn't take sugar in his.” 

Jaehwan naturally knew just how he preferred it. 

“Last night was interesting,” Wonshik started. 

Jaehwan pouted and huffed at the memory. “You're too nice sometimes, Shikkie.”

“Did you hear Hakyeon leave? I didn't hear anything from the apartment when I was in the hallway.” 

Jaehwan pulled away, squinting at Wonshik. There was the soft tink of water beginning to simmer in the kettle. “What do you mean? I’m sure he left last night.” 

Wonshik frowned right back. “No, you,” he prodded Jaehwan in the ribs, right where he was the most ticklish, “Told him he could stay for a while.” 

Jaehwan squirmed away. He moved back just enough to level a scowl at Wonshik, hands on his hips. Far too cute to be threatening, with his hair still mussed from sleep and his dressing gown slipping off his shoulders. 

“Kim Wonshik, do not tell me you let that man stay here -on my property, in my home- after what he tried to do!” 

I should have known better... The second in command attempted to defend himself, even as he felt embarrassment creeping up. Wonshik tried to keep his voice low, out of respect for Hongbin. He assumed the acrobat was still asleep in the bedroom and the walls in the building weren't close to soundproof. “But you told him he could stay! We were all there, Hwannie.” 

Jaehwan, however, did not make any such attempt. 

“He wanted to take my Hongbin! He was going to take my Hongbin away from me!” A frantic hand flapped in the direction of the bedroom, the shallow rise and fall of his chest speeding up, “How could you believe that I genuinely meant it?! How could you let a man like that into our safe space-”

“Maybe you felt bad for him?” Wonshik interrupted, aiming both to soothe Jaehwan’s anxiety and to slow his friend’s furious tirade before it got out of control, “You seemed to be friendly when he first came in...” 

Granted, Jaehwan could appear friendly with lots of people who he didn't actually like. He could put up a front when he needed to. 

Jaehwan reached up, holding his face in his hands. “Shikkie, my love, you must learn to listen with your heart, not your ears.”  

“That doesn't even make any sense, honey. And please try to relax, it's too early to work yourself up like this.” 

Jaehwan huffed, “You knew what he was planning.”

“Yes.”

“You knew where he came from; who he works for.”

“Yes.”

“You knew I was angry with him.” 

Wonshik sighed, “I did, yes.” 

“And, you knew exactly how close I came to cutting up his pretty little face.”

“Frankly, I was amazed that you didn't.” 

“So, knowing all of that, why-” the pads of Jaehwan's fingers resting on his cheeks pressed harder, “Why would you believe that my invitation was anything other than satire?” 

Frowning now, mildly frustrated by his friend's dramatics, Wonshik replied, “I trust you, honey. I listen to you when you speak and I take your words to heart. Would you rather I discount the things you say entirely?”

“That's exactly what I mean!” Jaehwan gave a petulant little stomp of his foot, “You need to listen to me with your heart, because your heart understands me! You know me, Shikkie, you know me better than anyone in the world! You know that I would never allow a man like that into the safety of my home, around the people I care about most! Why would I allow such a dangerous man so close to my bunny?!” 

Wonshik pouted, more than he already was with the way Jaehwan was squishing his face. He didn't have a logical explanation for that. He simply took Jaehwan at the face value of his words. “Well, it's too late now. And besides, I don't think Hakyeon is as horrible as you seem to believe. Once you get past the showboating and the pretentious facade...”

“Shikkie,” the kettle began to whistle, “He cannot be trusted. If I see that man on my property once more, I will kill him.”

Wonshik brushed the ringmaster away and turned off the burner. The shrill whistle hurt his ears.

“And, I promise you, the killing will neither be merciful nor slow.”

“I know, sweetheart.” He'd heard that threat hundreds of times before. The conviction it contained was endearing, even if the threat itself was rarely true. Jaehwan barked more than he bit. “He's probably left by now anyhow.”

“If he possesses even the slightest capacity for rational thought, I’d hope so.” 

Wonshik couldn't help but chuckle at him. He was precious when he was angry. Wonshik filled the mugs with water. “It's good you weren't at dinner last night then.” 

Jaehwan’s hand shot out, squeezing his wrist uncomfortably tight. “Wonshik!”

“It was only one meal, Hwannie! Taekwoon is terrible at pleasantries -small talk and casual conversation- and you weren't in the headspace to play host! Was I supposed to just let him starve?”

“You were supposed to make him leave!”

“But you said-”

“And I didn't mean it! We just went over this!” 

Wonshik pried Jaehwan of him and moved to get milk for the tea. He poured a splash in his own cup. He held up the bottle to Jaehwan, asking if Hongbin needed any, but Jaehwan ignored him. The ringmaster began to pace instead. 

“I didn't want you bringing him here and feeding him like he’s some kind of feral dog you found on the street!” 

“He's not a dog, honey. He's not going to keep coming back.” He gave up and put the bottle away. “It was only one night.” 

“One night you spent catering to the whims of a wretched egomaniac who tried to drag Bunny back to that godforsaken hellscape!”

“And yet, Hongbin is still in your bed where you left him, isn't he?” Wonshik caught Jaehwan by the elbow to place the mug of tea in his hands. “Everything turned out just fine.” 

Jaehwan scowled at him, but the pout of his lips just made Wonshik want to pinch his cheeks. 

“Everything is right where it’s supposed to be. The only people that had to deal with him were me and Taek.” 

“I do wish Woonie had stabbed him for me,” Jaehwan grumbled, “It would have been such a treat.” 

Wonshik snorted. “He certainly considered it.” It was fortunate for Hakyeon that they had a meal that didn't require knives to eat. “He's back to carrying his sword with him again...” That habit had stopped with time. Usually he only carried it on deliveries and show nights. “He did not like him.”

“I’d hope not! Nobody with eyes and a drop of common sense would!”

“In fairness, Hakyeon made it pretty easy to dislike him. It seemed like he was trying to make Taek upset.” 

Jaehwan blew over the lip of the mug, sending ripples through the tea. “Our precious kitten is rather cute when he's upset.” 

Wonshik smiled to himself. “I suppose you two have that in common.” 

It wasn't quite the same. Taekwoon wasn't nearly as theatrical as Jaehwan. Still, Wonshik had never needed to truly be afraid of their anger. Either of them. They were like… a yappy puppy and an angry kitten. “Still, he was poking at Taekwoon the whole night. He mostly just,” Wonshik fluttered a hand, embarrassed, “flirted with me.”

 Jaehwan laughed. “Hakyeon would flirt with anything with a pulse, Shikkie. Don't take it personally.” 

Wonshik reached out, finally succumbing to his urges and pinching his friend’s round cheek. “So do you, and we all still love you.” 

“I am nothing like Hakyeon!” As if it was the greatest insult in the world. Jaehwan scrunched up his nose, leaning into Wonshik and glaring up at him. 

Wonshik smiled, enjoying the familiar closeness, idly touching the column of Jaehwan’s neck the way he always did. “That's not what I said, honey, and you know it. You're nothing like Hakyeon.” 

“You’re right.” Jaehwan fixed his robe about him, finger combing his hair, preening like a little songbird. 

There was the soft sound of a door opening, and then shuffling steps. Hongbin appeared at Jaehwan's side, clearly only having just woken up. Disheveled and scowling. 

Wonshik handed the mug to Jaehwan, who in turn gave it to Hongbin. 

“Good morning, bunny!” the ringmaster chirped, bright as a summer afternoon. 

Hongbin leaned in to press his lips to the ring master's forehead. “Why are you yelling?” 

Wonshik smiled sheepishly. “Sorry, Bin. Didn't mean to wake you.” 

Hongbin didn't respond. He silently sipped from the mug. 

“Shikkie was just telling me about last night.” 

Wonshik got a bitter look over Jaehwan's shoulder from the ringmaster. He held up a hand in surrender. 

Hongbin spoke into the mug. “What happened?” 

“I misunderstood Hwannie’s instructions and let Hakyeon stay the night.” 

Hongbin stopped drinking, slowly raising his eyes to meet Wonshik's. 

“Just for the night. He was… an overwhelming guest.” Wonshik tried to put it delicately, thinking of long fingers tapping the underside of his chin and flirtatious smirks. 

“I could have told you as much,” Hongbin muttered. 

“He was picking on Shik and Precious.” 

Hongbin hummed, not seeming surprised in the least. 

“He didn't bother me too terribly. At least, not as much as he did Taekwoon. It was just his insistence that we were a couple that was… odd.” Wonshik frowned at his tea. His reflection wobbled across the surface. “He didn't seem to believe either me or Taekwoon when we corrected him. Told us we ‘didn't need to pretend.’ Taek seemed quite upset by it all.” 

“You do seem like one, from the perspective of an outsider, anyway.” 

Wonshik didn't expect the response and he whipped his head up to look at Hongbin. 

Hongbin simply blinked at him. Still tired. Still unphased. “Hakyeon always sticks his nose where it doesn't belong. Forget it.” 

Jaehwan nodded. His expression was a mixture of understanding and pity. “He's not worth all the worrying, Shikkie.” 

“We seem like a couple?” 

Jaehwan raised his brows, a teasing smile beginning to creep onto his face. Hongbin only nodded. “You see it, don't you, Shikkie? How easily one could make that assumption?” 

“It’s so sweet that it’s almost sickening to watch,” Hongbin added, making Jaehwan laugh. 

A touch of indignation rose in Wonshik's chest. Both of them laughing at him did not help the heat in his face. “It's not that different from how I act with you two.” 

“Shikkie, you're far too honest to be a good liar. Even when those lies are directed at yourself. And besides, Woonie kisses the ground you walk on.” 

Hongbin moved off into the kitchen, digging around for breakfast. He didn't even bother to feign interest. 

“No he doesn't.”

“You're very charming with him, Shikkie.” Jaehwan poked at Wonshik, trying to hit his own ticklish points. Wonshik tried not to spill the tea all over the kitchen while avoiding Jaehwan. “It's quite cute.” 

“Will you stop?” 

Hongbin ignored them both to start making breakfast. Wonshik was left more unsure of his and Taekwoon’s relationship than when he had come in. If Hakyeon and Jaehwan and Hongbin all saw something there, was there?

It felt foolish, in hindsight, when he realized the envy creeping in at Jaehwan doting on Hongbin through breakfast. 

⤫-⤬-⤬-⤬

A week later, and it was finally the big day! Partner assignments! At last! 

Hongbin tried to urge his body to stay still, seated cross legged on the mat-covered floor of the large practice room where all the junior acrobatics lessons were held. 

Not being one of the principal performers, at least not amongst the acrobats, Hongbin didn’t get to choose his own partner. The star acrobats were allowed to hold auditions to search for partners. To test in-house talent as well as performers outside the circus to find the right fit. 

Hongbin would’ve been encouraged to go through that process to find a vaulting partner, but he’d told Jaehwan upfront that he didn’t want one. When it came to vaulting, he liked to do it solo. Just him and his horse. He couldn’t find room for a partner in that equation. 

Despite not being allowed to select their own partners out right, the junior acrobats were allowed to provide input during the process. Last week, all of them had written down their top three choices, as well as noting any classmates they didn’t want to work with. The teachers would make the final decision, balancing skill and experience levels, but their choices would be factored in. 

Hongbin’s top pick was sitting right next to him.

Han Sanghyuk was a tall, lithely muscled man two years younger than Hongbin. He was good looking, yes, his dark eyes were very enthralling to peer into, but that wasn’t the reason Hongbin had picked him. 

Sanghyuk had already been training for just over a year and possessed both a natural talent and inherent athleticism, so his and Hongbin’s experience levels were equally matched. He was a very easy person for Hongbin to talk to, which wasn’t a quality that the vaulter found in others very often. And, apart from that, Sanghyuk was reliable. Always showing up to class early. Always eager to help if it was required. Hongbin trusted Sanghyuk to catch him if he fell, which, after all, is the most important thing one could ask for in a partner.

Both of them had written each other’s names in their number one spots.

“What do you think?” Sanghyuk asked, stretching one long leg out in front of him and touching his toes, “How are the odds looking?”

“Fine for me,” Hongbin replied, “I doubt anyone else chose me. But you’re way more popular. At least half of us probably wrote your name for a number one.”

Sanghyuk smiled and switched legs. “If that’s the case, then we’re fine. I should have my pick. I do, however, think you’re underestimating your own appeal.”

“How so? Nobody other than you actively tries to talk to me.”

“Well,” his friend shrugged, shooting the vaulter a mischievous, sidelong smile, “You are the ringmasters special favorite. Everyone knows that. I would imagine that working with you, and gaining a bit of his attention by proxy, would be motivation enough.”

Hongbin reached back to tie up his hair, a scowl tightening the line of his mouth. “Then, for their sakes, I hope they thought better of it. I don’t want to be treated like a stepping stone, and I don’t think Jaehwan would take kindly to that either. He’s a bit protective.”

The teacher and his two assistants walked in, and the trainees' conversations quieted down. All of them straightened up and waited expectantly.

“Before we commence with the lesson today, the list of partners has been finalized.”

Hongbin stared at the sheet of paper in the teacher's hand, trying to telepathically read what it said.

“The selections are as follows: Mr. Nam and Miss Kim, Miss Eun and Miss Choi, Mr. Park and Mr. Jeon, Miss Lee and Mr. Jung, Mr. Han and Mr. Lee...”

Sanghyuk clapped Hongbin lightly on the shoulder, leaning back to slouch on his elbows. “Luck was on our side,” he whispered.

“You were right, you must’ve had your pick,” Hongbin whispered back.

“If anyone has an issue with their partner, or has questions about our decision, please speak to me when class is over,” the teacher pinned the list to the corkboard beside the wall mirror and clapped his hands twice, “Now, let’s begin with morning stretches.”

⤫-⤬-⤬-⤬

Once their classes were finished for the morning, Hongbin endeavored to introduce his new partner to Jaehwan. 

Jaehwan was the most important person to him here and Sanghyuk was his one real friend outside of Jaehwan’s inner circle. It only felt natural that they should meet, and meet quickly. 

“Come on,” he said, dragging Sanghyuk along the corridor by the hand. 

“I’m coming! You don’t need to run!”

They broke out into the yard, squinting as they were drenched in noonday sun. The yard was unusually busy, but Hongbin found the ringmaster at once. Partially obscured by Sugar, working in the stables, his back to them. 

“This way,” Hongbin pulled his partner through the crowd, his smile touching his ears, weaving in and out until they were close enough for the ringmaster to hear. “Hwannie!” 

Jaehwan spun around in that theatrical way he always did, balanced on the ball of his left foot with his right knee bent. Calling it a twirl would be more accurate than calling it a spin. It was the kind of movement designed for a long cape or flowy skirt. Tres dramatique.

“Oh, why hello there, bunny,” Jaehwan chirped, propping a hand on his hip, “How was class?”

“It was good, but I have someone for you to meet.”

With a soft hum, Jaehwan’s eyes narrowed a touch. He took a step forward. “Who might this be?”

Sanghyuk moved out from behind Hongbin, sketching a shallow bow and extending a hand for the ringmaster to shake. In his loose black practice clothing, with his black hair falling over his eyes, he reminded Hongbin of an overgrown crow.

“Han Sanghyuk, it’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

Jaehwan shook, but he was still visibly tense if one knew what to look for. “Lee Jaehwan, and the pleasure is mine,” he glanced at Hongbin, “How do you two know each other?”

Moving between them as Sanghyuk released Jaehwan's hand and stepped back, Hongbin explained, “Sanghyuk is officially my partner. We just got the assignments this morning, but he’s my favorite of the trainees.”

“I see,” Jaehwan slipped an arm around Hongbin's back, “How lucky you are bunny; to have been paired with someone so handsome.”

“He’s a natural,” Hongbin replied, stern, prodding Jaehwan's hip, “And he’s the most popular trainee in the group. I was lucky to get him. I’m surprised you don’t know him already.”

“I know of him, of course,” Jaehwan hadn’t looked away from Sanghyuk yet, “I’m aware of all the rising stars in my circus. I simply hadn’t had an opportunity to meet this one yet.”

“Then, I’m glad I was able to introduce him to you,” said Hongbin, watching the ringmaster just as intently as the ringmaster was watching his new partner. Trying in vain to pinpoint where Jaehwan's wariness was coming from. 

Jaehwan was usually quite open and welcoming toward strangers. Hongbin himself was a perfect example of that. It wasn’t like him to be so visibly distrustful. 

Perhaps it had something to do with the guest currently occupying the empty apartment next door. Hakyeon hadn’t left yet, and his extended stay at the circus was a pain point for their ringmaster, especially since Wonshik was refusing to let Jaehwan kick him out. It was a pain point for Hongbin too, come to that. Seeing Hakyeon’s face so constantly continued to force his memories of Requiem back to the surface. And Hongbin being upset had the added effect of making Jaehwan even more upset, which didn’t help matters. 

Regardless of the reason, though, Hongbin wasn’t going to allow Jaehwan's sour mood to ruin the excitement of the day. 

“I was going to bring Sanghyuk to dinner with everyone tonight.”

Finally, Jaehwan’s gaze settled on Hongbin, eyes widened with surprise. “Bunny, I’m not sure if that’s quite a good-”

“He’s my partner,” Hongbin interrupted, crossing his arms, “He’s going to be working more closely with me than anyone else. I want you and the others to get to know him as well.”

They stared at each other, engaging in a silent battle of wills, until Sanghyuk spoke up. 

“I don't have to, it's really no trouble. I don't want to intrude.”

Hongbin reached out and took his wrist in one hand. “You're not intruding. Our ringmaster is simply a bit grumpy today,” he replied, “We need to go to afternoon practice now, darling. We’ll see you later this evening.”

“Of course, bunny,” Jaehwan murmured, smoothing his expression and forcing a smile for Sanghyuk’s benefit, “Whatever you’d like. Enjoy your practice.”

Inwardly grinning at his small victory, Hongbin led Sanghyuk away and back into the safety of the main building. 

“I don’t think he’s very fond of me,” said Sanghyuk. 

“He will be once he gets to know you. Trust me,” replied Hongbin. 

⤫-⤬-⤬-⤬

Chapter Text

⤫-⤬-⤬-⤬

Despite Jaehwan's threats, Hakyeon both continued to draw breath and remain at Lumen Ad Somnia. In a small show of self preservation, he namely interacted with Wonshik. Taekwoon too, to a lesser extent. Likely because of Taekwoon trying to avoid him, not a lack of trying on Hakyeon's part. With time, his personality was seemingly beginning to mellow. Or, at least, show facets beyond flirtation and self posturing. 

Expectedly, Wonshik most often found him in the menagerie. He would aid the trainers or watch them work with the animals. When they weren't there, he seemed to just enjoy sitting along with the animals. Wonshik had caught him once or twice like that, sat on the ground in front of the cages with his back to Wonshik. He didn't know if he spoke to them, the trainer always catching Wonshik before he could come close enough to hear. Regardless, it was the first place Wonshik went if he was looking for Hakyeon. 

It was exactly like that where Wonshik found him today. He had come into the menagerie to practice capturing the animals. The birds, specifically. An act lovingly called Nightsong was waiting to be announced. When he moved down the path, he easily spotted Hakyeon before the other could see him. He sat just as he always did, legs crossed, cage in front of him, eyes down on what was in his hands. Wonshik couldn't catch what it was from where he stood, but the slight motions in his arms implied something like crochet or embroidery. The birds cooed softly to fill the silence. There was a chair further along the path, close enough to keep the distance without losing a clear view of Hakyeon and the animals. Part of Wonshik wanted to say something, let him know that he was there. If he did, Hakyeon surely wouldn't let him concentrate on what he came for. This could be a rare, peaceful moment. 

Quiet as possible, he perched on the chair. He had a sliver of Hakyeon's profile. The curve of his nose, his cheeks, the flutter of lashes every time he blinked.  It wasn't an easy angle to capture, but a challenge was the best way to learn. There was a great white bird just by his head that he could also practice as he was supposed to. As soon as graphite met paper, it was clear which Wonshik had chosen. The ramrod straight of Hakyeon's spine, the soft curve of his head and straight hair, the corner of his lips. He was dressed as plainly as he seemed able, coat laid over one leg due to the warmth of the menagerie. With all the glass panes and plants and animals, it was like a greenhouse. Even in winter it had a warmth to it.  His shirt was a gentle cream and fit him just as well as the ash waistcoat. It was always clear he was, or is, a man of wealth. Even standing completely still and silent in a barren room.  Even sitting cross legged on the stonework working at some handicraft. The large white bird perched near him, cockatiel?, sang. It made Hakyeon’s mouth quirk into a smile. He didn't raise his eyes from the task at hand, but he responded nonetheless. 

“Is that so?” Wonshik couldn’t help smiling to himself, tucking his sketchpad closer to him. What was just the man’s likeness began to shape into a full scene. The bird ruffled its feathers, shaking itself out. Hakyeon clicked his tongue. “What’s wrong, sweetheart?” He finally looked up, bringing a curled finger between the bars. The bird took it in its beak. Hakyeon didn’t seem pained by the bite however. His smile simply grew. “Oh, that hurts,” he quipped dryly. He shook its head gently. “Such a scary little thing.” The tone was chastising, playful. How Wonshik might have spoken to Jiwon when they were trying to annoy one another. Sweet. 

The bird released him to flap its wings. Like a child stomping their feet and huffing out of their nose. Or like jaehwan everytime he tried to make Wonshik kick the animal tamer out. Hakyeon shook his head lightly. He dug through the pockets of the coat over his leg. 

“You know i'm not supposed to be giving you these, don't you?” He offered the bird a treat, some kind of dried fruit by the way it tore it apart once it had a grasp on it. Another bird came down to the perch the cockatiel rested on in interest. “See what you’ve done now?” wonshik couldn’t help a snort. The innocent comedy of it. Unfortunately, it was loud enough to startle Hakyeon. His head flicked around to look at Wonshik. Wonshik, who was awkwardly perched on the garden chair with a sketchbook in hand like an overgrown bird. There was a moment where they just stared at one another. Caught red handed. 

“Why hello.” He didn’t yet have that flirtatious lilt, but he did smile at Wonshik over his shoulder. Wonshik’s face warmed in embarrassment. He cleared his throat. 

“I didn’t want to interrupt you.” His eyes darted to the sketchbook, the barely started scene of Hakyeon at the birdcage. He covered it with a hand, even if Hakyeon was still yards away. 

“How polite.” he gathered his things, resting his coat on his shoulder as he stood. Wonshik was frozen to his spot watching the man easily walk over to him. “I wouldn’t have been upset if you had.” 

“I could see that you were occupied, and you looked rather- peaceful.” he felt Hakyeon’s eyes glance down at the sketchpad, attempting to see what Wonshik was hiding under his hand.

“Did i?” A raise of the brow, the suggestion of a tease. Wonshik nodded.

“I come here to practice. I wanted to capture the birds, but you were already here. So i…” Hakyeon extended a hand. 

“May I?” Wonshik’s heart thumped. 

“It's not finished. I only just started, and i can’t promise it to be flattering given the angle and-”

“Always so humble, aren’t you?” Wonshik gaped for words before simply resolving to shut his mouth and nod. Hakyeon revealed what was in his hand, what he had been working on before. A delicate doily of intricate lace. Blood red. “Perhaps a trade would be better then.” 

“You were making this?” Wonshik leaned towards the outstretched hand to closely examine the piece. It was clearly unfinished, a loose string still connected to the metal tool holding the roll of thread. Hakyeon hummed. 

“It keeps idle hands busy.”

“I’ve never seen lace like this.” Hakyeon let him take the piece to examine it. Just smaller than his palm. “It reminds me of a chrysanthemum.” 

“It’s called tatting.” 

“Have you been doing it long?” Wonshik returned the doily. The metal tool had elegant swirls and curls shaped into its body. Hakyeon pocketed both in his waistcoat. 

“I suppose as long as I’ve been at Requiem. It’s a decent means of passing the time. When nothing else is available, that is.” Wonshik met his eyes to catch his wink. Another blatant flirt. Wonshik cleared his throat.

“It’s beautiful, for simply passing the time.” Hakyeon put a hand to his chest, long fingers splayed. 

“You flatter me.”

“It’s only fair, with how much you do the same.” That made Hakyeon laugh. What a beautiful thing that was. The way his smile stretched across his face, the way his eyes closed, the sound of it. Wonshik shyly smiled back. 

“Very fair point, my dear.” Wonshik hesitated for a moment, looking at the page, before handing the sketchpad over. Hopefully it would be an acceptable rendering. Hakyeon delicately took the offering.

“Since you showed yours.”

Hakyeon’s expression wasn’t quite readable. Or at least, his thoughts weren’t. He stared at the sketch, clearly taking it all in. His face was still tinted with a smile, but there was something more there. 

“I thought it was a rather beautiful scene. I was meant to be practicing capturing the birds, but there was something about how the light was hitting you.” Wonshik nervously began to ramble the longer Hakyeon started at his scratchy line work. “The way you were partially obscured by the angle, it gives it a sort of mystery; but it feels familiar too. If i finished it, i think it would have felt like the viewer almost knew you. The simultaneous closeness and detachment.” Hakyeon stared at him through his lashes. It felt oddly open in a way Wonshik hadn’t seen before. He half expected some kind of criticism to fall from his lips that had slowly lost their smile. It was still there, but merely a shadow. Wonshik cleared his throat. “Sorry.”

“You have a beautiful mind, Wonshik.” Heat rushed up his neck and he chuckled. 

“I’m only observant. And I may have forced a few too many trips to galleries on my sister.” He cringed. “And Jaehwan.” Hakyeon laughed again, shaking his head. He returned the sketchpad. 

“I’m sure they thoroughly enjoyed their time.”

“I'm sure they wouldn't agree with you.”

“What a shame that would be then. I think I would love to have you guide me through one.” It would be a proper date. Guiding Hakyeon through displays, explaining the history and techniques, discussing their own perspectives. Hakyeon listening to him with the same smile he was wearing now, nodding along and posing questions. 

Wonshik stood, suddenly feeling imbalanced sitting in front of the animal tamer. He held the sketchbook tight to his side. 

“You would run the danger of me talking your ear off.”

“I do recall once saying that I would be entertained hearing you recite textbooks.” He reached out to squeeze Wonshik’s arm. Would he hold onto it if they strolled through a gallery? “I would be happy to listen.” Wonshik tightened his grip on the book, unable to work out any nervous energy by twisting his hand behind his back. 

“Maybe we would make a visit then, if we see eachother again.” he had to remember that Hakyeon was only temporary. That he would leave. He was only able to be this sweet to Wonshik because of the fleeting time they had near one another. Hakyeon started rubbing back and forth with his thumb. Even with Wonshik’s shirt, it was too much. 

“I would be honored to accompany you.”

“Have you ever visited one before?” he could smell Hakyeon’s perfume at this proximity. Sea salt and geranium. It was surprisingly delicate for such an overpowering man. It was the smell of a nap taken in the tall grass in spring, sun blanketing over you. 

“I might have, though not in recent memory. My parents insisted I be a man of culture.” 

“You seemed to take that lesson to heart.” Hakyeon's smile came back again. It didn't quite meet his eyes. 

“Is that so?” Wonshik  licked his lips. A nod. 

“I feel a bit foolish with you by comparison. I spent all my time working at the docks.” Hakyeon brought a feather light touch under Wonshik's chin. 

“A soft thing like you?” Wonshik shrugged, looking away. 

“It kept us fed. And for a scrawny little errand boy, they seemed to like me.” Despite all the struggle, he did have fond memories of the time. The gruff sailors and traders all taking care of the boy half their size in their own way. He still remembered all the knots and sailor colloquialisms. He still remembered most of their names. 

“Is that what led you to all this ink?” A tap to Wonshik’s tattooed collarbone. Even if he couldn't see it, Hakyeon had remembered where it was. 

“In a way. I got my first when I was there.” Wonshik turned his wrist, pulling his sleeve to reveal the Phoenix there. “But I've covered it up since then.” Wonshik's skin broke into goosebumps at Hakyeon's hold on his arm. He examined the piece thoughtfully. “The rest i got here. There was a man that we had hired that barely had an inch of skin that was clear. It was like wearing an entire gallery on your skin.”

“He inspired you, I take it?” 

“Well, I'd never go as far as he did, but he certainly sparked my interest.”

Hakyeon's hands slid further up Wonshik's arm. Much less feeling the tattoo than the muscles there. His hands were unmistakably soft. He could surely feel Wonshik's pulse with his thumb in the crook of his elbow. 

“You have initials on the other side.” Wonshik didn't process Hakyeon had spoke until he glanced up to meet the artist's eyes. There was mischief there and Wonshik blushed. He stumbled over raised words. 

“Oh, yes. That's right.” 

“Lover of yours?” hakyeon was teasing. Wonshik let him move his arm how he pleased. 

“No. They're- its my mothers.”

“Oh?” Hakyeon paused, clearly not expecting the real answer. He stared at the ink. 

“My mothers maiden name. She… passed when I was younger. I thought it would be a sweet tribute.” It was one of the first he had done after joining Lumen ad Somnia. In his mind, she would scold him gently before smiling at the sentiment. He had to imagine she would love the man her son became. 

“It's very sweet.” Hakyeon returned his hands to himself. He almost looked scolded, maybe shy. “You love her dearly.” Wonshik nodded as he fixed his sleeve, redoing the buttons. 

“Of course. She raised me.”

“And she did quite well at that.”

“I could say the same of you and yours.” He didn't expect Hakyeon to scoff. A sarcastic little laugh. 

“I believe they would choose to disagree.” Wonshik frowned. Before he could attempt to ask, a new voice interrupted. 

“Wonshik, we should start preparing for dinner soon.” Hakyeon turned away from Wonshik. He had been so close. They both looked at Taekwoon. He had only taken a few steps into the menagerie. His expression was flat and his hand rested on his sword. 

“Of course!” Wonshik smiled at Hakyeon, fingertips to his elbow. “You're coming? Hongbin wants to introduce his new partner.” Hakyeon's easy smile returned. 

“How could I refuse?”

⤫-⤬-⤬-⤬

The air in Wonshik’s living room changed when Jaehwan walked in. 

It was just past dusk and the ringmaster was ravenous. He’d put himself to work after Hongbin's lunchtime visit; loosing arrow after arrow until his arms shook too hard to draw another. Standing on the tightrope to practice his balance until the strength in his legs gave out. Using work as a distraction so he didn’t have to think about his bunny’s new partner. 

His friends had congregated in Wonshik’s apartment an hour ago. Jaehwan heard them all chatting and laughing through the building's thin walls. It took him all that time to steady his nerves enough to join them. 

Jaehwan had bathed. Washed the sweat and dust from his skin. And then he’d dressed for dinner. A white shirt and black waistcoat, pleated black breeches tucked into his knee boots. He thought he looked rather nice. 

The first thing he saw upon entering his friend's home was Hongbin. Sitting on the floor with his new partner. Both of them in the midst of warm-down stretches. 

The second thing he saw was Wonshik, leaning sideways against the far wall as he chatted with Hakyeon. Face bright with attraction and eyes full of stars. 

Wonshik managed to tear his attention away from Hakyeon when Jaehwan cleared his throat. 

“Hwannie!” he called, making his way to the door, “We were wondering where you’d got to.”

His best friend wrapped him in a warm hug, which Jaehwan accepted, but he put his mouth to Wonshik’s ear. Whispering so that only Wonshik could hear. “You deserve better than him,” he glared at Hakyeon over Wonshik’s shoulder, “I thought I taught you to value your self worth. It pains me to see you throwing yourself at the feet of someone who couldn’t care for you less.”

Jaehwan broke away from him, ignoring the expression of surprise and dismay on Wonshik’s face, and aimed his steps toward the easel in the corner. He caught a glimpse of Taekwoon in the kitchen when he turned to sit. Perching on the little stool beside it and crossing his legs at the knee, folding his hands in his lap. 

“Darling?”

“Yes, bunny?” Jaehwan replied, barely able to paint a smile on his face as he slit his eyes in Hongbin's direction. 

The two trainees were facing one another, sitting in partial side splits. Toes touching. Holding hands and pulling each other backward and forward to deepen their stretch. 

“Did you have a good afternoon?” asked Hongbin. 

But Jaehwan didn’t hear him. 

The entirety of his attention was focused on the younger of the pair. 

Han Sanghyuk. 

Tall, broad shouldered, and dark. High cheekbones. Inky black hair falling about his face. And that face… The face of a noble prince straight from the pages of a fairytale. It was a face that Jaehwan swore he’d seen before. And those eyes; so sharp that they felt like shards of glass, irises the deepest of blacks. Jaehwan had most definitely seen those eyes before. Eyes that sent him right back to a night so many years ago... They weren’t eyes that Jaehwan could easily forget. 

“Darling?” Hongbin prompted, and the ringmaster let his own eyes fall shut. 

He took a slow, calming breath. “My afternoon was fine, bunny. Thank you for asking.”

Wonshik's stomach dropped at Jaehwan's words. He had been clear about his feelings for Hakyeon, clear about his confusion as to why Wonshik was letting him stay. This was deeper than that. The disappointment in him was a sickening twist of a knife. He watched Jaehwan take his seat, but the ringmaster didn't acknowledge him. Hakyeon, however, was looking at him from where they had been speaking before. Wonshik forced his look into a soft smile. No need to start anything. He moved to the kitchen where Taekwoon was working, seeking a drink. 

“It smells good.” Taekwoon continued to diligently stir the pot in front of him. A rich yellow risotto. 

“Thank you.”

“Would you like any help?” He stood next to the guard to pour more of the punch into his glass. He had made it when they first gathered in the apartment. It was sweet, with a hint of kick from the rum and a brightness from the lemon and champagne. He'd already served a glass to the rest. A proper host would grab another for Jaehwan, now that he arrived. 

“Leave the food to me, I'll leave the hosting to you.” 

“Not a fan of parties?” It wouldn't surprise him in the least if the answer was no. He was, at times, as welcoming as a frigid winter breeze. 

“You are aware of my skills at idle conversation.” Wonshik chuckled, not denying what they both knew. He was a terrible conversationalist. 

“At least you are familiar with everyone here.” Taekwoon moved to a skillet, turning over the meat inside. “That should help.” 

“Hongbin is speaking with Sanghyuk. Hakyeon has your attention.” The disappointment from Jaehwan's whisper came back to Wonshik like a great bell reverberating through a chasm. Taekwoon had been just as clear about his displeasure with Hakyeon. If it were the three of them alone, Taekwoon would stick close to Wonshik. Like Hakyeon was a physical threat. 

“I can share it rather easily,” Wonshik muttered, spoken just for Taekwoon. Taekwoon huffed.

“You don't have to fret over me. I will join you when I'm ready.” Wonshik held up a hand in surrender. He filled another glass for Jaehwan.

“I was merely offering. I didn't want anyone to feel excluded.” 

“That much is clear.” The bitter tone of it, it was clear who Taekwoon was thinking of. It began to feel like Wonshik was fighting some kind of losing battle. He left with his and Jaehwan's glasses. 

Hakyeon had moved while Wonshik was in the kitchen. He stood on the outer edge of the living room, hand in one pocket and glass in the other. His smile was easy as always as he followed the conversation. Wonshik smiled as he navigated past the two on the floor to jaehwan. The two were good together. Hongbin truly seemed to like Sanghyuk, and Sanghyuk seemed a sweet man. He made Hongbin happy, and that was the most sparkling stamp of approval one could get. Wonshik's smile turned apologetic once he reached Jaehwan. He held out the cold punch glass as a peace offering. He could see the tension over Jaehwan as easily as one might see a flashing light, hear a blaring siren. He followed Jaehwan’s eyes to Sanghyuk before they met his own. 

“There's some tea left as well, if you'd prefer.”

“No, thank you,” Jaehwan murmured, “I’ll fetch a drink myself.”

He turned his face away from Wonshik as he stood and moved around him. Not looking at his best friend. Making a point not to accidentally touch as he went past. 

Avoiding Hakyeon was easier but he couldn’t be avoided entirely. Leaning near the kitchen door as he was. That lovely smile was so hateful that the ringmaster wanted to scream. 

How had this happened, he asked himself, slipping into the kitchen and latching onto the arm Taekwoon wasn’t using to stir the risotto. How did this situation come about? All Jaehwan had tried to do was be kind. All he’d wanted was to help a person who needed a safe place to call home. And now, the only people he loved were slipping between his fingers like water. His bunny’s affections were no longer secure. The man tempting his bunny away was a lie made manifest. 

And, somehow more painful than that; Wonshik trusted him so little, cared for him so little, that he was willing to disregard Jaehwan entirely and allow a viper to slither into his bed. He didn’t know when Wonshik had acquired a death wish, but what else could Jaehwan do to stop it? He could only voice his feelings so many times before it was made clear that the ears upon which his warnings fell were deaf. 

“You’re the only decent one among us, precious,” he murmured, watching the spoon circle around within the pot, trying not to consider his heartbreak too deeply, “And this party is no fun.”

Hongbin had watched the ringmaster disappear into the kitchen through narrowed eyes. Mouth set in a firm line of discontent. 

Perhaps his estimation of Jaehwan’s earlier mood was incorrect. It certainly seemed to be now. 

This wasn’t a flavor of anger that Hongbin was accustomed to seeing on the ringmaster. Jaehwan’s anger was never simple anger. It was a fury. All shouting and stomping feet. Clenched fists and clenched teeth. Seeing him like this -silent and pensive- was disconcerting to say the least. 

“I really, really don't think he’s fond of me,” Sanghyuk whispered, straightening up and then leaning back to pull Hongbin forward. His large hands were warm and dry. A steadying comfort for the vaulter to hold. 

“At this moment,” Hongbin replied, enjoying the faint burn in his adductor muscles at the stretch, “I’m not sure you’re the one he’s unhappy with. Or, not only you, anyway.”

Taekwoon gave Jaehwan a sidelong glance, muscles going tight at the touch. Jaehwan didn't look back. He didn't even seem to be looking at where his eyes were physically focused. Taekwoon added another splash of stock. It didn't feel good to agree with Jaehwan, but he couldn't come close to disagreeing. There was a reason he tucked himself away in the kitchen, beyond the need for someone to make them all food. He didn't want to watch Hakyeon smile at Wonshik, touch him with an affection unreasonable for knowing a man a mere week. He didn't want to watch wonshik laugh and blush and enjoy his company. He didn't want to impede Hongbin's time with his new friend. So he did what he had always done best. Ignore the people and busy himself with a task. It was an improvement on sticking to the ballroom's back walls watching his charge. It was an improvement on praying no one would spot him or address him personally. Simply part of the wallpaper and molding. At least here, he had something to do with his hands. At least he could drink some of Wonshik's ridiculously strong punch. The first sip nearly knocked him on his ass. 

“You are their leader. You could put an end to the whole thing.” Taekwoon might even be grateful for it if he did. “I'm sure Wonshik would listen if you gave the order.” Remembering his manners and his temper, “Hongbin too.” He pulled Jaehwan's hand off his arm to set them on the counter. He extinguished the flame under the meat. From the living room, he heard Hakyeon offer to take the spare drink in Wonshik's hand. Jaehwan had rejected his offer and left him. To cling onto Taekwoon. Reality seemed to be turning upside down tonight. “I would be the last to protest it if you did.” The rice was nearly perfectly plump, mixture thick and rich. 

“I’ve lived a life that was entirely dictated by the orders of other people, precious,” Jaehwan replied, “Those that I am lucky enough to call my friends are free to make their own choices. As well as their own mistakes.”

“I assume you know where he keeps his serving ware.” His eye twitched at the sound of Hakyeon's cooing tone. 

It had been much simpler when it was just him and Wonshik eating together. When Taekwoon served him lunch after his first failed attempt at asking for his time. It was a sick irony that now he had to look back at a mere month prior fondly. Taekwoon still had very little in his own apartment at the time. Wonshik had gone back to his own simply to provide Taekwoon with another knife, another pan. He had waved off any of Taekwoon’s insistence that he didn't have to. His hair was stuck to his skin, sopping wet from a rushed rinse under the faucet head. It was oafish and it made Taekwoon smile somehow. There were too many complexities to the meal now. Taekwoon had many more concerns beyond shame at his own failure. 

It seemed that the precious kitten was upset with him as well, Jaehwan mused, if the short sharpness of Taekwoon’s words and his swift rejection of Jaehwan’s touch was anything to go by. 

Not knowing what else to do, Jaehwan took the empty plate he was given and waited obediently still as it was filled. Frowning poutily at the side of Taekwoon’s pinched face. Saying nothing. Resolutely ignoring Hakyeon. Doing his utmost to clear the sour thoughts from his mind.

Food in hand, he backed out of the kitchen and made his way to the dining table. Pulling out the chair in which he always sat. 

“Bunny,” Jaewhan caught Hongbin’s hand as the vaulter went past and tugged him away from Sanghyuk. Setting the plate down at the place beside his own and snatching up Hongbin’s glass of punch. The burn of his first sip surprised him and he couldn’t stop a delicate cough. 

From behind them, he heard Sanghyuk snicker. 

“Sit here bunny,” he continued, ignoring their most recent acquisition and waving at the chair beside him, then the plate before it, “I brought this for you. Doesn’t it look delicious?”

Hongbin sat, but his gaze was a tad too intent for the ringmaster’s liking. 

“What’s the matter with you tonight,” Hongbin asked in a low voice, once everyone else had vanished into the kitchen to fill plates of their own, leaning in so their foreheads nearly touched. 

“Nothing,” Jaehwan replied, the weight of his heart lightened by Hongbin's proximity. He closed the remaining space between them and stole a kiss, winding his fingers through the vaulter’s lovely hair. “I’ve missed you, that’s all.”

“You saw me at noon.”

The ringmaster shook his head and stole another kiss. Hongbin’s mouth tasted like a tropical island. “Doesn’t matter. Being parted from you for more than an hour is agony, bunny. It makes me sick with longing. I can think of nothing else until I see your beautiful face again.”

He felt Hongbin smile, even though the vaulter was very clearly trying not to, and Jaehwan smiled in return. Bumping the tips of their noses together. 

“You’re ridiculous.” Hongbin sat back a bit, but he didn’t pull away when Jaehwan took his hand beneath the table. “Do you want me to fetch your dinner? Since you fetched mine?”

“No, no, I’m not hungry,” Jaehwan lied, holding on to Hongbin even tighter. Raising the punch like he was giving a toast, “I’m more than happy to have a liquid supper.”

“I would be careful with that idea,” Hakyeon suggested as he came to take his own seat. He was wise enough to not sit beside or in front of Jaehwan. He took the seat across from the empty one beside Jaehwan. Safe cushion of air. Taekwoon served the other two, sending Sanghyuk over next once his plate was filled. He was polite enough, thanking Taekwoon before he went. The only unease he had for sanghyuk was the same he had for anyone. Fear of the unknown. Wonshik seemed to like him fine, but Jaehwan did not. Jaehwan's judgment was somehow prevailing as of late. 

“I can get it, Taek. You've been standing in here for a while.” wonshik poked at his hip, trying to suggest Taekwoon out of the way. He did not budge. 

“I stood guard for hours every single day surrounded by far worse people for years.” Taekwoon paused amidst serving Wonshik when he realized what he had said. It was the most descriptive he had ever been about his former position. Wonshik's voice dropped a little quieter. A sign of consideration he had given him from the start, a show that he understood that it was a raw subject to Taekwoon. 

“Under your old charge?” Taekwoon swallowed. He refused to meet the soft expression he knew Wonshik to be giving him. He gave Wonshik his plate. 

“And before. Now sit.” Wonshik gave the guards arm a fleeting squeeze as he went. He hadn't entirely lost all his intelligence and good nature, even with Hakyeon's influence. 

Taekwoon silently served himself. He took the seat beside Jaehwan before Wonshik could make another step. The lesser of two evils, beside him rather than beside Hakyeon. The animal tamer still smiled at him from across the table, but the distance helped. Wonshik took the last place. Whether he didn't fear Jaehwan's clear irritation with him as much as the other two or simply had no other choice was unclear. Ultimately, it all ended the same. All of them gathered around the table together. At least Hongbin was on Jaehwan's other side. He had someone else to cling onto like a lost child. 

“It's wonderful to all be together,” Wonshik started, spreading his smile out for all the friends around him. It subtly teetered into discomfort. Two scornful looks from the audience were not reassuring him. “I think it's a perfect way to welcome Sanghyuk,” he briefly squeezed Sanghyuk's shoulder in a friendly gesture of comradery, “and send Hakyeon off.” Taekwoon could have eaten his sword in shock.

“Finally?” He blurted it out before he could stop himself. It was painfully clear why his former charge scarcely ever allowed him to drink, beyond always keeping Taekwoon at full attention. At least it made Hongbin snort from the other end of the table. Hakyeon's look at Taekwoon poorly hid his disdain. 

“Don't excite yourself too much, dear. Days time, not this very night.” 

“I suppose that's meant to be an improvement on ‘soon’ ?” The hope in Taekwoon began to swiftly plummet back down to where it had begun. Sanghyuk hid a laugh. Wonshik audibly cleared his throat. 

“Its nice to have this dinner.” Peacekeeper, just like when it was only the three of them having dinner. He was perfectly fit for his role as second hand. “I'm happy to be here with all of you,” he finished before any other intersections could spring up. In spite of everything, Taekwoon still wanted to smooth out that crease between his brows. He wanted to relieve him of any worries. Certain instincts never went away. Hakyeon toasted to Wonshik’s sentiment before taking a drink. The glass that had been meant for Jaehwan. 

⤫-⤬-⤬-⤬

As soon as they were alone in the safety of their apartment, Jaehwan let his pleasant mask drop.

That dinner had been excruciating to sit through. Having to watch Wonshik, his best friend in the world, dote on Hakyeon would have been frustrating enough without their newest addition. And Sanghyuk’s presence had only made things worse. 

Sanghyuk. Han Sanghyuk, with his father’s eyes and snake charmer’s smile...

Jaehwan didn’t trust him as far as he could throw him. He couldn’t throw Sanghyuk very far at all, considering how large the hulking man was. Seeing him stand beside Hongbin, seeing how small he made Hongbin look in comparison, aggravated the ringmaster for a very juvenile reason. Hongbin and Jaehwan were the same height. Roughly the same size. And so, by proxy, Jaehwan realized that Sanghyuk's proximity must make him look small as well.

Not in the mood to talk for once, Jaehwan hung his jacket in the hall closet and wound his way into the kitchen. Determined to prepare himself a cup of tea. 

Peppermint, he thought, filling the kettle and flicking on the burner. Peppermint would be perfect. Just the right flavor to relax him. And then he would go right to sleep so he’d be well rested for the dress rehearsal tomorrow. 

“I’m making tea,” he called over his shoulder, rifling through the cabinet that held all of the different tins in search of peppermint, “Would you like a cup, bunny?”

No answer.

The vaulter was probably changing clothes and hadn’t heard him. Jaehwan endeavored to prepare a cup for him anyway. 

He took two mugs from the mug tree and set them on the counter. Braced his hands on either side of the stove. Stared with unfocused eyes at the trickle of steam that began to swirl from the teapot’s spout. Thinking of nothing. Taking deep breaths through his nose and exhaling his frustration out his mouth.

Questions of jealousy and exclusivity were childish, considering both Hongbin's upbringing in the ringmaster’s own past. And yet, observing the casual and uncomplicated relationship that Hongbin and  Sanghyuk shared... It filled Jaehwan with undeniable, juvenile jealousy.

Platonic friendships were a concept that mystified Jaehwan. He hadn’t been socialized enough in his youth to be adept at forming such bonds. Even with Wonshik, the first friend he made after securing his freedom, Jaehwan hadn’t been able to separate platonic and romantic feelings.

For the majority of his formative years, those two flavors of intimacy were inexorably linked. Friendship meant affection. Affection meant kindness. Kindness was something he had to earn. The way he earned it was by doing as he was told. And what he was told was almost always romantic in nature.

That was a line of thought that Jaehwan had tried to break away from with little to no success.

Watching Hongbin and Sanghyuk interact, it was difficult for Jaehwan not to see hints of attraction between them. The casual way they seemed to orbit each other, the simplicity of the touches they exchanged. It was, in reality, an effect of their work. Practicing such a physical art form in such close proximity to another person, would surely manifest in that sort of familiarity. But still...

The whistle of the kettle made Jaehwan jump, rousing him from his tangled musings. 

He turned off the burner and carefully tipped a measure of boiling water into one mug, then the other. Watching tiny bubbles rise to the surface as the tea leaves within the infusers. Smelling peppermint. 

“Darling,” Hongbin touched his back and Jaehwan jumped a second time, “What are you making?”

The ringmaster urged his tense muscles to relax, not wanting to appear troubled. Not wanting to worry his bunny. “Tea,” he explained, rather lamely to his own ear, “A cup for each of us.”

“That was sweet of you.” 

Taking the mug in both hands, Hongbin peered at Jaehwan over its rim. In pajamas now, golden hair in a single braid the way he’d begun to wear it while he slept, Jaehwan was positive that he’d never seen a more perfect person in his entire life. 

“You didn’t enjoy dinner, did you?”

“It was alright,” Jaehwan murmured, fiddling with the buttons on Hongbin's pajama shirt, “Just a lot of moving parts. It was a bit overwhelming, that’s all.”

“And Sanghyuk?” the vaulter prompted, taking Jaehwans hand, running a soothing finger back and forth across the inside of Jaehwans wrist, “What did you think of him?”

Jaehwan frowned a pouty little frown. “He’s fine.”

“Don’t lie to me, darling. You were glaring holes in the side of his head all evening.”

“Well-” the ringmaster shrugged and drew his bunny from the kitchen. Through the living room, down the short hallway, into the bedroom. “I can’t get a read on him. Something about him is- false. And I’ve seen his eyes before, somewhere- I don’t know.”

He cut that last remark off at the knees. It wouldn’t do to give voice to that tidbit, at least not until he had proof to back it up. 

Hongbin set his mug on one of the nightstands and lowered himself onto the bed. Shifting to the center of the mattress. Leaning back against the headboard and beckoning Jaehwan to join him. 

Jaehwan did join him, albeit slowly, distracted as he was with thoughts of Sanghyuk’s familiar eyes. 

“Now,” the younger said, once Jaehwan was comfortably splayed across his lap, taking one of Jaehwan’s hands in each of his, “What about Sanghyuk rings false to you? Talk it through with me.”

The ringmaster caught his lower lip between his teeth. “I don’t know how to explain it to you, bunny,” he kept his gaze focused on Hongbin's sternum, not wanting to make eye contact yet, “It’s just something I can pick up on sometimes. I can feel it when people are lying and I tell you, there isn’t a shadow of a doubt in my mind, he is lying. I don’t know why, and I don’t know what about, but he is lying.”

Hongbin didn’t respond right away but Jaehwan could feel his watchfulness. So, Jaehwan soldiered on. 

“This isn’t simply an idle concern, bunny. And I’m not making up stories just because he’s your partner. I swear it.”

“Hearing that is a relief,” the vaulter replied, giving Jaehwan’s hands a gentle squeeze, “Because that was going to be my next question.”

“What was?”

“Whether you were jealous of him or not.”

“I’m not,” Jaehwan declared, hoping that saying it would make it true. And then, under Hongbin's suspicious look, he faltered. “Well- I mean, I’m a bit jealous. Only a bit. Can you blame me?”

The younger sighed. “I suppose not, although jealousy is a concept that’s beyond my scope of understanding.”

Now, it was the ringmasters turn to say it. “Don’t lie to me, bunny. You get fussy and bothered at the mere suggestion of me sleeping with someone else. Especially,” he wriggled his fingers in Hongbin’s face like an evil witch, “Women.”

“That’s not jealousy,” Hongbin corrected, “That’s concern. Sometimes the people you choose to give yourself to concern me. That’s all it is. And don’t try to change the subject.”

“I’m not changing the subject-”

“How can I help,” the younger interrupted, “Or, what can you do that would assuage the distrust you’re feeling? Would speaking to him privately be beneficial? Getting to know him without me being there? Because I want you to get to know him, darling. I want him to move over here eventually-”

Jaehwan’s head snapped up, incredulity deepening his voice a touch, “You want him to move in here?!”

“Not here with us, in the spare apartment.”

“No,” the ringmaster shook his head hard, “No, absolutely not. Out of the question.”

But Hongbin shushed him before his temper had time to build itself up into a thundercloud. “That’s something we can discuss later, darling. For now, I just want the two of you to be on good terms. What can we do to help get you there?”

Panic-stricken at the very thought of Sanghyuk being so near, free to move about in this safe place, the only place Jaehwan had ever truly felt safe in the entirety of his life, Jaehwan tangled his fingers in the front of Hongbin's shirt. Needing to hold on to something solid, something that would keep him on level ground. 

“I don’t know,” he whispered, “Getting to know him alone, like you said, would probably be best, but my methods of doing so might concern you.”

Hongbin clicked his tongue. “As long as he doesn’t end up killed or seriously maimed, you may do what you like. All I want is for you to feel comfortable, darling. Alright?”

“Alright,” Jaehwan pouted, wriggling a little on his lap and making Hongbin smile, “Alright, I’ll do it tomorrow, but don’t tell him anything. I want his reactions to be completely organic.”

“Whatever you say, darling. Do what you have to do.”

Hongbin glanced up at him, a spark of warmth blooming behind his wide chocolate eyes, and Jaehwans breath caught. Overwhelmed now both with the trust Hongbin gifted him and a burning need to taste his bunny. A need to convey his gratitude in the only way he knew how. 

And, in a more selfish vein, a need to reassure himself that nothing between them had changed. That Sanghyuk’s presence in their life hadn’t altered the way Hongbin would respond to the ringmasters' advances.

⤫-⤬-⤬-⤬

It only ever took a few seconds to rile Jaehwan up. Even if Hongbin only looked at him a certain way, even if the look only lasted a few heartbeats, it was enough. 

And now, Hongbin was sitting on the edge of the bed, and the ringmaster's handsome face was between his legs, still dressed in the clothes he’d worn to dinner, hair so soft where his head rested against the inside of Hongbin's thigh. Blinking up at Hongbin with eyes that were heavy-lidded and hazy with want. 

“Darling,” Hongbin murmured, stroking Jaehwan’s cheek with his thumb. Tracing the swell of his stretch-reddened mouth. 

Leaning forwards, now that he’d caught his breath, the ringmaster took Hongbin's cock back into his mouth. The feeling of that wet warmth, the slide of his tongue, drew a gasp from the younger. 

Jaehwan worked himself lower and lower and lower, taking him deeper and deeper and deeper, until his pointy nose was pressed to Hongbin's groin. 

Swallowing around him, Jaehwan let out a melodic little moan that was downright filthy.

It never got old; or, it hadn’t gotten old yet, and Hongbin didn’t think it would get old anytime soon. The vision of Jaehwan's plush lips spread around his cock. Mouth stretched open so wide that it was a wonder he didn’t choke. 

Hongbin licked his own lips as he watched the strands of Jaehwans fluffy sable hair bounce each time he pulled off and then sank back down. The effect he had, the vitality that leaked from his every poor, the effort he exerted, intoxicated Hongbin like nothing else could. 

Jaehwan’s knees were probably getting sore from kneeling on the floor for so long, and his jaw was probably aching from overuse. But Jaehwan continued to suck him off. 

Jaehwan’s skin was probably beginning to burn under the long strip of silk he’d begged Hongbin to tie around his neck, his muscles probably ached from remaining upright each time Hongbin gave the end of the ribbon a tug, but he continued to suck Hongbin off. 

Jaehwan’s own body was being pointedly neglected, but he continued to suck the younger off. 

Nothing, no mild pain or discomfort, would ever get in between Jaehwan and his pleasure. 

Jaehwan had begged to be tied up. Frantic in the wake of their Sanghyuk related conversation, needing to touch or be touched. Properly begged, mind you, not just a string of whiney words that could pass for begging.  

Tying him up was something Hongbin didn’t care about. The act in itself neither repulsed nor excited him. But he still did it anyway, because any time the ringmaster begged him for anything, all Hongbin could do was comply.

Jaehwan was always so eager for it. Eager for him. For this particular act especially. 

Always ready, swallowing down more, taking the vaulter right to the back of his throat. Setting a heady, punishing rhythm for himself. Taking Hongbins cock until he was too exhausted to take anything at all.

The feeling of his tight throat convulsing made Hongbin's vision go gray for a second.

“Fuck, darling,” he grit out, tracing Jaehwan’s eyebrow, “You’re incredible…”

Jaehwan hummed around his length, obviously pleased by the compliment. Bound hands flat on the floor between his spread legs. Hongbin gave the silk around his throat another tug and Jaehwan mewled. 

When the telltale heat began to simmer in the pit of Hongbin's stomach, Hongbin reached for him. Intending to stop Jaehwan before he finished. But Jaehwan ignored what was -let’s be honest- a half hearted attempt and kept right on going. Pressing forward so he could try  to take more.

Just before the bubble of warmth in his core threatened to burst, Hongbin gripped his lover's jaw; steadying him and pulling him off by the hair. Only Hongbin's tip now bobbing against his bottom lip, all shiny with spit.

He traced the vein on the underside of the vaulter’s cock and managed to draw a hiss from between Hongbin's teeth. 

Jaehwan tongued his slit, letting his mouth hang open, clearly asking to continue, but Hongbin shook his head, scooting back so he was out of the elders reach.

Jaehwan tried to follow but Hongbin stopped him. Leaning back on one elbow and bending one knee, his foot resting on the center of Jaehwans chest to keep the elder away. 

“Bunny,” he whined, the picture of petulance.

“None of that,” Hongbin chided, aware of exactly how much Jaehwan got off on having his pleasure withheld, “I want to see the way your pretty face looks streaked with my come.”

And he did get to see the way Jaehwan’s pretty face looks streaked with his come. Stroking himself the handful of times it took to finish, Inwardly purring as he watched Jaehwan’s pink tongue dart around to lick at the stray drips of sticky white that streaked across his lips and cheeks. 

“So pretty,” he murmured, carding a hand through Jaehwans hair as he caught his breath, “And now, it’s your turn.”

⤫-⤬-⤬-⤬

Taekwoon heaved a breath, setting his shoulders. He focused his eyes on the sack in front of him, hung up like a punching bag. He fixed his fingers on the hilt of the longsword. Weight so familiar in his grip that he didn't even feel it without genuine concentration. He stood en garde for a moment, collecting energy and inertia into his feet. Shoulder width apart. Weight balanced. Just a touch bent at the knee. Perfect position to thrust into an attack. His burst into motion was quick and precise. His sword only just missed the bag. It would graze a living man in the ribs. He evaded an imagined opponent, weaving away from a retort. He slashed at the vulnerability made by his opponent's lunge, catching the rough cloth of the bag with only the tip of the sword. A minor tear. Had he put in any more force, it would have been torn open. Taekwoon retreated a step. Most opponents would put a hand to the cut in response. Human instinct to halt the bleeding. Completely subconscious. It would be the perfect opportunity to disarm. 

“I do believe you need a partner for dueling.” Taekwoon loosened some of the tension in his body, returning to the en garde position. Hakyeon walked over from his place in the doorway, arms crossed over his chest. Taekwoon had hoped that no one would come into the training room this early in the morning. Of course the one that would walk in would be the worst of the set. 

“Dueling requires a partner with the same level of training.” Taekwoon gave him a glance. “There aren't any swordsmen here.”

“Maybe not, but there's certainly duellists.” 

“Who do you have in mind?” Taekwoon sheathed the sword, clearly having to entertain the interruption rather than ignore it. Hakyeon remained outside the makeshift piste Taekwoon had drawn on the ground. 

“I'm sure I could use the practice.” Taekwoon raised a brow, but Hakyeon didn't waver. He continued to smile at the guard. Invitation clear. 

“You're trained?”

“In foil, at least.” 

Taekwoon could simply tell him no. He could refuse and make him leave so that he could train in peace in the form he preferred. He was not bad at fencing, not in the slightest. It was simply a different skill set than what Taekwoon near always carried on his person. A foil was all about speed and precision. Less of the strength and resilience of the longsword. He did not want to refuse him based on a fear of embarrassing himself. The idea that he might lose against Hakyeon didn't even cross his mind. Sure as the sun rose every single morning, Taekwoon knew Hakyeon wouldn't best him. Ultimately, that's why he didn't refuse. He knew he could beat Hakyeon, and what a joy that would be. What a satisfaction to be had by crushing him under your heel. Retribution for all the misery and embarrassment he inflicted. He unhooked the belt holding his sword because he wanted to watch Hakyeon fail more than he wanted his own peace and quiet. 

“Excellent!” Hakyeon was near giddy as he went for the foils. Taekwoon simply sighed and fixed his dueling glove. 

Taekwoon can hear a version of his old lieutenant scolding them for the lack of proper equipment in the back of his mind. Hakyeon steps up to the opposite end of the piste with nothing but the clothes on his back and a dueling glove. He had shed his jacket before entering, down to the poet's shirt he wore when he first arrived days back. Clearly since laundered. His training is admittedly clear. He naturally falls into a proper stance, holding his foil with confidence. His free hand rests behind his back. Taekwoon’s merely remains at his side. 

“Would you not prefer a mask?”

“I would rather have my own.” Taekwoon fights rolling his eyes at the comment. If something were to happen to Hakyeon, he would not grieve. 

“Fine then. Typical foil rules.” Taekwoon salutes him first, guard of the sword level with his face. Hakyeon does a kind of theatrical motion, bowing with a swish of the foil. He stands back upright looking as smug as ever. A pompous show pony through and through. 

“En garde.” They fall into position, feet at the line and blades in the sixte lines. Hakyeon has a clear energy thats scarcely restrained. 

“There's no referee,” he points out insipidly. 

“Is this a competition now?” Hakyeon quirks a brow. 

“How will we know who wins, then?” 

“Whoever yields first.” Hakyeon's smirk changes into a full grin, giddy with ill intent. 

“Your pride could handle admitting defeat?” Taekwoon scoffs, fixing his grip. 

“I should be the one asking you.” He was under the impression Hakyeon would much sooner light himself aflame than admit failure or defeat. Pride was the center of his very being. 

“I won't be the one on the ground.” Like he was trying to prove Taekwoon right. Taekwoon steadied his breath. 

“Prêtes.” The grin fell. Both of them focused on concentrating their energy. In such a fast paced sport, one had to be conscious of every part of their body. In control of themselves entirely. 

“Allez.”

Hakyeon was first to lunge forward, forcing his foil past the sixte line into Taekwoon’s space. He parried back, letting the hit only reach the air between his free arm and torso. Either would have been a point if it landed. Open as he was with the forward attack, it was easy to jab the tip of the foil into Hakyeon's rib. Point. Hakyeon stepped back with a huff of air, hand to the contact point. Taekwoon hoped it would bruise. 

“Your point,” Hakyeon muttered. Taekwoon nodded once, stepping back to the en garde line. Hakyeon dropped his hand from his ribs, falling back into proper position.  

“En garde.” Taekwoon fought the urge to smile as he said it. It was not good sportsmanship, but the temptation was strong. Hakyeon had this coming for the past week. “Prêtes.” Hakyeon nodded once. His expression was hard with determination. “Allez!”

Hakyeon learnt from the first phase. His attack was much more subdued, merely a step forward that Taekwoon parried. He did the same when Taekwoon attempted to jab at his side. Their swords met in a clash of metal. It sung in the empty training room. Taekwoon drew back again before Hakyeon could catch him in the opening. Another touch as he blocked Hakyeon from making contact. Steel on steel, shoes scuffing on the dusty floor.

“Where did you learn?” It was asked far too casually for their current engagement. Hakyeon eased off a step to ask, though. 

“That's none of your concern.” Taekwoon lunged for an attack. Hakyeon twisted as he attempted to evade it. His own sword desperately tried to land a touch. Taekwoon evaded it and his foil bent at contact with Hakyeon's hip. Point. Hakyeon breathed out a laugh. 

“Rather unfair. I was distracted.” Taekwoon did not look at him as he returned to his own en garde line. 

“Fencing is fast paced. You shouldn't waste the time to talk.” Hakyeon was back to his own line when Taekwoon turned around. He was still smiling away. He believed a win was still manageable. 

“The perfect little tin soldier, aren't you?” Taekwoon’s stomach dropped and it was clear on Hakyeon's face that he knew it did. He was carefully observing Taekwoon’s reaction. They were still dueling, even before the phase began. Even when they had no swords to speak of. “All work and honor and duty.”

“En garde.” He was trying to get under Taekwoon’s skin. He was not above underhanded tactics. He was not above anything. 

“Wonder if there's a heart under it all.” Taekwoon dug his foot into the ground. 

“Prêtes.”

“Allez,” Hakyeon finished for him. 

Taekwoon immediately scared Hakyeon backwards. There wasn't a touch, but it was a near thing. Sword clashed as they itched back and forth across the piste. Hakyeon was attempting to play the defensive, swiftly running out of valid space before he reached the foil lines. Taekwoon was pushing him into a corner. He would either get a point, or force Hakyeon out of the box. There was no recovery. Not until he changed strategies. Hakyeon suddenly dropped, aiming low. Taekwoon jumped back, aiming for Hakyeon's shoulder on the retreat. They both failed, hitting out of range if they hit at all. Hakyeon didn't relent however, he followed after Taekwoon. Their long legs were vulnerabilities, space that could be manipulated to reach a point. Taekwoon smacked away the attack. Foils bent against one another. The momentum kept both of them moving, too fast to keep steady footing. Nearly the same second Hakyeon's foil tip made contact with Taekwoons chest, so did the rest of him. Taekwoon had the full brunt of the man crashing into him. They tumbled to the floor, foils clattering. Hakyeon's practically flew from his grasp, bent the way it was when they fell. It slid feet away from them across the floor. 

They had fallen in a heap on the floor, Taekwoon landing flat on his back with Hakyeon on top of him. The stars in his vision from his head cracking onto the floor were quickly usurped by the sight of Hakyeon's face so close to him. They were panting over one another. They could feel each other's hearts as they raced, and Taekwoon had a leg trapped between Hakyeon's. Mercifully, Hakyeon looked as shocked as him. At first. The animal tamer began to laugh as he pushed himself up onto his hands. Taekwoon could feel it shaking him with their contact. 

“Not how I prefer to get someone under me.” There was a buzz in Taekwoon’s ears, drilling into his brain. 

“Get off.”

“I expected it of Wonshik first, frankly.” Taekwoon shoved Hakyeon away with far more force than necessary. Hakyeon reeled back as Taekwoon dragged himself backward to gain distance. Hakyeon rubbed his shoulder where Taekwoon had shoved. 

“Don't touch Wonshik.” Hakyeon scoffed, even with Taekwoon scowling at him. 

“Is his guard dog going to come after me if I do?” If he wanted a guard dog, he would have one. Taekwoon would be all mashing, foaming maw if he had to. There was a memory there, just in back of his mind. Call off your guard dog, my lord . 

“This perverse game you're playing at won't work.” Taekwoon rose to his knees, gaining a level of height on Hakyeon. It would be easy to grapple him to the ground like this. Hakyeon only smiled up at him, cat-like. He quirked his head to the side. 

“What game is that?”

“Staying here, worming your way into his bed like the snake you are.” Hakyeon gave a single dry laugh. 

“Why? Because his little guard dog is already sleeping at the end of it?” A wrath so sharp and acidic bubbled up in Taekwoon that he could taste it in the back of his throat. “He can make his own choice.”

“He would never choose you.”

“What are you trying to protect him from?” Hakyeon squinted at him, trying to find something. Taekwoon kept his every intention tucked away deep, deep below the surface however. “What are you so worried I'm going to do?” Taekwoon stepped in toward him. 

“You're going to do what every man like you has ever done. You're going to use him for your own sick entertainment and toss him to the side when you get bored. You're going to leave him to deal with the consequences.” Hakyeon wasn't smiling anymore. His expression was cold and flat. He met Taekwoon at eye level, scarcely even a foot away. Yet another duel. Final match. 

“Simply because another man broke your heart doesn't mean I'd do the same.”

Taekwoon pounced on him. He attempted to drag him back to the ground and crush him there. Hakyeon caught him by the arms, forcing him to stay upright. Taekwoon twisted his arms to weaken the hold, to pull his wrists from the grasp. Enough to break Hakyeon's strong grip. He dragged the man to the ground. Pinned a leg beneath him. Hakyeon retaliated, crashing his knee into Taekwoon’s ribs. The force stunned him enough to let Hakyeon roll them over. He forced Taekwoon onto his stomach. He caught the elbow Taekwoon flew at him, only to bend the arm behind the guard. His hand was cramped between his shoulder blades. Hakyeon dug his knee into Taekwoon’s thigh. 

“I hit a sore spot, boy?” What you'd call a mangy stray dog, even the same sickening lilt. Taekwoon thrashed. 

“Fuck you.” Hakyeon scoffed. 

“Only if you beg.” Taekwoon managed to bring his free leg up quick enough to kick Hakyeon's free thigh, sending him toppling. Taekwoon rolled them over once again. He kept Hakyeon in place with a forearm over his throat. Just enough pressure to make each breath precious.

“I would sooner die.” There was a sick pleasure in watching Hakyeon's heavy breaths rattle out of his parted lips, feeling him struggle underneath Taekwoon’s weight. Punching at Taekwoon’s side and back was useless. “I am nothing like you. Do you understand that?” A demented pervert puffed up on his own ego. He couldn't be if he tried. 

“Wrong,” Hakyeon managed to choke out. Taekwoon pressed in harder. 

“Yield,” he growled. He would let Hakyeon have exactly one chance. If he squandered it, Taekwoon wouldn't be to blame. 

Taekwoon swore and toppled at the hilt of a foil hitting him upside the head. The stars returned to his vision again. He held a hand to the point, making sure it wasn't bleeding. Hakyeon had snatched Taekwoon’s dropped foil from the ground while he was pinned, using it as a cheap way out. Freed, he took Taekwoon’s arm again and twisted it back, shoving his face down into the floor. He pinned the guard with a knee in his back. Hakyeon panted over top of him. 

“Rather pitiful fight for a man that prides himself on being such a good soldier.” Taekwoon could hear the smirk in his voice, could see his devil eyes squinted in joy. Hakyeon twisted his arm again so it was behind him, so he could lean down to murmer to Taekwoon. “Do you know why tigers have such a vivid coat?” Taekwoon jerked, trying to break out of the hold. He didn't want to hear some nonsensical rant. “Its camouflage, so their prey can't see them coming.” He pressed his knee deeper into Taekwoon, jagged kneecap into ribs. “I see you just as well as you see me.” Taekwoon could just make him out of the corner of his vision, just beyond the stars and pain. “He may not have you figured out, but I do, soldier.” 

Hakyeon stepped off of him, away from his body on the floor. Taekwoon dragged himself up onto his knees, groaning at the dizzying rush to his head and throbbing ache in his chest. Hakyeon dipped low in a theatrical bow before he turned for the door he entered from. 

“Thank you for the practice, my dear. I enjoyed myself.” Taekwoon silently watched him go, catching his breath. He should kill him. He bent back over to rest his forehead on the floor instead. Stupid, stupid, stupid. 

But I do, soldier . 

⤫-⤬-⤬-⤬

The afternoon that followed the incredibly awkward dinner with Lumen ad Somnia’s higher-ups, the disgraced son of the Duke of Bellawood found a note on his pillow. 

Not overtly fancy, but the stationary was still finely made. Thick maroon cardstock with a seal of golden wax. The imprint was a V, each end curling outward. Like the horns of a ram. Unless Sanghyuk was mistaken, it was the Aries symbol. His name was written on the envelopes front in looping black cursive. 

Grateful that his dormitory was empty, since all the other trainees had already left for the dining hall, Sanghyuk flicked open the careful fold of its envelope and tugged the notecard within it free. He caught a breath of fragrance lingering on the paper. As though whoever had sent it had sprayed their perfume on it before sealing it up.

Several of the highborn ladies Sanghyuk was acquainted with did that. Well, the naughtier of the highborn ladies he was acquainted with. They did it, he knew, as a promise of what was to come if their invitations were accepted. Come, and you will breathe in this scent again, you will be close enough to smell it on my skin. 

He grinned, carrying the notecard to the open window so he could read it more easily. The rapidly setting sun cast the dormitory’s interior in far too much shadow and nobody had yet come to light the lamps. 

‘Han Sanghyuk,

You are cordially invited to The Lotus Club this evening for a night of fervent, fantastical frivolity. 

Dress code: Masquerade

Be sure to bring this card with you, and show it to the doorman when you arrive.’

Sanghyuk squinted at the note and read it through again. There was no signature, no indication of who had invited him, which was puzzling to say the least. However, the acrobat had visited The Lotus Club on several occasions -in his previous life- and it was a delightful establishment. Not so uptight as some of the other more popular social clubs. They served strong drinks and the clientele never failed to entertain him. 

Perhaps it was an old friend, he thought, idly raising the note and inhaling a shallow lungful of the perfume that graced it. Perhaps someone from his previous life had come to the circus and caught a glimpse of him. Perhaps they wanted to reconnect. 

There was nothing else for him to do that night. Hongbin was hidden away across the road with their enchanting ringmaster and most of the other trainees bored Sanghyuk to tears. He had two options; toss the note in the trash and go to sleep early with a book in hand, or slip out of the dormitory to attend a mysterious party and try to discover exactly who had inked him the invitation. 

For Sanghyuk, the choice was obvious. 

Grateful, again, that the others had all gone down to dinner, Sanghyuk ducked down and fished a latchkey from where he’d concealed it beneath his mattress. He slipped it into his pocket along with the note, slung a simple black cloak around his shoulders, and left the dormitory at a brisk pace. Fast enough to look like he had a destination in mind but not so fast that it would seem like he was running away. 

Twenty minutes later, Sanghyuk entered a brick-fronted building and hurried up a flight of stairs. 

Unlike the majority of his comrades, Sanghyuk didn’t need to live in the trainee dormitory; he’d chosen to. His parents sent him a stipend every month, because having a disgraced child was embarrassing, but allowing said child to live in poverty in plain view of society was more embarrassing by half. It would hurt the family's reputation even more than the disgrace alone. 

He used a portion of that money to rent this place; a second-floor studio where he kept all the remnants of his previous life. The things he couldn’t bring into the dormitory. His collection of fine clothing. A handful of special edition novels that he’d lifted from his fathers library. His hunting rifle and ceremonial sword. A battered set of playing cards. A purse of gold coins hidden beneath a loose floorboard. 

The rest of his stipend was deposited -along with his wage from the circus- into a bank account registered in his sisters name that she’d opened for him the week he left home. Just another layer of safety to keep his parents out of his business. 

Standing in the center of the large room, Sanghyuk tapped his lip in thought. 

What to wear?

Masquerades could land anywhere on the spectrum of fanciness according to the individual’s taste. Personally, Sanghyuk had always preferred to be overdressed than underdressed. And parties at The Lotus Club were known to be more lavish than most. 

As the sun finally dipped beneath the horizon, Sanghyuk buttoned the banded collar of his white dress shirt, tugging the fluted sleeves so they fluttered around his hands. Straightened the thin chain he’d pinned around his neck. Atop the shirt, he shrugged on a treasure of a frock coat; shining silver damask embroidered with a pattern of winding gray vines. Twin rows of silver buttons lined each edge of its open front, the hemline fluttering down over his gray trousers, ending just above his knees.  

He’d selected that jacket specifically because he only had one mask. A plain silver mask with pointed temples and a few curls raised around the eyes. Kept on the off chance he might need it. There hadn’t been time to go to the shops to find something better and, so far as silver went, Sanghyuk had only kept one matching coat. He hadn’t had much of a selection to choose from. 

But, he thought, eyeing himself in a floor length mirror propped against the wall, Sanghyuk decided he looked rather good. The tall collar highlighted his cheekbones and the bright silver shined all the brighter contrasted against his thick black hair. 

After a final glance in the mirror, Sanghyuk grabbed a thin black cane and departed the studio. Hailing a hansom and settling in for the short trip across town. 

As the cobblestone beneath the carriage wheels gently rocked him in his velvet cocoon, Sanghyuk considered the previous night. 

He considered his new partner; the lovely and talented Lee Hongbin, with the face of an angel and the temperament of a demon. Sanghyuk liked Hongbin. He’d liked Hongbin since the day the ringmaster first escorted Hongbin to the training room and informed the teacher that a new trainee had just been hired. Their companionship was a fast and easy thing. 

He considered the other people seated around the dinner table. The head of security, who acted very much like a cat that got its tail stepped on. The second in command, who seemed far too soft to exert any authority over anyone at all. The other newcomer, a self-proclaimed animal tamer, whose noble breeding was so obvious that it may as well have been etched into his skin. And the ringmaster. 

He considered the ringmaster, Lee Jaehwan. The ringmaster who had only recently claimed that title. The ringmaster who had worked as an acrobat for years until receiving his promotion. The ringmaster, whose performances Sanghyuk had viewed from the stands countless times. Jaw on the floor and heart aflame as he watched Jaehwan contort himself around the lyra and twirl between the aerial silks.

It was part of the reason that Sanghyuk had chosen to come to Lumen ad Somnia, and not a small part. When he’d departed his family home for the final time, Sanghyuk had given into the pull that the circus exerted over him. The sweet call of freedom it promised. And, louder still, the idea that perhaps, if he too became an acrobat, Sanghyuk would have a chance to get to know Lee Jaehwan better.  

The hansom rolled to a stop and Sanghyuk paid the driver, stepping onto the pavement in front of The Lotus Club. 

The club was busy, he could hear the raucous sounds of frivolity even out here. 

When he flashed the invitation at the doorman, Sanghyuk was led inside. Handing his thick velvet cloak to the coat-check attendant and passing through a curtain into the club proper. 

It was a feast for his starved senses. A bouquet of hues, every imaginable color. People whirling around one another like a cloud of butterflies. Sumptuous fabrics and swathes of bare skin. Low, slow music being played by a handful of performers in the corner, the face of each player hidden behind a star-shaped mask. 

Slightly overwhelmed by so much luxury after so many months of none, Sanghyuk drifted to the bar. 

An hour passed. 

Then two. 

Sanghyuk realized he’d lost his cane somewhere at the exact moment he realized that his glass was empty. His hair, which he had neatly swept off his forehead, was now ruffled after having his fingers run through it one time too many, and the skin beneath his mask began to feel a bit sticky. 

The Lotus Club’s interior was stuffy and warm. 

Someone was watching him, Sanghyuk noticed, as he ordered a fresh drink. 

Someone on the other side of the wide room. Leaned against a deep green wall with hands folded behind their back. 

He couldn’t tell what genre of person they were, but they were dressed in a feminine style. To be more specific, they were dressed like a whore from last centuries french court who’d only managed to put half their clothes on before being interrupted by another suitor. 

A maroon corset and matching bodice, trimmed in black ruffles. Separate fluted sleeves, the band of which were stretched across their biceps before they spread to hang down to their waist. Around that waist was an exposed hoop, the bones of it decorated in crimson frills and black bows. Garters strapped to a pair of scarlet stockings. Dainty boots with high heels laced halfway up their calves. Wavy sable hair that hung just past their chin, teased up so it ringed their head like a sumptuous halo. Their bee-stung lips were painted a bright blood red, and the black mask over their eyes had delicate horns on either side. 

They were an absolute confection of a person. Even in such a lovely crowd, they burned like a glowing candle in a pitch-black room. Stealing all of the acrobats attention and clutching it in one delicate fist. 

Sanghyuk found himself smiling at them. Smiling even wider when he saw the corner of their red lips rise. 

“One more of these,” Sanghyuk said to the bartender, nodding in thanks when he accepted the second glass. 

He crossed the room with miraculously steady steps and approached the person who’d caught his attention. The horns on their mask reminded him of the golden Aries seal on his invitation, and they did ring a faint bell of familiarity in the back of his mind, although Sanghyuk couldn’t place where he’d seen them before. 

“For you,” Sanghyuk said, grinning down at the person and holding out the second glass. 

“For me?” they replied, lifting it with dainty fingers, “How generous.”

Their voice was a rich tenor that sounded like honey to Sanghyuk's ear. And they were even more beautiful up close. “For you,” he repeated, “Cheers.”

They clinked glasses and Sanghyuk watched his new friend raise the drink to their mouth. Watched them take a small sip. Watched them swallow. 

“It’s good, but-” they lifted the glass up and peered at it, confused, “What is it?”

“A stinger,” Sanghyuk explained, as he shifted closer to allow a couple to squeeze through the crowd behind him, “Rum, cognac, and creme de menthe. A personal favorite.”

“It’s delicious. What’s your name, handsome?” they asked, stretching, arching off the wall in such a way that their chest nearly brushed Sanghyuk’s.

“I’m-” a pause, considering whether it would be worth it to tell the truth. Deciding that he wanted to impress his new friend. “Lord Han Sanghyuk, Marquess of Bellawood.”

“A Marquess? How lucky I am... To be in the presence of such noble company.”

“A Marquess,” Sanghyuk nodded, “But I promise I don't behave like one.” 

“How interesting.”

“And who might you be?”

The person said nothing, only gracing Sanghyuk with a coy little smile. 

Intriguing... 

This close, he could make out the perfume that lingered on his new friend's skin. Bergamot and lavender, ylang-ylang and rose, patchouli and musk. The very same bouquet that had been spritzed on his note. 

“Do I know you, doll?” the acrobat asked, not backing away, “I believe my invitation to this party was baptized in your perfume.”

His new friend laughed, buttery and thick, and Sanghyuk most definitely recognized the sound of it. But from where?

“Perhaps you do,” they replied, their drink-free hand coming up to settle at the nape of Sanghyuk’s neck, long fingers threading through Sanghyuk’s hair. Behind the mask, their eyes were a brown so deep that Sanghyuk felt he could fall into them and drown. “Your cologne is familiar to me as well. Eau de Quinine?”

“Quite right,” the acrobat nodded, “You’re perceptive. I like that.”

His new friend preened at the small compliment. 

Sanghyuk sipped his own drink. “If I do know you, where from?”

“Do you really not recognize me?”

“I do. I don’t think I could ever forget the sight of that lovely mouth. But- I can't place where I've seen you before.”

“What a shame... And here I was thinking that I left an impression...”

“You did,” Sanghyuk replied, watching his new friend swallow a second time, “I assure you, you did. It’s me; I'm terrible at tying faces to places.” 

“If you say so.”

Sanghyuk took their chin in a gentle grip, holding it between his crooked index finger and thumb. Tipping their face from side to side so he could admire them better. He felt the faint pressure of their hand against his chest.

The current between them ran thick in the floral scented air, palpable enough that Sanghyuk could taste it, even as tipsy as he was. 

“I wouldn’t worry so much if I were you, my lord,” his new friend hummed, allowing the acrobat to step even closer, not protesting the hands Sanghyuk settled on their tight-laced waist, “Worry only spoils the mood.”

Sanghyuk flinched before he could stop himself. The sound of ‘my lord’ throbbed inside his head like a fresh bruise. “Please, doll,” he insisted, “Just call me Sanghyuk.”

Not wanting to see confusion on his new friend's face and familiar enough with this kind of dance that he had memorized the steps, Sanghyuk drained his glass and took the person’s hands. Leading them through the crowd and into a smaller, more private parlor. 

The music wasn’t so loud there. The lights weren’t nearly so bright. The guests weren’t simply making small talk. 

He stopped in the only unoccupied corner and drew his new friend close, ducking his head to taste those red-painted lips. 

His new friend hummed against him, kissing him back, dominating his attention so completely that the acrobat barely noticed as they plucked the mask from his face and dropped it on the ground. Playfully biting at his lip and making Sanghyuk shudder. They sparkled like poison and honey on the tip of his tongue.

“You’re beautiful,” Sanghyuk murmured, as he trailed kisses across their cheek, the cut of their sharp jaw, along the column of their throat. Allowing them to push the frock coat off his shoulders so it slid down his arms to puddle on the floor.

“And you’re a very pretty boy,” they replied, “I do love pretty boys.”

“Beautiful and sweet... I'm lucky to have found you,” the acrobat murmured, running his hands along the length of their body, “I wish you’d tell me your name.”

They wound their arms around the acrobats neck. Humming with pleasure when Sanghyuk reached to hold the back of their stocking-clad thigh. Wrapping one long leg around Sanghyuk’s hips. “So curious...”

Sanghyuk could feel just how fast their heart was beating. It thrummed beneath his lips in the pulse at their neck. 

“Of course, I’m curious,” he replied, grazing the edge of his teeth against their tender, milky skin. Nose full of that delectable perfume. “Weaker men than me would surely fall to their knees and beg for the name of one as enticing as you.”

His new friend laughed; a luscious, dark laugh, until Sanghyuk began to work in earnest. Sucking a mark onto their flesh and digging his fingertips into their thigh. Their laugh crested in a gentle moan, then another, and another. Their chest heaved prettily against the acrobats like the cooing of a dove. 

“Well...” their reply cut off with a gasp as Sanghyuk nudged his own thigh between their legs, their fingers tightening in his hair at the sudden pressure, “If you’re so curious, take off my mask.”

Sanghyuk grinned against their skin. Noting how flushed they’d grown under the heat of his attentions. 

“I’m a bit busy, doll.” He felt them press into him, grinding with short, aborted rocking of their hips like they were trying not to do so and failing. Sanghyuk traced the lacing on the back of their corset. “This ribbon is far more intriguing than the one on your mask. Why don't you do it for me?”

The couple entwined nearest them started to fuck properly and Sanghyuk almost looked around, out of casual interest more than anything else. But he didn’t. Couldn't. How could he look elsewhere when he had such a supple, perfect body at his disposal? 

His new friend stopped tugging Sanghyuk’s hair long enough to reach behind their own head, humming with patronizing pleasure when Sanghyuk unhooked their hoop so it was out of the way and gave their ass a light slap. 

“If you insist.”

“Thank you, doll,” Sanghyuk kissed their collarbone, “I very much appreciate it.”

When the horned mask came into view, hanging in his new friend's hand so Sanghyuk could see it in his periphery, the acrobat closed his eyes. Straightening up. Kissing his new friend’s lips. Feeling their noses brush now that the ceramic barrier was gone.  

“You are absolutely divine,” Sanghyuk murmured. 

He pulled back a bit, wanting to catch a glimpse of the perfect creature between his arms. Eyes still closed as he felt his new friend slip their thumb into his mouth. The acrobat accepted it, liking the taste of their skin.

But, as soon as he gathered enough composure to open his eyes and he caught that glimpse, Sanghyuk's heart jammed in his throat. 

The ringmaster of Lumen ad Somnia circus blinked back at him. Red paint smudged across his mouth. Sable hair artfully disheveled. Darkly lined eyes narrowed with satisfaction. 

“You-” Sanghyuk swallowed, trying to shake off his daze. He fought the instinct to take a step back. Jaehwan’s arm was still around his neck and Jaehwan’s leg was still around his waist. “You...”

Easing his thumb from the younger’s mouth, Jaehwan sighed, “Me.” He stroked Sanghyuk's cheek where a sudden flush began to rise. Lashes fluttering in pleasure at the effect his identity was having on Sanghyuk, “Do you recognize me now?”

“Was it really- why did you invite- what’s going on?”

Someone made a noise of protest and Sanghyuk realized he’d almost been shouting. 

Jaehwan shushed him, pulling the younger close once more so he could whisper in Sanghyuk's ear. Not wanting to disturb the lovers artfully arranged around them. “Is the sight of me so unpleasant?”

“No, but-” Sanghyuk forced down the lump of anxiety that grew in his throat, his grip on Jaehwan getting instinctively tighter, “I wasn’t expecting... I don't understand why you invited me here.” 

“You don’t?”

“I don’t. I got the very strong impression that you dislike me.”

“I don't dislike you,” Jaehwan replied, the heat of his breath making Sanghyuk shiver, “I simply didn't know you. Didn’t trust you. You spend so much time with my bunny... I wanted to take your measure, find out who you really are. And now, Marquess, I have.”

Sanghyuk’s whole body went cold, the hair on the back of his neck standing up straight. Nobody at the circus knew his identity. Keeping it a secret had been a conscious choice. He didn’t want people to know. And now he’d exposed that secret to the fucking ringmaster.

Jaehwan smiled, laying a kiss on Sanghyuk’s temple. The ease of that one single gesture felt impossible. Goosebumps rose all across Sanghyuk's skin. His lungs were still full of Jaehwan’s perfume and Jaehwan’s warmth was still draped around him like a lovely featherbed. 

“There is nothing more honest than intimacy,” the ringmaster sighed, peeling himself away from Sanghyuk, moving slow, inch by agonizing inch, “If you’ll excuse me, I need my beauty sleep. We do have a performance tomorrow.”

“Wait, doll, hang on,” Sanghyuk drew him back, drinking in the sight of those dark eyes and pouty lips, “You can't just leave!”

Giving the younger’s cheek a little pat and his hair a little tug, Jaehwan smiled. A bright, wicked smile. 

“Watch me,” he said. 

And then he slipped from Sanghyuk's grip like sand through a sieve. Disappearing into the crowd without a backward glance. Leaving the acrobat baffled and halfway hard and so desperate to chase after him that it almost knocked Sanghyuk breathless. 

⤫-⤬-⤬-⤬

Chapter Text

⤫-⤬-⤬-⤬

Hongbin was sitting on a mat in the junior practice room, leaning back against the mirrored wall, eating an apple and staring at his partner. Eyes narrowed with suspicion.

Sanghyuk had been behaving strangely all morning. Ever since he walked into class -late, mind you- he’d been abnormally quiet. Barely speaking to Hongbin. Running through the steps of the routines they were learning in a way that could only be called mechanical. 

“What’s the matter?” he asked, when his partner's pensive silence had stretched on so long that it was starting to become unbearable. 

Sanghyuk made a noise that was nothing close to human speech. 

Extending one leg, Hongbin nudged his knee. Kicked would be a more accurate word, if the vaulter was being honest, but his partner remained resolutely mute. 

“Is it...” he tried, tentative, “Did something happen last night?”

Something happening last night would be the most obvious answer to this riddle. Hongbin knew that Jaehwan intended to investigate his partner in some mysterious way, and Hongbin hadn’t said a word about it. Keeping the secret just as Jaehwan had asked him to. 

The alleged investigation was going to take place last night. Jaehwan had already been gone when Hongbin finished yesterday's afternoon practise, and he hadn’t seen the ringmaster until he’d woken that morning; Jaehwan sleeping like the dead in bed beside him and a suspicious amount of ladies undergarments littering the bedroom floor. 

So something had most certainly happened last night. Hongbin just didn’t know what. 

At his question, Sanghyuk winced, glancing at the vaulter sidelong. “No.”

Hongbin tilted his head. “Are you lying?”

“Maybe.”

“You aren’t allowed to lie to me, Hyuk. Our entire relationship is built on trust.”

“Fine,” his partner flicked away a strand of hair that had fluttered over his forehead, “Then I just won't speak.”

The vaulter resisted a very strong urge to kick Sanghyuk a second time and took a bite of his apple. “Is it Jaehwan?” he asked, once he’d swallowed, “Did he upset you somehow?”

“I just said that I'm not going to speak.”

Hongbin sniffed. “Fine. You don't have to speak if you don’t want to. Only, I thought you might help me solve a little mystery.”

Reaching for his bag, Sanghyuk began to dig around inside it, but not like he was actually searching for something. More like he wanted something to do with his hands. “What mystery would that be?”

“Nothing too complicated,” Hongbin idly plucked at the ribbon securing his hair at the nape of his neck, “I just can't quite figure out why there was a garter belt on my pillow and a pair of frilly little burlesque panties on the foot of my bed when I woke up this morning. Perhaps you could give me some clues?”

Sanghyuk choked on his spit and Hongbin grinned, trying very hard not to laugh at the expression of abject horror on his partner's face. 

“How should I know? What you and the ringmaster get up to in the privacy of your own home is none of my business,” Sanghyuk replied, sounding a bit flustered, “I can only aspire to reach such levels of perversion.”

“Oh, really?”

“Yes, really.”

Hongbin tapped his lip in a parody of thoughtfulness. “So strange... Because the ringmaster wasn’t with me last night. He told me that he was somewhere with you.”

“I’m afraid I can’t speak on that.”

“God,” Hongbin snapped, giving into his urges and kicking Sanghyuk again, “You’re insufferable!”

“Just drop it, please, Bin. If you want to know so badly then go ask Jaehwan. I’m sure he’d be overjoyed to tell you.”

Inspecting his partner more closely, Hongbin noted the hint of color that had risen in Sanghyuk's cheeks. And the tight purse of his mouth. And the rigid set of his shoulders. Definitely flustered, Hongbin thought, watching Sanghyuk fold and then refold his spare pair of training pants. Flustered without a doubt. 

“Then, if you really won’t talk to me about last night,” Hongbin sighed, changing tack at top speed, “How would you feel about asking Jaehwan for private lessons?”

Sanghyuk blanched, half choking again and coughing into the crook of his arm. “What? Why?”

“Because I want you two to get along. I’ve already told him as much. You two are both very dear to me and I want you to bond. He was an acrobat for the circus not too long ago. The star of all stars, no?”

“Yes,” his partner nodded, “He was the principal acrobat. He only renounced that title a few days before you showed up.”

“Then there’s no one better to call your teacher,” Hongbin graced Sanghyuk with a sarcastic saccharine smile and got his shoulder smacked for his trouble, “Private lessons will be the perfect time for the pair of you to bond.”

“He won’t give me private lessons.”

“Won’t he?”

Sanghyuk scoffed. “No. Not a chance. He really, really isn’t fond of me.”

“The hint of your cologne that I smelled on his neck says otherwise.”

“That doesn’t mean he’s fond of me!” Sanghyuk exclaimed, his flustered expression turning the slightest bit guilty, voice so loud that a handful of the other trainee’s turned to stare.

“Doesn’t it?” Hongbin asked, unable to keep himself from laughing.

“No,” Sanghyuk continued in a whisper, “It doesn’t. And it certainly doesn’t mean he’ll waste his valuable time tutoring me one-on-one.”

The vaulter took a final bite of his apple and got up, extending a hand to help Sanghyuk up. “Come on. We’ll go and ask him together.”

“You’re very sure of yourself,” Sanghyuk took it, letting Hongbin pull him to his feet. Clearly resigning himself to his fate. 

“Of course I am,” Hongbin patted his partner’s arm, tossing the apple core in the trash can as they made their way into the corridor, “Jaehwan never tells me no.”

“Perhaps I underestimated you,” Sanghyuk muttered, mutinous. But he folded his hands behind his back and slowed his strides as they walked. Keeping pace to accommodate Hongbin’s shorter legs. A polite little gentleman to the last. 

“How so?”

“If the ringmaster never tells you no,” he snickered, “Then you must be even better at sucking cock than I imagined.”

Sanghyuk earned a swift elbow to the ribs for that remark, but Hongbin's smile didn’t falter. Leading his partner in the direction of Jaehwan’s private practice room.

⤫-⤬-⤬-⤬

The man that acted as the circus's nurse forced Taekwoon to take a day to rest when he explained how his mind was still fuzzy from his training with Hakyeon. Taekwoon considered ignoring the advice before the nurse had suggested reporting to Wonshik about the injury. Wonshik, who would not relent until he had the full story behind the concussion. It was a clever tactic on the nurse's part. 

Taekwoon reluctantly shut himself in his apartment. With final rehearsal running, the apartments were empty and quiet, Taekwoons especially. Barely a sound beyond the city outside the window and the tick of the clock. There were several hours until showtime. Taekwoon would have to find something to keep him put until then. 

Sitting next to Wonshik as he smiled and wrapped his arm around Taekwoon. I'd come and bother you, of course . As if it was obvious, like he had nowhere else he would rather be. He wanted to spend time with Taekwoon. The guard placed the kettle on the stove to boil water. He would be too busy today with the show that evening. Taekwoon couldn't interrupt the preparations. Simply do what he was made for and stay out of the way. He thought of the letter haunting his bedside table, haunting his conscience. Perhaps he should hold himself to the plan he had told Wonshik then. Dawoon deserved a real reply to her letter after all this time. 

He sighed when he sat at the table with pen, paper, and mug of tea. Words would not appear on their own. Once he finished this, he could hopefully bathe and prepare himself for the performance that evening. 

As with how I start every letter, I apologize how long its been since the last.

The apology wouldn't matter. His sister's response would include a beratement at some point, especially considering the brevity of his last letter to her. Given everything that had recently happened before he received her concerns and offer of assistance, his simple response of I am fine. Don't concern yourself with me was reasonable

I've since found new employment. While still a guard, it feels leagues different than serving his grace. A different realm entirely.

It almost felt unfair to make a comparison between the two, now that Taekwoon sat and deeply considered it for the first time since arriving. The rules were fluid, if they existed at all. The characters were colorful in a manner Taekwoon would never be prepared for. Every personality was overwhelming and energetic and genuine. Taekwoon stuck out among them like a rock in the sand, jagged and steady. His sister would likely say it was an improvement for him. He didn't admit to the specifics of the job because of a gnawing ache of shame creeping in.

My current employer could not be further removed from his grace. He, Wonshik, is a delicate fool of a man. He has a softness that permeates his every action and word. When I was first hired, he took utmost care of my wellbeing, as illogical as that is. His kindness almost seems like an attempt of balance by nature itself. If he were any crueler, he would surely be dead by his own hand. The man possesses not a singular ounce of self preservation or reason. He is prone to accidents. He is painfully naive. He seems to put his faith in any man put before him, no matter how undeserved it is. I find it a miracle he has survived long enough to have hired me. The time I spend protecting him from himself is not insignificant. Recently, he's taken some sort of infatuation with a man staying here. The persona he puts on could rival that of those in the courts. A true snake in the grass, and yet Wonshik seems to have embarked on a holy mission to have all of us approve of him despite his manipulative, perverse

Taekwoon stopped himself before he pressed a hole into the parchment. He would have to start again on a new sheet. She wouldn't wish to see his ramblings. She might assume false ideas about Taekwoon’s character if she saw how he spoke about Wonshik. He scratched out his emotional ranting. His head throbbed dully.

When I was first hired, he took utmost care to my wellbeing, as illogical as that is. I'm sure you would thank him for doing so if you were able. You two would get along swimmingly.

He is frankly the best part of this place. The pay and lodgings are both more than substantial. The people surrounding them are simply another matter. Wonshik's superior has a misplaced affection for me, despite my efforts to rebuff it. I find his partner much more preferable, though I fail to understand how he can tolerate the other for extended periods of time. He had come here shortly after me. There was a sense of solidarity there, in being the two newest members. It reminded me of the days in the detachment. He's seemed to have found a new friend recently, however.

He'd never truly had a full conversation with Sanghyuk. He had run into the two a number of times, how inseparable they had become it was difficult not to. Wonshik liked him, Hakyeom as well; not that his opinion mattered. Jaehwan was the only one that seemed to want him gone. He had much of the temperament of a half senial yapping lap dog in all things, though.

I have found an adequate place here. That isn't to say I didn't appreciate your offer when you last wrote. My response surely didn't communicate it, but it was a needed relief to read your letter then. I had gotten myself too wrapped up in the funerary proceedings, in the following investigation. I hadn't given the grief the attention it was cloying for. I buried it beneath my duties, or what remained of them. Rather than a sense of freedom, I felt unmoored from the harbor. I was lost and sickened by the grief that gripped me. His grace was simply a job, simply my charge. Our relationship was not always amicable, often silently terse than anything else. Yet I felt crushed by heartbreak. I had failed. He would be disappointed. I wanted him back simply to scold me for a job failed yet again. I wanted the comfort in his anger. I was alone without it. It was only eased by your letter. By the idea that anyone in this world still loved me.

Taekwoon scratched out several lines yet again, sniffing. His lashes batted wettly as he attempted to start over. Too much, far too honest. Far too frank about their relationship. One she had never been granted privy to the details of.

I buried it beneath my duties, or what remained of them. Your letter brought me back to reality. I'm eternally grateful for that, for your love, for your patience.

Please be well. Please tell me of the children and how they've grown. I hope they're happy, as I hope that you are. I will make an effort to be able to see them, now that I'm allowed the free time. It's something I'm not used to having. I find myself struggling with the very idea. Wonshik encourages me to seize it. That I grow comfortable with it. He's at least shown me examples of how to use it, despite how frigid I come across to strangers. He reminds me of you when we were children, when you would drag me along with you because I had no friends of my own. A shy boy surrounded by cooing and coddling young ladies. He coddles the same way. I wonder how events may have proceeded if we had known each other then. If I had the two of you influencing me then.

Things likely wouldn't have changed all that much. Taekwoon surely would have still joined the guard, he still would have chosen as a close guard. He would still ultimately end up right here. Maybe he wouldn't have been as isolated, though. Maybe, if he had just had one friend through that time. Wonshik could have guided Taekwoon away from the worst mistakes of his past. He could have immediately brought Taekwoon here after all the tragedy. Maybe. But Taekwoon had always isolated himself. That's why he only wrote this letter now, when he could distract himself with nothing else.

Please write back when you're able. I will make my best attempt at writing back promptly, I swear.

With love,

Taekwoon.

⤫-⤬-⤬-⤬

Jaehwan was wound up in lengths of silk when his bunny and the lordling appeared at the door of his practice room. 

No longer being the circus’s principal acrobat, he wasn’t required to train there anymore. He wasn’t required to keep his aerial skills fresh or sharp. He wasn’t required to perform those types of tricks. But Jaehwan hadn’t been an acrobat because it was required of him. 

His uncle had permanently reserved this room for him the very same week that he secured employment at Lumen ad Somnia, despite the fact that he’d only been working in the stables at the time. Jaehwan’s love of acrobatics, of performance, of creating art with nothing more than the movements of his body, was no secret. Being an aerialist was the only dream Jaehwan ever had for his future. And, being his uncle’s special favorite meant that Jaehwan was given whatever Jaehwan wanted. 

Accepting the title of ringmaster had done nothing to banish Jaehwan’s love of acrobatics. Besides, it was good exercise. A good way to keep his body healthy, to maintain his musculature and increase his flexibility. That was enough of a justification for his continued practice, if he was ever forced to justify it. 

“Darling?” Hongbin called, stepping out of his shoes and leaving them beside the door, nudging that his partner do the same, “Are you in here?”

Jaehwan exhaled a slow, measured breath, relaxing his core, letting his body gracefully twirl lower. Hanging by the knot around his left ankle upside down so the tips of his fingers almost touched the floor. 

“I certainly am, bunny,” he called back, giving the two of them a little wave. He didn’t need to force the smile that bloomed on his face. The smile was an omnipresent fixture anytime Hongbin was in his direct line of sight. 

The vaulter crossed to him, kneeling on the mat to press a featherlight kiss to his upside down mouth. “I’ve had a thought.”

“Have you?” Jaehwan hummed, lamenting that his current position meant he couldn’t chase those lovely lips, “What about?”

“Untie yourself first, darling.”

Nodding smartly, Jaehwan curled up to grab the silks in each hand, engaging his core and the muscles in his arms so he could slip his foot and ankle free. Hanging still for a moment and then dropping to the floor. “So,” he pushed his wild hair back off his face, “What have you been thinking about.”

Hongbin reached for him. Moved close enough to hold him and slid his arms about the elder's middle. Whether it was simply a sweet embrace or an attempt to keep Jaehwan still, the ringmaster wasn’t sure. 

“I’ve been thinking that it would be good if you gave Sanghyuk private lessons.”

Jaehwan’s heart, which had been fluttering around the entrance of his throat, abruptly dropped to the pit of his stomach. 

Glancing over Hongbin’s shoulder, he saw the wretched lordling approach them. Movement a relaxed, almost lazy saunter. Even in simple training clothes, even though his black hair hadn’t been combed, even bare without the gaudy accoutrement he’d donned the previous night; nothing could disguise the creature that Sanghyuk truly was. That face, all sharp angles and sunken hollows, the arrogant cast to his dark brown eyes, gave the game away. He looked every inch the nobleman he was born to be. 

“Would it?” the ringmaster murmured, eyeing the lordling’s conspicuously tight pants with rapidly growing annoyance, “Why? I’m sure the teachers we employ are giving him enough lessons already.”

“They are, darling, but I want the two of you to bond. To get to know each other better. I’ve told you as much already, yes?”

“You have,” Jaehwan nodded, not taking his eyes off Sanghyuk. 

“Private lessons would accomplish that goal,” Hongbin continued, half a grin raising the corner of his mouth as Jaehwan began to fiddle with his ponytail, “But not only that. Sanghyuk is my partner. He’s going to be the one that has to catch me if I fall. I thought that you might want to personally make sure that he’s trained enough not to drop me.”

That was a good point, Jaehwan conceded, although he didn’t say so aloud. Of course, he would want to reassure himself that his bunny wouldn’t be in danger when the pair of them eventually performed in the ring. Jaehwan didn’t supervise the trainee’s practices often, not wanting to hover, trusting the teachers to do their jobs, and so he had never seen Sanghyuk work. What guarantee did he have of Sanghyuk's skill?  

“You’re one of the most talented acrobats here, darling. And you know me. You know how I move. You know exactly how he’ll need to match me, and you know how to teach him to do so. Who could be a better tutor than you?”

The lordling was looking back at him, Jaehwan noticed, expression laced with a rather flattering amount of fear. 

“Was this truly your idea, bunny? Or was it his?”

“Mine,” said Hongbin, “Hyuk didn’t think you’d agree to it, but I assured him that you would. After all, nothing is more important to you than safety.”

Jaehwan felt himself swell with a bit of pride at those words, hearing that his bunny thought so well of him. 

“And you’ve already agreed to this arrangement, Sanghyuk?” He moved away from the vaulter, walking up to Sanghyuk with strides that were slow but intentional. The sharp smile he flashed was met with a wince. “You’d like for me to tutor you?”

“Of course,” Sanghyuk replied, folding his hands behind his back. Obviously trying not to shift his weight or accidentally step away, “As Bin said, you’re one of the most talented acrobats here. I’d be stupid to turn down the chance to learn from you.”

Jaehwan hummed to himself, letting his gaze drift up and down the length of Sanghyuk's body. “Who hired you? My uncle?”

“No, Mr. Kim hired me. Your second in command.”

“He hired you specifically to be an acrobat?”

“Not specifically, no.”

“What other talents do you offer us, then?”

Sanghyuk swallowed. The ringmaster watched the muscles of his throat work. Remembering the scent of bergamot and spice that lingered on his skin. 

“I’m good at card tricks. General sleight of hand.”

“Ah,” Jaehwan nodded, “I’m sure bunny will find a use for that. He has a penchant for stealing.” 

From behind him, Jaehwan heard Hongbin make a noise of protest, but Sanghyuk shook his head. 

“I wouldn’t dare try to steal anything from you.”

The ringmaster narrowed his eyes. “Would you not?”

Sanghyuk didn’t reply, and Jaehwan understood that silence. It was more honest than anything the man might have said. 

Tapping his lip, Jaehwan weighed the pros and cons. 

On the one hand, this would mean spending more time in the lordlings company. He didn’t like Sanghyuk. Didn’t trust him. Couldn’t trust him, since he was still unsure of Sanghyuk’s motives for joining the circus in the first place. 

On the other hand, Hongbin's safety -both physical and emotional- was Jaehwan’s first priority. Nobody was allowed to put his bunny in danger, not even this stuck up little nobleborn brat. And nobody would be better suited to whipping said nobleborn brat into shape than Jaehwan himself.

“Alright,” the ringmaster agreed, turning abruptly away from Sanghyuk and pacing over to the bench against one wall. Stepping into his boots and shrugging his frock coat on over his leotard. Making himself decent. “I’ll give him an assessment first. See how much work needs to be done. Come along, both of you.”

He wasn’t happy about it, but Jaehwan knew it was the right thing to do. 

The ringmaster led the way up to Wonshik’s office, Hongbin and Sanghyuk close on his heels. 

With no warning, Hakyeon appeared; emerging from one of the doors that lined the corridor. Quite possibly the last person Jaehwan was in the mood to see right then.  

“Do not speak to me, cretin,” he snapped, before the trainer had a chance to make what would no doubt be an insipid comment. 

Hakyeon raised his hands in a gesture of innocence, a bewildered expression on his face as the three of them went past. 

The ringmaster continued walking, gaze fixed straight ahead. Only managing to keep his mouth shut for about ten more yards before muttering to no one in particular, “The word cunt doesn’t do him justice.”

He heard Hongbin chuckle from behind him and ignored that as well. Keeping his mind on the matter at hand. 

After a brisk knock, Jaehwan swirled through the door of his best friend’s office, taking Sanghyuk by the arm and dragging him in as well. 

“Shikkie, would you mind finding a time for me to give Mr. Han an assessment?” he asked, tactfully leaving off the title he now knew Sanghyuk possessed, “I’m going to be giving him a few private lessons.”

“Will you? That’s nice.”

His best friend's positivity and optimism grated on Jaehwan's nerve right then, but he smiled all the same. Pretending that he wasn’t doing this for selfish reasons. Knowing that Wonshik would approve of him playing nice.

“Yes. Sometime in the evening will probably work best, since my days have gotten so hectic,” Jaehwan said, watching Wonshik flip through the datebook that contained the ringmaster’s appointments before looking up at the lordling, “Are your evenings free, Sanghyuk? No outside engagements to worry about?”

Sanghyuk gave a quick nod, averting his gaze. Staring at the wall rather than meeting Jaehwan’s eye. “No engagements to speak of. Evening works fine.”

Wonshik reached for a pen. “We have the show tonight, but actually, tomorrow is clear. Late afternoon is empty, but I believe Sanghyuk has group lessons then. You could always do it after dinner?”

“Tomorrow,” Jaehwan agreed, “I’ll expect you in my practise room at seven o’clock sharp, Mr. Han.” He let his grip tighten for a heartbeat, squeezing Sanghyuk's arm, “Do not disappoint me and do not be late.”

⤫-⤬-⤬-⤬

Wonshik looked beyond the curtains to the seats filling up with an audience. The room was still bright and people still walked in from the doors to the lobby. There were a few minutes to showtime. Everything had moved smoothly so far, perfectly to Wonshik’s schedule. Jaehwan was already ready to greet the crowd, Taekwoon was out in the lobby, and Hongbin and Sanghyuk were undoubtedly waiting to watch the performance. 

“Everything in order?” Wonshik immediately knew it to be Hakyeon, far too calm for it to be anyone actually employed, far too close to be anyone else. Wonshik glanced up from the clipboard to the audience. Quite a decent turnout. 

“Seems to be. We'll see if it keeps up for the rest of the night.” Wonshik dropped his hold on the curtain so it could flitter back closed. Hakyeon hummed. 

“Quite the crowd tonight.” Wonshik flipped open his pocket watch to compare it with the schedule. They were still following it with expert precision. 

“We tend to get more when we have new acts in the rotation.” He finally spared Hakyeon his look. “This is a typical…” Hakyeon's smile practically had fangs when Wonshik's words dried out on his tongue. He gaped at the animal tamer. 

“Typical what?” He tilted his head coyly. 

Hakyeon looked like a million dollars, like a night sky of stars itself. He was in a slim gown, heavy velvet. Blue so rich and dark it was almost black. Beads, pearls, stars , dotted the fabric at his forearms and neck and hips. The collar itself was high, accentuating Hakyeon's own long neck. It conjured ideas of urging the collar down to lay kisses there. The waist seemed corseted, begging to be held and cherished. Hakyeon's grin was wicked. A white gloved hand reached out to close Wonshik's mouth for him. 

“You look…” 

“Different?”

“Amazing. I mean,” Wonshik fumbled, “you look different, obviously yes. But it's- it looks amazing. You're-” he met Hakyeon's eyes and swallowed down the rest of his words. At least backstage, it was dark enough to hide his flush. “Why are you dressed like that?” He opted to ask instead of shamefully rambling. 

“Well, everyone else is dressed so extravagantly.” He glanced around them, at the stage hands and performers zipping in and out. The way he brushed a strand of black hair behind his ear, he played a demure woman well. “I didn't want to miss out on the fun.”

“You like to dress like this?” It was stupid. Wonshik was too focused on not trying to press a palm to Hakyeon's flat chest to feel the velvet. 

“Is there a problem with that?” 

“No! Not at all.” Wonshik waved a hand. It should have been hard to pick up on that now familiar sea salt geranium perfume, with everything going on around them. Wonshik felt as though he was choking on it however. “I simply didn't expect it of you.” Hakyeon's eyelids sparkled with pigment as he batted his lashes. Or maybe simply blinked. Wonshik felt too dizzy to tell the intention.

“I enjoy it from time to time. There's a certain element of power it gives you.”

“You seem confident no matter what you wear.” Hakyeon laughed and Wonshik mourned the lack of solid wall behind him. 

“You know what I mean.” Wonshik nodded. The fit of the dress made it clear how strong Hakyeon's forearms were, before the puff of the mutton leg sleeve. The lights out in the ring dimmed, meaning the show was starting soon. Hakyeon's face was sharpened by shadows. 

“Confidence has nothing to do with the clothes, not deep down.” Hakyeon was close enough now it was hard not to touch. His dress tied in a bow on his nape. Wonshik held the clipboard to his chest like a last lifeline to shore. “I would be just as confident stark naked as I am now.” 

“That wouldn't be very decent,” Wonshik whispers. Only because the show is beginning to start.  Not for any other reason. Someone was bound to start looking for him.  Hakyeon hums. He almost seems some kind of ghostly presence with the shimmering glitter on his skin and draping dark gown. Wonshik even shivers at his proximity like he is one. 

“Maybe that should wait until the show is done, then. When it can just be us two.”

“You're suggesting…?” Hakyeon's gloved hand delicately pushed the clipboard down. He leaned in so close Wonshik thought it was about to be a kiss before he stopped. Hakyeon matched Wonshik's whisper. 

“That you can take me to your office once this is all through and peel this dress back off of me, dear.” Wonshik's knees nearly collapse underneath him. The music starts up in the ring. He can see the evil mirth light up in Hakyeon's eyes when he hazards a glance at those lips. The animal tamer pulls away as easily as he leaned in. Like it doesn't kill Wonshik. 

“Let me know. I don't want to miss the show.” Hakyeon walking away was like falling through ice into a freezing lake. Wonshik had to catch his breath. He watches that beautiful night sky of stars disappear down the corridor. 

“Hakyeon.” The animal tamer was caught by the elbow, stopped amidst the crowd. Wonshik was behind him with the sweetest blush picking up on his cheeks. Hakyeon turned with a smile. 

“Yes, dear?” Wonshik's eyes were turned away as he cleared his throat. 

“I wanted to talk to you in my office, before you left.” He met Hakyeon's gaze with all the confidence of a begging street mutt. “If you're not in a hurry to go.” The animal tamer clicked his tongue. He delicately took Wonshik's arm. A lady with her chaperone. 

“As long as you lead the way there, dear. Requiem can wait another hour or two.” This was happening then. Wonshik merely had to walk them to the door backstage and not humiliate himself on the journey. He turned them around to go against the audience trying to leave.

“Did you enjoy the show?”

“Oh, it was delightful. You have a wonderful team here. I had yet to see Jaehwan up on the lyra.” A little half chuckle. “He commands the stage.”

“He's the best I've ever seen.” Wonshik knew how to talk about this. He knew how amazing Jaehwan was. He watched him perform for years. The guilt always paired with Jaehwan's words at dinner bubbled back up. At the feet of someone who couldn't care less. “He can twist himself up like it's nothing.” Hakyeon ran one hand up to squeeze Wonshik’s bicep. The artist tried not to stumble to debatable success. Every person they passed made Wonshik flighty. There was an indescribable fear of getting caught misbehaving. 

“I'm sure you enjoyed twisting him up yourself as well.” Wonshik had to profusely apologize to the stage hand he walked into. 

“That's- I can't say-,” Wonshik squeaked out with a forced laugh. Hakyeon just hummed beside him, continuing to drag Wonshik along despite what he had said. The stage hand didn't seem to have the time to be upset, or just expected it of Wonshik. Wonshik wasn't able to discern which with Hakyeon pulling him into the open office and shutting the door with Wonshik's back. Truly rock and a hard place. Hakyeon smirked at him as Wonshik blinked in return. Chest to chest and near breath to breath. 

“Hi,” Wonshik stupidly managed to squeak out. He felt the breath of a laugh Hakyeon let out of his nose. It was dark in the office. The only light was a small window with curtains shut. Wonshik shut off the lamp within before the show. 

“Hello, sweet boy.” Wonshik weakly gestured in the vague direction of the gas lamp. 

“Would you like me to…” Hakyeon took his face in his hands and all further thought flew out of his brain. The gloves were still on, lusciously smooth satin. They were cool on Wonshik's burning skin. One hand fell on Hakyeon's waist to finally appreciate it as it deserved. Sure enough, he felt the rigid corset bones. The velvet was as plush as it looked. It was a very fine dress. 

“In a moment.”

Hakyeon pulled Wonshik forward to kiss him. The artist sunk against the door in response, letting out a pleased little sound. He urged Hakyeon even closer by the hold on his waist. His other hand joined, finding he could near wrap all the way around with both. Jaehwan sometimes cinched his waist like this. It felt delicate and pretty when he did it. If Jaehwan was a ripe summer fruit dripping juice down the jaw, Hakyeon was a rich thick wine that made the head spin from a simple taste. Wonshik drank him down like he had something to forget. Hakyeon undid Wonshik's tie for him, letting it hang loose from his neck. He laughed against his mouth as Wonshik began to walk them backwards, shedding his coat as he did. Abandoned it somewhere on the office floor. Hakyeon finally pulled his head away when his back met Wonshik's desk. He kept Wonshik from leaning back in with a hand to his chest. 

“The light, dear. It would be a tragedy to miss how you look like this.” Wonshik had to remember how to move his legs in order to walk to the lamp. He could just make out the shine in Hakyeon's eyes in the dark and it was a hypnotizing gravitational pull. He managed with a light shove from the animal tamer. 

The lamp bathed the room in warm yellow, and made Hakyeon ethereal on the desk. He had sat atop it in the time Wonshik was gone, long skirts draping over the wood and his legs. The makeup sparkled as he looked at Wonshik, softly tilting his head to the side. A half smirk seemed permanently etched onto his face. Slow enough that Wonshik couldn't miss a single movement, Hakyeon brought a hand to his thigh. He patted it, like he was trying to summon a skittish animal. Wonshik held his breath. 

“Here, sweet boy.” Wonshik was scarcely aware of moving until he found himself sitting on his legs in front of Hakyeon with his face pressed to the trainer's knee. He rubbed his face against the plush velvet, smelt the laundering on it mixed with Hakyeon's own perfume. He wrapped a hand about Hakyeon's ankle. Heeled boots. The trainer's hand came down to rest on Wonshik's hair, scratching sweetly. “What an obedient boy.” Wonshik failed to muffle a groan in Hakyeon's thigh. He chuckled in response. “I didn't even need to tell you to kneel.” 

Wonshik pushed the fabric up to expose Hakyeon's leg, the long, neatly laced boots.  He placed a kiss on the hard kneecap, the tender flesh of his thigh just above it. He cradled the back of Hakyeon's leg. 

“You don't need to be so delicate, sweet boy.” Wonshik’s eyes fluttered at a soft tug on his hair. He pushed further up, hidden under the fabric of the gown, to tickle his face with the fine hair on Hakyeon's thigh. Goosebumps rose on the skin under his hot breath. Hakyeon dropped his hand from Wonshik’s head to pull up the dress, revealing Wonshik again. 

“Are you shy, my dear? Trying to hide yourself away?” the animal tamer's leg jerked as Wonshik sunk his teeth in. There was strong muscle there that resisted Wonshik's bite. The skin gave at sweet suckling. Hakyeon let out a sigh and Wonshik drank up the sound. He released his hold on the skin, muttering against the bruise,

“Jae and Taek are going to kill me.” It wasn't truly a thought for Hakyeon, more one that slipped out of Wonshik's mouth because of the melting condition of his mind. He dragged his face further up, to the crux of Hakyeon's thigh and groin. Legs twitched around his head and nearly clamped him in place. Hakyon let out a breathless laugh.

“Simply jealous that they don't have such a pretty thing between their legs.” Hakyeon held his weight on his hands to lift his hips up, helping Wonshik to pull down his small clothes. Wonshik helped him pull his feet from them, keeping them from catching on the short heels of the boots. They were well kept, well made. There was a sign of status there. Wonshik swallowed before tucking his head under the velvet again. 

The heat from hiding there didn't help the dizzy swirl of his mind. A kind of intoxication, or something similar. He couldn't keep his eyes open, not that he had much to see under the dark fabric. He heard Hakyeon's hands clutch the edge of the desk tightly at the lap of his tongue. Taste was just another sense that added to that heady feeling. Wonshik was overeager, too anxious to milk sound and reaction out of Hakyeon and draw his own pleasure from them. Wonshik's greatest joy came as a result of others. He wanted to please Hakyeon. He wanted to be good. One of those short heels pressed into his thigh, helped Hakyeon press further into him until Wonshik had to ease the hips back with his hands for fear of choking. Another breathless laugh to feed Wonshik. 

“Too much,” he muttered under his breath. Not as a warning on his own sake, but a realization. He liked the idea of making Wonshik suffer, of pushing him. A noise escaped Wonshik's nose and stuffed mouth. Hakyeon obviously caught it. “Would you like that? Someone testing your limits?” Wonshik nodded as best he could, not in a state of mind to refuse. Not that he wished to. Very few orders Hakyeon could give in that moment that would be too far. He pushed himself further just to prove that he was serious to the animal tamer. His palm skated the floor under him, other holding Hakyeon by the thin ankle. Hakyeon gave him a soft groan for his trouble. Like the finest music to Wonshik. His heel was cutting into Wonshik's skin.

“You could have just asked, sweet boy. You know that?” He was practically conversational, if not for the heaviness of his breaths and the rocking of his hips against Wonshik. “I would have been happy to indulge you.” It was an obvious fact. He didn't need to say it. The flirting was laid on so thick even someone as naive as Wonshik could understand it. He knew he could have asked that very first night, considering Hakyeon's proposition to him and Taekwoon. Hakyeon would have been the last one to have any qualms about Wonshik being trapped between him and Taekwoon. He actively hoped that they were inviting him into some kind of odd coupling between them, mere strangers. 

What would he have done with the two of them? Would he put Wonshik on his knees like he was now? What could he manage to get timid and repressed Taekwoon to do? Would that be how he came out of his shell? 

Wonshik squeezed his already closed eyes, banishing the train of thought. No need in thinking about anything else. 

“Hard to think it was out of shyness with,” Hakyeon hissed out a curse that tripped up his sentence, “how quick you got like this.” Wonshik gagged, nails catching on the rough carpet under the desk. Delicious embarrassment flared up. He was simply overeager. He was eager to follow the clear command and direction Hakyeon gave him. It hadn't even crossed his mind before to attempt going against Hakyeon's order. He would have never tried to argue it, assert himself over him. He wanted Hakyeon to hold the reins. “Who trained you so well, sweet boy?” Hakyeon put more of his weight into the foot on Wonshik's thigh, somewhere close to standing up. It hurt, but it also tipped the scales of control. Wonshik was more used than an active participant; Wonshik didn't withdraw however. He sat perfectly obedient and open. He groaned at his own touch on himself, a ploy to relieve some of the pressure building. The vibration pleased Hakyeon just as much. Wonshik mourned the inability to see how the pleasure showed itself on his face. Did he tilt his head back to expose his throat? What did his eyes look like unfocused with ecstasy? Wonshik already wanted a second chance to be able to see it properly. A third to memorize it. Countless more to cherish it. 

Wonshik, as always, was struck stupid by his feelings. As always, he lost his hold on time, on himself. Simply feeling and presence. The feeling of Hakyeon on his tongue, in his throat, the rough fibers of the carpet on dry hands. The presence of a stronger man. The feeling of lack of control. The presence of a guilty conscious that made the flame burn hotter. The feeling of misplaced, but overwhelming, affection. Wonshik's tightly shut eyes welled up with unshed tears. Let him touch. He wanted to kiss him. He dug his thumb under the laces of the boot, resting on the tongue. The hand on himself was shaking. 

Wonshik didn't even have time to swallow the bitter taste on his tongue before Hakyeon pulled him back up onto his feet. They had lost feeling stuck under him, but Hakyeon was distraction enough. He pressed Wonshik close to him. He bit down on a finger of his glove to pull it off with his teeth. It fell unnoticed out of Wonshik's focus so Hakyeon could tug him into a kiss. He licked his own taste off Wonshik's tongue and it startled the artist into stunned compliance. Spit and filth wet their chins. Hakyeon's other hand was pulling apart his belt. Wonshik grasped onto the trainer's shoulders in pure reflex. 

“Sweet boy quite likes being on his knees, hm?” Hakyeon teased once he pulled away, casting his eyes down at his handiwork. Wonshik's breaths were still shaking in his ribs. Were it possible, he would have flushed even further. He pressed his thumbs into Hakyeon's collar bones. 

“A little.” Hakyeon laughed at the meek reply. Meeting his eyes was like being crushed under the full weight of gravity. There wasn't an ability to look away. 

“Oh he's shy now? He seemed so confident when he had my cock down his throat.” The crude statement felt like a punch to the gut. Hakyeon heard Wonshik gasp at the impact from it. 

“Hakyeon.” 

“Is that what it takes for you to come out of your shell?” He had Wonshik's trousers open now. The artist nearly crashed their foreheads together at his touch. “Just a taste of a man?” 

“Let me take you to bed,” Wonshik blurted out. He was trying to not melt entirely into Hakyeon and his touch. He barely held his weight up on the desk. Hakyeon jerked his head with a snort. 

“I think you've more than accomplished that.” Wonshik groaned, half out of frustration. He nearly kicked his feet petulantly, were his knees not so weak.

“To my bed. Home. Please,” he whined against Hakyeon. 

There was a moment, briefly, where Hakyeon only stared at him. Visibly trying to ascertain how serious Wonshik was. He would have gotten on his knees again to beg if Hakyeon asked. 

It went as quickly as it had come. Back to a teasing little smirk and a raise of a brow. 

“You'll walk all the way back like that?” Disheveled, half dressed, red faced, near dizzy with arousal. It would be a painful walk. 

“Yes.” Hakyeon snorted again, a little kinder this time. He tilted his head.

“Such an eager little thing, aren't you?” He smacked the side of Wonshik's hip, touch revoked. “Let me up then, dear.” Wonshik could have cried with relief. He gathered up what they had shed with a palpable giddiness. Hakyeon demurely put his glove back on, tucked small clothes into Wonshik's coat pocket like a deeply inappropriate favor. They snuck out of the back door of the circus, managing to avoid anyone left cleaning up the building from the show. That misbehaving guilt almost hid itself completely under excitement. You almost couldn't feel the anxiety that someone was watching, unlikely as it was. 

⤫-⤬-⤬-⤬

Chapter Text

⤫-⤬-⤬-⤬

“I do hope you're not trying to burn down the building.” Wonshik startled at Hakyeon's voice, shoulders visibly pitching up to his ears. He clumsily put the pan back on the stovetop and turned off the gas. 

“I was hoping it would air out before you got up.” He couldn't seem to land on a singular task to focus his hands with. He kept jumping about between cleaning up the mess he made of the kitchen, fixing the plate of food, and gesticulating. “I wanted to make you something, but I got distracted trying to make tea and burnt the toast. So I had to toss it out. Then I realized I don't actually know how you prefer yours.” There were about four mugs sitting on the counters. “I didn't want to waste the cup I had made though, so I thought to give it to Jaehwan. I got one foot into my slippers before I remembered that there was still food on the stove and had to rush back.” He was standing imbalanced with one foot tucked into a blue slipper while the other was bare on the floorboards. “I think I was just in time with that though. They still look alright to me.” He tilted the pan, staring down at the eggs with a frown. “Maybe not.”

“Sweet boy.” Hakyeon's gentle coo broke Wonshik out of his spiral for a moment. He perked up like he had managed to forget Hakyeon was even there. His stare was blatant when he finally actually took Hakyeon in for what he was worth. Wrapped up so sweetly in Wonshik's robe, bare neck and chest visible with the way it gaped open. The animal tamer smiled as he stepped in. Wonshik blindly leaned into his touch, even before Hakyeon kissed him. 

“What did you do all of this for?” It didn't look inedible. A little dark in spots, and the mugs were more cups of hot water than tea, but the effort was clearly there. Wonshik's hand settled on Hakyeon's waist in a gesture that was quickly becoming familiar. His thumb landed in almost the same point it had the night prior. Wonshik turned his eyes away, a little heat rising up in his cheeks. 

“Well, it the- nice thing to do. Chivalrous, I think. And I woke up before you, and I didn't want to wake you; but I couldn't fall back asleep. And it felt odd just laying there waiting for you to wake up and watching you, so I came out here!” A nervous smile. He gestured at the mess before them. “And did this.” 

He could feel Hakyeon simply staring at him for a moment. He was too timid to glance over and see what exact expression he was making. But goosebumps raised when he rubbed his hand up and down Wonshik's arm idly. His nerves were fried from the night. 

“You are truly one of a kind, Wonshik.”

“I hope that's a good thing.” Hakyeon's laugh was reassuring and eased some of the knots forming in Wonshik's gut. He pulled wonshik in for another kiss. It was difficult to not melt into it entirely. 

“It is, sweetness.” A little playful, “And I take breakfast tea with a spot of cream, black with one sugar, and green as is.” Wonshik quickly nodded. Hakyeon's dark eyes were so pretty.

“That's how i'll make them from now on.”

“If I didn't know any better, I'd think you were trying to butter me up.” He was, but not for any gain. Well, he supposed getting closer to Hakyeon could be considered a gain in itself. That would happen with or without a meal however, Wonshik hoped. 

“I just thought you might like it. If you don't-”

“Easy, sweet boy,” Hakyeon cooed. He squeezed Wonshik’s arm. “I'm just teasing you.” Teasing Wonshik was something he obviously enjoyed, if the night prior was any indication. Aw, is that too much, puppy? spoken into the crux of his shoulder was the first example to come to mind. The memory alone made him blush. 

“Thank you. No one's done this much before.” He looked at the pan of cooling, half burnt eggs thoughtfully. Wonshik frowned. 

“They haven't?” It seemed like common courtesy to him. Hakyeon was in his house after all, in his bed. He didn't hate him so much that he wouldn't bother with a basic nicety. He was far from hating him, quite the opposite. 

“Do you do this for everyone?” A teasing smirk was back on his lips again, meeting Wonshik's eye.

“Of course!” Hakyeon raised a brow and it made Wonshik stutter. “Well, not often. I don't do something like… this regularly. That isn't to say I think I'm obligated to just because we were together. I wanted to. I like to. I…” Wonshik shut himself up seeing Hakyeon trying to not laugh at his rambling. This was humiliating. 

“Do I make you nervous, sweet boy?” It immediately reminded Wonshik of the night they had met. Then, it was a we . Do Taekwoon and I make you nervous? They did. Hakyeon especially made him more nervous than anyone else. He felt like a dog on a short chain. 

“A little.” 

Hakyeon sighed sweetly and leaned in for yet another kiss. Even with the amount of times he had, it failed to get old. He happily let the animal tamer ease him back against the counters edge. Happily tucked his hands into the robe to hold Hakyeon's waist. Not such a slim thing now that he was out of the corset that was somewhere on the bedroom floor. Still a treat to hold, judging by two thumbprint bruises on either side. Hakyeon's own hands knotted in Wonshik's hair before lacing together on his nape. The robe had slid from both of his shoulders. Collarbones and toned muscle. 

“Its a very sweet send off.” Wonshik's heart fell at the reminder. Hakyeon was supposed to be leaving. He was meant to have returned to Requiem by now. The disappointment must have showed on his face, because hakyeon clicked his tongue. “Did you forget, sweet boy?”

“It might have slipped my mind.” He twitched at Hakyeon rubbing his thumb into the bruise on his collarbone. A perfectly round bite mark framed the words tattooed there. 

“We have been rather distracted.” And it was difficult to focus now with Hakyeon pressed close and tracing the love bite he had left. 

“Will you leave soon?” One last meal and then he would be out to pack his bags and face whatever punishment was in store for him. There was no plan to take Hongbin away with him. No plan to return either. There was a chance he wouldn't even be allowed to leave again after failing at such a simple task. Whatever he was going back to wouldn't be good. 

“Sad to see me go?” He tilted his head curiously. The urge to bite the column of his neck bubbled up again. 

“Well you-” it was too embarrassing to simply say yes, “you know they won't be happy that Hongbin isn't with you.” 

“You would think double what he's worth to them would be a consolation…” Hakyeon shrugged, glancing away. He wasn't thrilled to return either, Wonshik could see that. 

“It's not something you should be punished for. We can all see Hongbin is better here. Everyone is happier with him here.” 

“They've never been particularly concerned with their employees' happiness, sweetness.” He said it so casually, like Wonshik should just expect it.  

“Maybe they wouldn't have them running away if they did.” Hakyeon barked out a laugh, seemingly unconsciously. 

“I would love to hear you tell them that.” Hakyeon pushed himself away from Wonshik, fixing the robe. He opened the cabinet door to pull out the tin of tea. 

“Do you want to go back?” Hakyeon's silence at first spoke volumes, even if it were for a moment. It was more than him trying to find his words as he steeped his tea.

“I don't terribly miss it.”

“See.” Hakyeon gave him a fond but exasperated expression. 

“They expect me back, Wonshik.” 

“With Hongbin,” he gestured at the other apartment across the hall, “but he's not going either.”

“You want me to stay this badly?” Hakyeon crossed his arms over his chest, resting against the counter's edge. Wonshik fiddled with the mug of water beside him. Beginning to go lukewarm. 

“You seem happy here,” he muttered. He mellowed more and more with each day he had stayed at Lumen Ad Somnia. There was a sense of peace Wonshik caught sometimes, when Hakyeon thought no one else was looking. The relief of sitting there alone in front of the bird cage. “You don't have to stay, if you truly don't want to. I just,” Wonshik sighed, “you don't have to rush off.”

Hakyeon stared at him, lashes softly batting. His expression was as unreadable as his thoughts. The longer he stared however, the more anxious Wonshik felt. He turned the gas back on, just to occupy himself with heating back up cold eggs. Though it might be better to just restart entirely. His movements were jagged with Hakyeon's eyes weighing down on him. 

“You're very concerned with everyone's happiness.” Hakyeon's voice was remarkably gentle. Not sweet, but almost sad. 

“Everyone has had a rough life up to now. They deserve someone that does.” Wonshik loved his family more than anything else in the world. He would do anything to see them happy after all the tragedy they had lived through. Even when he didn't know the extent of the baggage they carried. 

“You include me in that?” Wonshik finally settled to start the breakfast over. He unceremoniously scraped the contents of the pan into the bin. 

“Did you want to go to Requiem?” 

“I'm sorry?” Hakyeon was visibly taken aback. Wonshik added a new pat of butter to the pan. It was a conclusion founded on no solid evidence, but logical leaps of faith. No good man would want to join Requiem. No affluent merchant family would want their son associated with some lowly circus. No one would keep leaving a place they hated at every chance only to return every time. Not unless there was a reason he had to be there. Wonshik wouldn't argue that he was naive, but he wouldn't agree with the idea that he was stupid. 

“You said that you were part of an arrangement between your father and Requiem. It seems like a bad deal to me.” Wonshik cracked new eggs into the pan, whites sizzling immediately. “Unless he had something to gain by sending you away.”

“What are you trying to say, dear?” There was a sharp edge there. He needed to ease up. 

“That you don't have to go back to appease anyone.” That you're welcome to stay here. That I'm sorry you were put in this position.  

“Where do you keep the sugar?” Wonshik slacked his shoulders. He pulled the jar from the cabinet above his head. He held it open so Hakyeon could get a spoonful. Wonshik hoped he didn't push too hard. He hoped he didn't get the opposite of what he wanted by begging. He put the jar back as Hakyeon's spoon quietly knocked against the sides of the ceramic. 

“I could wait a few more days, I suppose. Before they start to suspect I'm never coming back.” Wonshik smiled to himself, a herculean display of restraint considering he wanted to beam and jump up and down.

“I'm happy to hear it.” Hakyeon clicked his tongue again, smiling. He kissed Wonshik's bare shoulder. 

“You can be quite persuasive when you want to be.” His breath on Wonshik's skin made a chill go up his spine. “You know that?” 

⤫-⤬-⤬-⤬

Taekwoon only heard his name called the third time, when it was paired with a hand to his shoulder. It startled him out of the trance he was in. Forced his focus to include objects beyond the stump full of grooves from the blade of an axe. Beyond the plethora of halved logs gathered around it. It forced him to become aware of his heavy breathing and the sweat matting his hair down to his nape. 

“You can hear me now?” It was Hongbin that was clasping his shoulder. He felt his fingers press against his collarbone. Taekwoon gulped around his breathing, nodding once. The axe hung limp in his hand. “Is there a reason you're chopping the firewood like it's personally slighted you?” The weather was remarkably pleasant. All this effort would seem waste from an outside perspective, especially considering the huge stockpile beside the stables. 

“We needed more,” Taekwoon still tries to answer. They both know it isn't true. Hongbin dropped his hand, tucking it into his pocket instead.

“You're upset.” Now released, Taekwoon began to gather up his mess of logs. He scowled. The bark and fresh cuts were abrasive on his bare forearms. He considered denying it, shutting the conversation down promptly. If Hongbin was pointing it out, however, then he already knew the answer. It was an alternative way of asking why . 

“I'm working through it,” Taekwoon reassures. Flimsy, at best. Hongbin clearly doesn't buy it. He watches Taekwoon gather the wood, unmoving. 

“Which one was it?”

“What?” He added the logs to the mountain leaned up against the stable. A delicate balancing game. 

“I'm assuming it was Wonshik or Hakyeon that's got you like this.” It stung a little to be read so easily. Taekwoon was never as opaque as he thought he was. “It’s just a matter of which one.”

“What if I said both?” It made Hongbin snort humorlessly. 

“That would certainly do it.”

“It'll pass.” A less obvious lie. Taekwoon’s frustrations never passed, they only faded. They became easier to push into a remote corner and ignore. He simply had to avoid them both until Hakyeon finally left. A few mere hours of slinking around his own home and place of work like a criminal. Only another insult to his ego. Hakyeon truly had a gift for embarrassment. 

“What did they do this time?” Taekwoon made a second trip to and from the wood pile. Hongbin watched him easily, relaxed. He was just checking on his friend. 

“It’s not my place.”

It was only a matter of time before the thinness of the plaster, the drywall, came to bite someone in the ass. What a cruel joke that it had to be Taekwoon. He didn't intend to listen to the voices through the shared wall, the thumps, the muffled laughs. He only passively heard them at first, concerned that Wonshik had somehow hurt himself again in his clumsiness. A sinking dread was quick to rush in once he truly listened . Once he tried to pick up two familiar voices. Once he realized he was inching himself closer to the neighboring wall to spy. Both an improvement on, and a regression into his old habit. He was not a boy tucked into the crack of a doorway anymore, but it was still a perverse invasion of his superiors' privacy. With how severely he had been punished back then, one would assume taekwoon would have learnt his lesson. Yet he braced himself on the wall with a trembling hand. He knew that laugh, knew the mocking lilt that always accompanied every sound out of Hakyeon's mouth. And he knew Wonshik's stumbling, nervous sentences. Even if he couldn't hear the exact words, he knew the conversation. He knew what was happening and he continued to listen. 

It wasn't like that first time when he was a boy. He was sick with the shame his former charge taught him how to harbor. His stomach was cramped with it. There wasn't an exhilarated rush of a child waiting to get caught. Taekwoon had long since been caught, long since faced his punishment from his grace and himself alike. It was only that sick, wet, frigid shame and disgust. In himself, namely. Wonshik was only a disappointment. Hakyeon had Taekwoon’s contempt. Whatever he had done to get there, on the other side of the wall, it certainly wasn't right by Wonshik. Surely wasn't with innocent intentions. The fox had slipped under the fence to get to the hens house. How different were they now, though? They were both making a show out of Wonshik now. The disgust in his grace's voice was back in Taekwoon’s mind as clear as bells, like he was still standing before his charge in the study. Like nothing had ever truly changed. He was still bowing forward begging to be forgiven for his perversion. 

“I only wish Wonshik would practice better caution.” The logs smacked together as Taekwoon merely dropped one onto the pile. “It is his choice who he associates with, I only hoped that my opinions had value to him. I had hoped he would see the sense Jaehwan and I tried to instill.” he stopped his rambling as the logs rolled forward, out of the stack. Too careless with his actions. He truly was no better than anyone else. He fixed the stack. 

“I thought he would have, with how he cares for you both.” Hongbin finally moved from his spot, coming to help Taekwoon. There's an odd comfort in having him squat next to you. A steady wall to lean against when the world is spinning. Taekwoon didn’t reply. “I'm not sure what he sees in Hakyeon, either. I've never known anyone to tolerate him this long.” 

“More than tolerate,” Taekwoon muttered under his breath. He somehow actually liked the man, enough to track him into the apartment like muddy footprints. 

“I see.” Hongbin nodded to himself, like Taekwoon had just confirmed an unspoken theory. He looked at Taekwoon out of the corner of his eye. Taekwoon huffed, keeping his own eyes away.

“See what?” Hongbin stood back upright, wiping his hands on his thighs. He held a hand out to Taekwoon. 

“Come on.” Taekwoon frowned up at him, even as he hesitantly took the hand. Hongbin hoisted him up easily. 

“See what?” Hongbin didn't answer the second time either. He led Taekwoon into the stable itself. Sugar and Marzipan both stood in their stalls. Marzipan's head was down to drink from his trough. Hongbin let go of Taekwoon to grab a lead from the wall, a bucket of supplies. Taekwoon stood where he was left, rolling back down his short sleeves, as he watched Hongbin open Sugar’s door and call her out of the stall. She easily stepped out, hooves kicking up dust. 

“Hongbin-”

“Come here.” Hongbin dropped the bucket onto the ground beside Sugar, one hand remaining on her flank. Taekwoon kept himself in her line of sight as he came up beside Hongbin. The vaulter took his wrist to turn up his hand. He placed a curry brush in his hand and then released him. 

“What-”

“Brush out her coat,” Hongbin instructed, idly rubbing his own hand over her flank. He was waiting for Taekwoon to follow. The guard squinted at him, but ultimately obeyed, rubbing the brush over her short fur in circles. 

“Why am I brushing your horse?” 

“Jaehwan's horse, technically.” He took another brush from the bucket to do the same to her other half. Just the soft noise of fibers on fur. 

“Why are we brushing his horse, then?” He tried to not take his irritation out on Hongbin, even with how senseless this seemed. Hongbin shrugged. 

“Taking care of them is relaxing.” Sugar shook her head, flicking her pale mane around and shaking the flies away. “You're upset.” Ergo, the equine therapy. Hongbin was trying to help him the same way he helped himself.

“Does this work for you?” Taekwoon had never found much comfort in taking care of the creatures, not that he often had to. More of a stablehand’s job than his own. 

“Safer than breaking things.”

“We would normally train when we were stressed,” Taekwoon muttered. It was how Taekwoon’s skill set had gotten so vast. Some took to boxing, some to fencing, to shooting. Drawing blood and drinking yourself blind were time old coping methods. Favorites of everyone that surrounded Taekwoon until now. 

“I would think you'd be more violent.” He scoffed as he walked around Sugar’s front to brush down her other side. “You're exceptionally patient in that regard.”

“Part of proper training is knowing how to hold your composure.” His patience had been well beyond tested before, especially within the past week. If he took out his frustrations physically everytime they boiled up in his chest, he surely would have been jailed by now. “My charge preferred to use words where he could.” Taekwoon picked a piece of straw from Sugar's mane. “He rarely had me actually put any of my training to use.” 

“Did you like when you did?” Taekwoon was a man that clearly took his training seriously, respected it as the artwork and tool that it was. One didn't work at something for years and not develop a fondness for it. Hongbin's assumption was fair. 

“I was simply following orders.” Taekwoon hesitated, a shame trying to form into something. He was with a friend now, though. He wouldn't be punished. Not by Hongbin. “I did enjoy dueling for him once or twice. When the opponent was foolish enough.” Hongbin laughed and it made Taekwoon smile to himself. It felt good to talk to him. Hongbin switched to a brush meant to go through Sugar’s mane. 

“I thought so.” He glanced at Taekwoon over the horse. His smile was sweet, comforting. 

“How badly did they do?” 

“Most would back out. They realized they were speaking impulsively and restrained themselves when given a second chance.” Taekwoon tilted his head slightly, remembering all the bickering and threats and pleading and apologies. Any one who assumed that politics were for refined men was naive at best . “They made parties entertaining.”

“And entertaining stories, hm?” Taekwoon shrugged. He never truly told stories. He didn't want his family to fret, and he had no friends then. Not that he would have had time for them. A close guard was an isolating profession. 

“If someone else told them, surely.” Hongbin rolled his eyes. He was braiding Sugar's mane between his fingers. The mare was like his own baby doll he could tend after. 

“Try it.” Taekwoon’s brushing slowed to a near stop. Back at the parties, the galas, the dinners. Back in his grace's shadow.

“He hosted a gala at one point. He was a rather great patron of the arts. He had gotten into an argument with a… lord, or someone similar.” Taekwoon had been too far to hear the contents of the conversation, let alone introductions. He knew the face though, knew the attire. He left his place rooted to the wall the moment his grace summoned him over. Only a simple gesture of two fingers against his glass. Not even noticeable to the people who could forget Taekwoon was always there and waiting. “He summoned me in the middle of conversation and pulled his pistol without looking away from him. He gave it to me and said he would be glad to have me represent him in a duel if sir desired it so badly.” 

“Thats not cowardly? Having someone fight for you?” 

“It's a display of power.” Taekwoon ran his fingers through the long hair of Sugar's tail. “Not only was he accepting a duel, he had someone so loyal to him as to fight for him simply because he asked. It said he cared so little for the threat that he wouldn't even soil his own hands with it.” Surely, it also helped that Taekwoon had an intimidating air to him, and that this was nowhere near the first time he had done this for his grace. All overwhelming wins. 

“Ah.”

“It had the intended effect. He was intimidated. Normally that would be when they yielded. He wanted to attempt a double bluff though, I suppose. He drew his own. My charge happily led us out onto the grounds. He called the count and I won.” The lord hadn't even gotten a shot. Taekwoon had enough training with this ordeal, knew to throw out any restraint. One simple shot to get it over with. Then, he could walk his charge back to hosting. He would rest his heavy hand on Taekwoon’s back as they went, just where his long hair ended back then. He would mutter his praise to the closeguard. Well done, my boy . And Taekwoon would have the brightest moment of his night in that fleeting instant. He would gladly lap up any dropped scrap of attention his charge left. 

“The end could use some work,” Hongbin teased lightly. “You lived quite a different life before you came here.” 

“We all did.” A different life could be generous. It felt more like his past self was an entirely different person. Hongbin had moved up Sugar’s mane, now just behind her ears. 

“I like having you here.” Taekwoon kept his eyes down, face turned away. He wanted to shy away from the sentiment. Not that he didn't believe it. It overwhelmed him in a way. He knew Hongbin was genuine. 

“Thank you.” 

“For what?” Hongbin raised his brows. A little playful. 

“You're… a good friend,” Taekwoon said it so quietly it was impressive that Hongbin picked up on it over the sounds of the horses and the scuff of the brush still in Taekwoon’s hold. 

“You don't have a lot of practice making friends, do you?” Taekwoon only had the time to glance at Hongbin. “We’re both still learning.” 

It was different to struggle together with someone, rather than on your own. Taekwoon was warming up to the idea. 

⤫-⤬-⤬-⤬

The next evening, after inhaling a hasty dinner in the dining hall with a few of the other trainee’s, Sanghyuk changed into a fresh set of practice clothes and made his way to Jaehwan’s room. 

His practice clothes -a tunic with laces up the front and fitted drawstring trousers- weren’t what he would have chosen to wear for his second private encounter with the ringmaster. If it were up to him, Sanghyuk would have drenched himself in velvet and black brocade. Made himself appear dark and mature and impressive. But it wasn’t up to him. He couldn’t dress like that here. Plain linen would have to do. 

Sanghyuk’s knock was answered with a sharp call to enter, and the acrobat did as he was bid. 

The ringmaster was seated atop a stack of mats when Sanghyuk walked in. Perched five feet off the ground, legs crossed at the knee, holding an open book in one hand. He wasn’t dressed in his usual style; no waistcoat or tight breeches or knee boots. Jaehwan wasn’t so intimidating to look at without all the window dressing. 

His narrow body was covered in a black leotard from wrists to ankles, flat ballet slippers on his feet, the majority of his frame hidden beneath an oversized button-up of candy striped cotton. It hung down to the tops of his thighs, the buttons only half fastened, its sleeves rolled to his elbows. Treating the leotard beneath it like skin. 

“Good evening, my lord,” Jaehwan said, setting the book aside and hopping down from his perch, “Did you eat?”

“Yes I did, sir,” Sanghyuk replied, the sound of that title making him flinch, “And please don’t call me that.”

Jaehwan sidled up to him and folded his hands behind his back. Peering at Sanghyuk with bemused curiosity. “I won’t call you my lord if you don't call me sir.”

“You’re my employer, as well as the darling of the circus, sir. I wouldn’t be comfortable addressing you otherwise.”

“And yet, you had no trouble calling me doll...”

“I didn’t know it was you when I called you that,” Sanghyuk said, meeting the ringmaster’s gaze and holding it. Feeling the first hint of a smirk sharpening the edge of his mouth, “Did you like it when I called you doll?”

Jaehwan pouted, frowning in a parody of thoughtfulness. “It was rather flattering, I must admit. And the needy pitch of your voice when you crooned it into the crook of my neck was even more flattering still.”

“In fairness, I wasn’t expecting you to be the one seducing me.”

“It isn't my fault that you let your guard down so far. Going to a party without knowing who invited you and embracing a stranger with a mask disguising their face... Honestly. You could have walked yourself right into a robbery.”

Was that chastisement in his tone? A drop of concern for the acrobats' safety? Surely not.  

Sanghyuk took half a step forward, into the ringmaster's personal space. “But you did like it?”

Jaehwan’s little pout strengthened. Not a pout of thoughtfulness anymore; so simpering, even a bit flirtatious. “I won’t lie, it was charming. However, if that's the pet name you give to every faceless stranger that catches your fancy, the charm of it would be considerably lessened.”

“I wouldn’t say I give that pet name to every faceless stranger.”

The ringmaster shot him a look of disdain. “I’m sure you don’t. Only the ones whose clothing you want to remove.”

Before Sanghyuk had a chance to push that dangerous line of conversation any further, the ringmaster spun away with a snap of his fingers. “Let’s begin warming up. Don’t want you to accidentally hurt yourself.”

They ran through the customary stretching routine that was the most deeply ingrained in Sanghyuk’s muscle memory. He’d done it so many times now that he didn’t even have to think about it. Letting his body handle the movements for him so his mind was free to consider the man beside him. 

The ringmaster confounded Sanghyuk more and more each time they interacted. He still didn’t think that Jaehwan was fond of him, certainly not, but Jaehwan didn’t behave so aggressively when Hongbin wasn’t around. He was calmer. So much more playful without his bunny. 

“Ready?”

Sanghyuk straightened up. “As ready as I'll ever be.”

“Alright then,” Jaehwan clapped twice, moving so they were face to face, “Pick me up.”

The acrobat’s cheeks grew warm, despite his attempt to stop himself from reacting to that instruction. Not wanting to come off like the dazzled admirer he was. “Beg pardon?”

“Pick me up.”

“I don't see why that would be necessary.”

“You’re training to be a professional acrobat, for god's sake!” Jaehwan exclaimed, his voice pitched up and tone curt, “If the concept of lifting another person is so alarming, then you might as well quit now and stop wasting my time!”

“Fine,” Sanghyuk sighed, hiding his elation behind what he prayed was a convincingly cool facade and scooping the elder up without a word of warning, “Fine, doll, you win. There's no need to get so shrill.”

Jaehwan squeaked when Sanghyuk took hold of him. Grabbing Sanghyuk’s shoulder, close to struggling for a heartbeat until the surprise wore off. “Brat,” he muttered, shifting his weight so he was more comfortably settled between Sanghyuk's arms, “Follow my instructions promptly from this point forward. Patience is not my strong suit.”

Holding the ringmaster like this, like a groom carrying his bride over the threshold of their home for the first time, Sanghyuk’s insides twisted with a mixture of excitement and terror. How many nights of his old life had he spent seated beside the ring in this very circus? How many of those nights had he spent admiring this very man, rendered breathless by Jaehwan’s every move? And how many of those nights had ended with sweet dreams of Jaehwan in his bed?

Too many. Far too many nights had been lost to Sanghyuk's infatuation with a man he had not yet met. Sanghyuk had woken up from far too many of those dreams, and found himself alone each time. 

But now, here Sanghyuk was. Cradling his fantasy. Able to feel the solidity of Jaehwan’s body and hear the gentle rhythm of Jaehwan’s breath. 

Perhaps the disguise Jaehwan wore at the Lotus Club had been a blessing, Sanghyuk thought, shooting the ringmaster a covert glance out of the corner of his eye. If Sanghyuk had known who it was he’d been chatting up, there was no way in hell he would have been able to act with such confidence. Not a chance.

“Now what?” Sanghyuk asked, spinning in a slow circle for something to do. Desperate for anything that could prevent him from staring at Jaehwan like a lovesick schoolboy. 

The ringmaster pointed to the stack of mats. “Carry me there.”

Sanghyuk carried him there, intending to sit Jaehwan atop them, but Jaehwan only picked up the book he’d been reading when Sanghyuk came in and flipped it open. 

“Stay like this and hold me up for as long as you can,” he instructed, pointy nose already buried between the pages.

“Can I move? Or, walk around?”

“If it will help you focus on holding me, yes.”

“Fine.”

Three and a half minutes later, Sanghyuk was regretting his choice to go along with Hongbin’s ridiculous plan. This was neither bonding time, nor was it -as far as Sanghyuk could tell- a skill assessment. His arms were trembling with the effort of holding Jaehwan up, tendons standing taught on his neck.

“Don’t mean to interrupt your reading time, doll, but I'm about to drop you,” the acrobat sighed, trying to measure his breath. 

“Don't drop me.”

“Are you serious?”

“Ten sprints across the yard if you drop me.”

“Would you prefer being thrown? Because one way or the other I’m putting you down.”

Jaehwan clicked his tongue, peering at Sanghyuk over the edge of his book. “My bunny is heavier than I am. Not by much, but he is. And most acts last for six minutes minimum. If you can barely support my weight for four minutes, just walking in circles, not even doing any tricks, then you’ll be wasted on a real performance. And, more importantly, the chances of my bunny being injured because of you would exponentially increase.”

Sanghyuk tried to listen to that speech. He really did. But it was hard to listen to Jaehwan’s words when the muscles in his arms and back were screaming so loudly.

When the younger failed to respond, Jaehwan made a little huffy noise, hooking an arm around Sanghyuk's neck for leverage as he straightened his legs and rolled out of Sanghyuk’s grip. Somehow managing to maneuver himself in the air so he was now clinging to Sanghyuk’s back without his feet touching the floor once. 

Exhaling a sigh of relief, Sanghyuk shook out his exhausted arms and glared at Jaehwan's reflection in the floor to ceiling mirror. “I thought this was supposed to be a skill assessment, not a workout session.”

Jaehwan glared right back at him. “It was, but I think you need the workout more.”

“By the way, that’s not how I usually lift Bin.”

“Oh, really?” Jaehwan asked, in a voice like satin, “How is it that you usually lift Bin?”

“Get down and I’ll show you.”

This plan was a gamble, a risky gamble, considering the intricacies of the ringmaster’s personality that Sanghyuk hadn’t been aware of when he came up with it. It was the first plan he’d drawn up when he learned that Jaehwan’s new favorite would be joining his class, and it would have already failed if he and Hongbin didn’t get along so well. 

The acrobat hadn’t been joking when he told Hongbin he was underestimating his appeal the day they got their partner assignments. Any one of their classmates would have jumped at the chance to partner with Hongbin if it meant they could enter the realm of Jaehwan’s attention. It would be a smart move career wise at the very least. 

And, now that Sanghyuk knew Jaehwan better, he was even more sure that it would be successful. He did feel bad involving his friend like this, since Hongbin knew nothing of how he felt for the ringmaster, but annoyance had drawn the words out before he could stop them and now there was no going back. Not when a challenge was written so clearly in Jaehwan’s eyes. Sanghyuk wasn’t the kind of man to back down from a challenge. 

Jaehwan slid off him, standing on the mat a few paces away, gaze fixed on Sanghyuk’s face. His posture reminded Sanghyuk of a bird perched on a tree branch that was about to take off in flight. Or a fawn in the forest that had just caught the scent of a predator on the wind. Balanced on the balls of his feet, arms hovering at his sides; every line of his body rigid like he was ready to bolt for the exit at the first hint of danger. 

“Come here,” Sanghyuk nodded at the floor in front of him, not bothering to try and subdue his smile, “I won’t bite.”

After another moment of glaring, Jaehwan padded over to stand where Sanghyuk indicated. “Hurry up. I’ve just decided you have pushups to do, and I don’t fancy the idea of being here all night.”

Again, not giving a word of warning, Sanghyuk ducked down and grabbed the ringmaster. One hand wrapped around the underside of each of his supple thighs. Hoisting Jaehwan up and holding him tight so the elder’s legs were spread around his hips. Stepping forward and pressing Jaehwan's back to the mirror with a touch more force than he’d intended. 

Their faces were so close that Sanghyuk could pick out the small crop of golden-brown flecks in Jaehwan’s irises. Inhaling shallow lungfuls of their mingled breath. 

“This is how I usually lift Bin,” he murmured, teasing, his smile shifting to a smirk at the expression of outrage on Jaehwan’s face, “And I can do this for hours. It’s much less taxing than carrying you around like a spoiled little princess.”

The sensation of smug victory that Sanghyuk experienced was short-lived. 

Jaehwan’s visible anger drained away in a matter of seconds, features smoothed blank. He tilted his head to the side, contemplative curiosity the only emotion behind his eyes, leaning back against the mirror.

“I’m sure you’ve been told countless times but, you know,” the ringmaster said, raising a hand to brush Sanghyuk’s unstyled hair back off his forehead, “You look quite like your father.”

Sanghyuk dropped Jaehwan so fast that the ringmaster may as well have burned him, ice flooding his whole body in a heartbeat, fingers beginning to shake. 

“Do not speak to me about my father,” he hissed through gritted teeth, suppressing a shudder of savage disgust as he turned on his heel and stalked to the door. Fully intending to leave Jaehwan’s practice room and never return. 

His father was a subject that the acrobat refused to engage with. Not even inside his own head. All thoughts of his parents were locked in a box in the deepest part of his mind. Never to be opened, never to be looked at, never to be acknowledged. Never. They were part of his previous life, and Sanghyuk had left that life behind for a reason. 

He could hear Jaehwan behind him, but only vaguely; it was difficult to hear much over the sound of blood rushing in his ears. “Come back here; we aren’t done.”

The only response Sanghyuk managed to articulate was a snarled, “Fuck you.”

“Han Sanghyuk, do not walk away from me,” Jaehwan called, the sharpness of his words bringing Sanghyuk up short. 

Breath coming fast, hands flexing at his sides, the acrobat shot a frigid look over his shoulder. “I’m done.”

“You’re not done,” Jaewhan snapped his fingers at the lowest of the tightropes, only a foot or two off the ground, “Get on that and show me what you can do.”

“I just fucking told you, I’m done. Sorry for wasting your time.”

“And I just fucking told you that you’re not.” The ringmaster crossed his arms, not shying away from the furious look that Sanghyuk was trying to impale him with. “Hongbin said that the rope is your strongest skill. Get on it.”

Exhaling something that sounded like uhg to his own ear, Sanghyuk stomped over to the rope and stepped up on it. Bracing himself with a hand on the wall so he wouldn’t slip and fall on his face. 

Jaehwan came to stand beside him, near enough to help steady the acrobat but not trying to touch him. “Breathe,” he said, in a tone that was shockingly calm, “Find your center. Pick your focus point and keep your eyes on it.”

Sanghyuk inhaled. Centering his weight and fixing his gaze on a chip of ivory paint that must have peeled off the wall opposite him. Trying to concentrate on the rope beneath him. Testing its slack. 

“Listen to your body,” Jaehwan continued, “It’s telling you everything you need to know right now. Your ankles and your knees... Engage your core...”

As he settled into the headspace he’d been training for the past year, Sanghyuk finally took a deep breath. Listening to his body the way Jaehwan instructed. It was meditative. As close to meditating as the acrobat ever got, anyway. He could sense the vibrations in the rope each time he shifted his ankles and, for some reason, the rope responding exactly how he anticipated it would was remarkably reassuring. Reassuring and soothing and grounding, despite the fact that he was no longer on the ground.

“And... Walk.”

Sanghyuk walked. Slowly at first, but never stopping. Stopping was the worst thing a person could do on a tightrope. First you freeze, then you fall. 

The next thing he knew, he was stepping onto the small platform where the rope’s other end was anchored. And he was breathing. And he no longer felt on the verge of tears. 

“Very good,” Jaehwan said, still standing beside him, “Hongbin was right. You’re a natural. Have the two of you walked together yet?”

“No,” Sanghyuk replied, his own voice miraculously steady, “They wouldn’t let us work duo tricks until we got partners, and we only just got those.”

“Would you like to try it?”

Shrouded in the sense of security that the rope always blanketed him with, centered in both his body and his mind, Sanghyuk nodded. He watched, peaceful and quiet, as the ringmaster moved away to the opposite platform. 

“I’m going to get on, and then you can walk to me and we will meet in the middle. You’ll feel the sway of my steps, but you can compensate with your own. It’s very much like dancing. Ready?”

Sanghyuk nodded again. “Ready.”

He watched Jaehwan take his first step, and then took his own. Keeping the length of the rope in the middle of his foot. The thin leather soles of his soft practice slippers were ideal for this trick; allowing him to bend and flex in a way that would be impossible with real shoes. 

And he could feel the ringmaster move. A slight vibration that ran down the rope like a ripple on the surface of a pond. Sanghyuk sent his own ripple and felt Jaehwan compensate for it. The back-and-forth was very much like dancing. 

They walked toward each other, slow but steady.

Even as he walked, Sanghyuk couldn’t help but admire Jaehwan’s raw talent. Watching the ringmaster had left him in awe when he was a novice, because these kinds of tricks had seemed like nothing short of sorcery to his untrained mind. 

But now, with knowledge and experience under his belt, Sanghyuk could better appreciate just how good the ringmaster was. Jaehwan’s posture was perfect, his head was tipped just so, not a single flinch or wobble in sight. A magician’s hands and a contortionist's body... He may as well have been walking on a pane of glass. 

Jaehwan looked at him with sparkly eyes and Sanghyuk realized they were both very close to the center. 

He reached out and for a brief, intoxicating moment, the tips of their fingers touched. 

“You turn first,” Jaehwan murmured, and Sanghyuk did as instructed. Raising one foot and pivoting in place so that he was facing back the way he’d come. “You will feel me turning now. Keep walking.”

Only a handful of steps and the acrobat moved onto the platform. He wanted to feel giddy, to indulge in the excitement of completing his first ever partner walk, but that would come later. Once the fog of peace was lifted from him. 

Sanghyuk watched Jaehwan hop off the platform in mild confusion. 

“Now you’re done. That was much better than I expected for someone with your level of training. We will test your other skills next time.”

He licked his lips. “Why did you make me show you rope if you already knew it was my strongest trick? I thought you wanted to see what my weak points were.”

“Because you were upset,” the ringmaster replied, fetching his book and sliding it into the breast-pocket of his striped shirt, “And the easiest way to calm an upset mind is by channeling all of your brain power into your body. Trust me, I am speaking from experience.”

“Oh.”

“It helped, yes?”

“Yeah,” Sanghyuk agreed, “Very much.”

“I’m glad.” He paced over and took Sanghyuk's hand, gently leading the younger to the door. “I have to check how well my bunny does, but I’m going to recommend to your teacher that your first performance should be on the tightrope. Whether bunny is included or not. And,” a slight pause, “If you need to calm your mind again, you have permission to use my room even if I’m not there.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

Jaehwan and Sanghyuk walked to the dormitory in easy silence. 

When they reached it, the ringmaster bid the acrobat goodnight.

Sanghyuk watched him cross the street and disappear into the apartment building from the window beside his bed.

And then Sanghyuk fell asleep, dreaming that he was walking across the strings of a violin. Jaehwan was walking across them too. The vibration of their steps mingling in the air and taking the shape of a lullaby. 

⤫-⤬-⤬-⤬

With slightly narrowed eyes, Hongbin watched Jaehwan move around the junior practice room. 

It wasn't every day that the ringmaster of Lumen ad Somnia came to supervise the trainees. In fact, he almost never did so. But, for reasons known only to himself, Jaehwan had decided to pay the class a visit that afternoon. Pacing between the pairs of partners and making a comment here and there. 

Jaehwan was a remarkably good teacher, Hongbin thought, letting his muscle memory guide him through the routine he and Sanghyuk were running for the twentieth time. Correcting rather than criticizing. Patient rather than bossy. Only speaking the words that were necessary to convey his point, rather than endlessly babbling the way Hongbin was used to. 

Hongbin found it a bit strange... Seeing Jaehwan in such a professional light. 

The real teachers had accepted his presence without question and were continuing the practice as usual, not paying Jaehwan much attention at all. 

“Raise your foot a bit, bunny,” Jaehwan said, popping up beside Hongbin and gently nudging Hongbin's leg a few inches higher with the shiny tip of his boot, “And point your toes a bit more. Perfect.”

Doing as instructed, Hongbin felt Jaehwan’s attention shift to his partner just as Sanghyuk lifted him off the floor. 

“And you, Sanghyuk...” The younger set Hongbin back on his feet and Jaehwan touched Sanghyuk’s hand, guiding it a few inches up. Now resting on Hongbin’s waist rather than his hip. “Try once more. Your grip should be more secure this way.”

Sanghyuk lifted Hongbin, held for a count of three, and lowered him again. It did actually feel more stable than the previous attempt.

“Better, no?”

“Yeah,” Sanghyuk replied, “Better.”

“Good.”

Peering at his partner in the mirror as Jaehwan walked away, Hongbin noticed the rather wistful gleam in Sanghyuk's eye. The way Sanghyuk was looking at Jaehwans retreating back instead of continuing the steps of their routine like he was supposed to be doing. 

“Hey,” Hongbin elbowed him gently in the ribs, “Focus.”

Sanghyuk shook his head like a dog trying to clear water from its ears. “Sorry.”

He lifted Hongbin up and the vaulter made sure to point his toe.

“Do you still believe he isn’t fond of you?”

“Yes,” Sanghyuk replied, “For the most part. I don’t see why he would be.”

Hongbin wasn’t sure what had gone on during his partner’s skill assessment with Jaehwan. Neither of them had given him any details. All Jaehwan had asked when he came back to their apartment afterward was if Hongbin and Sanghyuk were sleeping together. Hongbin’s flat out denial of such an occurrence hadn’t seemed to surprise Jaehwan, and Jaehwan hadn’t interrogated him further. He’d simply nodded and gone to change into pajamas.

Not knowing didn’t bother Hongbin. He didn’t care about learning exactly what it was that they’d done. All Hongbin cared about was that they were on more amicable terms. If not amicable, then at least not as overtly hostile as before. That was the only outcome that Hongbin had hoped for. The lessening of tension between his two favorite people raised the vaulter’s spirits a great deal. 

“And,” Hongbin asked, tentative, as Sanghyuk spun him in a slow circle, “I don’t think I've asked before, but... Are you fond of him?”

All the response his partner gave him was a shrug. 

“Is this another thing that you simply cannot speak on?”

Sanghyuk nodded. “I’m afraid so.”

“Well,” Hongbin's feet touched the mat and he paused to catch his breath, repositioning himself so they could start the move again, catching Jaehwan’s eye in the mirror and gifting the ringmaster a wink that was inconspicuously returned, “At least that's better than lying.”

⤫-⤬-⤬-⤬

Sanghyuk knocked on the door to Hongbin’s apartment, the vaulter’s hair ribbon woven through his fingers. 

That was why he’d ventured across the street and into the apartment building that night, Sanghyuk reminded himself, trying to relax the tense set of his shoulders; to return the ribbon that Hongbin had forgotten after practice. 

Why hadn’t he waited to give it to Hongbin when they would see each other tomorrow? 

Because what if Hongbin needed it? This ribbon was Hongbin’s favorite ribbon -smooth black silk that felt like liquid in Sanghyuk’s hand- and what if Hongbin needed it to secure his hair for sleep? Much better that he brought it now. 

Not because Sanghyuk was desperate to see what Hongbin and Jaehwan’s apartment looked like inside. Not because Sanghyuk wanted to see how they behaved together away from a work setting. Not because Sanghyuk craved the sensation of their combined attention. Certainly not. He just didn’t want Hongbin to worry about the missing ribbon. 

“Come in,” someone called, although they were too distant for the acrobat to make out who the voice belonged to. 

He tried the doorknob and found it unlocked. 

The apartment wasn’t exactly what he’d been expecting, Sanghyuk thought, peering around as he stepped out of his shoes. So many little trinkets and figurines... A stack of books on the coffee table and a single lamp bathing the unoccupied living room in warm amber light. 

“It’s just me,” he called back, taking a handful of careful steps deeper inside, “Sanghyuk. I have your ribbon, Bin.”

“What ribbon?”

Well, there went his excuse. If Hongbin didn't care enough to notice the ribbon's absence, then... well.  

“Your favorite one. The black one. You left it in the training room so I thought I'd bring it over.”

Still unable to find his friend in the main room, Sanghyuk came to a stop at the end of what appeared to be a short corridor. Swallowing down the sudden bubble of desire that rose in his throat. 

Hongbin and Jaehwan were tangled together, silhouetted by the open doorway at the corridor’s end. Hongbin standing with his back against the doorframe, his pretty hand in Jaehwan’s hair. Heavy-lidded gaze fixed on the ceiling. Jaehwan’s knees compressing the thick carpet, his arms around the back of Hongbin’s legs and his cheek pressed to Hongbin’s thigh. Big doll eyes full of distrust fixed on Sanghyuk's face. It was an intoxicating picture if Sanghyuk had ever seen one. 

“I didn’t mean to intrude,” the acrobat whispered, holding the ribbon out and turning his head to stop himself from staring, “I just thought you might want it.”

He heard Hongbin's soft laugh, the rustling noise of Jaehwan getting up off the floor. Not letting himself imagine what he’d just interrupted. 

“Come here, let me have it.”

Doing as he was bid, Sanghyuk moved down the hallway and dropped the ribbon in Hongbin’s outstretched hand. 

The ringmaster had draped himself around Hongbin's shoulders, but the cold look in his eyes hadn’t changed. That wasn’t the reaction Sanghyuk had anticipated. Not after their walk on the rope and Jaehwan’s invitation for Sanghyuk to use his private room. It set Sanghyuk on edge.

“I’m sure you didn’t come all the way here so late just to return my hair ribbon,” his partner continued, prodding the younger’s arm, “What’s going on?”

“Nothing, nothing,” Sanghyuk lied, “I was planning to go for a walk. Clear my head. Thought I would bring it over on my way.”

“For a walk?” That was Jaehwan, derision dripping from every syllable. “Are we keeping you from an outside engagement?”

Sanghyuk’s title hung heavy and unspoken at the end of that question but the acrobat pretended he hadn’t noticed. Urging a smile onto his face. “No, no, just a walk.”

A pause.

“Is there something you two need to discuss?” Hongbin asked, grinning a wicked little grin, “Honestly, the tension is so thick I could cut it with a knife.” 

“No,” Jaehwan replied, dismissing Sanghyuk with a flick of his wrist and pressing kisses to Hongbin’s bare shoulder.

“And you, Hyuk? Is there something you want to talk about?”

Sanghyuk found that he was unable to reply, too fixated on the way Jaehwan’s plush lips molded to the curve of his partner’s collarbone to make himself speak. 

The vaulter laughed again. “Is it private? Would you like me to go?”

“Absolutely not,” Jaehwan replied, at the same moment that Sanghyuk said, “Yes.”

The ringmaster shot Sanghyuk a filthy look but Hongbin was already freeing himself. Peeling Jaehwan off him and reaching for a navy bathrobe that hung on a hook beside the bedroom door. Because it was their bedroom, Sanghyuk could see now. The bedroom that Hongbin and Jaehwan must share. 

“I’m sure Taekwoon is home for me to bother. Please work this out by the time I’m back.”

Shrugging the bathrobe on so his pajama pants weren’t the only thing lending him modesty, hesitating just long enough to brush a kiss to Jaehwan’s knuckles and give Sanghyuk a gentle pat on the back, Hongbin moved away from them. Back down the way Sanghyuk had come. Disappearing around the corner. 

Sanghyuk heard the front door open and shut. And then the apartment was bathed in silence. 

“What do you want?” Jaehwan snapped, whirling off to perch on the edge of his unmade bed and waving Sanghyuk to follow, “I don’t take kindly to having my private time interrupted.”

And follow, Sanghyuk did. Closing the bedroom door so it was only open a crack and resting his back against the wall. The enmity in Jaehwan’s voice drew his spine straight.

“I don’t want anything,” he replied, unsure of what exactly he needed to say, “I really did come to bring Bin his ribbon. But-”

“But what?”

It was at that moment that the acrobat realized Jaehwan was only wearing a dressing gown. White silk parted when he crossed his legs, exposing an enticing swath of milky thigh. Sanghyuk could feel heat creeping up his face by infinitesimal degrees.

“But,” he folded his arms over his chest, “I thought we were starting to get along. The way you were glaring at me surprised me, that's all.”

Gracing the younger with a superbly disdainful look, Jaehwan sighed. A sharp, impatient sigh. “I was quite looking forward to tasting Hongbin’s cock,” he replied, matter of fact, raising the heat in Sanghyuk's face so it burned even hotter, “And your arrival got in the way of that. How did you expect me to act? Grateful?”

“Sorry,” Sanghyuk whispered, feeling his throat constrict around the word, “I’ll go get him and leave you to it. Sorry.”

As he turned away and reached for the doorknob, Jaehwan clicked his tongue. “You really need to learn not to walk away from me in the middle of conversations.”

“I thought the conversation was over...”

“No. It is not. And if you interrupted my and bunny’s alone time just to sulk off like that, I’ll be extremely displeased.”

Sanghyuk turned back around, unsure whether he should apologize again or not. At the expression of annoyance on Jaehwan's face, he decided against it. “What did I do to you?” he asked instead, “What have I done that made you hate me on sight?”

“I don’t hate you.”

“Yes, you do,” Sanghyuk argued, slightly incredulous.

“No, I don’t. I simply don’t know you.”

“You only tolerate my presence because Bin tells you to. I’m not blind. You look at me like I’m going to stab you in the back at any moment.”

“Aren't you?”

“No! And I don’t think I’ve ever done anything that would make you believe I would do so!”

They stared at each other. The ringmaster wanted something from him but Sanghyuk didn’t know what.

Jaehwan sighed, but it wasn’t so sharp this time. The air of inflexible hostility around him dropping away. “I’m a naturally suspicious person, Sanghyuk,” he said, “Anyone that could pose a threat to my bunny raises my guard. He’s been through enough. And I’m still not sure what a man of your means -someone of your station in life- is doing in my circus.”

“That’s none of your business.”

“Isn’t it? This circus is my business. Everything and everyone in it is my business.”

Sanghyuk’s jaw firmed, but he tried to relax it. Not wanting to come off shifty. And he couldn’t keep his eyes from drifting to Jaehwan's bare leg for a split second. Supreme lack of self control. 

“I’m allowed to keep my private affairs private. I’m here now, I’m here by choice, and that's all that should matter to you,” he replied, slipping his hands into his pockets.

Jaehwan’s deep, lingering gaze pierced the younger. Far too intent for Sanghyuk to ignore. 

He couldn’t help but return the look. Couldn’t help but admire the roses of Jaehwan’s cheeks. The graceful crest of Jaehwan’s brow. The messy tousle of Jaehwan’s sable hair. And, he noticed, the tentative, newborn smile curving Jaehwan’s mouth. 

“I will concede that it's much more difficult to mistrust you when you’re worked up like this,” Jaehwan hummed, recrossing his legs so the halves of his dressing gown slipped further apart, “It’s charming... How hard you’re trying to win my affection.”

The ringmaster’s voice was soft and venomous. So viscerally attractive there on the bed that Sanghyuk didn’t know if he should move closer or run screaming the other way. He could feel the current between them, strumming up and down his insides as though his ribs were the strings of a violin. Just like the ropes they’d danced across in his dream.

“Who said anything about affection?”

“Ah,” Jaehwan looked at him with those sparkly eyes. Hands folded primly on his lap. “Attention, then? If not affection,” he glanced down at Sanghyuk's crotch, one inquisitive eyebrow raised, “Is it simply something carnal that you’re after?”

No, Sanghyuk wanted to reply, Why does it have to be one or the other? I want all of that and more.

But he kept his mouth shut. 

Waiting there by the door until Jaehwan beckoned him closer. 

The acrobat came to stand beside the bed and Jaehwan took his hands. Dragging him down upon it with a sharp little yank so Sanghyuk ended up flat on his back with the ringmaster straddling his lap. He touched Sanghyuk's face and sparks seemed to leap from his fingers.

“Why did you insinuate that you and my bunny were sleeping together?” he asked, voice dipping down to an indulgent purr. Hands braced on either side of Sanghyuk’s head. Pressed close enough that he could undoubtedly feel the racing thrum of Sanghyuk’s heart. 

Taking a risk, being brave, the acrobat reached for him in turn. Gathering handfuls of white silk so it bunched around Jaehwan’s hips. Lashes fluttering at the friction as the elder began to grind lightly down against his groin. “Because I thought it would irritate you.”

Jaehwan’s lips met the highest point of Sanghyuk’s cheekbone. He stroked Sanghyuk’s eyebrow with the pad of his thumb. “Why would that irritate me?”

“Because,” Sanghyuk swallowed as the pressure on him increased, the smooth rocking of Jaehwan’s hips and the gentle heaving of Jaehwan’s chest impossible to dismiss, “You’re a jealous little brat when it comes to him. There’s no easier way to annoy a brat than laying claim to their toys.”

“I don’t own his affection,” Jaehwan replied, nipping at Sanghyuk's lower lip.

“And I’m nobody’s toy. Get that fact straight in your head.”

The sound of his partner’s voice made Sanghyuk startle, and he raised his head enough to see Hongbin leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed. How long had he been standing there? Exactly how much had he heard?

Sanghyuk couldn’t look for very long. Jaehwan’s fingers found their way into his hair and pulled his head back down. Holding his head still as his other hand found its way under the waistband of Sanghyuk’s training pants. 

Time grew fluid and fuzzy for the acrobat. He couldn’t actually believe this was happening. Really happening. Finally. And it wasn’t a dream. 

Jaehwan jerked him off with slow, efficient strokes. Lips hovering an inch above Sanghyuk’s as he did it, bright gaze flicking back and forth between Sanghyuk’s eyes. Hungry for every reaction Sanghyuk gave him. Smiling a smile that was entirely crafted of satisfaction. 

Sanghyuk couldn’t help but steal a few kisses, which Jaehwan hummed into; pleased groans leaking from him with every flick of the elder’s wrist. But he just ended up panting slightly into Jaehwan’s mouth. All he could care for was how Jaehwan’s hand felt in his hair, around his neck, around his cock. 

He came hard, black stars flaring behind his eyes as Jaehwan worked him through it. Crooning honeyed praise in his ear. 

The acrobat’s tongue was heavy in his mouth and sweat was sticky against his palms. He barely registered the fact that Hongbin had tossed him a towel and Jaehwan had used it to clean them both up.

“For the record, I don’t care if you two are fucking either,” his partner said, helping Jaehwan off Sanghyuk and collecting a kiss from the ringmaster. Leaving Sanghyuk on his back at the foot of the bed and swiftly bending Jaehwan over the pillows, the ringmaster letting out a pleased little giggle, “It’s far better than fighting.”

⤫-⤬-⤬-⤬

Jaehwan adjusted his left suspender, unclipping and then re-clipping it once he’d tightened the strap. He slipped his navy blue waist coat over his white shirt, doing up the buttons with quick, efficient flicks of his fingers. He stepped into his knee boots and tied their laces, even though the likelihood of him needing to remove them again shortly was high.

It was long past time for him to question Taekwoon.

The issue of Sanghyuk weighed more heavily on the ringmaster with each passing day. Lord Han Sanghyuk, who had apparently joined the circus of his own free will, and who possessed a visceral hatred for his father. A hatred so strong that it drained all the blood from his face, and made him lash out at nothing more than the single word.

That hatred, Jaehwan believed. 

He had known countless liars over the course of his life, and even more pretenders. He could read falsehood in the most skilled of them. Sanghyuk’s enmity toward his father was no pretense.

However, Jaehwan still did not entirely trust the acrobats' claim that his coming to the circus was voluntary. Well, it may have been voluntary, but he wasn’t sure if the motives behind his coming were entirely benign. 

And, how could he trust that the name Sanghyuk had given him in the Lotus Club was true? Sanghyuk could have simply been lying to try and impress an enticing stranger. The acrobat's face was proof enough that it was the truth, but a part of Jaehwan, a part of him that was buried very deep down, did not want to believe it. 

It was so hard to believe it when they were alone and the acrobat’s guard was down. Jaehwan hadn’t been lying when he took off his mask and showed Sanghyuk his face at the club; there is nothing more honest than intimacy. He’d been so delightful... Malleable and pliant in Jaehwan’s bed. The sweet sound of his breath and the dazzled look in his eyes. And the way he’d walked on the tightrope was beautiful; the truest embodiment of art.

But now wasn’t the time to consider such things. 

He was on a fact finding mission.

Jaehwan wanted to understand what had led Sanghyuk into his circus just over a year ago. He wanted to know quite desperately indeed.

The first person Jaehwan had considered asking for information was Hakyeon. Hakyeon, who was so well-connected and who had such a wealthy family. But, he’d reminded himself, Hakyeon was a liar, and a charming liar at that. And Hakyeon's parents may be rich, but they were a different flavor of rich from Sanghyuk’s alleged parents. Any dealings between their two families would’ve been handled by a middleman. Hakyeon wouldn’t know anything of substance. He was not the person Jaehwan needed to ask. 

Wonshik hadn’t been much help when Jaehwan questioned him about Sanghyuk either. He barely remembered hiring the lordling, needing to check his notes from their short interview. All he had written was that Sanghyuk was quiet and well-mannered, very quick with card tricks, and expressed a desire to become an acrobat. He had seen no red flags that would have prevented him from giving Sanghyuk a job, and Sanghyuk hadn’t been linked to a single problem since his term of employment began. Sanghyuk was, by all accounts, a punctual and reliable member of the circus. Far more responsible than most.

That conversation had left Jaehwan with a mounting sense of frustration, because he could not disagree. He himself had only ever heard positive things about Sanghyuk. All of his teachers loved him, and he never caused any trouble. That was why Jaehwan hadn’t met the acrobat until he became Hongbin's partner. Sanghyuk was not a problem, and so he hadn’t required the ringmaster's personal attention.

Jaehwan already knew Hongbin's opinion of Sanghyuk, but his bunny possessed even less information about Sanghyuks personal life than Jaehwan did.

So, the ringmaster concluded, the only other person that he could question on the matter was Taekwoon. Taekwoon, who had appeared out of the blue, and who had such a mysterious past.

Jaehwan knocked on the door of Taekwoon’s apartment. Waited for a count of ten, and then knocked again. No answer.

It was the middle of the afternoon. Perhaps their precious kitten was still working. Jaehwan himself should’ve been working, but a headache had sent him to huddle in bed just before lunch. No need to remove his shoes then. 

The ringmaster's steps carried him down the stairs, and across the road into the circus proper. He was tempted to pop in on the trainees, to steal a glimpse of his bunny, but it was a temptation that Jaehwan resisted. He had no wish to intrude or, god forbid, make Hongbin begin to feel stifled or trapped. Much better to give the vaulter space.

Taekwoon was not in the yard or the ring when Jaehwan checked. He was, however, ensconced in the basement office that Wonshik had set up for him upon his arrival.

“Precious?” he called, once he knocked on the door and cracked it open, “Would you mind if I pick your brain for a moment?”

“Not at all,” Taekwoon replied, the silent ‘sir’ on the end of that response prodding at a tender spot inside Jaehwan’s head. The ringmaster hated being called sir. 

“Excellent,” Jaehwan clapped, taking a seat at the desk opposite Taekwoon. Crossing his legs. “I was wondering what you might know about Han Sanghyuk.” 

Taekwoon blinked at him, lips pursed in a small frown. 

“You know,” he urged, “My bunny’s partner.” 

“I’m aware of who you are asking about.” 

“Good, good. And- I don’t wish to pry into your past, and I have no intention of doing so. But I thought... It might be possible that you’ve encountered him before? You know, on your travels?” 

Taekwoon continued to blink, the purse of his lips growing tighter. “I don’t believe so. I rarely mingled with the general public while I was under my previous employer.” 

The general public... So Taekwoon wasn’t aware of the lordling’s alleged pedigree either. Was Jaehwan really the only one that had noticed? 

“Then,” the ringmaster tried to reframe his question without giving too much away, “On a separate subject, have you ever encountered the Duke of Bellawood? I wouldn’t classify him as part of the general public.”

“I have,” Taekwoon replied, after several moments of silent staring, “I’ve never spoken to him personally, but I have, as you say, encountered him.” 

“Oh,” Jaehwan nodded, doing his best not to shift in his seat, “How did you find him? What was your impression of him?”

His friend remained silent.

“Please, speak freely. I bear no love for the man, so any thoughts you might have won’t offend me. I’m simply curious. And besides, you’re a good judge of character. I trust your opinion.” 

Another charged moment of hesitation. 

“I found him- unpleasant,” said Taekwoon, hands folded in his lap, “Not for any concrete reason, but he always gave me a strange feeling in the pit of my stomach.”

That’s how sick men always make you feel, Jaehwan thought, licking dry lips, uneasiness in your gut. Your unconscious mind is telling you that you are in the presence of a monster. 

“Yes,” he murmured, eyes sliding out of focus for a few heartbeats, “My impression of him was the same. Are you at all familiar with his personal life? His family?”

Taekwoon sat back in his chair, gracing Jaehwan with a look of mild suspicion. “Personal life; I don’t have any information of interest to share. I know he has a wife, but I never heard her speak a single word. And two children, if I’m not mistaken, but I only encountered them once. An elder daughter set to inherit his title, close to my age, and a spare. A son. Maybe sixteen when I saw him. Several years my junior.”

The ringmaster felt himself nod once more but he hadn’t registered the decision to move. The tips of his fingers had begun to tingle and his body was going a bit numb. A son. A spare. Several years younger than Taekwoon. Someone who could plausibly run off to join a circus without being dragged back by the scruff.

“Why do you ask? Is the Duke coming here? Is this something I need to prepare for?”

“No, no,” Jaehwan waved his friend’s questions away, suddenly on his feet and reaching for the doorknob, “Just idle curiosity. But it would be good if we kept a record of all the noble families, just in case any of them ever do show up. Set some protocols.”

“Jaehwan, are you well?”

“Fine, I’m perfectly fine,” Jaehwan called over his shoulder, already halfway out the door, “Thank you for lending me your ear, precious. I’ll see you this evening!”

As soon as the door was shut, Jaehwan jogged up the basement steps and hurried down the corridors. Through the circus yard and past the stables. Out the back gate and into the alley. 

And then, the ringmaster of Lumen ad Somnia circus collapsed to his knees on the cobble-stoned ground and threw up. Black hair falling across his eyes, tears streaming down his cheeks, and sobs clawing at the inside of his throat.

⤫-⤬-⤬-⤬

Chapter Text

⤫-⤬-⤬-⤬

“My darling? Hongbin murmured, leaning across the length of the sofa to prod at Jaehwan’s arm, “Are you well?”

“Of course, bunny,” the ringmaster replied, “Why do you ask?”

The vaulter looked him over with a critical eye. Jaehwan’s skin possessed an unhealthy pallor, almost sallow, like he’d been sick. His eyes were rather bloodshot and, upon closer inspection, Jaehwan’s fingernails were tinged a pale lavender.

“I asked because you don’t seem well,” he said, “All of your usual color is gone.”

Jaehwan flashed a smile that was very clearly forced. Taking Hongbin's hand and lacing their fingers together. “I’m fine. I assure you. Perhaps dinner didn’t agree with me.”

“Did you have another headache today?”

“Only a small one.”

“They’ve been coming more and more frequently, no?”

“A bit.”

Hongbin felt himself frown. “Are they debilitating?”

“No, no,” Jaehwan gave his hand a squeeze, aiming to reassure, “They aren’t so bad as all that. Simply an inconvenience, bunny, nothing you need to worry about.”

The vaulter squeezed back. “I only ask because I care.”

Leaning all the way over, eliminating the remaining space between them, Hongbin cupped Jaehwan’s face in his hands. Stroking the ringmaster's cheeks with his thumbs. Trying to silently convey all of the love that he felt but was not allowed to verbally express. It grew harder to keep quiet with every day that passed. 

Jaehwan kissed Hongbin’s fingertips. “I know.”

⤫-⤬-⤬-⤬

Taekwoon had waited until Wonshik left his apartment for work to actually approach him. In any other case, he would have asked sooner. Simply knocked on his door and waited for an answer so that he could question when the other had lost his mind.  He couldn't guarantee Hakyeon wouldn't be there, however. He was still at the circus, and seemingly closer to Wonshik than ever. He was meant to leave three nights ago. He was not meant to be perched on the edge of Wonshik's bed, tucked up against him in the menagerie, visiting his office across all working hours. He was meant to be gone. Yet there he was.

Wonshik was simple enough to find, sitting on the floor of the ring. He was sanding down a prop, preparing it for paint if the jars of pigment strewn about said anything. He didn't immediately notice Taekwoon, back turned and abrasive scrap of sandpaper in his ears. His back was defined, even dressed. Taekwoon plotted what he would say watching the artist's shoulders work. Hakyeon is still here. Definitively passive aggressive, maybe too much so. Best to start more gently. Simply greet him. It served Taekwoon best in the past to wait for his opportunity to voice his opinions, rather than announce them. If I wanted your thoughts, boy, I would have asked for them .

“Wonshik.” Taekwoon stood at his shoulder, staring down at his work. The clear crescent shape of a moon. Wonshik's head flicked up to him in surprise before he smiled. 

“Good morning, Taek!” There wasn't a drop of shame or malice to his welcome. Just as happy to see Taekwoon as ever. 

“Did you cut yourself again?” He had bandages about his fingers. Taekwoon concentrated on them rather than meeting Wonshik's eyes. He looked at his own hands with a shy chuckle. 

“Oh, yes. Caught myself when I was cutting this out. At least they're protecting me from splinters now.” It was meant to be a joke. Wonshik wiggled his wrapped fingers as if to show them off. Taekwoon felt imbalanced standing while Wonshik was down on the ground. His head was level with the guard's hip. 

“You should wear gloves. It would help.”

“Force of habit,  I suppose.” He began to sand again, a shrug of the shoulder. “The sailors never wore gloves and they were constantly patching holes and tying sails.” Wonshik had explained his old job before. Told stories about when he was an errand boy in order to provide for him and his sister. He seemed to fondly remember the older men that practically raised him. Taekwoon felt a degree of kinship with it. 

“You are more delicate than them.” Wonshik laughed, nodding with a hung head. Taekwoon finally settled onto his knees beside him. Balancing them. 

“You think I'm delicate?” Taekwoon kept his eyes focused on the incomplete moon. 

“Managing a circus is much less physically demanding than a boat. You're a leader, not a captain.”

“Officially, Jaehwan is the leader.” He went back to sanding and the loss of his stare was a weight off Taekwoon’s shoulders. “I just run the books.” Taekwoon refrained from rolling his eyes out of courtesy. 

“Ornamental. We answer as much to you as him.” If not more so he didn't say. 

“But I answer to him,” He emphasizes. “Or well, him and his uncle. We couldn't do anything without him.”

“He's very lenient with you, then,” Taekwoon said before he could think better of it. Before he could push down the irritation that was the real root of why he was sitting so close to the artist and chatting. 

“Jaehwan?” He frowned to himself. “I guess you could say that. I think it's just a matter of we were friends and a couple first. It's hard to treat someone like your boss when you've known him so long.” 

“Couple?” Wherever Taekwoon’s mind was spiraling next, trying to steer the conversation where he needed it, halted. A couple. All the touches between them, the pet names, the check ups, fell into place. Taekwoon clutched his thighs. Wonshik, ignorant of his plight, nodded. 

“Not recently. It's been a year or two. It was one of those things that simply happens. You're each other's only friend, spend all your time together, you're both recovering from a really hard past.” He blew the sawdust off of the prop, forming a cloud around them. He took a dry paintbrush to brush off even more. “Of course I was head over heels.”

“Was he?” Taekwoons voice was remarkably timid. 

“Well, Jaehwan's complicated when it comes to love.” He glanced at Taekwoon with a sympathetic expression. He was keeping it vague out of courtesy for the ringmaster. “But I feel pretty certain we felt the same way about one another.” He was full of nostalgia, fondness. Taekwoon put forth immense effort to not clench his jaw so hard he cracked a tooth. “Sometimes I see us with him and Hongbin. Jaehwan's changed quite a bit since we first met, though. You wouldn't even recognize him back then.” 

“He's still Jaehwan.” Taekwoon was sure he would be exactly the same kind of man past, present, and future. Wonshik laughed. 

“You're probably much better at sniffing people out than me.” The irony of it coming from him was agonizing. “No one could hide from you.” 

“It comes with the occupation.” Taekwoon was already an observant person, his career only beat the skill into him further. He only needed a few exchanges to remember a person. Jaehwan would have had to go through leaps and bounds of development in those two years for even a chance of confusing Taekwoon. Wonshik nudged him with his shoulder. 

“That's why we made you head of security.” Despite its roundabout manner, Taekwoon still shied at the praise. You were the best of the bunch . 

“Were you a couple for long?” Taekwoon can't move on, and he especially can't acknowledge the feeling of Wonshik's praise. Wonshik is clearly surprised by the question, but answers it nonetheless. 

“A few years, I believe.”

“And you're still as close now.” Taekwoon’s stomach was somewhere on the floor beside them. There was a collection of sounds his first week. Scarcely even audible through the door. He wasn't sure what it was then and chose to grant both his employers a degree of privacy. Now, he was considering killing Jaehwan. 

“Of course!” Wonshik cracked open a jar of white gesso to prime the wood for color. Wonshik had no idea about Taekwoon’s train of thought. 

“Close as you and Hakyeon?” Wonshik's hand froze mid-air, brush dripping gesso onto its intended canvas. Taekwoon was a mere motion away from clutching onto Wonshik’s arm in desperation. Hakyeon and Jaehwan both. Who else had a grip on this man?

“Hakyeon is… different.” Wonshik cleared his throat. He hesitantly began to paint, clearly avoiding eye contact with the guard. 

“I had thought he was leaving days ago.” Taekwoon couldn't keep the bitterness out of his tone this time. He wanted to shake Wonshik by the shoulders and question how he couldn't see what was right in front of him. How he could trust everyone around him with an ease akin to that of breathing. Wonshik did an aborted motion with his head. 

“He had planned to, but I said there was no rush.”

“Why?”

“Well, there isn't,” Wonshik stammered. His voice subtly pitched up in defense. “They clearly don't miss him that dearly, if no one has questioned why he hasn't come back. And i…” he huffed, dropping his hand. Not like he was frustrated with Taekwoon, but with himself. “I didn't want to send him back there. With how they treated Hongbin, I doubt they treated him much better. I couldn't stand to let him go back when there's no harm in him being here.” He held a hand out to Taekwoon and his expression was so earnest that it shook the arguments out of Taekwoon. He was begging Taekwoon to see his perspective. “It's the same with you. I can see how well you're doing here.” 

The comparison took Taekwoon aback. He had to blink at Wonshik just to be sure he meant what he said. He saw even a lick of similarity between him and Hakyeon. He had a similar sense of pity for them both. He picked Hakyeon. 

“What?” 

“You’ve changed since you first came here. It's not day and night, but you're,” he squirmed in place in a flimsy gesture, “looser. You don't seem as weighed down anymore.” 

“Looser,” Taekwoon repeated.

“When you first came, you could really tell you had been through something difficult.” Wonshik idly returned to painting. His attention wasn't focused on it, however. “Everything that happened with your old boss was written all over your face. Getting you to even crack a smile felt like an accomplishment. Now, it's not as difficult.” Did Wonshik take pride in getting Taekwoon to smile?

“Hakyeon doesn't seem to be suffering.”

“Well, I'm not certain to what degree, or if he himself would even call it suffering. You should see him when he's alone, though. That's when I see it.” He painted the prop with white xs. Makes the brush strokes less obvious, he had explained before when he thought Taekwoon wasn't listening. “He disguises it behind all of his charisma.” Taekwoon bites back on his own inferences about Hakyeon's character. The trainer would surely radiate pride if he could hear how well Wonshik had bought into him. Bat his lashes and agree that he was simply a tortured soul trying to cope with a tragic history. Tragic history of being raised amongst the cream of society with everything at his fingertips until daddy sent him away to work like ordinary men. Torturous. 

“You're very generous in your perceptions of others.”

“I see it like this, no one is inherently bad.” He gathered more gesso on the brush. “I think it's better to assume the best of someone, until they prove you shouldn't. No one should be discounted from the start.” Taekwoon stared at him, even when he had said all he intended. He was serious. He genuinely believed what he was telling the guard. Why should he assume ill intent? Taekwoon wanted to ask if he had truly never had his trust betrayed. It was the surety of a child that still viewed the adults around them as all knowing gods and not fallible human beings. Taekwoon wanted to tell him he was stupid. He wanted to tell him he was failing to take the most basic precautions with his heart. 

His heart which was clearly too big for him, that felt too much, that bled on his sleeve with every single breath and smile. The heart was meant to be trapped behind the ribs to keep itself safe. People were meant to be trapped behind facades to keep themselves safe. No one deserved immediate trust. The wolf wasn't meant to be left with the baby simply because it had yet to clamp its jaws down on the tender flesh. Wonshik had to not know any better. Taekwoon was sick with envy. A cruel part of him wanted to prove him wrong, just so he could understand how foolish he was being. More significantly, however, a part of him wanted to protect it. He wanted to be the ribs that cradled the heart. 

Wonshik held out a brush to him. Taekwoon looked up to see his lips quirked up at the corners. A shy kind of gesture. 

“Do you want to help?” Taekwoon would butcher himself on his own sword for him. He had realized it so clearly in that moment he almost lurched at the suddenness. He took the paintbrush from his hand, fingers gracing each other. He nodded limply. Wonshik offered the jar of gesso to him. How simple life must be when you still believe in the men around you. “We'll put this down and then I'll mix the colors while it dries.” 

Taekwoon knows he was never truly upset with Wonshik when they start to paint together. He knows his anger only has one true subject when Wonshik shows him the sketch of the design they're creating while the gesso dries. He knows who he's righteously angry for when Wonshik explains color theory to him while mixing together his pigments. 

“To get the kind of purple I want for this, we'll need red and blue.” Taekwoon handed him the cerulean jar. “And black for the shade.” He mixed pigment into the medium, making three pools of color to draw from on the palette. Taekwoon watched as he started mixing them in small amounts. “Colors work a bit like a wheel. You can make anything out of just maroon, cerulean, and yellow. Black and white just control the shade and tint.” A beautiful violet began to form in the center of the palette, swirling together with his brush. “You have to be careful when you add black. Even the smallest amount can take over the color if you're not careful.” He dropped only the tip of his brush into the glob of black paint. The violet became a deep midnight. “Blacks tend to be tricky, because they'll have notes of blue in them.” 

“Why is that?” Taekwoon rarely made a sound as Wonshik talked, hoping he would just keep going on and on. There was a love, a passion, for what he was explaining. He wanted to share that with Taekwoon. That said, a few questions could easily keep the fire fed. 

“Well, it's hard to just get pure black. Often it's just really, really dark shades of blue or brown. Pigments are a little more reliable, but then you have to deal with mixing yourself.” He added a touch more cerulean. “It's more cost effective in bulk like this. A small amount of powder can color a large amount of paint, and we have to paint a lot here.” Set pieces, backdrops, posters, props. Everything was brilliantly colored in the circus. It overwhelmed the senses at first. 

“Did you study this?” Wonshik handed over a second palette to Taekwoon, scooping paint into its wells for him. 

“You try.” 

“I don't think-” 

“Come on,” Wonshik interrupted. “Just give it a try. Even if it's not an exact match, I'll still use it. We'll need lots of different shades.” He brushed some of the midnight purple on for him to use as a point of reference. The bandages on his fingers were splattered in color. Taekwoon glanced up at him, but he simply waved a hand with a smile. Go ahead. The guard sighed and gathered maroon on his brush. “And I didn't have any formal training like an arts school. I just picked things up.” He began to sketch his design onto the painted wood, created a guideline. “When I got here and learnt how to read, I got every book I could about painting.” 

“You weren't literate before?” Given his position in the circus, Taekwoon would have assumed he had learnt when he was a child. A very unsound business decision to have an illiterate keeping the books. 

“I was too young for schooling when my mother passed.” He erased a crooked line. “So I never had a chance to learn. Jaehwan has always loved books; so when he met me and found out I couldn't read, he insisted he help me study.” He chuckled to himself, clearly fond. Taekwoon scowled at the paint. 

“You must be grateful he insisted now.”

“It certainly makes the job a lot simpler than if I didn't know what the papers said,” he joked. He gestured for Taekwoon to add his black before returning his attention to the guidelines. “I am happy that I learned. I like this job, and I'm sure Jiwon likes me not having to have someone read her letters to me, too.” Taekwoon snorted to himself. He surely would have never written anything to his sister if he knew someone else was reading. 

“I wrote to my sister recently.” Wonshik's grin was blinding as he looked back at Taekwoon. 

“Did you? When did you do that?” 

“Just the other morning.” Just after Hakyeon tried to bash his head into the floor. Wonshik didn't need to know why he stopped to take the time to do so. Thankfully, he didn't even ask. 

“That's great! I know you were meaning to.”

The violet on the palette now was something of the color of a bleeding heart. Taekwoon swallowed down the urge to smile. 

“You remembered that?”

“Why wouldn't I?” He made it seem so simple. “I like talking with you,” he carefully connected his anchoring dots to create a star, “and it was one of the first times you told me anything about yourself.” Taekwoon’s cheeks probably took on a red comparable to that of the paint. He felt just about the same gooey texture as it. 

“I like talking with you as well,” he muttered. Wonshik didn't reply, but there was an easy peace that made Taekwoon certain he heard him.

He managed a halfway decent color match, and Wonshik praised him for it. 

⤫-⤬-⤬-⤬

Sanghyuk focused on the vibration of the rope beneath his feet. 

It was a much higher rope than the one he’d walked across during his quote-unquote skill assessment. Jaehwan had decided to test Sanghyuk's nerve that night. To make sure that an increase in height wouldn’t affect the acrobats confidence. 

There was a net strung out beneath him, of course, but Sanghyuk had never really minded heights. Nor was he scared of falling. 

Now, walking back and forth across the highwire, he was irresistibly reminded of the time he’d scaled the maintenance ladder in his parents' ballroom at the age of eight so that he could walk along the rafters. The beams that supported the giant crystal chandelier and kept the domed roof from caving in. 

The acrobat felt the same heady rush now that he’d experienced back then. Not an adrenaline thrill, not exactly. More like the adrenaline enhanced the euphoria he always experienced on the rope. 

“Move to the middle,” Jaehwan called from where he waited on the ground, hand propped on one jutted hip. 

Sanghyuk did as he was instructed; pacing to the center of the rope, spinning in place, and then walking back to the platform. The vibration of his motion continued to buzz through his muscles even once he was standing on something more steady. 

“Good,” Jaehwan nodded. He gave the younger a look of stern approval. Clapping twice. “Come down now.”

The acrobat smiled. “Yes, sir.”

⤫-⤬-⤬-⤬

“Do you have any other skills you're practiced in?” Wonshik asked as he cut into another bag of feed. He lifted it up to pour it into the already half full container of seeds and nuts and dried fruits. Hakyeon leveled it out as he poured. 

“What kind are you looking for, dear?” 

“Performance wise. Something that could be used in an act.” He shook out the last few grains from the sack before tossing it with the others. Hakyeon filled a metal dish with the feed. 

“Are you plotting something, sweet boy?” He glanced up at Wonshik with a half a smirk. Wonshik cleared his throat. He took the full dish from Hakyeon so he could fill the other two. 

“Well, I just thought- if I'm going to ask if you could stay that I might,” he struggled to find a way to put it, “convince Jae and his uncle.”

“Need to make it worth their investment.” The seeds and nuts pinged off the sides of the feed bowl. 

“I'm sure they'd say yes,” Wonshik was quick to explain. He didn't want Hakyeon to think he doubted that idea. “I just want to make the best case I can. For your sake.” 

“You seem to be going to a lot of trouble for my sake.” He replaced the lid to the box, closing the latch so pests couldn't break in. Wonshik could almost hear a note of confusion in his voice. 

“It's not trouble.” Hakyeon blew a breath from his nose. 

“Effort, then.” He led them back to the cages where the birds noisily cried for their dinner. The fruits and vegetables still sat waiting to be cut and added. 

“You're worth the effort.” The dishes were set down, Hakyeon beginning to cut a carrot in his hand so that the pieces would fall into the bowls. Wonshik anxiously watched his fingers. 

“How did I manage to find someone so sweet?” He mused with a smile. 

“I'm being serious.” How he managed to not cut his thumb was a mystery to Wonshik, especially with how efficiently he cut through the produce. A strawberry stained his thumb pink. 

“So am I, dear. I've never met such an attentive man.” Wonshik picked at the slices, dividing them out evenly. Means of distracting himself. 

“There's no reason not to help someone if you have the means to.”

“Survival of the fittest,” Hakyeon mumbled.

“What?” Wonshik hadn't expected the response. He looked up to meet Hakyeon's eye, but he was still watching his hands as he cut. 

“Survival of the fittest is the rule of the beast. If you can't provide it for yourself, you go without.” 

“That's how it is in nature but we're,” Wonshik grabbed for the words, “men. We don't work like that.” 

“You have very generous views of your fellow man.” Finished with the produce, Hakyeon took a bowl to the cage, carefully opening the door to set it inside. The birds quickly swarmed it. Wonshik frowned at him. 

“You don't agree.” An obvious observation. 

“My love, I have had men state such a belief directly to me without an ounce of irony.” Hakyeon held out a hand for another bowl, which Wonshik gave to him.

“Do you believe it?” Hakyeon turned away from him to set the bowl in the cage before he responded. The flock split into two, giving some of the smaller birds a better chance. No smile anymore. Just an unreadable, flat expression. 

“I believe generosity will only get you so far. There won't always be someone there to pick you up when you've fallen.”

“But that doesn't mean it has to be every man for himself.” 

“Why risk it?” He silently asked for the last bowl. The simplicity of it floored Wonshik. 

“What?” Hakyeon sighed. 

“Wonshik, did you end up in the circus by someone else simply handing you the job?”

“Well, no-”

“No. You sought it on your own. You took control of your own fate.” 

“That's different.” 

“You got the job because Jaehwan's uncle needed someone to fill a role. He hired you to benefit both of you.”

“But he could have chosen someone else. He saw I needed it.” 

“But he still benefitted.” Hakyeon took the bowl himself to serve it to the birds. Wonshik felt scolded. “People do not simply do things without a benefit to reap for themselves.” 

“That's not true.” The embarrassment in his chest was starting to roll over into an indignation. 

“Isn't it?”

“I'm trying to help you.” 

“And in return you get to keep me.” He did a flippant gesture with his hand as he locked the cage. Wonshik swallowed down a statement about how Hakyeon wasn't a thing to be kept. 

“What do you gain from not forcing Hongbin back home with you?” Wonshik felt proud of the question when Hakyeon actually took a moment to consider it. Wonshik watched him stare forward at the birds. 

“Jaehwan doesn't kill me, I suppose.”

“He wouldn't kill you.” He would think about it. And say it. And act like it. But Wonshik knew he would never do it in actuality. 

“I have a better rapport with Hongbin, too, by not forcing him away against his will.” 

“Not a part of you wanted to help him just because it was the right thing?” Hakyeon rubbed a finger against a bar, seemingly deep in thought. His motions were slow, almost mindless. The birds continued to noisily peck at their dinner. Wonshik shifted his weight in the silence. 

“Do you have any bull whips?” 

“What?” Wonshik jerked. Hakyeon turned round with a smile, like that pensive expression had never been there at all. He took the knife and stems left from the produce he cut. 

“You asked me if I had any other talents. I have some tricks with a whip up my sleeves.” Wonshik opened his mouth,  going to say something about their previous conversation. Why did you let him stay ? Hakyeon walked away however. He headed for the slop sink and Wonshik automatically moved to follow. 

“I'm sure we could find one.” 

“We can make private use of it as well, if that interests you.” Wonshik splattered, much to Hakyeon's enjoyment. 

⤫-⤬-⤬-⤬

There was a party that night. 

Not the kind of party Jaehwan enjoyed; far from it. No exotic burlesque dancers, no fast paced music, no clouds of opium smoke floating around his head. The Metropolitan Club was far from Jaehwan’s favorite place.   

It was his uncle’s birthday party. And the chance of encountering a familiar face was too high for comfort. 

Because he’d been in a generous mood that afternoon, Jaehwan had decided to let his best friend off the hook. His generosity was due, in no small part, to his frustration with Wonshik; not wanting to look at Wonshik’s precious face for too long. Wonshik always hated stuffy parties like this and the ringmaster had found an adequate substitute for him. Someone far more familiar with this type of crowd. Someone better suited to mingle. One of them was, anyway.

From his place at his uncle’s right, Jaehwan shot a surreptitious look over his shoulder. Sanghyuk and Hongbin were speaking to a small flock of very lovely young women, the former more at ease than the latter, nearly obscured by folds of rich taffeta and lengths of dainty lace.

The sight of Hongbin’s wide, terrified eyes brought a laugh right to the cusp of Jaehwan’s mouth, but the ringmaster swallowed it down. Nobody close to him had told a joke. It wouldn’t do to laugh. Too obvious that he wasn’t paying attention to the conversation he was supposed to be engaged with. 

“Uncle?” he whispered, feigning hesitance, hands folded politely behind his back, “I’m dying for a smoke... I won't be long?”

“I thought you’d quit,” his uncle replied, glancing down at Jaehwan, “Filthy habit.”

Jaehwan smiled his sweetest, most saccharine smile. “I’ll quit tomorrow. Promise.”

His uncle was a large person. Several inches taller than Sanghyuk, making him a full hand taller than Jaehwan and far broader besides. The ringmaster was on eye level with his neatly tailored shoulder. 

Calloused fingertips stroked his cheek... A crooked finger tilting his chin up... “Don’t be long.”

The ringmaster kept his smile in place even as he gave the group of men in suits -suits that were several years out of fashion- arranged around him a shallow bow. Excusing himself without another word. 

He wove through the crowd with practiced ease. Steps aimed toward the back of the club. Jaehwan caught Hongbin's eye as he went and gifted his bunny a wink. He failed to notice one of the young women detach from the flock and trail after him. 

Smoking had been nothing more than an excuse, a simple excuse that wouldn’t be questioned, but now that he was alone in the empty private parlor at the farthest end of the Metropolitan Club, Jaehwan found himself desperate for one. He fished his silver case from his trouser pocket and pulled a cigarette free. Holding it between his parted lips and striking a match just as the door opened behind him. 

Jaehwan swung around, the unlit cigarette completely forgotten. 

“Aera?!” he asked, even though the identity of the woman before him was unquestionable. Jaehwan hadn’t seen her since he was a teenager, but that didn’t make her any less recognizable. Soft auburn curls and brown doe eyes almost as lovely as Hongbin’s. 

The fury pinching her small round face was no surprise. She’d always been angry. A fighter, much like Jaehwan himself. However, having that fury aimed at him was unexpected. 

“It’s been ages! Are you-”

The ringmaster reached out to take her hands, the cigarette and smoldering match compressing beneath the sole of his shoe, heart swelling with a potent mixture of sadness and joy at the sight of his childhood friend. This woman who had been like a sister to him, once upon a time.

“I hoped you would be here,” she replied, “I’ve been trying to find you for months.”

“You have?” Jaehwan frowned, confused, “You all have forgotten about me by now, I’m sure...”

Barely registering it, only noticing it in passing, Jaehwan saw that the hands he’d been reaching for were hidden in the folds of her skirts. 

“We never forgot about you,” Aera hissed, gaze narrowing a touch, “You did the impossible. You escaped.”

“Oh, I-”

“You should have heard the way some of them used to talk about you. Like you were the second coming.”

Jaehwan couldn’t suppress a flinch at the accusation in those words. Unsure of what to say. He was woefully unprepared for a conversation like this. 

His old friend moved closer, glaring up at him with such hatred, such disgust, that Jaehwan recoiled. Stepping backward as she stepped forward. 

“You escaped. Alone. And you left the rest of us behind.”

“No, it wasn’t like that,” Jaehwan whispered, tears burning unbidden at the corners of his eyes, “It wasn’t, I swear.”

“Do you remember Dohyun?”

The ringmaster swallowed around the razor sharp flower that had bloomed inside his throat. “Yes.”

“Do you remember asking him to watch the door for you? Promising that you would come back and rescue him if he only watched the door to Madame’s bedroom so you wouldn’t get caught sneaking away?”

Guilt stung him, each memory that Jaehwan had tried so hard to suppress buzzing angrily around his head like a cloud of wasps. But he nodded. 

“He’s dead. Dead for almost a decade now.”

“What?!” Jaehwan gasped, swatting the wasps away with an invisible hand, “Why- how?!”

Aera took another step, and Jaehwan shrank away. Shrank under the condemnation in her big brown eyes. “Madame found out. She found out that he was the one to help you get out. And he was so small... So much younger than us. His punishment for helping you was servicing your clients, Jaehwan, and by then all of your clients were used to roughing up a teenager. How do you think he died?”

“No, listen,” Jaehwan pleaded, his mind refusing to process the meaning of her words. Refusing them utterly. Not allowing them to cut him any deeper. “I had to get out. And I wanted to help you, all of you, but I didn’t escape, Aera, I left one master for a new one. It wasn’t safe to bring anyone else where I was going. You know I never meant for Dohyun to get hurt, you must know that, but-”

Swift as a deer, Aera raised the folding knife that had been hidden in her skirts and slashed at him. 

Jaehwan felt the sting of his flesh as it parted, saw the silver tip of a blade glazed in crimson lacquer, heard the fabric of his shirt rip. She hadn’t swiped at his face. Not cutting him very deep. The arc of the wound was long. Crossing from collarbone to pectoral like a constellation drawn across his chest. 

All at once, he became aware of two other people in the room.

Muted party noises floated inside. Sanghyuk was there, backlit, framed in the doorway. And Hongbin was there as well. But Hongbin was not standing still as Sanghyuk was. 

As soon as the vaulter realized what was happening, Hongbin knocked the knife out of Aera’s hand. Jaehwan heard it skitter across the wooden floor as his bunny grabbed her by the hair. 

“What have you done?!” Hongbin’s voice, always like warm brandy to Jaehwan’s ear, had dipped into something deep and dangerous. He released his grip on her hair and grabbed her wrists, yanking her forward so that she almost lost her balance, “How dare you-”

Aera hissed at him and Hongbin snarled right back.

Jaehwan knew how pale his face must have grown. Eyes wide, blinking too fast, mouth a soundless gape. Sitting on the floor as he was, having backed away from the pain with such haste that he’d tripped over the corner of the rug. Spots of his own blood staining his front. She’d meant to kill him, would have done it if they hadn’t been interrupted, and he would have been unable to defend himself. Utterly powerless to fight against such a well-earned punishment. But-

Hongbin came from Requiem and Requiem broke people.

“Bunny!” he gasped, not wanting his old friend to get hurt, “Bunny, stop, it’s okay.”

By some miracle, Sanghyuk shook free of what was no doubt shock-induced paralysis and got in between them. Grabbing Hongbin by the collar of his borrowed frock coat and hauling him backwards. 

Aera fled without another word. Pulling the parlor door open and skittering over the threshold. It slammed shut in her wake. Gone before Jaehwan had even managed to get to his feet. 

Hongbin slipped free of Sanghyuk’s grip and spun around, going for the door again. And again, the acrobat got in his way. “Who was that?!” he spat, so furious that he appeared on the verge of shaking apart. 

The ringmaster let out a rasp of a breath. Sitting straight and then standing up with as much dignity as he could muster. He needed to de-escalate. Diffuse the situation so that Hongbin could relax. And, almost as important, he needed to say something that wouldn’t reveal too much of his past to Sanghyuk. 

“No one,” he lied, inhaling through his nose and exhaling through his mouth, “A silly quarrel between long-ago lovers, bunny, that’s all.” He took Hongbin's face in his hands and leaned in so their foreheads touched. “Be calm for me, bunny. Nothing to get so upset about.”

“She cut you!”

“And I deserved it,” Jaehwan replied, honest, “I used to be even more dreadful than I am now, believe me.”

A burst of loud, booming laughter from somewhere nearby made Jaehwan jump. 

Sanghyuk cracked the door open and peeked out into the corridor beyond. And then he slammed the door so hard that the pictures on the wall shook. 

Jaehwan jumped at the loud slam as well, but he managed a weak sounding, “What is it, Sanghyuk?”

The acrobat turned to face them, back pressed to the seam of the door, and the ringmaster was alarmed to see that Sanghyuk’s eyes were wide with terror. All the blood had drained from his face, color leaking from his skin as though someone had cut his throat. 

“What is it?” he repeated, more sharply this time, keeping his palm flat on the base of Hongbin’s skull so the vaulter wouldn't take the distraction as an opportunity to bolt after Aera.

“My- my...” Sanghyuk stuttered, eyes going even wider if such a thing was possible, “My...”

The acrobat couldn’t say it. But he didn’t need to say it. Jaehwan read the final word like it was scrawled on Sanghyuk’s forehead. My father.

“Give me your shirt.”

“What?”

Jaehwan snapped his fingers. “Give me your shirt, Sanghyuk. I need to go back in before someone comes looking for me, and I can't go back in covered in blood.”

After a few moments of hurried motion, the acrobat was wearing Jaehwan’s torn shirt. Jaehwan himself had taken Hongbin’s belt, using it to strap a folded linen napkin over his cut in place of a bandage. Sanghyuk’s shirt buttoned over that, and Hongbin’s frock coat on top. An extra layer of protection just in case the blood managed to leak through. 

While they changed, Hongbin bent to snatch up the blade Aera had abandoned. Examining it in the parlor’s dim light with a scowl on his face. 

“Out the window, now, both of you,” Jaehwan said, unlatching the window in question and propping it open, “Take him home, Sanghyuk, please. And- breathe, bunny. Wait for me at home, I won’t stay too late.”

Sanghyuk reached for Jaehwan’s hand. “Thank you.”

Jaehwan moved away before Sanghyuk had a chance to touch him. “Go.”

A handful of words were exchanged, and then the pair of them vanished. Out the window and into the night.  

“Where did this come from?” his uncle asked, nodding at the frock coat, rubbing a slow circle across Jaehwan’s back. 

The ringmaster smiled his sweetest, most saccharine smile. Not thinking. Not remembering. Not allowing himself to feel the ordeal that he had just gone through. “I was cold, that's all. I hope I didn’t keep you waiting too long.” 

⤫-⤬-⤬-⤬

Chapter Text

⤫-⤬-⤬-⤬

Following close on his partner’s heels, Sanghyuk hastened to button the front of his jacket over his bare chest. Mind running to catch up with what had just happened. 

He still trembled at the sound of his fathers laughter -like he was eight years old again- hiding under the desk in the Duke of Bellawood’s study as he eavesdropped on the bawdy jokes that his father’s friends were telling. The air tinged with cigar smoke and whisky soaked breath. It was a sound he’d prayed never to hear again and yet there his father was. Improbably attending the birthday celebration of a commoner a full day's ride away from the estate he called home. 

The why of his father’s presence at the Metropolitan Club was to be considered, but later. Later, when he wasn’t so shaken and his thoughts weren’t so scrambled. Not now. Not when his partner stomped like a furious hurricane before him. 

“Bin, wait up!” he called, belatedly realizing that Hongbin was almost half a block ahead of him. Picking up his pace so it was nearly a jog. 

They could have -should have- hired a carriage to return to the circus. Walking the streets at night in fine clothes was as good as asking to be mugged. But without the garments Jaehwan had borrowed, the pair looked more disheveled than anything else, and Hongbin hadn’t even given Sanghyuk a chance to offer a ride. He’d started walking the moment they slipped from the window and simply hadn’t stopped. 

Hongbin didn’t turn around at the acrobats shout. He didn’t turn, didn’t pause, didn’t even slow down until the silhouette of Lumen ad Somnia’s enormous tent came into view. 

“He was lying!” the vaulter spat, coming to a dead stop with no warning whatsoever and smacking the wall of the shopfront beside them, damn near putting his fist through the front window, “That wasn’t a lovers quarrel! He was lying! I know he was lying, and he knows that I cannot stand lying!”

Sanghyuk blinked down at him, startled at the eurruption after so much silence. “I’m sure he’ll explain it later, Bin,” he tried, “There wasn’t time. Getting caught like that would have been less than ideal. He probably just didn’t want to spoil the party.”

Hongbin smacked the wall again, stormclouds gathering above his head. “I don’t give two fucks about the party! That girl cut him! Do you understand that! She cut him!”

“I do understand,” Sanghyuk replied, schooling his own lingering fright away so that he could better handle his partners. Because it wasn’t simply anger written on Hongbin’s face, Sanghyuk saw now. Terror was written there too. “He’ll be fine. Jaehwan is a grown man, he can take care of himself for a few hours. And besides, the girl ran off. He’ll be fine with his uncle.”

Hongbin aimed another smack at the wall but Sanghyuk caught his wrist before contact was made. The acrobat hesitated to do it, knowing how dangerous it was to touch a person when they did not wish to be touched, but the risk was worth saving Hongbin from bloodying his knuckles even worse. 

“Come on,” he said, aiming for a low and soothing tone, “Let's get you home. I’ll wait with you until Jaehwan gets back, okay?”

His partner shook his head. “I can’t. Not yet. I can’t be inside.”

“Why not?”

“Because-” a sharp intake of breath, “It makes me feel trapped. I need to be somewhere that I can feel fresh air on my skin. It helps me- relax.”

Struck with a sudden idea, a way to help, Sanghyuk nodded to himself. “Alright, then come on.”

“Are you deaf?! I just said I need to stay out-”

“Trust me,” Sanghyuk insisted, carefully taking one of Hongbin’s bruised hands, “Just trust me.”

When his partner didn’t protest any further, Sanghyuk led him onward. Into the foyer of the apartment building. He didn’t let go of Hongbin's hand again. 

Impervious to the unseasonably cold wind, the pair made quick work of the stairs. Moving up and up and up until they stood on the building's roof. Surrounded by open air and a clear night sky, millions of tiny stars raining down from the heavens. 

“Look up,” Sanghyuk said softly. 

Hongbin’s breathing had already started to calm. 

“Look at all this space... So much you can’t even see it all. Listen to the breeze. How can you be trapped when the entire world is laid out before you like this?”

Hongbin let out a shaky sigh and Sanghyuk glanced at him sidelong. Those brown eyes had come back into focus, but he didn’t think his partner could see the view for the sudden tears that filled them. 

Heart sinking at the sight of those tears, the acrobat stepped closer and wrapped his arms around Hongbin's shoulders. Hugging tight. Vaguely aware of Hongbin’s heart beating as fast as a rabbit’s, but only vaguely, because Hongbin went up on tiptoe and pressed a rough kiss to his mouth. 

Hongbin’s lips tasted like childhood fear and Sanghyuk returned the kiss with interest. Forgetting for a moment that his partner was beautiful. Only wishing to banish that fear away. 

“You’re safe now, I’ve got you,” Sanghyuk murmured, gently shushing his partner. Letting Hongbin sob into the crook of his neck. Smoothing down Hongbin’s hair. “You’re safe. Jaehwan is safe. It's okay to let your guard back down. Nothing is going to hurt you, I promise.”

They stayed up there for a while, sloppy clothes whipped up by the wind and ears full of city noise, until Hongbin’s tears had stopped and the rhythm of his breathing returned to normal. 

“Thanks,” Hongbin murmured, voice still gruff from crying as he wiped at his cheeks with his sleeve, “Let's go down. I need a drink.”

Sanghyuk felt himself smile. “Does Jaehwan have any liquor in the house?”

“Of course he does,” Hongbin held open the door to the stairwell and Sanghyuk slipped through, “He just hides it. He thinks I don’t like it when he drinks. Thinks I don’t know where he keeps his stash.”

“And you do?”

Footfalls muffled by the hall carpet, Hongbin slid his latchkey into the lock. “Never hide things in a vanity when a practiced thief lives in your home, Hyukkie. That's a good life lesson for you. Don’t keep secrets in the same place you keep your jewelry.”

Relieved at that, his partner's wicked wit, understanding that it signaled Hongbin was calm again, Sanghyuk laughed. 

⤫-⤬-⤬-⤬

When Jaehwan returned to his apartment, close to two in the morning, borrowed clothes wrinkled from pawing hands and the slice across his chest stinging something awful, he found his bunny and the acrobat asleep in his bed. Lost to dreams with their limbs tangled together. Heads on the same pillow. An empty gin bottle standing vigil on the bedside table. 

The ringmaster didn’t bother changing into pajamas. He didn’t bother washing up. Nor did he wake either of them to let them know he was back. 

Jaehwan simply left the room without disturbing them and fell into a fitful, dreamless sleep on the living room sofa. 

⤫-⤬-⤬-⤬

Wonshik led Hakyeon into the barren training room. It was sizable, meant to hold a smaller acrobatics class. Lessons were long since over with it late in the evening now. He looked at the trainer as he surveyed the room. He didn't speak at first, walking into the center to get an idea of size. He released his hold on the leather bull whip, letting it unfurl and smack onto the ground. About two meters when it was laid out.

"This should be good." He turned back round to face Wonshik. He gestured out to the wall opposite where a bench sat. Wonshik took a seat with barely contained excitement. "I would have suggested the yard, but I wouldn't want to risk hitting anyone." His smile was as easy as his wide, steady stance. "I wouldn't want to hurt anyone, not unless they asked."

"People have asked that of you before?" The idea shocked Wonshik, but Hakyeon remained unphased. He stretched his dominant arm.

"Never mixed your pain with your pleasure before, sweet boy?" Wonshik went to answer, he did, but Hakyeon continued. "The use of whips and floggers on people is typically a tragic affair, but there's a place for it in a more tender setting. It's an exotic taste, but not unheard of."

"Do you... like to do it?" A fear creeped up Wonshik's spine as his eyes went between Hakyeon and the bull whip. How much more frightening Taekwoon’s sword would be if he enjoyed using it. How much more frightening the hunting rifle on Uncle's back when he visited the lodge.

"I like to please," he answered simply. Wonshik jumped when he cracked the whip to his side. It was merely a test. The motion seemed easier than breathing to Hakyeon. "If that means whipping and mockery or tenderness and praise, it doesn't matter to me."

He started slowly, merely cracking back and forth in a steady rhythm. He held his free hand behind his back, putting himself in a dignified stance.

"I could do two at once as well. Though, I may be a bit more rusty with my left."

"Is this what you consider rusty?" Hakyeon tossed up the whip, flipping its handle in the air before catching it and continuing with his rhythm. Faster now. Not unlike a horse's cantor.

"Without a warm up, at least." He smirked at Wonshik. "I'm sure you would appreciate me not tearing any muscles for a mere demonstration." He kept perfect tempo, even when he didn't seem to be concentrating on it. Almost mechanical.

"We could have waited until tomorrow." Hakyeon waved his free hand dismissively at the comment. He flipped the whip once again, catching it in his opposite hand and picking right back up on his cracks. It had him turned away from Wonshik. A striking view of his long legs and flexing arm. Wonshik couldn't pretend to not be ogling at the display.

Hakyeon swung the whip around his head, the thong circling around him before he snapped his arm outward, cracking the whip loudly in the air. Wonshik jumped at the noise, attention so rapt. He returned to the previous pattern effortlessly.

"My accuracy is hit and miss, if you'll excuse the pun, but as long as the target isn't too small, I should be able to hit it."

"How small?" Hakyeon's free hand was clenched into a fist at the small of his back, just above-

"About the size of an apple, if I had to guess." He spun the length around his head again, without the mid-air crack this time. Wonshik stepped away from the bench, heading for the chest of tools and equipment for classes. He was careful to avoid Hakyeon's range, but his cracks slowed to a stop as he dug for something light enough to throw.

Hakyeon's reflexes were sharp, snapping the ball Wonshik tossed back out of the air with a crack of the whip. Hakyeon seemed as surprised as Wonshik, giving an astounded laugh as the ball bounced back onto the floor.

"That was perfect!"

"I didn't think I would actually hit it." Hakyeon gathered back up the length of the whip. Wonshik nodded at him before he tossed it again, lower this time. Hakyeon caught it again, cracking the popper against the leather of the ball.

"We can definitely do something with this." He tossed the ball again. Hakyeon just barely missed. Difficult to perfectly account for the amount of time such a long whip would need to travel through the air. "You'll have to brainstorm with the performers."

"Eager to see me in the ring?"

"I can't think of something that would suit you more." Hakyeon was meant to perform, to parade around and capture attention. It was fate that he ended up in the circus business. Hakyeon swung the thong of the whip around, curling it about his torso. He huffed a breath.

"We'll have to persuade your dear ringleader, then. Give you all a proper show." Wonshik tossed the ball back into the chest before he came closer.

"Youd have to audition properly, if you want to be in any shows."

"No special exceptions for a friend of the family?" He tilted his head, tone light and humorous. Wonshik forced his grin to turn into a playfully grave expression.

"We like to keep it fair. You understand."

"Mm, how responsible of you."

"That doesn't intimidate you, does it?" He was trying to poke at Hakyeon. The animal tamer scoffed at the idea.

"You're cute, dear."

"I don't want you to get cold feet."

"You'll have to try harder than that to scare me off," he sarcastically pat Wonshik's cheek, "sweetness." Wonshik brushed him off with a chuckle.

"Is whipping standard for animal trainers, or were you drawn to it?" Hakyeon and Wonshik both startled at Taekwoon’s voice. He was standing in the doorway, arms folded over his chest. He had his coat and sword on, meaning he was likely heading out before he found his way to the couple. Hakyeon tensed, smile tight.

"That would depend on the trainer. Those at Requiem are trained to use them, yes."

"What about your father?" Wonshik's gaze jerked between them. He didn't expect the question, and he had no idea how Hakyeon would react to it. Hakyeon gave a little hum. Taekwoon’s expression didn't change, but he was clearly watching Hakyeon intently. He took a small step into the room.

"He's quite fond of it himself as well. One of the things we disagree on."

"I thought you would agree on training, at least," Wonshik chimed in. Hakyeon had a compassion for animals that ran so deep, Wonshik assumed he had inherited it. Then again, if he did, why would the elder Cha ever supply Requiem knowing how they went about training their animals? Hakyeon began to idly wind the popper of the whip around his hand.

"Far from it, my dear. It's been the fuel of many of our spats."

"You're quite good with it, for someone who seems to detest it." Wonshik could hear the backhanded compliment hidden there in Taekwoon’s voice. Hakyeon did a motion with his head.

"And you're quite good with your sword. For someone that never puts it to use."

"Hakyeon-"

"Would you like me to?" Taekwoon set a hand on the hilt. Wonshik took a step to be close to the middle of them.

"Taekwoon-"

"But I'm not even armed." Hakyeon grinned as he held out his hands in display. Not exactly true, with the popper of the whip wrapped around his fingers and handle in his other hand. "Didn't your old master teach you better than that, soldier?"

"Both of you, stop!" Taekwoon clenched his jaw, an audible huff coming from him. He scowled at Hakyeon, but said nothing. Hakyeon, however, was not so considerate.

"He certainly taught you how to heel, didn't he?" Wonshik grabbed Hakyeon by the shoulder, forcing him to face the artist.

"Hakyeon. Stop."

"Dont be so worried, sweet boy. We're just playing." Wonshik doubted it, judging by the expression he gave him. Hakyeon glanced back over at Taekwoon. "Its just like our little duel. Just a little fun." Taekwoon’s face betrayed him. He was horrified at the mention of their duel. Hakyeon had hit just the right spot.

"Duel?" Wonshik looked to Taekwoon for confirmation. The guard avoided meeting his eye.

"He interrupted my practice. It was nothing special." Hakyeon cooed sympathetically.

"He's still nursing his pride. He took quite the fall in our last round."

"I have nothing to be ashamed about." His look would have killed Wonshik on the spot had it been aimed at him and not Hakyeon. There was an unspoken half to the sentence. Unlike you . Hakyeon shrugged.

"You make a better loser than I thought, soldier."

"Stop calling me that." It was the most Taekwoon had ever raised his voice as far as either men were aware. It seemed to jump out of him against his will. He clamped his jaw shut once it had came out.

"That was your title before, was it not? You remind me of a retired war dog."

"It's not our business what he was," Wonshik tries to defend Taekwoon. He feels sorry for him. Everything seemed to slide off of Hakyeon like water on glass. Anyone’s patience would break under the strain, especially when Hakyeon seemed determined to antagonize you specifically. Taekwoon had some kind invisible target on his head to Hakyeon.

"Don't tell me you're not curious, dear. Isn't it so fascinating how he acts? How he holds everything so close to his chest?" Hakyeon stepped closer to Taekwoon, facing him head on. There was something predatorial to him. "People don't put so much effort into hiding unless they have something they're ashamed of." Taekwoon stepped in in equal measure, meeting Hakyeon for all he was worth.

"You wouldn't be here if everyone knew what you are."

"Would you?" Hakyeon raised a perfect brow. His head tilt was perfectly aimed in Wonshik's direction behind them. Taekwoon could see him just over his shoulder. Hakyeon caught his moment of weakness in glancing over at the artist. "I'll say yours if you say mine," he muttered just for Taekwoon. "See what he thinks."

"You don't have anything." It was a guess, a bluff. He was using circumstantial evidence to come to a conclusion.

"Want to test that?" The ease at which he took every blow was the most aggravating thing. He simply absorbed every shot and returned it. He was fighting like it was a game.

"Will you both stop?" The pair were pulled apart by wonshik, a hand on each of their shoulders. Neither seemed to notice how close they had gotten. Wonshik glared at the both of them. "This isn't helping anything." He nudged Hakyeon lightly. "You go home. I'll talk to you later." Hakyeon's head jerked,  clearly offended at being ordered around like a child. "And you." He looked to Taekwoon. They stared at one another silently. Wonshik seemed to struggle to find his thought. Hakyeon rolled his eyes.

"Don't let me keep you two." He breezed past Taekwoon. Out into the hallway without a glance back. Wonshik wasn't going to hear the end of this, he sensed.

"What was that about?" Wonshik didn't drop his hand from Taekwoon.

"He wants to believe he knows anything about me."

"Why did you even come this way? I thought you would have left by now." Was that a note of shame? 

"I was when I heard you two. Everyone else turned in already."

"Ah."

"Do you really want him in the show?" Taekwoon stepped in closer, trying to see the truth on Wonshik's expression. He opened his mouth before shutting it again.

"I'd like to see if he could."

"You don't have to find a reason for him to stay. He doesn't need to be here."

"I want him here, Taekwoon." It left no room for arguing. "That's reason enough." Taekwoon bit down on his retorts. He had a place to speak, and it was not this. It was not when Wonshik didn't want to budge.

"If he ever hurt you-"

"He wouldn't, Taek."

"If he did," He started again, "would you let him stay?"

"Of course not." Taekwoon stepped in again, grasping onto Wonshik's arm so he couldn't pull away his grasp on his shoulder.

"Promise me, please." Wonshik blinked, startled at the intensity.

"What?"

"Promise me you won't keep him if he hurts you." Wonshik frowned, hesitated. To Taekwoon, it was clear he was just as uneasy. He only wanted to deny it. He stubbornly wanted to believe there was something good there.

"I promise, Taekwoon."

"I'll kill him if he does."

"I can take care of myself."

"Let me do it for you." They both stopped at the near plea. An open admission of intent. He wanted to protect Wonshik, seemingly even from his own choices. Wonshik heart raced.

"You-" Taekwoon pushed off Wonshik's hand like it had burnt him.

"I misspoke. Forgive me." There was no second meaning to a statement like that. It wasn't misworded. It wasn't meant to be said at all.

"Taekwoon-" the guard dipped his head, going for the door.

"Good night." Wonshik huffed. He followed after Taekwoon, but that just made him speed up his pace.

"Taekwoon, will you stop!?" He did not even spare a glance back at Wonshik. He disappeared around the corner. 

Wonshik's shoulders sagged, feeling defeated. He was stuck on the border between two warring states. They would both kill the other in order to stake their claim. A longing to talk to Jaehwan crashed into Wonshik's chest as he resigned to closing up the practice room. Jaehwan always knew what to do, even when they were children. Wonshik clung to him like a life line more than once and Jaehwan always saved him in return. He could at least right him now, if nothing else. 

⤫-⤬-⤬-⤬

“Do you want to see a trick?”

“What are you thinking?”

Across the short distance between the highwire platform and the lyra, Sanghyuk could make out the ringmasters' frown. A frown more of wariness than annoyance, if Sanghyuk had to guess, but it was still a frown. 

“I can do more than just walk up here,” Sanghyuk replied, switching his weight so he could roll his ankles one at a time, giving his tendons a bit of a stretch, “Pick something.”

The ringmaster, sitting on the lyra with his legs crossed so he didn’t have to shout from all the way on the ground, hummed a soft hum. Foot bouncing lazily in the air. “You can do more than just walk...” 

“Yes indeed, sir.”

That honorific earned him an even deeper frown, but it only made Sanghyuk smile. 

“A handstand? That may be a bit too difficult for your current skill level-”

“No, no,” Sanghyuk interrupted, “I can do a handstand. No problem.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yep,” the acrobat nodded, “Besides, if I screw it up, there’s always the net.”

“Never rely on the net,” Jaehwan snapped, his tone growing sharp, “That should have been the first lesson your instructors taught you. It will not be there during our real performances and depending on it makes you sloppy.”

Sanghyuk fought the urge to roll his eyes. “Sorry, sir.”

“Please, for the love of all that’s holy, stop calling me that.”

“Calling you what, sir?”

“Brat,” Jaehwan hissed under his breath. 

Sanghyuk rolled his shoulders. “I didn’t call you a brat, sir.”

Making a little aggravated noise but not taking the bait, Jaehwan brushed his hair back off his face. “At this point, I'd actually prefer it if you called me doll.” He shifted on the lyra and recrossed his legs. “Go down and get your gloves.”

The gloves in question were leather; doeskin so thin that they barely felt like he was wearing anything at all when he put them on. But they were in his bag, which was all the way on the ground, and the thought of climbing all the way down and then all the way back up sounded extraordinarily unappealing. 

“I’m fine like this,” the acrobat held his hands up, palms to Jaehwan, “The wraps are good enough.”

Jaehwan clicked his tongue, unimpressed. “They are not. Wire is not as gentle as the ropes you’re accustomed to.”

“You’re welcome to go down and get them for me, doll. Otherwise I'm sticking with the wraps.”

“Laziness is a filthy habit, Sanghyuk. Break it at once.”

Knowing full well that he should go get his gloves but overwhelmed with a wish to win this stupid battle of wills, Sanghyuk shook his head. Flexing his fingers and stepping to the edge of the platform. “Pardon my honesty, doll, but sometimes you remind me of a yappy little terrier.” 

He heard Jaehwan’s offended gasp and it only made him smile wider. “Don’t speak to me like that, you brat! I’m your senior!”

“It's hard for me to keep our professional boundaries clear when you continue to insist that I address you casually. Crossing wires and all that...”

Whatever the ringmaster replied was lost on Sanghyuk. External sound was drowned out as his head filled with a soft, peaceful buzz. Descending into the special state of mind he could only ever achieve on the rope. 

Each flex of muscle was deliberate and fluid. 

Sanghyuk walked out onto the center of the wire, feeling its soothing vibration, and then paused. Not stopping, never stopping, shifting his weight from foot to foot. 

After two deep breaths, he bent at the waist. 

Raised one leg as he reached for the wire with one hand. Keeping his grip loose and his fingers splayed so its length was parallel with his index finger. 

He held himself secure with his remaining fingers as he lifted his other leg as well. Treating his wrists like his ankles and his elbows like his knees. Keeping his core engaged and his eyes closed so that nothing could distract him. 

Sanghyuk held there for at least a count of ten. Breathing slow and holding his body still. Thinking of nothing but the wire that held him up and the air around his body. 

It happened in a split second. 

There was no dramatic shouting of names, no screaming, neither of them cried out. 

Sanghyuk felt it happen like he was moving in slow motion. 

He felt the moment his own strength abruptly ran out. 

The moment his grip shifted the wrong direction and he slipped. 

His eyes flew open, taking in a brief, upside down glimpse of the ringmaster’s expression of almost comical surprise, before his left hand slipped off the wire. 

He didn’t stop to think. Didn’t pause to consider the consequences if he miscalculated. Speaking generally, a fall from this height onto the net below wouldn’t guarantee an injury, but the angle of his fall would determine if an injury would occur, as well as its severity. 

In the heartbeat of time that his head was still aimed at the ground and his feet were in the air, Sanghyuk tightened his remaining grip. Holding onto the wire with his right hand for all he was worth. Trying to slow his momentum and reposition himself at the same time. 

The woven metal strands that composed the highwire cut right through the cotton wraps around his palms. Speed and friction working in concert to render it as sharp as a garrote. He felt his stinging skin part, and he felt the sudden rush of hot blood as it welled to the surface from where it should have slumbered safely in his veins. 

Making a hasty grab, Sanghyuk managed to hook his right arm around the wire. But he couldn’t hold on. Even as a vibration of movement that wasn’t of Sanghyuk’s making shuddered through the wire, he couldn’t hold on. The pain was a shock and the shock made him let go. Made him recoil so he dropped like a rock. Falling ten feet and landing with a gasp. 

Through his dizzy eyes, as he fell, Sanghyuk saw the ringmaster above him. Moving faster than the acrobat thought he was capable of moving. He saw Jaehwan push off the lyra at the exact moment he’d gotten his arm around the wire. He saw Jaehwan's little body sail through the air- jumping across the gap and catching the wire with one bare hand. He saw Jaehwan reach for him, trying to catch him, only an inch between Jaehwan’s fingers and Sanghyuk’s wrist. 

Even like this, the acrobat couldn’t help but admire Jaehwan’s skill. And Jaehwan’s bravery too, because Jaehwan hadn’t hesitated, and what kind of lunatic would throw themself into thin air to try and save an idiot like him?

Flat on his back, cradled in the center of the net like a fly caught up in a spider's web, Sanghyuk tried to catch his breath. He couldn’t move. Couldn’t even force himself to play spotter and catch Jaehwan as the ringmaster dropped from the wire and landed right beside him. He couldn’t do anything but breathe. 

They stared at each other, eyes locked, panting and silent. Sanghyuk’s dorm key slipped out of his trouser pocket and fell through the gaps in the net, tumbling to the ground below with a soft clink.

the young acrobat whispered, like speaking too loudly might cause the ropes to snap. Jaehwan blinked and then nodded, staying perfectly still as the net swayed like gentle waves on the surface of a pond.

“Are you hurt?”

The acrobat shook his head. He didn’t think he was hurt; apart from the cuts, obviously. He couldn’t feel any torn muscles or dislocated joints. 

“Roll over,” Jaehwan continued, somehow keeping his voice steady despite the rapidly rising panic visible on his face, “Roll until you can push up to your hands and knees, go to the ladder, and get down.”

Sanghyuk nodded again and did as he was told. Hesitating for barely a moment before rolling onto his stomach and getting up on all fours. Making his unsteady way to the ladder on the leftmost wall. He felt the net move beneath him, but only beneath him. He couldn’t sense the ringmaster's vibrations. Jaehwan must be waiting. Neither hurrying ahead nor helping Sanghyuk as to not throw the younger off balance. 

He reached the wall and began to climb. Body shaking. Not wasting any time to let himself calm down. He could do that better once he was back on the ground. 

The young acrobat gripped the rungs of the rope ladder so hard that bloodstains remained after he let them go and made his way down the wall. He was still in shock, for the most part; the sudden slip wiping any fear or worry away. 

He shouldn’t have been so stubborn. That was the only thought penetrating the haze flooding his mind as the acrobat clambered down the ladder. He shouldn’t have been so stubborn. He should have gone and gotten his gloves. 

“You stupid, reckless boy!” Jaehwan breathed, throwing himself on Sanghyuk the moment the younger’s foot touched the floor. 

Jaehwan was there. The ringmaster must have climbed down the other ladder. Scampered down as quick as a monkey if he’d beaten Sanghyuk, and Sanghyuk himself must have been moving slower than he’d thought. 

“I told you to put on your gloves-”

Giving no thought to what he was doing, Sanghyuk hugged Jaehwan tight. Wrapping his arms around the ringmaster like Jaehwan was a buoy in the middle of a storm-tossed sea. His legs felt like nothing more than jelly and he desperately wanted to sink down and collapse on the mat. He held Jaehwan close against him, laying his cheek atop that head of dark curls. They were safe. Somehow, they were both safe.

“-And it’s so late, the nurse has already left… Take this off-”

Sanghyuk’s face began to heat, befuddled, as he felt Jaehwan’s hands on his hips. Those long fingers curled against his skin. Taking hold of the hem of Sanghyuks shirt and lifting it over the acrobats head. He’d missed the middle of Jaehwan’s sentence. 

“If you wanted to undress me, you could have just asked,” was the only response Sanghyuk could come up with, aiming for sarcasm and missing the mark. His voice shook too hard for him to pull off anything close to a sarcastic tone. 

The ringmaster shot him a filthy look.

“Be quiet,” he snapped back. The words had a bite to them, but his touch did not. Wrapping the shirt's long sleeves around Sanghyuks hands to staunch the bleeding with utter gentleness. “Come on, I need to tend you properly so these don’t get infected.”

Still slightly shell shocked but unable to hide his smile, Sanghyuk allowed himself to be led out of the circus proper. Into the yard and then across the street. Up the stairs to the apartment that Jaehwan and Hongbin shared. 

“Next time,” Jaehwan said, pushing Sanghyuk down onto the edge of the bed with hands on his shoulders, “You will listen when I tell you to do something. No more uppity nonsense from you. I don’t care whether you’re noble born or not; when I tell you to put on protective gloves, you put them on. Am I making myself clear?”

Sanghyuk nodded. “Crystal.”

He blinked up at the ringmaster standing before him with big mooney eyes. Knowing he must resemble a lovesick calf but not caring enough to stop. Not bothering to pull himself together. 

Sanghyuk didn’t have the energy to try preserving his dignity at that moment. He was far too busy holding Jaehwan’s gaze. Those dark eyes were bright and unflinching...

“Stay.”

Sanghyuk stayed. 

He sat still on the bed and watched Jaehwan disappear into the en suite.

He was in the bedroom again and Sanghyuk was trying not to think. Trying not to let his mind wander, not thinking about this bedroom- of what they’d done together in this very bedroom when his partner had returned. Trying not to remember the way he’d lay there, listening to moans leak from Jaehwan’s mouth as Hongbin fucked him, feeling the matteress under the three of them jolt with each thrust. 

“This is going to sting,” Jaehwan reappeared with a small first aid kit and a bottle of iodine in hand, “Promise you won’t scream. I don’t want to wake the neighbors.”

“If your moaning the other day didn’t wake the neighbors, then I’m sure we won't disturb them now.”

The acrobat's reply startled a high laugh from the ringmaster. Startled, perhaps, because Sanghyuk referencing their triadic entanglement now -when Sanghyuk had never mentioned it since that night- must have caught the ringmaster off guard. Or maybe, a small but potent part of Sanghyuk thought, maybe Jaehwan’s laugh had crested high because Jaehwan was remembering the pleasure of that hour as well. 

Jaehwan knelt before the mattress and unwrapped the shirtsleeves, leaving the acrobats discarded practice shirt in a pile on the floor as he soaked a cotton ball with iodine. “Sometimes- your boldness is shocking, my lord.”

“I’ve told you countless times now, doll, please don’t call me that.”

“You’ve also told me that you don’t behave like a lord,” Jaehwan replied, pressing the cotton ball to Sanghyuk’s cuts, not pulling away even as Sanghyuk sucked in a breath at the pain of it, “I can only take that to mean you don’t act like a lord because you’re employed at my circus.”

“I’ve never acted like a lord,” Sanghyuk whispered, closing his eyes against the sting, “Your circus has nothing to do with it.”

“Does it not? The circus has to do with everything, in one way or another.”

“It really doesn’t,” Sanghyuk smiled a shaky smile, feeling a fresh cotton ball being pressed to his other hand, “My lack of respectable comportment is no fault of the circus; it's my family’s fault.”

“Is it?”

“Yes,” Sanghyuk nodded. Firm. He didn’t want to think about his family. Nor did he want to think about the stupid risk he had just taken. It didn’t actually matter at this point. All that mattered was that both he and the ringmaster had reached the ground in one piece. Praise god for the net.

His lashes fluttered open now that the iodine sting had subsided. Watching Jaehwan wrap clean gauze around his palms. 

The ringmaster glanced up and Sanghyuk caught his eye. Those striking eyes that pulled him in and trapped him like a fly in amber. 

“Why does my lineage preoccupy you so thoroughly, doll? Surely, such an inconsequential matter shouldn't bother you...”

“It bothers me greatly,” Jaehwan replied, tucking in the loose ends of the gauze and sitting back, still kneeling on the carpet, “I can’t fathom why someone would leave a life of such privilege behind to live and work at a circus with a bunch of commoners. The why of you being here has nagged at me since I met you.”

It was only then that Sanghyuk noticed that the blood on the ringmaster’s hands wasn’t only his own. Jaehwan was bleeding too. Jaehwan had grabbed the wire just as Sanghyuk had, and the ringmaster’s hands hadn’t even had the wraps to act as a buffer. Jaehwan’s cuts were still bleeding but Jaehwan had only bothered to care for Sanghyuk, not himself. 

“Your hands,” he muttered, ducking to grab the iodine Jaehwan had set down and taking one of Jaehwan’s wrists, “These need to be cleaned...”

To his mild surprise, the ringmaster didn’t pull away. Jaehwan let Sanghyuk stain his broken skin with iodine and wrap a clean bandage around each of his palms. Caring for the wounds that burned there like stigmata. 

“That’s twice in as many weeks I've seen you hurt,” the acrobat said once he was done, remembering the slash across Jaehwan’s chest, “I would prefer not to see it again.”

“As would I, believe me,” Jaehwan replied, watching Sanghyuk pack up the little first aid kit, “I’ve never liked the sight of my own blood. It makes me rather queasy.”

“And the blood of other people?”

“Depends on the person.”

Sanghyuk conceded that point with a nod. Rather than follow that line of conversation, he asked, “Who was that girl? Bin said you refused to tell him.”

Jaehwan looked up at him, batting those absurdly long eyelashes and allowing the acrobat to wipe a streak of dried blood from his cheek. He exhaled a laugh. “And I won’t tell you either.”

“Why not?”

“For the same reason I didn’t tell my bunny.”

Sanghyuk’s hand dropped, feeling maroon cotton under his hands. The collar of the over-large button down that Jaehwan wore over his leotard had fallen open and Sanghyuk fiddled with it. Unconscious of the movement. “What reason would that be?”

Rising where he knelt on the carpet, up on his knees now rather than sitting so their eyes were nearly level, the ringmaster touched Sanghyuk’s jaw. Tilting Sanghyuk’s face with a fingertip under the younger’s chin. Snagging Sanghyuk's gaze. 

“Because,” he replied, the words escaping his mouth like a sigh of pleasure, “It is none of your business.”

“It is too my business,” said Sanghyuk. His focus narrowed, everything else falling away as time began to slow. Enraptured by their proximity and the gentle flush dusted across the bridge of Jaehwan’s nose and the high points of his cheeks. “If someone is threatening you- trying to hurt you like that, it's very much my business.”

“It most certainly is not.”

“Yes, it most certainly is.”

There was no upset in Jaehwan's voice, only bemused curiosity. “Why should it be any of your business, Sanghyuk? You barely know me. There is no reason for you to care.”

The acrobats' names sounded so different on Jaehwan’s lips. Full and lush; a poem with only one word. Nobody else spoke his name that way and the song of it unfurled a warm ribbon of desire inside him. 

“Because,” he stayed still, not looking away or dropping his gaze, “If something happened to you, it would hurt Bin’s feelings.”

“I see. And that's the only reason? A protective streak for my bunny, hmm?”

“Yes,” Sanghyuk lied. 

A shiver ran through him as Jaehwan thumbed his bottom lip. Admiring the raven beauty before him with undisguised hunger. 

If he’d been paying attention, Sanghyuk would have noticed the pause. The slight hesitation before Jaehwan spoke again, like the ringmaster was debating whether or not he wanted to say it. But Sanghyuk didn’t notice. Body already several steps ahead of his brain. 

“Your hands don’t hurt too much, do they, ducky?” the ringmaster asked. 

Sanghyuk flinched. Not because his hands hurt, that pain was reduced to background noise, but because of the pet name. The nickname his family had called him for as long as he could remember. 

“What did you say?”

“I asked if your hands hurt.”

“No,” the acrobat looked away then, finally, turning his face into Jaehwan's open palm. The edge of the bandage tickling against his skin, “Ducky. Don’t call me that. I like it even less than I like being called a lord.”

Sanghyuk’s mind drifted, as it inevitably did, to his father. But he brushed that thought away with a flick of his invisible hand. Such thoughts were not to be acknowledged, never. Not ever. And yet, he was curious...

“Why did you say ducky?”

Jaehwan was watching him. Watching far too intently for Sanghyuk’s liking. Assessing. Analyzing the reactions that Sanghyuk was giving him. “No particular reason... Someone called me that when I was young and I’ve always remembered it. And you look a bit like a duck when you pout like that..."

“Well- please don't say it again. I’m asking earnestly. This isn’t a joke.”

Silence fell and Sanghyuk shifted. Fighting down the urge to fidget. A string of fear had been plucked in his heart. That fear was part of him, like an invisible but insidious scar, and Sanghyuk would do practically anything to rid himself of it. 

“I’ve hurt you, haven’t I?”

“Yes, but you didn’t know. It’s not your fault,” Sanghyuk sighed, “I’m rather too easily hurt at the moment.”

That was closer to the truth than he cared to admit, and so Sanghyuk did not admit it. Pushing everything from his mind but the awareness of Jaehwan in front of him. This man that he’d practically idolized for ages, who he wanted to touch so desperately... 

He pulled Jaehwan against him and kissed him deeply. Settling Jaehwan between his spread legs so Jaehwan’s elbows were propped on the tops of his thighs. Parting his lips at the ringmaster's sharp inhale and licking into his mouth. 

“You know, I saw you perform before all this. Before you were the ringmaster. Back when you were just an acrobat like me,” Sanghyuk breathed against his skin, changing the subject. 

“Did you?”

“I did. Often. I’ve never seen a more enchanting performer in my entire life.”

“Flattery will get you everywhere,” Jaehwan sighed, a hand lost in Sanghyuk’s unstyled hair that was just as black as his own, firm against the nape of the younger’s neck, “Don’t let anyone convince you otherwise.”

Sanghyuk smiled, but he was aware of each breath he took. And also aware, suddenly, that he was shirtless, sitting there in only his socks and pair of training pants. 

“If you don’t want me to call you... That,” the ringmaster asked, tentative, “What would you like me to call you instead?”

“Sanghyuk,” said Sanghyuk, “Just Sanghyuk. I like the way you say my name.”

“As you wish, Sanghyuk,” Jaehwan hummed, voice low, his smile dripping with honey, “You’ll stay in the spare apartment tonight. I don't want you going across the street so late. Go over there now while I raid Wonshik’s closet. I need to find something for you to sleep in.”

Content to let himself be cared for, Sanghyuk nodded. “Yes, sir.”

⤫-⤬-⤬-⤬

"How do you do it?"

"Do what, dear?" Hakyeon asked as he slipped on his nightshirt. Wonshik kept his eyes down. He busied his hands running his brush through his hair. His conversation with Hakyeon turned out even less information than the one with Taekwoon. He “simply liked to play with the sourpuss.”

"Hit people. When you're..." he left it unfinished. Hakyeon was able to follow however.

"I find the power and control attractive." He pulled his hair out from the shirt. He didn't keep it as long as Wonshik kept his. Just enough to run your hands through when he kissed you. "And there's a side to people that comes out when you play like that." He tilted his head. "Why?"

"Doesn't it feel cruel?" He had never wanted to hurt any of his partners.  He wanted to please them. He wanted them to melt boneless into whatever surface they had found themselves on in blissful ecstasy. He liked to ease them into hazy eyed, cuddly contentment. He liked when Jaehwan had batted heavy lidded eyes up at him and slurred his words and giggled.

Hakyeon looked at him, idly pulling at the strings of his nightshirt.

"Cruelty is what people like my father do to animals. I don't want something to submit out of fear." Wonshik's heart tightened as he asked the only question he could.

"Would you do it to me?"

"Do you want me to?" The response ran a chill up Wonshik's spine. The air around them felt heavier.

"How do you do it?" Hakyeon stepped closer, between Wonshik's legs. He held out a hand, asking him for the hairbrush. He began to run it gently through the artist's dark hair as he explained. It felt maternal with his gentle voice and soft touch.

"I start like I always do. I touch them, kiss them, talk to them. I want them excited. I want them to want it." Wonshik batted his eyes up at him. He knew the routine by now. Hakyeon was so very good at talking, at grazing his hands and fingers up and down your body to light your nerves. The brush didn't meet any knots; but the feeling of it running through his hair was soothing. "When the moment feels right, I'll ask them how they want it. How I do so is a matter of who I think they are. I'll ask them if they've been good. Or I'll describe what I'd like to do to them and ask if they'd like that. My favorite," he smiles fondly, looking at Wonshik's hair rather than his eyes, "is when they tell me they want me to. When they tell me to play rough with them." Shameful heat rose up in Wonshik's cheeks. He'd unintentionally played right into Hakyeon's hand.

He leaned forward to hide his face in Hakyeon's stomach. Hakyeon rested a hand on his nape in return. "Then it's simply a matter of getting them ready.  Stripping them, if they weren't already. Getting them braced up against the wall or bent over the bed. Or over my knee, if it's a spanking they want." There's amusement in his voice as he says it. Something rolls in Wonshik's gut at the image of someone bent over Hakyeon's knees. His hand in their hair just like it is in Wonshik's now.

"You start slowly, always, with something dangerous like this. I run my fingers up and down their skin, graze my nails," the hand on Wonshik's nape began to squeeze gently, "give them gentle smacks. The anticipation heightens the senses. It makes the coming impact better." Wonshik's upper body was boneless, pressed into Hakyeon as he touched him amidst the explanation. His hands were strong, and warm. His skills with the whip explained the slight calluses on his palms that Wonshik failed to ask about before. Massaging his neck, Wonshik was like a kitten to its mother. Limp with a simple hold on the scruff. "Usually, this is when I set down the rules for them. How many hits you'll get, how I want them counted, how hard they'll be, how to get me to stop if you need it. You have to save the talking for when they're in a clearer head." His hand moved to scratch Wonshik's scalp instead. The artist groaned softly against him. If he pulled away, he would see that they were both reacting well to nothing more than a conversation.

"The first hit is always the best part," he almost sounded starstruck himself. "The way they gasp and jump. Almost forget to call 'one'. The way they start to hold their breath in anticipation. I could live in that moment right there. Sometimes I make them ask for each hit. I like how the shy ones blush and stutter when I do." Wonshik heard his own voice in his mind. Another, please sir . He clutched Hakyeon's pants. "All that's left is to keep going. I hit until you're red, until you're squirming." His voice rolled over like cool rainwater.  Wonshik wanted to bathe in it. "Until we reach the count I had set and you either give in, or beg for more. Sometimes, they ask for more and more until they can barely speak. The beating itself is its own sex." Wonshik nuzzled into the trainer's stomach, raised his shirt to press his nose and lips directly against hot skin. Hakyeon didn't stop him. He kept looking down on him and scratching his scalp. "That's how I do it.” in a satin sweet coo, “Not so frightening now, hm?"

Wonshik kissed his skin. He shook his head. He was far from scared now. The amusement creeped back into Hakyeon's voice. 

"Maybe even sounds a little tempting? Such an attentive little listener." He took a hold of Wonshik's head and gently pulled back, forcing him to look up. His sly smile was a gut punch. "Do you want to try it now, sweet boy?" Wonshik's throat was full of cotton.

"I could try it." His meek answer made Hakyeon chuckle.

"Sometimes, I could tear you apart." He dipped in for a kiss. Wonshik moaned into it, let himself fall backward on the bed. Hakyeon pounced on him. With Hakyeon on top of him, Wonshik felt just how much he had been affected by mere words.

"How do you want it?" Hakyeon rolled his hips down against him. Smooth and fluid as water. It made it near impossible to divide his attention.

"You said over your knee. Y-you-'' Hakyeon moved too quickly for Wonshik's foggy mind to properly keep track. He was turned onto his stomach, dragged so his hips were in Hakyeon's lap. He flushed even further, somehow, at the tight grope at his ass.

"I was hoping that would be your choice. Fuck, sweet boy." Wonshik clutched into the sheet,  suddenly winded. Hakyeon seemed uncharacteristically, gracelessly, eager. He tugged Wonshik's pants down with his underclothes. Just enough down his thighs to expose his back side, cock still trapped in them in the front. He failed to bite down a whimper at nails in the meat of his ass. Hakyeon's other hand took him by the hair again, harder this time. The strain was hard on his throat.  "Just ten. Ten to start. I want you to count each one."

"Yes sir," came as easily as breathing. 

"'Red' to stop. If it becomes too much, if you change your mind." Wonshik felt his eyes roll at a tug on his hair. He loved when Jaehwan used to pull it, when he and old partners dug their nails into his back. He loved the feel of Hakyeon's hand on his ass now.

"Yes." His head was unceremoniously dropped. It shot right back up in a gasp at the first impact. It landed sharp and loud. Wonshik's nerves buzzed.

"One." Hakyeon practically purred in response.

"Good boy."

The blows came in a blur. Wonshik was dizzy following them. Hakyeon praised him for every number he called,  for every hit that he took. Harder and harder. There was a frothing, ravenous hunger to him that had Wonshik shiver. He wanted this so badly. He wanted to break his sweet little boy.  He wanted exactly what he got. Wonshik melting down into his bed, trying to ruck up against Hakyeon's legs to no avail. He got Wonshik shaking with his ass bright red. Hakyeon didn't even ask if he wanted more once he reached ten. He immediately went into slicking his fingers with cool oil, into fucking Wonshik on them. Wonshik nearly sobbed. He was spread so thin already. To torture him further, Hakyeon wouldn't stop talking . Running his Filthy mouth.

"You don't know how good you look, sweet boy. I could tear you apart with my teeth." His knuckles meeting Wonshik's tender skin was near agony. "I want to fuck you, press up against those bruises. You want that, dear? You want me to hurt you a little more?" Wonshik only nodded. He couldn't find the words for what he wanted. He wanted Hakyeon's fingers to reach in deeper. He wanted to cry. He wanted to forget how to say his name as his front half melted into the bed. He wanted Hakyeon to have whatever he liked. He wanted to get fucked at both ends. He practically sobbed when he was properly stripped down, cock finally free. Hakyeon barely kept the artist's hips up. Just enough for him to keep his own legs under, to push into him. Wonshik wasn't aware he was shaking as Hakyeon sunk into him until the trainer's hands smoothed down his back. Despite his claim to want to hurt Wonshik, he still eased into bottoming out. He still took the time to let Wonshik adjust, to worship his body with his hands.

"Look at you. Look at you, sweetheart." His voice was reverent. A little broken. He ran his hands over muscled planes, scratched lightly. "You're so good for me. Such a good boy." Wonshik's eyes rolled at a small thrust. Stuffed and dizzy. "I'm so happy they sent me here." Their hips finally pressed flush against one another. His sharp hip bones pressed right into Wonshik's beaten ass. Wonshik was boneless. "There we are. There it is." Hakyeon ground up against him, like he could get any deeper. "So happy I got to find such a sweet little thing." In his right mind, Wonshik would agree. He was happy to be found. As it were though, he simply groaned. "I knew you would like this." He smacked his already sore ass, startling Wonshik slightly out of his drunken state. "You just didn't know it yet. Didn't know how much you would like being bent over my knee." The other side this time. He did like it.  He liked it enough he was surely dripping onto the bed where he was hard and neglected. "Sweethearts like you are the best ones to break. Show you," he spaced each word with another small smack,  "just what you need." Wonshik finally sunk all the way down, trapping his cock between him and the bed. Even without chasing his own high, he was getting enough friction from Hakyeon moving him. Hakyeon pinned him down by his shoulders, trapping him in place. The full brunt of his weight crushing down on Wonshik's ribs.

"Now you'll always want it. You won't be able to just go back. You'll always want to get fucked just like this."

"Please don't stop," Wonshik managed to choke out. Hakyeon's nails cut into the skin around his shoulder blades.

"You need me now, don't you, Wonshik?" He violently nodded. He needed Hakyeon. He also needed to come before he blacked out.

"I need you. I need you. I love you. Please, please, please," Wonshik felt his eyes water as he pleaded. Words fell out of him in rhythm with Hakyeon like he was punching them out. Hakyeon laughed breathlessly. 

"You love me, sweet boy? You love how I treat you? How I fuck you stupid?" Wonshik nodded, even if Hakyeon was mocking him. He was so, so close to the edge. He loved Hakyeon, even if he hadn't meant to say it. "That's why you want me to stay so bad? No one else will do this?" No, no one else would do this. No one else was Hakyeon. No one was the same kind of sensual, of sharp, of intriguing. No one was the same kind of enigma. Wonshik shook his head as he desperately tried to hump the bed under him. He nearly screamed when Hakyeon leaned over, one hand keeping him up while the other finally reached around to touch Wonshik. It was very short work with how high strung he was. "You would let me do anything to you, wouldn't you?" He muttered against the shell of his ear. Wonshik nodded as he drooled. Dog in heat. Hakyeon was grinding right up against him, milking him for all he was worth. “Such a good boy, aren't you?” 

Wonshik wasn't sure how much time passed after his mind waited out, or what Hakyeon said in it, or even what he himself said. He was barely awake when Hakyeon got back up on his knees, fucking him in earnest to chase his own relief. The pain almost brought him back to awareness, but the more thuddy nature of Hakyeon's impacts, both thrusts and smacks, made him feel more beaten than startled. He felt worn down to the bone. 

Part of himself came back to him when he was laying still on the bed. Sweaty, leaking, beaten. Hakyeon came back in a moment, patting Wonshik's thigh and telling him to roll over. Wonshik obeyed, letting Hakyeon go about wiping him off. His hair was stuck to him, cheeks just as flushed as Wonshik's. The artist sleepily blinked up at him.

"You did very well," Hakyeon praised softly. Wonshik smiled.

"You're good." Hakyeon laughed. Wonshik's heart imploded at the shape and sound of his smile. The way his eyes squinted together.

"You're very sweet." He wiped himself off. They'd have to change the bedding. Again.

"A good man,” Wonshik clarified. He was good at what he had just done, obviously. But that wasn't what Wonshik meant. Hakyeon didn't react. He took the rag to the hamper. "I meant it."

"I know you do, dear."

"That I love you." He heard Hakyeon stop in the closet, stand in the doorway. 

With great effort, Wonshik was able to get himself to sit up. His ass throbbed in protest. Hakyeon was staring down at the hamper, unnervingly pensive. That soft affection from before was twisting into something much worse. "That's why I put in so much effort."

"I see that now," Hakyeon muttered. He softly closed the closet door.

"I'm sorry if it's, um, too soon." Hot shame trapped itself in Wonshik’s throat like bile. He felt remarkably stupid. He wanted to cringe away at Hakyeon's apologetic smile.

"You're alright, dear." Wonshik's fragile heart took it the same as a flat out rejection. He could feel himself actively fighting tears. He tried to piece together an excuse. 

"Sorry, I simply- I blurt things out sometimes. When I'm like that." Wonshik did his best to keep his tone light. He couldn't suppress a sniffle, however. Hakyeon silently came back to the bed.  He pressed Wonshik's face to his chest again, nose in his hair. It was an awkward angle, but Wonshik's heart ached. He failed to keep his breathing even. Stupid, stupid. Hakyeon's touch was placating now, rather than soothing. Wonshik didn't have the heart to reject it. Even now. 

"You're sweeter than I could ever deserve, Wonshik." 

⤫-⤬-⤬-⤬

“I think I’m beginning to like him,” Hongbin said, apropos of nothing, under the covers beside Jaehwan with an open book in one hand. 

The ringmaster looked away from his own book and arched a brow, confused. “Beginning to like who?”

“Sanghyuk.”

“The pair of you are thick as thieves,” Jaehwan replied, even more confused now, “But you're only beginning to like him now?”

Hongbin flicked the silver ring he always wore on his middle finger with his thumb; idly spinning it. Jaehwan’s ring. “Not like that,” he clarified, “Not like a friend. He’s already my friend.”

An invisible bulb ignited over Jaehwan’s head and he felt himself grin. Mischief rising at the heat in Hongbin's face. “You want him?”

“Yes.” Hongbin blushed harder at the admission, and he wouldn’t meet Jaehwan’s eye. “Does that upset you?”

Jaehwan closed his book with a snap and rolled over, propping his chin on Hongbin’s shoulder and grinning like a cat. 

“Far from it, bunny,” he replied, tracing the line of Hongbin’s bare collarbone, “It fills my mind with possibility.” 

The vaulter smacked him away and Jaehwan broke out in giggles, coming right back to cling to Hongbin’s arm.

“I’ll need to test him for you, bunny. Test his ability to satisfy. Make sure he’s good enough for you.”

“Do what you want, darling, I won’t stop you. But, have you not tested him already?” Hongbin asked, trying to hide a smile of his own, “I distinctly remember you giving him a handjob on the foot of this very bed.”

“No, no,” the ringmaster shook his head, “How to explain in a language you’ll understand... That was like walking beside a stallion and holding him by the reins. I have not yet gotten a chance to ride him.”

⤫-⤬-⤬-⤬

Lying in the center of his bed with his back propped on a stack of pillows in the spare apartment that he shared with Hakyeon, Sanghyuk looked around. 

He was only halfway moved in; hesitant to bring much. The majority of his possessions were still in the studio he rented, but everything he had in the trainee dorms was now piled up around the bedroom. The place was a mess, if he was honest, and Sanghyuk shouldn’t have been reading. He should have been cleaning. It was, however, very late. Any will to clean had departed along with the setting sun. 

The door opening was what caught his attention. 

Sanghyuk had assumed it was Hakyeon. Assumed that the self-styled animal tamer had come back from whatever filled his evenings so consistently. But it was not Hakyeon. It was Jaehwan.

The ringmaster wobbled over the threshold in his fancy little gentleman's clothes. Tie loose and the top buttons of his shirt undone. Sleeves rolled to his elbows and navy waistcoat tailored so well that it fit his body like a second skin. 

“Jaehwan?” Sanghyuk asked, filled with an equal mixture of surprise and confusion. He wasn’t dressed for company. Wasn’t expecting guests. “What are you doing here?”

“I wanted to see you,” the ringmaster replied, kicking the door shut behind him with a click.

“Are you drunk?”

“Not really...” Jaehwan began to slip the buttons on his waistcoat open as he padded across the room, “Bunny is still under the weather, you know-”

Sanghyuk nodded, too baffled to speak. 

“-So I went to bother our grumpy kitten, letting my bunny rest. Woonie kept trying to force drinks on me. I think he was trying to shut me up, but I didn’t have much.”

Jaehwan shrugged the waistcoat off and swept up onto the bed, the mattress gracefully dipping under his soft weight. 

Thoughts distinctly dizzy now, book still open in his hand and unable to move from where he was, Sanghyuk watched mutely as Jaehwan crawled toward him on all fours. Settling himself across the acrobats lap. 

“Sanghyuk,” he sighed, swaying forward to press the word against the shell of Sanghyuk’s ear in a way that could only be described as sweet. 

The acrobat shuddered, feeling Jaehwan nip at his earlobe. Feeling Jaehwan give his cheek a kittenish little lick. The sound of Jaehwan’s tittering playing across his skin like electricity. 

“You taste good...” 

“Doll-”

The ringmaster tipped his head a little and paid the younger no mind. Quieting him with another coy lick at the corner of his open mouth. Making a pleased little sound when Sanghyuk didn’t push him off, he relieved the younger of his book and brought Sanghyuk’s hands to his waist. The fabric of his shirt was unbearably soft, his waist dangerously thin and expression so dangerously open. “Touch me.”

It was almost a whine and the noise sent Sanghyuk’s mind into a frenzy. But- “Doll, you don’t know what you’re doing.”

Movement so slow it was almost like he was dreaming, Jaehwan wrapped his arms around Sanghyuk’s neck. Kissing first one corner of Sanghyuk’s mouth, then the other. Then the tip of Sanghyuk’s nose. “I do so.”

“No, you don’t. You’re not in the right state of mind.” Sanghyuk used the grip on his waist to try and gently remove Jaehwan from his lap. But the effort was futile. Jaehwan straddled his thighs, clinging to Sanghyuk with all his considerable strength.

“I didn’t have much. I'm not drunk. I’m in control. I just told you, Sanghyuk,” he murmured, and the unguarded smile on Jaehwan's face spread wider, “Sanghyuk... Don’t you like when I say that? Sanghyuk...”

Jaehwan pulled back a bit, enough for him to be able to look Sanghyuk in the eye. Licking his own lips with the tip of his tongue like he was savoring the taste of Sanghyuk’s name. He fixed Sanghyuk with his dark, liquid eyes and smiled that same unfamiliar, ingenuous smile. 

Sanghyuk swore under his breath. This was a losing battle if ever he’d fought one.

The ringmaster kissed him again, that luscious mouth parting hungrily against his own. Any protest Sanghyuk had been about to voice promptly died unspoken. It took everything he had to suppress a groan as Jaehwan’s weight settled higher up on his lap. Whole body tipped forward so their chests were flush.

His book slipped off the edge of the bed and Sanghyuk made a grab for it, reflex taking over. He missed, and the movement dislodged Jaehwan somewhat, but the ringmaster only laughed. Still giving Sanghyuk needy little kiss after needy little kiss. 

Sanghyuk’s lashes fluttered as he slid a few inches further down the bed. He couldn’t quite make out what Jaehwan was saying, or rather what Jaehwan had begun  mumbling incoherently against his lips.

“What’s that, doll?” the acrobat asked, tilting his head back so his own mouth wouldn’t impede the ringmaster's speech. 

Jaehwan took that as an opportunity, bending to kiss the side of Sanghyuk’s neck. “I want you,” he murmured, the sentence ghosting over the cusp of Sanghyuk's throat. Squirming now like he couldn’t stay still. 

Sanghyuk cupped Jaehwan’s cheek with one hand, fingers brushing his temple. Unable to deny how lovely that sounded in Jaehwan’s voice. That voice... As dark as syrup and as warm as whiskey. 

The ringmaster hummed with pleasure, melting into the younger’s touch like a kitten. Not mumbling anymore. The half-formed words tapered off into a string of little whimpering pleas.

Jaehwan shifted on top of him and rolled his hips down against Sanghyuk’s groin, forcing a choked moan from the acrobat. 

Sanghyuk cursed again, raking his fingers through Jaehwan’s hair, and Jaehwan just smiled against him, sucking a mark onto the column of Sanghyuk’s neck. 

“I want you so badly,” Jaehwan whispered, still grinding against his crotch. Sanghyuk could feel that he was hard too. “Don’t you want me?”

It felt wrong to want his doll now. When he knew he should have carried Jaehwan out of the room and tucked him into bed several minutes ago. But Sanghyuk did want him. And Sanghyuk was a very weak man. 

“Tell me,” the ringmaster said, in a steady tone, “Tell me you want me. You do want me, don't you?”

Against his better judgment, the acrobat nodded. “I want you.”

Jaehwan pushed Sanghyuk up against the headboard, snatching impatiently at his clothes. The buttons of the shirt he hadn’t bothered to change out of, the suspenders strapped across his shoulders, the buckle of his belt. And Sanghyuk found that he didn’t want to stop him. The acrobat almost felt drunk himself now. On the longing for Jaehwan that coursed through him with every beat of his weak, weak heart.

Rubbing against him, breath coming fast and shallow and hot against Sanghyuk’s ear, one of Jaehwan’s hands fumbled at the closure at the front of his trousers. Those long fingers wrapped around Sanghyuk’s cock, stroking him between their bodies, and Sanghyuk hadn’t realized how hard he’d gotten. How pent up he’d been all day, craving this release, craving to be embraced...

As fluid and graceful as he was during a show, Jaehwan slid down Sanghyuk’s body. Trailing kisses against the corner of his jaw. Across his chest. Down to the expanse of tender skin at the V of Sanghyuk’s hips. He paused there with his back in a sinful arch, sucking another bruise into Sanghyuk’s flesh, peering up at Sanghyuk with a devious flick of a glance. 

Sanghyuk groaned and forced his eyes up to the ceiling. Needing to focus so this didn’t end too soon. Anticipation making him begin to itch. He felt Jaehwan peel his trousers down just enough, the fabric dragging roughly against his skin in his haste. 

“Look at me, please, Sanghyuk,” Jaehwan said- or, more accurately, demanded, nuzzling against the crease of Sanghyuk's thigh and nipping at his hip bone. 

He touched Sanghyuk’s length again, licking at a bead of precum. 

“You’re so hard for me already, hmm? How could that be?” Jaehwan asked, feigning innocence. He closed his eyes and kissed the tip of Sanghyuk’s cock, flicking his tongue against the sensitive underside. Sanghyuk jerked, but Jaehwan pressed his hips back down easily. “We’ve only just started...”

“Don’t toy with me, doll,” the acrobat gasped, breath hitching everytime the ringmaster flicked his wrist. 

Still smiling even as he relented, Jaehwan took Sanghyuk into his mouth. Not all the way, but enough to make the acrobat curl his fingers into the rumpled sheets, knuckles white. 

Sanghyuk let out a startled, shaky groan from between clenched teeth, fisting Jaehwan’s hair and tugging sharp. Vision going fuzzy at the sudden onslaught of stimulation. 

Jaehwan purred at the rough touch. Teasing Sanghyuk. Throating him once and then pulling off to mouth at the side of his length. His kiss-swollen lips were slick, and he left smeared impressions of a smirk all along Sanghyuk’s cock. 

“Doll, please...”

“What is it, Sanghyuk?” Jaehwan spoke around him, lapping at the base. He looked up at Sanghyuk with those dark doll eyes, brow glistening with the faint sheen of sweat. 

“Fuck, just- come here,” Sanghyuk groaned, grabbing the elder and dragging him back up until they were face to face. Kissing Jaehwan hard. 

He could feel Jaehwan shifting, still unable to be still. The ringmaster twisted and squirmed, gasping when Sanghyuk used the hand still knotted in his hair to move him how he wanted. Surprised, perhaps, that the control of their position was slipping away. But he melted into it regardless. Letting Sanghyuk do as he pleased. Body gone pliant and slack. 

“Don’t you want to fuck me, sweetheart?” he asked, hands splayed flat across Sanghyuk’s lightly scored abdomen. Eyes closed as the younger kissed his collar bones, his neck. Drinking in the warmth of his skin. 

“Sweetheart? That's a new one.”

“I thought it would suit you. And I like the taste of the word. But you didn’t answer my question.”

Sanghyuk glanced up, admiring the ringmaster’s pleasure-soft features. “Of course I do, doll. Is that what you want?”

Jaehwan hummed, smiling, head lolling in Sanghyuk’s grip. “I want to ruin you, sweetheart.”

He was glad that the ringmaster’s eyes remained closed, because Sanghyuk was positive he’d blushed to the roots of his hair. 

“Close enough,” he panted, blindly digging a vile of oil from his nightstand drawer. Listening to the rhythm of Jaehwan’s unsteady breath as he slipped a hand down the back of Jaehwan’s breeches. Pressing a slicked up finger into his heat and starting to work him open.

He did his due diligence, stretching Jaehwan first with one finger and then with two. Even in this dazed state, Sanghyuk didn’t want to hurt his doll. Never wanted to hurt him in a way that would cause real pain. A bit of rough handling was one thing, but the acrobat wasn’t a sadist. 

Sanghyuk was overcome with a savage need to satisfy Jaehwan. To hear all of the lovely sounds he could pull from Jaehwan’s body. The longing to do so felt like a physical thing, almost a fever. 

‘I want him, god save me, I want him,’ Sanghyuk repeated inside his head, only half able to form the thought as Jaehwan sat up on his knees. He snaked his arms around Jaehwans middle, taking advantage of the change in position to push up Jaehwan’s untucked shirt and press his mouth to Jaehwans chest. 

“Sweetheart, please,” Jaehwan whined, shoulders hunched and face buried in Sanghyuks hair. 

That pendant around his neck -a gift from Hongbin, Sanghyuk knew- had come free, and it dangled in front of the acrobat’s eyes. Shining in the bedroom's low light, reflecting that light onto Jaehwan’s skin. 

“Sanghyuk, sweetheart-” he gasped, biting his lip and starting to buck his hips again.

Sanghyuk growled into Jaehwans sternum and moved, bodily shifting the ringmaster off his lap and pushing him down onto the end of the mattress. Pinning Jaehwan on his back. Hooking Jaehwan’s leg over his shoulder. Fucking into him, slow at first, swallowing the indecent noises that rose at the back of Jaehwan’s throat. 

He fucked the ringmaster rough like that. Holding him down by the hips. Pushing in and pulling out and pushing in and pulling out. 

Sanghyuk barely noticed when Jaehwan came the first time, hanging halfway off the bed with his hands pressed over his mouth to stifle his sobs. 

It registered somewhere in the back of his mind when Jaehwan finally went slack for him. Not trying to roll his hips to meet Sanghyuk’s thrusts any more. Allowing Sanghyuk to completely control the situation. Entirely pliant. Come spattered across his stomach, skin blotchy, eyes heavy lidded and dulled with bliss. 

Sanghyuk had stopped trying to quiet him at some point, he couldn't remember how long ago. Drowning in the short staccato yelps that came over and over and over. His mouth leaving a trail of wine colored welts all over Jaehwans chest. Fingers digging in so hard he was sure there would be bruises there tomorrow. 

His doll's mouth turning down at the corners, a furrow creasing between his brow, Jaehwan’s hands scrambled for purchase on Sanghyuks' back. Knotted in Sanghyuks hair. Crying out as Sanghyuk came hard inside him, breath tearing from the acrobat’s throat in a single harsh rasp. 

Heart pounding in his chest, warmth spread through Sanghyuk like a rising tide. 

“I know you said you wanted to ruin me, doll,” the acrobat whispered, pulling Jaehwan back up onto the mattress and covering him with kisses, raking easy fingers through Jaehwan's hair again and again, “But I think I ruined you instead.”

⤫-⤬-⤬-⤬

Chapter Text

⤫-⤬-⤬-⤬

“How are you liking it here, now that you’re a bit more settled?” Hongbin asked, cross legged on the floor of Sanghyuk’s bedroom, “Better than the dorms, no?”

“Far better,” Sanghyuk agreed, digging a long metal tube out from under the bed. 

To Hongbin's surprise, his partner had been moved into the apartments without any further prompting on his part. He’d thought that Jaehwan would have pushed back more. After all, Jaehwan had been against the idea when Hongbin had first brought it up. 

But then, Hongbin had come back from visiting Taekwoon to find the ringmaster bandaged and mildly frantic, and Sanghyuk in the spare apartment changing into Wonshik’s pajamas. Jaehwan had instructed Sanghyuk to pack up his dorm things the very next day. 

It was a pleasant surprise for Hongbin, certainly; a very pleasant surprise. Seeing his two favorite people getting along lightened the omnipresent weight of anxiety that pressed down against his chest. But he did wish that Sanghyuk wasn’t sharing a space with Hakyeon. 

“What’s that?” he asked, nodding at the tube. 

Popping the cap off one end, Sanghyuk flashed a grin. “It’s for keeping posters. You know, art.” 

Hongbin grinned back. “You like art?”

“Of course,” his partner began to pull out a rolled up sheet of paper longer than his arm, “Don’t you find me cultured?”

“I wouldn’t know,” Hongbin shrugged, “Culture isn't my area of expertise.” 

When the paper unfurled, Hongbin's mouth dropped open. 

The vaulter had been at Lumen ad Somnia long enough to recognize its posters. The advertisements that were plastered all over town. And he recognized the distinctive style of Wonshik’s art. Wonshik designed all the posters, and worked with the lithographer to have them printed en masse. But-

“Is that Jaehwan?” he asked, getting up and moving to stand beside his partner. 

Sanghyuk closed the bedroom door and tacked the poster to the back of it, probably so it wouldn’t be seen when the door was open, which was most of the time. “It certainly is. Don’t tell, but I adore Wonshik’s work. It’s not my fault that Jaehwan is his favorite subject.”

“Are you sure you don’t want me to tell Jae? He’d be flattered.”

The teasing tone earned Hongbin a nudged to the ribs.

“I’m absolutely sure. If the ringmaster's head gets any bigger, it’ll topple right off his shoulders. He doesn’t need more compliments from me.”

Sanghyuk stepped back and returned to unpacking his boxes, and Hongbin stepped forward. Looking the poster over with appraising eyes. 

It wasn’t a scene Hongbin recognized, and the date in the corner placed it back at least five years ago. Long before either he or Sanghyuk had arrived. And he recognized the figure as Jaehwan, but it didn’t look like the Jaehwan that Hongbin knew. Back when Jaehwan was simply an acrobat. An aerialist, not a ringmaster. 

Jaehwan was depicted on his cherished lyra; on his back, draped across the bottom of it like he was reclining on a crescent moon. All covered in white satin, dripping in strings of pearls. His legs were crossed so that one foot bounced in the air, his heeled slipper falling halfway off. And his hair, to Hongbin's shock, was long. Ebony waves sweeping away from his youthful face and hanging down toward the invisible floor.

“Where did you get this?”

“Well-” a noticeably long pause, “I stole it from my parents house. They collect all sorts of art -hoard it, really- and I wanted a few pieces for myself.”

The vaulter's ears pricked up at that and he turned away from the poster. “You don’t talk about your family much…”

“No,” Sanghyuk replied, tone sharper than Hongbin expected, “And, if it’s alright, I’d prefer it if that fact didn’t change.”

“It’s perfectly alright. I didn’t mean to pry.”

“Thank you.”

⤫-⤬-⤬-⤬

“Good lord, Taek!” Wonshik put a hand to his chest, calming down his start at the unexpected appearance of the guard at his dinner table. “You scared me.”

“I didn't want to wake you.” Taekwoon slipped a strip of paper into his book, a makeshift bookmark. Two places at the table were already set. 

“What are you doing here?” Taekwoon left the table as Wonshik approached it. The artist awkwardly rubbed the crook of his shoulder and neck. He wore his robe, but it was left open. Taekwoon focused on serving from the warm pot on the stove top. 

“I made too much.” 

“Oh. Thank you.” He awkwardly stood at the table, watching Taekwoon. There was a tension there that they clearly could both feel like it was a crushing weight on their shoulders. What do you know and what are you willing to say? Who would breach the rift first? Taekwoon came over with the bowl and teapot. He filled Wonshik's cup. 

“You can sit down, Wonshik,” he muttered, glancing at the artist. He jumped, as if Taekwoon had startled him again somehow. 

“Right. I just- haven't fully woken up yet.” He took his seat. Delicately, Taekwoon noticed as he watched him. Like any more might worsen an injury. The way you would sit after a beating. Taekwoon’s tongue felt thick in his own mouth. Trainees gathered for the first meal after a rough day of training previous, or an extraneous punishment the night before. They had that caution. “Thank you, again.” 

“You don't have to thank me.” He was only doing what he should, what should be expected of him. There's an old piece of himself that stretches out for his old charge’s responses, for his set of expectations. Taekwoon knew how to fulfill them. He was less certain of Wonshik's. 

“Its the polite thing to do. You went,” his words begin to slow as he stirs the porridge, like he's coming to a realization, “to all the trouble…” Taekwoon set the teapot on the potholder on the table as he sat back in his chair. Just across from Wonshik. Lunch in the past between the two of them, the first dinner amongst the six of them. Where would this fall between those? He watched Wonshik eat, hum in approval at the taste. 

“I would have thought Hakyeon would still be here.” Given everything he had overheard, and how nights he actually slept in the apartment they loaned him were a minority. Wonshik cleared his throat, eyes pointedly aimed at the glass bowl. 

“No, he doesn't tend to stick around in the morning,” he mumbles. If he's trying to sound casual, he's failing miserably in Taekwoon’s opinion. 

“That doesn't bother you?” Wonshik levels Taekwoon with an exhausted expression. It is too early for this, it said. Taekwoon felt that rose of superiority bloom a little more in his chest. 

“It's what he prefers. That's all.”

“That wasn't my question.”

“Taekwoon, please.” Wonshik sighed as he stirred his breakfast idly. To his credit, he did genuinely seem exhausted. None of his usual color. He had reason to not sleep well. Taekwoon hadn't until he came to Lumen Ad Somnia. 

“You seem much more traditional than he is.” Taekwoon rubbed his thumb against the hard edge of his book cover. 

“Well, I probably am. But it's not…” Wonshik frowned at himself, trying to correct his course. Taekwoon would think he was agreeing otherwise. “There's nothing wrong with that. We're just different that way.”

“There's something wrong if that's not what you want.” 

“I can temper my own expectations, Taekwoon.” His tone was dry. He was tired of it always being the same conversation. How could Taekwoon think of anything else, however? How could he ignore what was right in front of his face every day? 

“I don't think it's something you should encourage.” The spirit of his old master had a tight grip on his throat, but he still managed his words. He had to speak. He forced himself to finish. “The way he treats you is… perverse.”

Hakyeon acted where anyone could see him, making assumptions for entire rooms of people. Hakyeon was not a considerate man. He was not a good man. Wonshik was only one of many examples. Hakyeon spoke over, he interrupted, he assumed, he charmed. He treated people as he saw fit, regardless of what was good or right. He had no claim to that kind of power. In the grand hierarchy of things, he was at the bottom rung among the tight knit group. Wonshik and Jaehwan sat snuggly at the top, the focus of not only their group but the circus as a whole. Hakyeon could not usurp that hierarchy of power. It should be the opposite, if anything. Wonshik should have been the one to treat him as he saw fit. He did . His soul, light and forgiving as it was, saw it right to treat him with kindness. He saw that as fitting; so Hakyeon should have accepted that as his place. He was not the one meant to make any decision for or against that. He should be grateful Wonshik gave him the time of day. He should eat from his palm like a good stray. 

Wonshik stared at Taekwoon, making sure he understood what he had said. Had meant. His face was ever so subtly leaning into a scowl, eyes turned away, like he couldn't meet Wonshik's eye. His own form of turning his nose up. This was more than simply a distaste based on Hakyeon’s character. Much simpler than that. Wonshik grimly realized what upset Taekwoon so much about him, and it was something that should have been none of his concern. For the second time in less than twelve hours, Wonshik felt a disgusting shame curl up in his gut for what he couldn't help. 

“Go.” The soft order seemed to hit Taekwoon with all the force of a gunshot. He looked at Wonshik, his flat expression, with surprise. His thumb froze on the cover’s edge. He opened his mouth to speak, but Wonshik stopped him before he could. “I'm not having this conversation. Go.” Wonshik stood, taking the half finished meal and chilled tea to the kitchen. He had known the men and women that worked the docks, in the metaphorical sense. He knew the different kind of sneers they got. He knew what one's “first mate” truly was for many. He didn't tiptoe around any part of himself at the circus because he never needed to. Everyone had always been safe and welcome. Hakyeon was not perverse. Not for what the two shared in common. Did he feel the same way about Jaehwan and Hongbin? Sanghyuk? Did they not all deserve Taekwoon’s distaste? Or was Hakyeon simply the shining example, too extreme to ignore? 

The hold Taekwoon felt by his charge’s spirit turned strangling. It choked him. The iciness of the order pierced him as quickly as Wonshik had muttered the command. Wonshik didn't even allow him to speak, to explain. It was perverse. Hakyeon shouldn't treat him the way he did. It went against everything Taekwoon understood. If there was to be a sharp hand, it should be Wonshik's. If a punishment was deserved, that should be Wonshik's choice. Taekwoon was lower than Wonshik, and Hakyeon was even lower than that. He was in no place to treat Wonshik as anything. He didn't even deserve Wonshik's cruelty, which he conspicuously lacked. The trainees were not punished by the Duke or the King. They were punished by their lieutenant. Wonshik should be responsible for Taekwoon as Taekwoon should be responsible for Hakyeon, as a mere stranger. The artist's attention shouldn't be wasted on him.

Taekwoon forced himself into standing, almost rocking on his feet when he did. Wonshik was still behind him in the kitchen. Did I stutter, or are you simply daft, boy? His old master's voice asked him in his mind. I was simply being foolish. Taekwoon would bow deeply, hoping it would be enough to appease. Then he would obediently do as he was told. Regardless of if it hurt him. If he was told to duel, he loaded the pistol. If he was told to follow, he allowed the hand at his nape or small of his back pushing him along. If he must yield, he would bow his head and wait for the heavy guillotine blade. Wonshik had told him to go. He did not ask him to explain himself. 

Taekwoon listened, at least knowing how to fill this expectation. The satisfaction wasn't there. Only the weight of disappointment. 

⤫-⤬-⤬-⤬

“Just have a seat and get comfortable. Simple as that.” Wonshik gestured to the chair sat before the easel, freshly opened wine bottle still in his grip. Hongbin frowned and glanced at him sidelong. 

“Isn't this rather… unprofessional?” Wonshik waved away the thought before pouring two short glasses. He came to the living room with the friendliest of smiles, offering the glass forward. 

“Well, I suppose so, but this isn't a professional piece. This is for Jae, and I know Jae would like it best if its just you as you are. So,” he gestured with the glass Hongbin still hadn't taken, " I want you to be comfortable. This is just you and I spending an afternoon together.” Hongbin silently took the glass, resigned to taking the seat he was instructed to. He took a drink in an attempt to ease his nerves. He sat as stiff as a statue. 

“Find something you can be comfortable in for a long time. I can work with small movements, but the overall composition needs to be consistent,” Wonshik tried to advise him as he sat on the stool behind his easel. The apologetic hint to his smile told Hongbin how awkward he truly looked. 

“Right.” Hongbin shifted in his seat, trying to figure out how to look like he didn't have a stick up his ass posing for the artist. 

“Are you enjoying having Sanghyuk so close now?” Wonshik spoke after a drink from his own glass. Hongbin frowned. 

“Sorry?” 

“Is it nice having him close by? Sometimes making conversation helps.” Wonshik took graphite to the canvas. Barely audible scratches on the fabric that spoke of a very light hand. “This is just the background,” Wonshik stated like he could sense Hongbin’s returning unease. “Take as much time as you need.” Hongbin drank again. 

“It is nice, having everyone in arms reach. It feels… safe.”

“I'm glad you both seem happy. I'm certain he's thrilled to be out of the dorms.” Hongbin chuckled, nodding. 

“Yes, he's made that abundantly clear. He settled in quickly.”

Jaehwan had asked Wonshik to do Hongbin's portrait. At first, he thought Jaehwan might have been rushing him into the performance roster. He clarified that it was a self indulgent thing. That he simply wanted a version of Hongbin he could cherish and lay his eyes upon when the vaulter wasn't there. Very few instances where the two weren't together, but Wonshik understood. He never wanted to be away from the vaulters side, and this would be a good way to ease the heartache of separation. Plus, Jaehwan asked so sweetly; and Wonshik would always do what he asked. If it put a smile on his face, Wonshik would walk backwards into fire. He practically bolted from Wonshik's office once he said that he would. So long as Hongbin also agreed. He wasn't sure if Jaehwan had heard that part, but either way, Hongbin was now modeling for him. His apprehension was beginning to fade. 

“I take it Jaehwan tutoring him helped them get closer?”

“I think that's the only reason they got closer.” Wonshik snorted. He began to sketch in Hongbin's torso, starting there so he could keep everything proportional. 

“Sometimes you have to simply put them in a room together and let them work it out.” 

“Is that what you've done with Taekwoon and Hakyeon?” Wonshik's grimace must have been noticeable, given Hongbin's apology. “Sorry.”

“No, no. You're alright. It's simply- were I to put them in a room together and lock the door, I'm sure they would kill one another.”

“It wouldn't surprise me.” 

“I'm not as fortunate as you. They seem to be an unstoppable force and an immovable object.” Hongbin crossed his legs. 

“You've done miraculous work keeping the peace so far.” Wonshik laughed, half exhausted. The subject alone drained him now. 

“It hasn't been easy. They're like animals.” 

“Animals would be easier,” Hongbin argues. He takes another drink. Sat like this, he looks a bit like a dignified ancient lord you would see in the classic paintings. He had such a pretty face that Jaehwan was right to want to capture. “Animals are predictable. You never know what people will do.” Wonshik smiled, keeping the comparison to Hakyeon to himself. 

“Horses are very forthcoming, hm?” 

“They have no reason not to be.”

“You can trust a partner that tells you everything.”

“That's why I like vaulting. Well, partly.”

“Is it harder to work with Sanghyuk then? Since you're so used to working alone?” Wonshik erased the face, trying to capture that glow he saw before. That charming expression. 

“With Sanghyuk, no. I trust him more than any of the others.” Wonshik could see how true it was in just his face, hear it in his voice. He really cared about the acrobat. He seemed the happiest he had been at Lumen ad Somnia so far.

“I'm happy to hear that.” 

As he sat, allowing his likeness to be captured on canvas, the longing to flee that usually sang in the thrumming of Hongbin’s pulse when someone’s attention was on him began to ebb away. Perhaps an effect of the wine. Almost certainly an effect of the wine. And Wonshik’s voice, too; the gentle baritone rumble of his words helped to soothe Hongbin’s nerves. 

“Do you often paint portraits on request, or is this a special favor for Jaehwan?” he asked, trying to take a sip from his glass without altering the tilt of his chin too much. Not wanting to ruin the pose now that he’d settled into it. 

“Not too often, no,” replied Wonshik, his gaze flicking from Hongbin to the canvas and back again, “But Hwannie asked and I couldn’t refuse. He is absolutely smitten with you.”

“I know,” the vaulter smiled a small, secretive smile, “It's still strange sometimes.”

“What is strange?”

“Being cared about so intensely. It's not a sensation that I’m accustomed to.”

“Jaehwan’s attention can feel intoxicating in the beginning, I understand what you mean.”

Hongbin very much agreed with that description but he decided to change the subject. Jaehwan was his partner’s favorite topic of conversation, so it would be nice to talk to the artist about literally anything else. A change of pace. 

“Tell me,” he hummed, taking another small sip, “If you don’t mind my asking, but I don’t know as much about you as I’d like to. How did you come to be here? At the circus, I mean?”

“I can't say that it's all that interesting of a story.” Hongbin's hair fell just a certain way on his forehead, on his shoulders. “I used to be an errand boy, but then I lost the job. The posters the circus put up are all over town, so I thought it was at least worth a try.” Hongbin hummed. Wonshik kept from chuckling as he went to tilt his head before realizing his mistake and straightening it. 

“How did you lose your previous job?”

“It was no fault of my own.” He remembered the crushing weight in his chest when it had happened, distant a memory as it was. “Too many cooks in the kitchen, I was told.” He still remembered the exact advice he was given as he suddenly started scrambling in his mind to find a way to make sure he and Jiwon could still eat. “You're a good young man. Should be easy to find a better place than this.” Hongbin frowned. 

“That was it?” 

“That was it. I had to find a new source of income before I ran out of money for boarding.” Wonshik set the graphite down. The true detail work would come when he had the base paints down. He took his pallet and wet his brush, preparing his pinks and reds and yellows. Hongbin was quite warm, it turned out. “I was actually a stable hand at first, since I didn't have any other skills.” 

“You didn't paint then?”

“Very poorly,” Wonshik laughed. Hongbin smiled along with him. “It was something I studied once I became comfortable here.” He glanced at Hongbin, both to reference him and conversationally. “Have you always been interested in vaulting? If you don't mind the question.” 

“No,” Hongbin replied, “But I’ve always liked horses. I spent most of my time in the stables so when I was old enough to work, one of Requiem’s vaulters decided to teach me. Get me out from underfoot, you know. They wouldn’t have been able to keep me away if they tried to give me another job anyway, so it worked out for the best.”

“Ah, I see.”

Wonshik returned his attention to the canvas with renewed vigor and it raised another question in Hongbin’s mind. “All of you get very quiet whenever I mention Requiem by name. Why is that?”

The artist nibbled the end of his brush, pointedly avoiding Hongbin’s eye. “Well, it's not a very nice place, is it?”

“Not particularly, no.”

“Nobody wants to bring up bad memories. Nothing malicious behind the quiet, I assure you. But we’re all willing to listen if you want to discuss what happened there. Jaehwan or I. Or Sanghyuk, I suppose.”

“Sanghyuk is the only one who doesn’t flinch before I’m done saying the first syllable.”

Wonshik exhaled a breath of laughter. “Then I’m sure he’s never paid the place a visit.”

As if speaking his name aloud had summoned him there like a demon, a faint knock came from the front door and Sanghyuk poked his head in. “I hope I’m not interrupting...” he said, with that uncanny self-assurance he’d acquired god only knew where. 

“Not at all, if Hongbin is comfortable with a guest?”

Hongbin nodded his ascent, watching through narrowed eyes and trying his hardest not to smile as Sanghyuk sauntered into the room. Hands in pockets. Making a valiant attempt to come off as only casually interested in Wonshik’s canvas and failing spectacularly. “I thought you were going to haunt my apartment and beg Jae for food, Hyukkie. Change of plans?”

“Unfortunately, the ringmaster decided he needed to take a bath, and then he left for archery practice and kicked me out.”

“Really?” Hongbin asked, unable to keep the sarcasm from his voice, “He suddenly was in need of a bath out of the blue? For what reason, I wonder...”

His partner shot him a sidelong look but didn’t deign to respond. Instead, he asked Wonshik, “Why are you painting Hongbin? You must have so many more interesting subjects to choose from.”

Mixing the right kind of pink shade, Wonshik carefully followed his line work. 

“Jaehwan asked me to do his portrait. And I think I'm enjoying capturing him.” He graced Hongbin with a brief smile before returning to the canvas. “He has a good face. It's very unique.”

“Do you not get much variety with the posters?” Wonshik shrugged. Sanghyuk was entirely still at his shoulders now, watching the process. Wonshik wasn't used to having an audience, but it didn't necessarily discomfort him. There was a reassurance that he wasn't judging Wonshik's skill so much as noting the process. 

“Yes and no. Many of the acrobats have a similar build, and we've had the same animals for years. I've done several posters of each of the title performers; so it's just refreshing to paint someone new.” Even more so, this was a portrait and not a circus advertisement. The intentions here were different. Wonshik was trying to capture a likeness, and not capture the eyes of the audience. 

“How many have you done of Jaehwan?” The question seemed to fall out of Sanghyuk's mouth. Just beyond the canvas, Wonshik could see Hongbin’s face twisting in the suppression of a smile. Wonshik glanced up at Sanghyuk, but his eyes were still aimed at the canvas. More like he was avoiding eye contact than actually looking. Wonshik returned to painting. 

“Oh, probably a hundred. I was painting Jaehwan before he even started performing.” Wonshik grimaced at the pages of poorly done practice pieces from his adolescence. “Granted, those weren't nearly as good.”

“You could say he was your muse,” Hongbin offers. Wonshik can see him make eye contact with Sanghyuk. There's something in his face now Wonshik likes. That glint of mischief adds an undefinable appeal to him. Wonshik stays on the face so he can keep that reference  there in front of him. 

“He was. I've never seen anyone quite like him. I used to draw him for hours because I never felt like I got it just right.”

“I think you've captured him wonderfully.” Wonshik paused at the praise. He hadn't expected it from Sanghyuk. He looked back at the acrobat. 

“You do?” Sanghyuk cleared his throat, adjusting his stance. 

“I've seen plenty of your posters, the ones of Jaehwan included. I always thought it was a rather accurate portrayal.” A smile spread on Wonshik's face, warm with pride. 

“Thank you. I had no idea you paid them that close attention.” 

“They’re hard to miss, really. Even before I came here I would see them every time I walked down the street. I couldn’t help but pause to admire your work.”

Sanghyuk went quiet and Hongbin stared at him. Counting down from ten. Watching the pressure inside his partner build as Sanghyuk fought a battle to subdue his enthusiasm and lost. 

“I have some of your posters in my collection, you know. I picked one up each time I saw the show. Some of them are rather old now, but I keep them in tubes so they don’t wrinkle or fade. They’re all just so beautiful- the colors are so eye catching and the line work-”

“Oh,” Hongbin interrupted, accidentally shifting where he sat, “The line work is why you like them so much, hm?”

His partner shot him another look but now it was closer to a glare. “I’m making a serious point.”

The vaulter nodded. “Yes, and I’m mocking your serious point.”

“You shouldn’t smirk like that, Bin, it gives you wrinkles,” Sanghyuk snapped, already rambling again before Hongbin had a chance to laugh. Wonshik himself couldn’t even get a word in for nearly five minutes. The artist seemed to have an inexhaustible well of patience. 

“I would have brought it up sooner, if I knew you had such an eye for my work.” Wonshik was aware that his work was good, that it wouldn't be his responsibility if it wasn't. The praise was still overwhelming, however. To listen to Sanghyuk go on about his use of color and movement and expression, it nearly brought pink to his cheeks. He felt a little giddy now at the prospect of someone sharing his enthusiasm for his own work. Someone who clearly also had an understanding of traditional art, even if more from an audience's point of view than another artist's. “I have all of my first copies in my office, if you'd ever like to see them. I keep them for reference, and for if I should ever need them again.”

In the time Sanghyuk had been rambling, Hognbins whole body took on that mischievous kind of posture and look. He had shifted from the original position he was in,  but Wonshik much preferred the image he saw now. Were it a still picture, it would feel like Hongbin was in the room with you, even if he were merely a painting. That candid joy and ease that was also so hard to capture in a medium that took so long to create. 

“You do?” Sanghyuk was practically giddy. 

“Of course. I keep all of the professional pieces when I can. I try my best to not hoard the practice and personal work, but sometimes it is difficult not to.” He tried not to consider the closet full of blank canvas, half finished paintings, and mounds of filled sketchbooks and pads in the back of the apartment. “You two are probably the only ones here I haven't tried to paint yet.” He glanced to Sanghyuk, “Well, just you now.”

“I'd love to see them.” Sanghyuk must have heard how overeager he sounded, clearing his throat. “Whenever you're available.”

“I could show you after Hongbin calls it a night?” Wonshik posed it as a question to Hongbin, raising a brow as he peeped past the canvas. 

“I’m at your disposal until this is finished,” Hongbin replied, cracking his neck. It had gone a bit stiff. “If you got enough from me to work off of for now, we can always resume tomorrow. I’m afraid if we make Hyukkie wait too long he’ll combust.”

A smile of pure delight bloomed on Sanghyuk’s face, and he didn’t hide it quickly enough for Hongbin to miss it. Such an utterly precious man...

The artist gave his canvas a thorough once-over. “This should be fine for today. I can work up the background tonight and you and I can have a longer session in the morning.”

First stretching, and then leaving the artist to wash away a few stray strokes of paint, Sanghyuk trailed Hongbin out into the hallway. 

“I forgot my jacket in your apartment,” his partner said, standing at the vaulter's shoulder as Hongbin opened the door, “Just let me grab it before we leave.”

“You really are quite the dedicated fan,” Hongbin remarked, casual, watching Sanghyuk cross the living room and swipe a navy jacket off the arm of the sofa, “I thought you were at least partially joking when you said you enjoy his work.”

“I never joke about art,” was the curt reply. 

Hongbin frowned at his partner’s back. “Did I offend you, Hyukkie? You know I was just playing, don’t you?”

Sanghyuk shrugged the jacket on over his button-up and began to fiddle with his collar. “It’s hard to tell with you sometimes.”

As the acrobat made to walk past him, steps aimed toward the hallway once again, Hongbin snagged his wrist and pulled him to a stop. “Will my portrait make you salivate, do you think?” he asked, peering up at Sanghyuk, struck to the core by those dark eyes, that wicked smile curving up plush lips, “Or is that sort of reaction reserved for Jaehwan?”

The acrobat bent to kiss him. First his lips and then the curve of his throat. Their short embrace came to an end far too quickly for Hongbin’s liking. 

“Did you not hear me carrying on about your portrait in there? What do you think?”

Wonshik calling Sanghyuk’s name drew them apart and the younger took his leave, but the heat of Sanghyuk's palm remained. Burned through the fabric of Hongbin’s shirt like an invisible brand.

⤫-⤬-⤬-⤬

“There you are, dear. I was hoping I could catch you while the boys were occupied.” Hakyeon took the few steps from the backdoor to the yard, easy and light. His smile was sweet, but that didn't make Jaehwan relax the tension on his bow string. 

“Whatever could you need, Yeonnie?” voice taut as the string. He didn't care for the interruption, but he could at least aim straight for him should he be too much of an annoyance. No witnesses or friends around this time. 

“I wanted to make you a proposal.” He came close enough that a shot wouldn't catch enough air, hands prim behind his back. He didn't seem to have completely ignored all his fathers training. “I realized I could simply ask you myself, rather than going through your dear right hand.” That's why he was waiting for the others to be occupied. He wanted a moment alone with the ringleader. 

“And what would that be?” Jaehwan turned his head back to his target, releasing his hold and striking a bullseye. He notched another arrow conversationally. 

“I can see why Hongbin’s warmed up to this place so much. I'd rather stay here as well.” He looked about the yard, as if he was seeing the grounds of Lumen Ad Somnia for the first time and not the hundredth. “I understand why he was so reluctant to leave now.” With all his charm, “Aside from you being so sweet on him, of course. Your attention would be reason enough for anyone.”

“Please,” Jaehwan squared his shoulders, arrow knocked, the fletching brushing the inside of his wrist as he raised his hand to his cheek and aimed, “Spare me the foreplay and get to the point. If you want to make a proposal then make it. I’m in no mood for verbal jousting today.”

His arrow flew true. It hit the bullseye, buried in the target so close to his previous shot that, had he aimed a millimeter to the left, the wood of the previous arrow would have split. 

“Well-”

Jaehwan could hear Hakyeon behind him, could practically feel him standing there. Could see his condescending little smirk without having to look. The mental picture alone made the ringmaster’s skin begin to itch.

“-Seeing as you’ve gone so far as to move your highborn plaything out of the circus’s proverbial stables and into my apartment, I thought you wouldn't object if I stayed there for a while longer as well.”

The ringmaster froze for an instant, barely a breath, his third arrow already knocked and pointed at the target. He froze because it turned out that he wasn’t the only person to recognize Sanghyuk’s breeding for what it was. The worst person possible had recognized it as well. And Hakyeon had remarked upon it so cavalierly. In such an uncaring way. Making no effort to modulate his voice. 

If the training yard hadn’t been empty, he’d have doubtless been overheard. That was how rumors began to spread.

Fear making him impulsive, as it so often did, Jaehwan turned on the spot and closed the short distance between them. Getting in the trainer's personal space. Standing face to face. Holding the grip of his bow with one hand in the way a musician might hold the neck of a violin and pulling the string taut. Drawing it straight down so the tip of his arrow brushed the soft underside of Hakyeon’s chin. 

“Call him highborn again,” he whispered, gaze flicking between Hakyeon’s eyes, so close that their lips nearly brushed as he spoke, “And I will lodge this so deep in your brain that you won’t even live long enough to realize that you’re dying.”

“Was that not a matter of public knowledge?” Hakyeon tipped his head, half mockingly curious and half to pull from the arrow's point. Not pressed hard enough to pierce and bleed, but still leave a clear mark where it had been pressed. “Forgive me for offending. I simply thought it was as plain to everyone as it was to me.” His head tips further at Jaehwan's arrow itching closer. This felt familiar to them both. Something like this first conversation. “What with the way he parades himself.” He gives half of a shrug. 

He could smell the class in him like a bloodhound from the moment they met. He didn't think it would truly be subtle to anyone that had spent time around the upper class, let alone as much time as Jaehwan and Hakyeon. It was all there, the way he spoke, the way he acted, even the way he walked. As subtle as the arrowhead up against Hakyeon's softest point. He knew Jaehwan had to recognize it too, and his jump to secrecy about it made negotiations so much simpler. 

“I could be persuaded to keep it between the two of you, seeing as it seems to be quite the sore subject.” 

“You either keep your mouth shut, or your brains spill out on my lawn.” 

“Forgive me if I'm not shaking in my boots, love.” He watched Jaehwan's jaw tighten hard enough to crack one of those pretty teeth. “I see my price as much cheaper than the one you'd have to pay when your sweet little flock here finds out what you did with me. But,” he gestured to the ringleader, “It's your choice, of course. Be it what you will.” 

The air was silent and tense. The pieces had been laid, it was Jaehwan's turn. He could check the king, so to speak, in that moment. Simply as a release of the fingers. There could even be some satisfaction in watching him snuff out like a pinched wick. Hakyeon knew he would savor such. Yet he also knew that Jaehwan so cherished his friends, his lovers, opinions. He might be able to lose Wonshik, who would undeniably be upset. But what of the upset to Hongbin, to his new little lap dog? And what of repercussions from the outside? It was an open secret where Hakyeon had been, and with Jaehwan being the only one to not hold an alibi for the day… Surely, he could find a way to weasel out, but would he really want to put forth such an effort? Hakyeon thought not. Not when silence came at a much more affordable price. 

Jaehwan was so frantic that he was practically vibrating where he stood. Trying and failing to be still. Trying and failing to think through the haze. Critical thinking had never been Jaehwan’s strong suit. 

“Why?” he asked, shifting even closer, meeting Hakyeon’s placid smile with as frigid a glare as he could manage, “Why go to the trouble of trying to blackmail me? You have more than enough money to rent yourself an apartment of your own.”

“Because I like it here,” Hakyeon replied, “And this way, I can experience the joy of looking at your pretty face on a daily basis, love. It’s better if I stay here.”

Without a whisper of warning, one of Hakyeon’s hands shot out and grabbed the arrow shaft. Far too fast for Jaehwan to anticipate at this range. The trainer’s hands weren’t even in his line of sight. and so, rendering his effort utterly ineffectual, the wood cracked between Hakyeon’s fingers and he dragged the arrow sideways a split second before the ringmaster released the string. 

There was no satisfying swoosh of momentum and air. No delicious slick sound of a razor's edge slicing through flesh. A look of mild surprise on Hakyeon’s face was the only reward Jaehwan got. 

“You really would have shot me?” Hakyeon asked, a drop of wonder in his voice, “I didn’t think you had it in you. A pretty thing like you shouldn’t gift violence so freely,” the fractured shards of wood fell to the grass and the hand that broke them came up to grip Jaehwan’s wrist, “You’re far more suited to receiving it.”

The ringmaster flinched like he’d been slapped. 

“I’ve never met a snake so poisonous as you,” he hissed through bared teeth, “And I certainly will not allow you to remain under my roof.”

“Is that so?”

“It is, in fact, so. Pack your things and get out of my circus.”

“Don’t be hasty, love. Your temper drives all sense from your pretty head, I know, but don’t forget; just think of how many ears I could whisper to on my way out.”

Jaehwan bit back a curse.

“Think on it. Imagine Hongbin’s face when he finds out that his partner is a noble… That his partner comes from the kind of blood that could buy him if they liked. And Wonshik… How disappointed he would be with himself, not realizing that the lot of you were harboring a runaway lordling even though he was the one that hired Sanghyuk…”  

Hakyeon was the one pushing into the ringmaster’s personal space now, not the other way around. Holding his breath to stop himself from screaming, Jaehwan felt the bow slip from his hand. He hated Hakyeon so much in that moment that, if it wouldn’t land him in a world of trouble, he would have strangled the man and smiled while he did it. 

“And think of how many people outside of your delightful establishment would be interested to learn of Sanghyuk's whereabouts…”

“Why, with how he tries to hide it, I would think a great number of people would come here once they were pointed in the right direction.” Hakyeon's other hand settled on the ringmaster’s hip. Something of a dancer's form, they fell into now. “I would understand if he ran back off after that. He couldn't stay here and keep begging for scraps at your feet with his family breathing down his neck. I'd hate to have to see you two part so soon.” he turned Jaehwan's hand, laying a kiss on his knuckles delicately. There wasn't much resistance Jaehwan could put up when death threats didn't work. All bark, no bite. It was an easy thing to train out. “It would be a shame to see such a pretty thing lost to despair.” 

“Like you wouldn't revel in it.” Hakyeon couldn't help a snort at the venomous retort. Another kiss, this time to the soft inside of his palm. 

“Not the kind of misery I would prefer you in. Heartbreak is so terribly unattractive.” 

“Always so concerned with my beauty, aren't you?” 

“It is a thing to be cherished, after all.” Jaehwan took a step back, tried to tug his body away from Hakyeon. Then, his grip finally clamped down. The boa finally deciding to curl around that first exhale. He clicked his tongue. “Not so quick, dear.”

“Get. Out.” Both words were punched out. As much as they could be in the hushed tone Jaehwan had dropped his voice to, that is. 

“No,” Hakyeon replied simply. “No, I don't think I will. And truth be told, lovely, I don't think you want me to either.” He placed Jaehwan's hand on his chest, to his heart. It didn't race. He was as lax as a cat in the sun. He knew he had the ringmaster in his palm. “I don't think you want to see if I'm being honest. I think you know you'd be much happier with both Sanghyuk and I here than neither. I think you can see the benefits of keeping me here,” he tugged Jaehwan in even closer, breath for breath, “can't you?” 

“You are a blood sucking parasite.” Hakyeon hummed. 

“You flatter me.” 

“I hate you.” 

“And that's why you let me grab you like this? Why you haven't pulled that dagger I know you have tucked away and cut me? Sweetness, if you hate me,” Without taking his eyes off of Jaehwan, he eased down just enough to grab the knife, pull it from its sheath. He dropped it to the ground behind Jaehwan. Not even a clatter to accompany it. He was defenseless now. “You're doing a very poor job of showing it.”

“Get off me this instant,” the ringmaster whispered, making a valiant effort to sound commanding, but the carnivorous thing that lived inside him had already purred to life at Hakyeon’s touch. He loathed it and craved it in equal measure.

The trainer clicked his tongue. Head ducked to gently nuzzle at Jaehwan’s neck. The easy rhythm of his pulse fluttered against Jaehwan’s fingertips; a faint drumbeat beneath his skin. “If you say so again, I will,” he replied, smoothly winding an arm around the ringmaster’s back, “But I don’t think you mean it. I think you want me to stay right where I am.”

Damn him, but he was right. Such a bastard. Such an incredibly fuckable bastard…

“I saw you and your plaything the other evening, you know,” Hakyeon went on, urging Jaehwan closer, “Just for a few moments, but I saw.”

Hakyeon raised his head, that smile turning wicked. His languid gaze perused the length of Jaehwan’s body and the ringmaster shuddered. 

“Saw what, exactly?”

“I saw him disassemble you, sweet boy. I saw him break you down into your component parts. Something about you… For all your shouting and threats, something about you simply begs to be broken, doesn’t it?”

And then Hakyeon kissed him. Kissed him the way the sun kissed the horizon at day's end. 

Jaehwan registered the soft parting of his own lips in response to it, and he made an indistinct noise in the back of his throat. Remembering, all at once, that they were standing in the practice yard. Out in the open where anyone could walk by. 

“Not here,” he gasped, hating himself with every word he spoke but lacking the mental energy to care, “Across the street-”

“Are you ashamed, my sweet boy? Ashamed of what your devotees would think if they saw you bend for me?”

Swallowing around the sharp arousal that swelled in him at the insinuation, Jaehwan chose not to reply to that. Not wanting to supply the trainer with more ammunition that could be used against him later. 

“Across the street,” he repeated, grabbing Hakyeon’s arm. Swiping his knife from the grass before pulling Hakyeon toward the back door. 

They made it a few steps into the alley -this alley, that held so many of Jaehwan’s most cherished memories and darkest moments- before the trainer’s fingers snarled in his loose tunic and dragged him to a stop. 

Jaehwan felt hot. Far too hot. And he longed to shove Hakyeon backward. Longed to pin Hakyeon’s hands to the brick wall above his head. But, as he knew very well, that wasn’t how they danced. They’d danced often enough in the past, and that was never how their dance was done. And when he felt Hakyeon’s fingers curve around his throat like a too-tight collar, the ringmaster couldn’t stop himself from smiling.  

“Good enough here.” He trapped Jaehwan between him and the brick wall behind him. He pressed into the sides of his neck enough to make every single breath something precious, to pull out the faintest wheeze from Jaehwan. “Or is holding you like this not even enough to keep you quiet?” Jaehwan shook his head, as best he could, while Hakyeon slotted his leg between the ringmaster's own. His voice was low and the usual sweetness of it had fermented into something that made Jaehwan's head spin. Hakyeon pressed his thigh hard up against Jaehwan, testing how loud his wheeze of a groan would be. “Wouldn't want someone to come looking to see what's happening to you, would you? With the way you sound on my cock, I'm sure they'd be very concerned.” He ground his leg against Jaehwan mercilessly. Jaehwan, for all his faults, took to another man's cruelty like a bird to the sky. What a refreshing change. “They'd come this way only to see you crying for more. They'd start to wonder... Just where does their ringmaster come from?” 

“Please,” Jaehwan managed. His cheeks were pink and eyes glassy. Neither were because of the pressure on his throat, however. 

Hakyeon allowed him a full breath of air, releasing his grip, before trapping it off again with a kiss. Jaehwan's hands eagerly skittered to grab at his clothes and try to undress him then and there. He got halfway through the shirt buttons before he was pushed back again. Hakyeon did his own work undressing him, popping open his waistcoat with haste. Jaehwan braced himself on the wall, eyes shut as he rode up against Hakyeon's leg. He bit his lip to near bleeding to keep down any noise. Another secret for this alley to keep, it seemed. 

“So desperate, and I hardly had to do a thing.” He didn't even entertain the shirt, focusing on getting Jaehwan's pants open. “Are you not already satisfied being passed around between the two of them?” Jaehwan shuddered, cold at the exposure and at the rush at the insinuation. The idea that he was a toy Hongbin and Sanghyuk shared. 

“Fuck you,” he whined, releasing his abused lip. The words came out as a moan with Hakyeon's hand around his cock. The pace was merciless. Touching him like this was perfunctory. 

Hakyeon laughed at that. “Most would be satisfied with only one lover, sweet boy. And yet, here you are, running off with me because of- what? A simple kiss?” Jaehwan shook his head, but he couldn't explain himself. His mouth was covered by Hakyeon's warm palm. His fingertips would probably press bruises into the sides of his face if it remained. “What would your little darling’s think? Do they fuck you like this?” Jaehwan's legs shook, too overwhelmed to hold himself up properly. Hakyeon's pace was so fast, his tone so degrading, that Jaehwan's head spun violently. He did his best to shake his head, to meet Hakyeon's eyes through his lashes. “Or are they too soft? Is that what it is, sweet boy? They can't do this for you, so you roll over and display yourself so easily for me?”

Between his voice, the quick, tight grip of his hand, and the lack of air getting to Jaehwan's brain, the orgasm hit him with such a force he was sure his brain melted inside his skull. Hakyeon's touch eased up, the hand over Jaehwan's mouth leaving him. The ringmaster gulped down air like he had just emerged from the ocean. His legs would have given out were it not for Hakyeon's between them. Jaehwan didn’t soil his or Hakyeon's clothes, but rather the trainer's hands. He didn’t grasp why until he was told to turn around and brace the wall. The urgency all makes sense now. Jaehwan fights melting down onto the dirty ground below them as he does as he's told. 

“That's a good boy.” The press of fingers inside him was just as cruel as everything else. Their mild slickness the only mercy. Jaehwan, in his right mind, would marvel at the display of consideration. Because such a thing was considerate from Hakyeon when they were together. From anyone else, it would fall below the bare fucking minimum. “Do try and keep your voice down until I have a hand free.” His chuckle sent a chill down Jaehwan's spine. “Or don't. An audience never bothers me in the slightest.” Jaehwan covered his own mouth so he wouldn't start to sob. His body hadn't gotten a single moment of respite and it screamed at him as a result. Hakyeon might as well have been grabbing and pulling directly on his nerves. The makeshift lubricant had run thin by the third finger in. Jaehwan had started seeing stars.

⤫-⤬-⤬-⤬

“I'm fairly certain we still have a copy of the poster from his first show somewhere. I didn’t do that one, but we kept it for memories sake.” Wonshik led Sanghyuk down the steps of the apartment. Many of Wonshik's old pieces sat in his office, tucked into a portfolio that could actually safely keep them without bending or rolling. He was too sentimental about each of his works, holding onto them even when he had no need of them. 

“As in the first show he had ever done?” Sanghyuk's excitement was audible. Wonshik couldn't help smiling in return, nodding as he held the door for the acrobat. 

“Did you get to see that one? Since you've been a fan for so long?” 

“Unfortunately not, but I've never missed a single show since I came of age.” 

“I'm sure he's flattered,” Wonshik laughed. He knew Jaehwan loved the appreciation. Noticing all the effort he put into his work was a way to his heart. 

“He certainly wasn't insulted,” Sanghyuk replied with a sarcastic smile creeping onto his face. Wonshik chuckled. 

Wonshik stopped for a moment as he dug for the key to the main circus building. Taekwoon made sure the entire staff was more dutiful on locking doors once they made him the head of security. There was a noise from the alley just beside. 

“Did you hear something?” 

“Hm?” Sanghyuk followed his eyes to the dark slip between buildings. It came again, only loud enough to be heard and not made out. It sounded like a voice. They both jumped at a short lived, but definitely distinguishable Ha-! Sanghyuk crept towards the alley and Wonshik followed him. Possibly just the fragment of a conversation between two people passing through, or a stray animal, though it didn't sound like one. It wasn't likely to be trouble. But if it was, he probably shouldn't just let Sanghyuk wander straight into something alone. 

“Lord-” Sanghyuk's hand clapped over Wonshik's mouth when he came up beside the acrobat, cutting off what would have been a very audible exclamation. They both stared wide eyed at what they had caught. At what was very, very clearly Jaehwan and Hakyeon. What was Jaehwan pinned between Hakyeon and the wall with the trainer's cock buried in him and hand tight around his throat. Hakyeon's forehead was pressed against Jaehwan's nape. It left Jaehwan's profile open to the two on the sidewalk. Tear stained cheeks and flushed and mouth open. Dismantled to his base components. Sanghyuk and Wonshik were both frozen in their spot just a few feet away. 

“There we are, my sweet boy,” Hakyeon groaned, seemingly unaware that the man he originally used the name for was watching the both of them. “So easy. Your little darling’s keep you worked out, hm?” He laid a kiss on Jaehwan's clothed shoulder. There was the urge to bite down into it, but Jaehwan so rarely let him speak. He wouldn't waste his opportunity now. “Barely any work to get you like this.” His pace was sadistically languid. He savored the way Jaehwan's body jerked with his attempts to manage sobs. Not enough air to do more than pathetically whine. Jaehwan clawed at his sleeve, trying to pull his hand away. “Are you sure you want that, sweetness? You think you can be quiet now?” Muttered lowly against his ear, “Wouldn’t want someone to hear you cry like a bitch in heat.” But Jaehwan continued to pull, so Hakyeon released his grip. Their audience would have been able to hear his gasp from across the street. 

Sanghyuk stood there, struck utterly dumb by the unfiltered intimacy of the scene before them, holding onto Wonshik’s arm far harder than he meant to. 

He could feel the tension and held himself very still. Tried to hold the artist still. Not wanting to disturb the pair or make his presence known. The sudden juxtaposition was the cause of his internal imbalance. All afternoon, he’d been looking at pretty portraits of Jaehwan; carefully posed and immaculately styled. Pretty portraits but static, frigid ones. Looking at them was like looking at a butterfly preserved in amber. Those images, compared to this -this rough, unpolished and imperfect sight- felt like turning away from the amber to find a butterfly crushed beneath the sole of his shoe. 

A soft breeze rustled the ringmaster’s curls, chest heaving and breath shallow. As the acrobat watched, Jaehwan blindly pawed at the fingers Hakyeon had wrapped around his hip. 

“What is it, sweet boy?” Hakyeon crooned, voice a touch more gravelly than it usually was, not breaking his rhythm even for an instant, “Would you like to hold my hand? Need something to hang on to?”

Arrogance rose off the trainer like steam and, despite himself, Sanghyuk found the man's taunting tone rather attractive. Attractive in a way that made him wonder if he himself could pull off this kind of cruelty. He felt a moment of swift guilt at that wondering, but swallowed it down with practiced ease. 

Hakyeon laughed at Jaehwan’s frantic nod, high and bright and full of genuine amusement. “No, sweet boy, no hand holding for you,” he replied, catching Jaehwan’s wrist and pinning his arm behind his back at what looked like an unnatural angle, “If it’s comfort you want, then you know I’m the wrong person to ask.”

To his horror, Sanghyuk realized he actually enjoyed the sight of Jaehwan's frustrated tears. That only served to make the guilt now pooling in his stomach grow hotter. 

Wonshik's stomach, along with his heart, sat somewhere on the pavement by his feet. The only reason he was able to stay upright and something approximating calm was because Sanghyuk was holding him. Sanghyuk was covering his mouth. 

Taekwoon’s words rang like church bells in the dead city of Wonshik's mind. The way he treats you is perverse . Is cruel. Is disgusting. How right Taekwoon was now, with Hakyeon's obvious disregard of the man. Childishly, Wonshik's mind stuck to that pet name. Sweet boy. Sweetness. Some infantile part of him started tearing up at the idea that Wonshik was not his sweet boy. Merely one of them to Hakyeon. He was a sweet thing, one of countless many. One of the few tender affections Hakyeon gave him was not even something special. His kindness was tailored to fit Wonshik, just like his harsh hand was tailored to Jaehwan now. He knew what the two liked. He knew what they responded to best. Wonshik liked the soft hand. Jaehwan liked the tight fist curled around his collar. Truly an animal tamer of all kinds. 

That infantile jealousy clung tightly to his lingering self hatred. Maybe he had caused this, inadvertently. His confession was the final straw that broke the camel's back. He had scared Hakyeon away by trying to hold on too tight. He forgot to temper his heart and the love in it, as he always did. Always too much. Always, always too much to be contained or accepted. He loved Jaehwan like that once, before he was schooled out of it. He had loved countless lovers the same way before they ran in the opposite direction. Overeager, foolish thing. Stupid boy, with all the warnings he received. Taekwoon tried to protect him, Jaehwan too, even Hongbin to a degree. He had never wanted the man to stay here. None of them had. Wonshik had deluded himself into seeing something that wasn't there. His heartbreak was all his own fault, which stung far worse than the surprise of finding them, far worse than Hakyeon's slap of Jaehwan's skin. 

To make Jaehwan an accessory to this was the cruelest part. He had never liked Hakyeon. He had to have been talked into this position. And Hakyeon was so very persuasive. Part of Wonshik wanted to pull Jaehwan free from this. He didn't deserve this. Wonshik had his own hero used as a pawn against him and lost. Jaehwan was not some piece in another man's game and Wonshik cursed Hakyeon for ever making it a possibility. Where he couldn't summon anger for his own mistreatment, he could very easily for Jaehwan. 

And yet here he was, simply standing there. If he was so good, he would have stepped in and put an end to this. He would have pushed Sanghyuk off. He wouldn't simply stand and take it in. Timid, foolish thing he was. 

He pushed Sanghyuk off of him and went straight for the apartments again. Straight across the street. Straight in the opposite direction of the two. He couldn't. He couldn't. He couldn't. He took himself right back up the stairs without a passing thought to the friend he had simply left standing there. He couldn't look at them for a second longer. 

⤫-⤬-⤬-⤬

“So,” Hakyeon hummed, “You’ll draw up the appropriate papers for my stay, sweet boy, won’t you?”

Jaehwan panted, trying to catch his breath, mind hazy from the lingering effects of harsh pleasure. “It means this much to you?”

The trainer’s fingers, still curled around Jaehwan’s throat like a rose-covered noose, tightened. “Will you draw the papers up or not?”

So exhausted was he that the ringmaster no longer possessed enough energy to argue. “Fine.”

Just like that, Hakyeon released him and stepped back. Straightening his clothes with a bland expression of detachment on his face. “Good. Clean yourself up. If you go home looking like that, Hongbin will think you’ve been mugged.”

And then Hakyeon turned and walked away. Vanishing around the mouth of the alley before Jaehwan had managed to re-button his shirt.

⤫-⤬-⤬-⤬

Chapter Text

⤫-⤬-⤬-⤬

Once the show ended the next evening, Sanghyuk risked a visit backstage.

He watched with the rest of the guests. Watched the acrobats and clowns and contortionists and strongmen. Clapping politely after every act.

It wasn’t the first time he’d watched a show at the circus, far from it, but it was the first time he watched Jaehwan perform as the ringmaster. He was so accustomed to seeing Jaehwan play the star aerialist that this role felt alien. Like taking a sip of water only to realize that the clear liquid in his glass was actually vodka.

Jaehwan’s skill as a performer, though, was as strong as ever. In Sanghyuks opinion, anyway. He played the part of the ringmaster cheeky and flirtatious. Adopting the previous ringmaster’s nickname, the simple title of Mistress, and appearing somewhere new between every act. Swinging upside down on a trapeze, then lounging sideways on the back of a frankly enormous tiger, then sitting on the shoulders of one of the strongmen. On and on like that, lit up by a single spotlight as the sets were rearranged, and then vanishing once the next act was announced.

He’d still opened the show on horseback, standing in Sugar’s stirrups and lighting a ring at the back of the amphitheater with a flaming arrow. The same routine as the old ringmaster. He still caught the flowers flung to him by the crowd and beamed at their raucous applause. And he still led the procession of bows after the final act.

He did all the same things that the old Mistress had done, but Sanghyuk had never been as enthralled by her as he was watching Jaehwan. He’d never before looked forward to the end of an act simply because it meant that Jaehwan would be back to introduce another.

“Sir?” Sanghyuk knocked on the door of Jaehwan’s dressing room, freeing the rose he’d hidden beneath his jacket when he passed Taekwoon. The head of security was standing at the backstage entrance as usual, and Sanghyuk hadn’t wanted him to see it.

The hinges squealed as the door swung inward, revealing Jaehwan still in his costume. The fastenings on his jacket were undone, and his top hat had been tossed on the vanity, but everything else was still where it should be. Boots on, breeches tight, corset laced.

“Hyukkie,” Jaehwan replied with a sigh, spinning on his heel and leaving the acrobat on the threshold, “What do you need?”

Sanghyuk followed after him, closing the door as he went. Watching Jaehwan return to what he must’ve been doing before the knock interrupted. Pouring a measure of what smelled like gin into a crystal tumbler and then swallowing it with a grimace.

“What I needed was to congratulate you,” Sanghyuk replied, hesitant, holding the rose up for Jaehwan to see, “But I’ll leave you be if now isn't a good time.”

“No, no, it’s all right.” Jaehwan refilled the glass and knocked back another shot, “Just trying to keep my headache at bay.”

“A better cure for that would probably be sleep...”

The ringmaster conceded that point with a nod and spun the bottle's lid on tight. Concealing it behind several cups of cosmetic brushes. “You’re right, but I can’t sleep yet. Still so much to do.”

He turned and plucked the rose from Sanghyuks hand. Delicately raising it to his nose and gifting Sanghyuk a smile that was nothing but coy. 

“Thank you for this,” he added, “You didn’t have to.”

“I certainly did, doll. You were sensational.”

Jaehwan laughed a wicked little laugh. “Flattery will get you everywhere in life.”

The sound of that laugh made Sanghyuk smile. “You’ve told me that before. I do listen when you speak, you know.”

After eyeing him for a moment, Jaehwan moved away. Tipping forward at the waist. Still holding the rose, bracing his other hand on the vanity. “Help me with this, will you? I can barely breathe.”

Sanghyuk was already reaching for the laces before Jaehwan finished voicing the request. Listening to Jaehwan’s shallow, panting breath as he undid the large bow and began to tug the corset’s lacing loose. Watching the muscles in Jaehwan’s back expand and contract. This wasn’t the first time Sanghyuk had helped someone with a corset, but it was certainly the time that inspired the most curiosity. 

A large part of him was hungry to see Jaehwan’s body without the costume, as lovely a costume as it was. But not for the reason he normally longed to see a beautiful person without their clothes on. 

He wanted to know if the rough handling he’d witnessed the previous day had left marks. If Hakyeon had left bruises in Jaehwan’s flesh or scars on Jaehwan’s skin. The memory of those few moments of voyeurism made Sanghyuk’s blood run both hot and cold at once. 

“Did you enjoy the show?” Jaehwan gasped, finally filling his lungs now that the corset was loose enough for him to step out of it. 

The acrobat picked the garment up off the floor and then turned Jaehwan around. Unfastening the remaining closures on his velvet jacket. “Very much. You’re even more engaging than your predecessor, if I’m honest. The crowd was wild for you.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really.” Sanghyuk pushed the jacket off Jaehwan’s shoulders, watching as Jaehwan let it slide to the floor as well. He went for the buttons on Jaehwan’s undershirt next. “I’ve seen the show several times, and I’ve never been so excited for the acts to be over.”

Jaehwan looked mildly affronted at that. 

“Not because they were bad, of course. But I couldn’t wait to see where you’d pop up next.”

He could smell a faint hint of gin on Jaehwan’s breath now, beneath the perfume. Almost hidden by the bergamot and lavender, the ylang-ylang and rose, the patchouli and musk. And he could see a faint pattern of dark fingerprints etched at the base of Jaehwan’s neck. Hakyeon's work, no doubt. 

“That’s sweet of you, Hyukkie,” Jaehwan’s hands circled the younger's wrists. Stopping him before the shirt was more than halfway undone. “Thank you. And I appreciate the help, but I have other responsibilities this evening. I’m afraid it would be rude to conduct them undressed.”

Sanghyuk frowned at that, but he dropped his hands to Jaehwan’s waist instead. Eyes skating over the swath of bare chest he'd managed to expose. Making note of a faint set of scratches on Jaehwans pectoral.

“What kind of responsibilities?” he asked, pushing his luck, “Are you going to speak to Hakyeon?”

“Hakyeon?” Jaehwan matched his frown, “No, why?”

The acrobat didn’t answer. 

“Has he-” the grip on Sanghyuks wrists tightened, “Has he done something that requires my attention?”

“No. I was just curious.”

One of Jaehwan’s hands rose to Sanghyuk's face. Cupping Sanghyuk’s jaw, stroking Sanghyuk’s cheekbone with his thumb. “If he ever does something that you don’t like- says something that makes you uncomfortable, I want you to come and tell me at once, Hyukkie, do you understand?”

The ringmaster's tone had dipped into something serious, so Sanghyuk smiled. Wanting to put Jaehwan at ease. He couldn’t spill about seeing them in the alley, afterall, and there was nothing else upon which he could blame his suspicion. All he said was, “I will.”

Another knock startled both of them, and Jaehwan pulled back. Shrugging a scarlet dressing gown over the remaining bits of his costume as he went to answer it.

When it opened, the owner of Lumen ad Somnia was waiting on the other side. So tall that the top of his head reached above the door itself. He blocked out almost all the light from the corridor beyond. 

“Uncle,” Jaehwan breathed, not sounding nearly as surprised as Sanghyuk felt, “This is Sanghyuk. One of our most promising and talented trainees.” 

Sanghyuk bowed. The man was his employer; it would be rude not to. 

“Of course, Sanghyuk,” he replied, ducking into the dressing room. Making the space feels suffocatingly small. “You brought him to the Metropolitan; I remember. And what are you training for, Sanghyuk?”

“Acrobatics, sir,” Sanghyuk said, folding his hands behind his back.

“Good, good. Under my darling nephews' care, I’m sure you’ll do wonderfully.”

Jaehwan beamed, even as he nudged Sanghyuk around his uncle and out into the hallway. “Thank you for the congratulations, Hyukkie. I’ll see you later.”

And with that, the dressing room door swung shut once more. 

Sanghyuk was left to find his own way out of the circus’s inner maze. Head swimming with newborn questions.

⤫-⤬-⤬-⤬

Running his hands over the hard muscles of Sanghyuk's bare arms, Hongbin peered down at his partner. Noting the flush at the high points of his cheeks and the swell of his lower lip where it was caught between his teeth. 

“Your art collection,” Hongbin hummed, throwing a look over his shoulder at the posters messily mounted on the bedroom door, “I can’t help but wonder...”

The old poster of Jaehwan was at the center of the clump, now ringed by small prints of landscapes Hongbin didn’t recognize and a handful of floral still-lifes. Several postcards too; unmistakably from the circus's souvenir stand. One of a lion, one of a stylized moon, and at least three more depicting Jaehwan's various acts. 

Hongbin didn’t mind the landscapes or the still-lifes. In fact, he found them rather pleasant. The artwork of Jaehwan was a different matter entirely. They made him feel like the ringmaster was staring at the back of his head, and Hongbin felt that far too often lately. 

“Wonder what?” asked Sanghyuk, shifting his touch from Hongbin's hips to the small of his back. 

“I can’t help but wonder if their placement -directly opposite your bed- was deliberate. For your own... private enjoyment, perhaps? Or, perhaps because you like to look at Jaehwan while we have sex?”

His partner spluttered wordlessly, choking on a cough. 

“Do you like that?” he prompted, pressing a hand to Sanghyuk’s sprinting heart, “Looking at our pretty Jaehwan while I fuck you?”

“Bin, don’t talk like that. You know that’s the only spot in this room where they won’t be noticed.”

“So you don’t like looking at him then?”

Clearly at a loss for what to say, Sanghyuk caught one of Hongbin's hands and laced their fingers together. Biting his lip again. 

“He hasn’t had the talk with you yet, I don't think,” the vaulter continued, shaking a loose hair off of his forehead, “But you aren't allowed to love him. I’m not either. Nobody is.”

“What?”

“Our ringmaster refuses to accept the love others wish to give him. I know it probably sounds hypocritical, especially with how he’s been behaving lately. Constantly sitting in on our lessons and hovering around us so much... But it's true. Any love we might feel is wasted on him.”

“That’s absurd,” Sanghyuk replied, baffled.

“It is, but that doesn't change the fact that it's true. Just... Don't get your hopes up too high, alright? Your feelings won’t be requited. Trust me, I fought that battle already and lost.”

⤫-⤬-⤬-⤬

Sanghyuk stopped, Hongbin just behind him. The vaulter frowned before he realized why.

"Wonshik?" The artist was in the apartment Jaehwan and Hongbin shared, clearly looking for something. He had a stack of papers tucked between his chest and his arm. He whipped around at Sanghyuk's voice.

"There you are." He pushed stray hairs back as he huffed. "Have you seen Bin's portrait?" Sanghyuk fought the urge to turn his head back to the vaulter. He could sense him tucking said portrait behind his back in a bid to not get caught with it.

"Did something happen to it?" Sanghyuk spoke for the both of them.

"It's gone. I came back to grab something and saw that it wasn't on the easel where I left it. I wanted to ask Jae about it but," he gestured to the rest of the empty apartment. Jaehwan had been out of the house for the last hour. Hongbin had only just plucked the painting.

"Who would steal an unfinished painting?" Sanghyuk did his best to not react outwardly to a petulant jab in his back from Hongbin. Wonshik rifled through the papers in his arms, brows creased. He seemed... remarkably annoyed. Sanghyuk had always seen him displaying saintly levels of patience. It was jarring to see him irritated.

"It was finished, I was just waiting to show Jaehwan and hongbin when he got home." Hongbin shifted further behind Sanghyuk as Wonshik crossed the room, handing Sanghyuk the sheets he had picked out. The acrobat's eyes went wide. "I need to find it before I go."

"Are these-"

"The oldest posters of Jae that I have left," Wonshik finished for him. He turned his attention to Hongbin while Sanghyuk ogled. "Have you seen anything, Hongbin? Did you go to check on it today?" Hongbin had been taking peeks at the work in progress as Wonshik did it, when he wasn't properly modeling for it. He'd never seen the process done, much less the process of recreating him.

"I did. It was still there then." 

“When was that?” Sanghyuk spared a second to glance back at hongbin. 

“Yesterday, maybe.” The vaulter licked his lips. A rather inconspicuous tell. It almost made Sanghyuk laugh. He didn't, following Hongbin's gaze back to Wonshik's face. That slightly desperate curiosity changed to a frown. 

“Hongbin.” 

“Wonshik.”

“Hongbin, did you take the painting from my apartment?”

“No.”

“Then what is it you’re hiding behind Sanghyuk? I can see that you’re holding something.”

Against his back, Sanghyuk felt Hongbin shift again. As though -if he could just find the correct angle- it was possible for him to make the canvas disappear. 

“Nothing,” Hongbin replied, still feigning innocence even though all of them knew that the game was over. 

Wonshik snapped his fingers. “Give it to me. Now. I don’t have time for this, I’m already late.”

“I don’t have anything.”

“Now, Lee Hongbin!”

Eyes narrowed, clearly unused to the sensation of getting caught, Hongbin slunk out from behind Sanghyuk and held up the portrait for Wonshik to take. “Fine. Here.”

The artist took it, dropping it rather unceremoniously on the coffee table. “What else did you take?”

“Nothing.”

“Do you promise?”

“Yes.”

“I’m going to pretend I believe you,” Wonshik propped a hand on his hip, “ it's like living with a bunch of naughty children.”

Sanghyuk straightened up at that, mildly offended on his partner's behalf. “Don’t talk to Bin like that. He’s not a child and neither am I.”

If Wonshik heard the rebuke, he didn’t react to it. Still focused on the elder of the pair. “How did you even get into my apartment? The door was actually locked for once!”

In an act of utter betrayal, Hongbin jutted his chin in Sanghyuk's direction. “Hyukkie’s great at lock picking.”

The artist threw his hands up, nearly scattering his papers all over the floor. “Both of you are insufferable! I really don’t have time for this!” He stomped past them toward the door, only pausing long enough to level a finger between Sanghyuk’s eyes. “And I expect those posters back! In the exact same condition they are now!”

Once the front door had slammed behind him and they could no longer hear his retreating footsteps, Hongbin produced a little tube of paint from his trouser pocket. Cerulean blue. “I’ll wait and give this back when he’s in a better mood.”

Sanghyuk nodded. “I think that would be smart, yeah.”

⤫-⤬-⤬-⤬

“There she is.” Wonshik held his arms open, smile bright. Jiwon hurried down the last few stone steps, falling into his arms in a hug. He squeezed her, resting his nose in her hair. She was still a head shorter than him, making it easy to drop kisses atop her head. 

“I missed you.” Wonshik cooed, squeezing her tighter and forcing a squeak out of her. 

“Oh I missed you so much, Ji.” He laughed as she squirmed out of his grip, fixing her uniform with a huff. If he still remembered her schedule correctly, she had just come from her book club. “Do you want to change before we go?” She shook her head, tucking her hair back behind her ears. 

“No, I'm okay. I'm used to going around in uniform now.” 

“They let you go around town now?” He offered his arm, which she took without a second thought. They walked from the main hall of her school at an easy pace. 

“We're young ladies now. We have every right to go out on our own.” She held her head high. Wonshik smiled at her, still seeing a little girl barely up to his hip. 

“No chaperones?” 

“None.” 

“I'm grateful for the privilege to be your chaperone tonight then, my lady.” He gestured with his hand, like he intended to bow. She rolled her eyes at him. 

“What made you want to visit?” They stopped to let a carriage pass by on the street. 

“I told you. I missed you.” She held up her skirt as she stepped onto the curb on the other side. She did a much better job at keeping her clothes pristine than Wonshik. 

“Nothing else?” 

“Presumptuous, aren't we?” He raised a brow and laughed when she gave him a tart expression for his teasing. “I just missed you, that's all.” He nudged her where their arms were still linked. “Needed to see my little sunshine again.”

“Don't say that so loud.” She blanched. Her cheeks warmed. 

“You're too old to be my little sunshine now?” She pouted. She still didn't look at him as she grumbled, 

“No. It's just embarrassing…” 

“Okay, okay.” He loved to tease, but he didn't want to genuinely make her uncomfortable. He felt her relax beside him. “But that's all. I needed a break for a little while.” 

“Is everything okay?” She finally met his eye. She loved the circus, and Lumen loved her in return. Jaehwan had come one step short of adopting her as his own little sister. Wonshik nodded, watching his feet as they walked. 

“Yes. Just personal things. You don't have to worry.” 

“You didn't fight with Jaehwan did you?” He jerked his head, offended at the very idea. 

“Of course not!”

“Good. I might have to smack you if you did.” Wonshik faked offense, scoffing. 

“You would take his side? Before your own brother?” She nodded curtly. 

“You tend to be stupid.” 

“I don't believe it. My own sister.” She giggled at his affronted act, making him smile in turn. He couldn't ever be hurt when she was smiling right beside him. 

“If it's not him, then who?” she tilted her head, but Wonshik just grimaced and kept his gaze ahead of them. 

“It's… a long story.” 

“Has that stopped you before?” She had a point. Wonshik overflowed with words when he was with her. He had to keep her updated on every little thing. 

“I'll tell you when we're somewhere a little more private.” Turning his focus as quick as he could from the sore subject, “What did you want for supper?”

She had asked to go to a restaurant they had been to before. A little place tucked into some forgotten street corner. Somewhere only those that were intimately familiar with the city would go. Wonshik tried not to address the cafe just across, the very one he had mentioned to Taekwoon before. 

“Thank you,” Both siblings said as the waiter brought them their drinks. It had been some time since they last visited this spot, at least since winter break. They sat at one of the far tables against the wall. Wonshik took the seat that kept his back to the door so that she could have the one that faced out to the restaurant. There were only a few other tables, and most were occupied. People who just needed a meal after a long day of work or school. None shared Jiwon’s uniform, but she still recognized one of the others as another school in the city. 

“Eliza says it was actually rather nice. She used to go there before she came to our school. Her mom is sick so they wanted to send her somewhere with board so she could have people taking care of her.”

“I'm sorry to hear that.” Wonshik drank from his glass, letting her speak. He vaguely remembered an Eliza from their letters. She was one of Jiwon's newer friends. She shrugged her shoulder. 

“She says it's okay, and that it's all part of God's plan whenever people say that. I think her mom has always been sick. She seems very comfortable talking about it.” She took a drink from her own glass. The poise she had talking about what must have been a sore subject was truly remarkable. Wonshik was eternally grateful that she was very young when everything began to turn for the worst. She didn't have to be burdened by as many of the memories. “Her dad comes to visit sometimes. Mostly on holidays. He's always busy. He's a lawyer, I think.” 

“I don't envy his position then.” He leaned back against his chair, arms folded over his chest. He frowned at his thoughts. “I don't know what I would do if I had to take care of you and mom both. If I worked a job like that.” Her smile was slight, scarcely noticeable. 

“You would find a way.” He smiled in return. She was so grown for being so young. She thought the world of him and the idea of letting her down was like an iron weight in his gut. 

“I always do.”

“Whats been going on at the circus?” She pivoted the conversation, swinging her feet under the table. It almost made Wonshik laugh, the childish gesture with the attempt at serious conversation. Instead, he shrugged and took another drink. He stared down at the water as he tried to articulate. 

“We've gotten a few new members. They're taking some time to adjust.” Hakyeon, who settled in like he had lived there all his life and Taekwoon, who acted like he was only allowed to be there out of the kindness of their hearts. Sanghyuk, who truly and honestly was actually only just settling in, and Hongbin, who somehow felt like he had always been a part of the family. 

“Are they performers too?” 

“Two of them, but you're not going to see them in shows for a while.” 

“why not?” 

“Well- oh, thank you.” The waiter set their plates in front of them delicately. “They're learning a partner act right now. They both have skills on their own, but they've never had to perform as a team before.” Jiwon undid her napkin, laying it across her lap. Wonshik brought his chair back in so that he could eat. It smelt delicious, as always. “The other two aren't. Or, well,” he thought of Hakyeon and his whip, “not yet at least.” 

“What does that mean?” She used her fork to divide large potato chunks into dainty pieces.

“One of them might become a performer, but that's only if he stays with us. And he'd have to go through proper training in that case.” 

“I thought he was a new member?” She frowned, glancing up from her food to Wonshik. 

“It's… complicated. Technically, he's more of a guest. He's not officially on the payroll or anything like that.” 

“What about the other one?” Wonshik tore his bread in half. It filled the air with a beautifully crisp crackle. 

“That's Taekwoon. I think I told you about him? The one in charge of security.” Jiwon nodded, covering her mouth as she chewed her mouthful.

“Why are they having a hard time?” She dabbed her mouth with her napkin. He always felt a little embarrassed when they ate together. He had none of her etiquette training or charm. 

“Sanghyuk and Hongbin are fine as far as I can tell. They're closer with Jaehwan than me.” 

“Hongbin is the one with Jaehwan, isn't he?” She pointed to Wonshik, remembering what he wrote. He nodded. 

“That's right. Jae actually just had me do a portrait of him recently. Sanghyuk just moved into the spare apartment the other day. He's training with Hongbin.” Wonshik soaked his bread in sauce on the plate before biting into it.

“Do you like them?”

“Of course-!” She smacked him for speaking with his mouth full, making him have to try not to laugh as he finished his bite. “Sorry, sorry.” He waved his hand as she scowled at him. “Yes, I like them,” he answered once he caught his breath. “Hongbin is really sweet, especially with Jae and Sanghyuk.”

“So it's really the other two that are the problem?” Her tone edged sarcastic, brows raised. Wonshik cleared his throat, dusting his hands awkwardly. 

“I guess so.” she stared at him, waiting for him to elaborate. He took another bite to keep his mouth busy. Most certainly not blushing. He was the mature, big brother. 

“Shik, are you…?” She waved her hand, in lieu of finishing her sentence. He could figure out her meaning easily. Are you with one of them? He sighed. 

“It's complicated.” 

“You keep saying that.” She pouted and Wonshik tried not to let himself get embarrassed by a sixteen year old. 

“It is! It's…adult stuff.” she grimaced, jerking her head back. It was one way to get her to not want to talk about a subject. 

“is it Taekwoon or the other one?” 

“Hakyeon. I think we just want two different things from each other.” 

“Have you told him what you want?” 

“Not… yet.” He grimaced at her deadpan expression. “I only just realized that he saw it as something much more… open than I did. I didn't think to talk about it.” 

“That was your first mistake,” she retorted dryly. Wonshik huffed. “You should always start with your expectations.”

“When did you become such a love expert?” He nudged her foot with his own under the table. 

“There are plenty of couples at school, secret or not.” Wonshik supposed it couldn't have been that different from the circus. A hundred or so girls all living together, spending all their days in the same few buildings. Feelings were bound to begin to blossom among at least a few. “Even some between campuses.” 

“And you're their matchmaker?” He chuckled under his breath. His sister took herself so very seriously. He couldn't imagine her trying to guide a young couple in the right direction. 

“Not matchmaker ,” she corrected. “I simply listen and give my advice as a third party.” He laughed again. What a businesswoman she could become. It almost reminded him of the former ringmaster, the carefully kept ship that was her leadership of the circus. 

“What's your success rate, would you say?” She paused, considering the question. Her lips pouted in thought in a gesture that made the family resemblance so obvious. 

“Things seem to go well when they take the advice to heart.” After another bite, 

“I suppose I have no choice but to listen then, hm?” 

He was teasing, but she fixed herself in her chair, expression suddenly serious. She rested her chin on her laced fingers, settling Wonshik with a stare. 

“Tell me everything.” 

“Everything?” He challenged, raising a brow. She paused before disgust briefly crossed her face. 

“Everything I need to know to help.” He laughed at her correction, nodding to himself. Serious as she may try to play, they were still brother and sister. 

“well, Hakyeon got here about a month ago. Originally, he was just meant to take Hongbin with him, but he ended up staying.” He continued to explain as she nodded along. The flirting, the blatant mutual interest, staying together even after Hakyeon should have left. He artfully avoided mentioning all the concerns he had gotten from Jaehwan and Taekwoon both. “I did,”he cleared his throat, “i might have also said I love him the other night.”

“You told him-?”

“Yes,” he cut her off before she could repeat it, grimacing. It was bad enough saying it to someone else for the first time. 

“How did he react?” She leaned in slightly, brows furrowed. She was more invested than she wanted to play. 

“He wasn't upset, but he… he clearly doesn't feel the same.” The chaste kiss to his forehead, waking up to him gone like every other morning before, his only replay that Wonshik was sweeter than he could ever deserve . 

“What happened after that?” Wonshik sighed. He waved a hand like the story was exhausting him. 

“I had an argument with Taek, I did Bin's portrait, I was taking Sanghyuk to my office when I saw Hakyeon with… someone else.” She didn't need to know it was Jaehwan. She didn't need to point any of her disdain towards him. Close as they were, she didn't know the ringmaster in the same way as her brother. She didn't know how easily he could be cooerced. She didn't know that Jaehwan's will was not as strong as he portrayed. 

“With someone else?” A reach for clarification, if he simply meant a date or something much less chaste. 

“ With, ” Wonshik repeated. Jiwon covered her mouth in a silent gasp. 

“Wonshik…” she muttered. Her bright eyes were sorrowful. Wonshik ran a hand over his face. 

“I understood that he didn't return the feeling. I could learn to live with that. I knew that I was likely going too fast for him and I didn't want to scare him away so I pulled back. I reeled myself in. But I never thought that he cared so little that- I thought that it was more significant to him than that.” Wonshik stumbled over his explanation, caught up in the emotions. Hed been picking it apart in his head. Once he finally started talking to someone about it, however, he couldn't stop. Jiwon's hand curled around his on the table. Still smaller than his. “I feel so stupid. I should have known this was how it would turn out.” He dug the heel of his palm into his forehead, trying to ward off his irritation turning into a headache. “I haven't talked to him since I saw them together. He probably doesn't even know that I'm aware, or Sanghyuk knows for that matter.”

“Are you going to talk to him?” Jiwon's voice was gentle. It was so like their mothers Wonshik couldn't think for a moment. He had to find himself again. 

“I don't know what to say to him.” He turned his head to look to her, surely the picture of defeat. She held his eyes for a moment before casting them down. She watched as she ran her fingers over Wonshik's knuckles idly. She was formulating an answer. 

“I think you should tell him. When you're ready, that is,” she added gently. “He should know why you've suddenly put this wall between you. You should let him speak his piece, if he has any, and end it.”

“You think so?” She nodded sagely. 

“Whatever you want obviously doesn't match with what he wants. And he hurt you badly, I can see that.” She squeezed his hand. “Find someone who fits you better if neither of you want to change.”

“What if he does?” Jiwon frowned to herself, back to that thoughtful pout. He could see her taste the words in her mouth before she spoke. 

“Thats up to you then, I suppose. Do you want to give it another try?” She met his eye again, head tilted softly. Wonshik chewed his lip. 

“I don't know.” Jiwon fixed herself in her seat. She was preparing to tell him a story, a heavy one if the way she prepared herself said anything.

“There was this girl, Lynet. I talked to her last year because she was in a similar situation. The boy she was with betrayed her trust, and she didn't know if she wanted to give him another chance. We talked it over, I told her what I thought she should do. Ultimately, she did give him a second chance and he did the same thing again.” She settled Wonshik with a somber expression. Far too serious for such a young lady. “If you're not sure, I want you to think about if he would change. If you told him this hurt you, would he respect your wishes?”

Wonshik wanted to say no. He wanted to not even have to consider the question at all. That's not what he did, however. He did think about it. The more he considered it, the less sure he was that he knew which way Hakyeon would go. He truly hadn't know Hakyeon long, in the grand scheme of things. He didn't know him on a very personal level at all. He wanted to believe he did, but he had never gleaned that much from him. The furthest he had gotten was when they were feeding the animals, when he claimed a belief in survival of the fittest. It was a first step into the ocean, and Wonshik had never moved any further than that. With the man Hakyeon was, wouldn't it be fair to assume this was normal for him? This was how he liked his partnerships? Wonshik sighed, rubbing his thumb against Jiwon's hand. It was always smaller than his own. They used to hold hands with her entire fist wrapping around just one of his fingers. Wonshik needed people. And he needed to be close to those people. 

“Mom would be proud of you.” It was muttered, barely even meant to even leave his mouth. He smiled. Some of her tension relaxed. Not comforted, but surprised. 

“Why do you say that?” Her tone matched his, soft as a feather. He held up her hand, meeting her eyes again. There was undeniably something vulnerable there in them. 

“You're so damn smart.” She smiled, but ducked her head so Wonshik couldn't see it properly. 

“I've just had practice with this.” 

“And all those romance novels help, I'm sure.” He laughed at her brief glare. He let go of her hand. “Did you finish the last one I got you?” She could visit the shops and library on her own now, but both were slow with newer releases. He would track down whatever she asked for in that scenario. Often, with Jaehwan's help. 

“Not yet. Book club has kept me from it.”

“You don't want to get them mixed up?” 

“I also have what we're reading through in literature class.” Her expression said that her food had cooled during their conversation. “So that would be three at once, along with my assignments.”

“How much work do they have you do there?” It was a joke of a question. Jiwon smiled. 

“It's not difficult. I like doing it, for the most part.”

“For the most part,” Wonshik parroted. He would thank whatever force was out there that she turned out so well. 

⤫-⤬-⤬-⤬

“When does your next break start?” Wonshik's pebble skid across the dark water. They had strolled into the city park, following the path around the pond in the center. Jiwon was busy idly weaving blades of grass together. 

“The last day of May.”

“Do you still want to visit then?” 

“Of course.” She smiled. “I need to give Jaehwan the books I borrowed. Oh, and meet Hongbin.”

“And Sanghyuk. And Taekwoon. And Hakyeon, if he stays.”

“I'm not sure how long you think my break is, fitting all these people in.” Wonshik laughed at her joke. Another stone across the water. Or rather, into it. 

“I'm sure they'll find a way to all see you at once.” 

“Do you think they'll like me?” Wonshik stopped to look at her. The tone was casual. Just as conversational as everything else they had talked about. She was still weaving the grass together. Nothing said that it was something she cared strongly about, but she had never asked him that before. 

“Of course they will! Everybody loves you.” He fixed a strand of hair that hung down in her face, tucking it behind her ear. “Why wouldn't they?” She glanced up at him for the scantest of a moment, catching his concerned pout. Just as quickly, she returned to the grass. It was a beautiful braid, strands woven together like a bracelet. 

“Its always been only you and Jaehwan.” She never had to gain anyone else's approval, not really. She only ever really saw the two heads, maybe some of the stage hands when she would attend performances. Wonshik's circle for most of her life was just him, Jaehwan, and her. 

“Jiwon, they're going to love you.” He wrapped an arm around her, facing out towards the water. “You and Jae will talk about what you thought about his books. He'll introduce you to Hongbin, who will try to hide behind Jae. Then Sanghyuk will drag him out so he has to be friendly and introduce himself. Taekwoon will bow and call you ma'am or my lady and then Hakyeon will,” Wonshik grimaced at the pond, thinking of all the ways Hakyeon could soil the introduction, “hopefully give you a very formal greeting.” Jiwon blew an breath through her nose, amused. She turned towards him, so he did the same. She took his hand so that she could wrap the bracelet around his wrist. 

“And where will you be?” 

“Right behind you. Holding your hand.” She knotted the blades of grass together. “Or trying to get everyone to be proper.” 

“Like you have any say over proper.” 

“I am not that bad!” She giggled at his offense. She squatted down in the grass to pull more long blades from the pond's edge. 

“But you're not that good at it either.”

“Not all of us get to have etiquette training, sunshine.” he nudged her shoe with his own, hands on his hips. 

“It sounds like your boyfriends did.” She smirked as she worked her hands. Wonshik immediately forgot he was upset just the moment before. 

“Boyfriends?”

“You wrote a lot about Taekwoon too,” she muttered with a shrug, the picture of casual. “More than Jaehwan, sometimes.”

“Its not like that. We're not like Jae and the other two.” 

“I thought they were just training partners?” She looked up from her weaving curiously. Wonshik shrugged. 

“Well, I don't think it's anything official , but… they certainly seem to like each other. And Jae has warmed up to Hyuk a lot now that he's mentoring him.”

“So,” she bites her lip to fight a smile and Wonshik braces his pride for the beating its about to take, “Jaehwan gets two boyfriends and you don't even get one.” 

“Jiwon!” 

⤫-⤬-⤬-⤬

 Sanghyuk was startled awake by the sound of his door swinging open. 

He wasn’t sure what time it was, but the window beside his dresser was dark, and the sight of Jaehwan stumbling over his threshold flooded the acrobat with deja vu. 

“Doll?” he asked, rolling out from between the covers and rubbing sleep from his eyes, “What are you doing here? What time is it?”

“I don't know,” the ringmaster mumbled, “Bunny is upset with me, I don’t know.”

“Are you drunk?”

“I don’t know.”

Another few steps, and Jaehwan swayed between Sanghyuk's arms. Tucking his head into the juncture between Sanghyuk's shoulder and neck. 

“Talk to me,” Sanghyuk hummed, touching the downy hair at the base of Jaehwan’s skull, “Why is Bin upset with you?”

“I don’t want to talk. I want you to take me to bed.”

Jaehwan raised his head. Blinking up at Sanghyuk through wide, unfocused eyes. Lips parted and mouth trembling. The pendant necklace Hongbin had given him glittering beneath the open collar of his shirt. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, wriggling out of Sanghyuk's grasp, “Go back to sleep. I’m sorry I woke you.”

But the acrobat caught him and drew him back. Stroking his ebony hair. “Just tell me, doll. I can’t help if I don’t know what’s wrong.”

When Jaehwan didn’t try to escape a second time, Sanghyuk sat them both down right there on the carpet. Winding his arms around Jaehwan’s middle as Jaehwan unsteadily straddled his lap.

“He says that I’m smothering him. That I don’t give him enough room to breathe. Bunny, I mean. He says that now, and when I try to give him space, he complains that I work too much. That I shouldn’t spend so much time with my uncle and that I need to take more breaks.”

Sanghyuk nodded, more to himself than to Jaehwan. 

He’d personally witnessed both of those exchanges at least once. Hongbin snapping if Jaehwan clung to him for too long. Hongbin chastising Jaehwan for coming home too late after one of his uncles numerous visits to the Metropolitan Club. 

Neither reaction made sense to Sanghyuk, but he hadn’t given them much thought until right then. And, he supposed, attachment wasn’t something that Sanghyuk struggled with. He certainly didn’t struggle with it the way he’d noticed Hongbin did. The relationship between the vaulter and the ringmaster was a complex thing. 

He opened his mouth to ask for more details, but Jaehwan pressed a finger to his lips. Rendering him silent. 

The ringmaster just stared at him for a handful of heartbeats. He touched Sanghyuk’s chin. The crest of Sanghyuk’s brow. The corner of Sanghyuk's eye. 

“You really look so much like-” a hiccup, “Please, Hyukkie, I don’t want to discuss this anymore. Please. Please, take me to bed.”

⤫-⤬-⤬-⤬

Holding his head up high, Hongbin peered at his reflection. Seated at the vanity that he and Jaehwan shared, he reached up to pluck at his hair. It hung down past his shoulders; long and loose. Unbound and unbrushed. A golden caramel blonde that, in his opinion, drained the color from his skin and made him look sallow. 

Having long hair had never been Hongbin's preference. At Requiem, the other equestrians had always complimented it. They told him it was beautiful and that it looked magical when he performed. So Hongbin had kept it long. 

He didn’t consider himself to be vain. The way he looked didn’t bother him. His appearance wasn’t something that Hongbin concerned himself with. He looked how he looked and there was nothing to be done about it. Until now. 

Freedom, the kind of freedom he enjoyed at Lumen ad Somnia, was still something that Hongbin was adjusting to. And freedom was also something that Hongbin was learning to test. 

Jaehwan always said how much he adored the vaulter’s hair. Sanghyuk as well, now that Hongbin considered it. Although there was one memorable occasion where Sanghyuk remarked that his hair was like a horse’s mane, and perhaps that was why he felt so at home in the stables. 

At that moment, winding the strands around his fingers, Hongbin decided that the hair needed to go. His long hair was a relic of Requiem and that phase of his life was over. If Jaehwan or Sanghyuk no longer fancied him without it, then so be it. And if they really missed it so much, he could direct them to the portrait Wonshik had painted. His long hair immortalized via canvas and paint. 

Just as he was closing the vanity’s top drawer, Jaehwan’s fabric shears in hand, a knock came from the apartment's front door. 

“It’s open,” he called, not bothering to rise from the vanity stool to see who was there. The walls in this building were so thin that they might as well have been made of papier mache. Whoever it was; they would hear him. 

The door opened and then closed with a click. Footsteps came padding down the hallway. 

“What are you doing with those?” asked Sanghyuk, lingering on the threshold with a hand on the doorframe. He nodded at the scissors. “Making alterations to something?”

“Not exactly.”

Hongbin reached for Jaehwan’s treasured ivory comb and began working out the tangles. Wanting to make his hair as smooth as possible so the cuts to come would look even. 

His partner took another step into the bedroom. “Your hair?”

The vaulter nodded. 

“What,” Sanghyuk grinned at him in the mirror, “Tired of being mistaken for such a pretty girl?”

“I’ve never been mistaken for a girl. Pretty or otherwise,” Hongbin replied, “Unless you’re in the mood to be helpful, please go away.”

To his mild surprise, Sanghyuk visibly sobered up and came to stand behind him. Plucking the sheers from him and clearing his throat. 

Hongbin glanced up at him. “Do you have much experience cutting hair?”

Sanghyuk blinked down at him. “Do you?”

“No.”

“Well, me neither. But what I lack in experience, I'll make up for with enthusiasm.”

With a wave, Hongbin surrendered. “Go on then.”

“How short do you want it?”

“Not as short as you. Certainly not as short as Wonshik. But shorter than Jae.”

“So... Like Hakyeon? Around the top of your ears?”

“Sure, that sounds about right.”

Nodding, Sanghyuk shifted a little, running his fingers through the elder’s hair. “Alright. We’ll start longer and then work shorter as we go.” 

The first snip, and then the hair began falling onto the carpeted floor by the chunk. With each hank Sanghyuk cut away, Hongbin felt lighter. Not only physically, but emotionally as well. He glanced at the golden pile that steadily continued to grow and couldn’t keep from smiling.

What the mirror showed him wasn’t exactly the image he had pictured when he decided to cut his hair, but they were only just beginning. The jagged, choppy length would even out soon enough.

“I was,” Sanghyuk said, apropos of nothing and breaking the short stretch of silence.

Hongbin frowned. “You were what?”

His partner exhaled a slow breath. “Mistaken for a girl. When I was a child, I mean, not recently.”

The idea of Sanghyuk -broad, strong, intimidatingly masculine Sanghyuk- being mistaken for a girl at any age was so absurd that Hongbin accidentally laughed.

“You? Really?” he asked, that laughter infecting the words and making his voice a lilt.

“Me, really,” Sanghyuk nodded sagely, “I adored my elder sister when I was a kid. I still do. But back then, I almost idolized her. So, since she wore her hair long, I insisted on wearing mine long as well. I refused to have anything more than a trim until I turned twelve, and I threw a tantrum anytime my mother tried.”

Gaze tracing the outline of Sanghyuk’s silhouette in the mirror, Hongbin wanted to laugh again. “Even with long hair,” he replied, “I don’t think I could ever mistake you for a girl.”

“Not now, maybe. But when my sister dressed me in one of her little gowns and tied bows in my hair when I was eight years old, and then proceeded to introduce me as her baby sister to one of my parents' friends… That’s a different story.”

There had been a quick stumble over the word ‘parent’, like he’d been about to say something else, but Hongbin chose not to remark on it. Knowing how touchy he could get about the subject of family; he didn’t want to pry too much. Grateful for even this small tidbit of information on his partner's past.

Instead of wondering what he had meant to say, Hongbin asked, “Did they believe her? Your parents' friend?”

“They did,” Sanghyuk smiled, a small wistful smile, “They- he told us how lovely we were, and then mumbled that he thought my parents only had one daughter.”

Hongbin matched the smile that had bloomed on his partner’s face. The fondness he felt for Sanghyuk growing stronger by the moment.

That fondness was something he had no recollection of forming. By the time he realized that his feelings for Sanghyuk had changed from platonic to something more involved, by the time he talked about his feelings with the ringmaster, they were already too strong for him to ignore.

Not that he was trying to ignore them, exactly. Even after experiencing the onslaught of Jaehwan’s affection, affectionate feelings weren’t something that came naturally to him. They were an animal he had to work to understand.

Now, though, he thought he had a stable grip on how he felt for Sanghyuk. And moments like this, private moments spent together outside of the training room, made his feelings burn hotter. Shine brighter.

Sanghyuk’s fingers combed through what remained of Hongbin’s hair. “I know it looks rough, but we can fix it.”

The vaulter grinned a fond grin. “I know we can. I’m not worried.”

From what felt like a mile away, Hongbin heard the front door swing inward. Heard the unmistakable rhythm of Jaehwan’s footsteps marching down the hall. Arriving just in time to interrupt the delightful private moment Hongbin and Sanghyuk were sharing. Inserting himself into their bonding time as he’d begun to do so often lately. Hongbin couldn’t help but feel irritated at the interruption, even though he tried not to show it.

“Bunny? Are you home?” called Jaehwan, as his footfalls grew closer, “I went to fetch you from the training room, but your teacher said you’d already left.”

When he appeared in the doorway and took in the situation, Jaehwan’s eyes went wide.

“What on earth are you doing?!” Jaehwan shrieked, falling upon them and snatching the shears from Sanghyuk the way one would take a rifle away from a child that assumed it to be a toy, “What have you done to my poor bunny?!”

“He didn’t do anything to me,” Hongbin failed to school his tone into something more respectful, “He’s helping. I’d have done it myself if he wasn’t here.”

Jaehwan gaped at him like a landed fish. “But why? Your hair is so beautiful-”

Hongbin cut that off before the compliment was finished. “I’ve had long hair forever. Everyone at Requiem told me to keep it, so I did. And now that I no longer work there, I want it gone. There’s no need for any more screaming.”

As it always did upon hearing the word Requiem, Jaehwan’s expression shuttered over. Eyelids fluttering. Lips a thin line of discontent.

“Those are the wrong scissors,” the ringmaster said after a moment, voice soft.

He touched Hongbin’s shoulder before turning away and pacing quickly into the bathroom. When he returned, a pair of silver, thin-bladed clippers were in his hand.

“If you wanted a haircut, you should’ve told me so.” Jaehwan gently nudged Sanghyuk out of the way and began combing Hongbin’s remaining hair into sections, pinning them up with styling clips he normally used for his wigs. “I give Shikkie haircuts all the time. I would’ve helped you gladly.”

Both Hongbin and Sanghyuk went quiet after that. Sitting and standing respectively, watching the ringmaster finish the haircut in silence. Unspoken words hanging in the stretch of air between them. 

When Jaehwan was done, Hongbin finally reached up to touch. His neck felt strangely cold, his head too light. But he liked it. The new length highlighted his cheekbones and the line of his jaw. It made him look older. More mature. 

“Thank you,” he said, annoyance beginning to ebb. 

Jaehwan smiled and stroked his cheek. “You’re welcome, bunny. If you’re happy, I’m happy. And you do look very handsome like this...”

⤫-⤬-⤬-⤬

Taekwoon sighed as he finally swallowed his pride. He raised his hand to rap his knuckles against the door.

"Just a moment, dear!" Came the regrettable response from the other side. Despite knowing that Hakyeon was inside, part of him had hoped he wouldn't answer. That he had flitted off to God knows where and he would find Sanghyuk, or no one at all, instead. He could only be so fortunate.

"Taekwoon," Hakyeon said once he opened the door. His voice made it clear he had not expected the guard to be the one calling. His neat brows raised curiously. "I'm afraid Wonshik isn't here." He rested a hand on his hip. His dress was far too delicate for him, gentle cream with white lace. Taekwoon did his best to ignore it, to only absorb the man from the neck up. A long neck that was decorated with pearls seemingly too yellow to be genuine. "I only just got home." Taekwoon didnt grind his teeth at the word.

"I know where he is." Rather, he knew where wonshik wasn't . But that wasn't Hakyeon's concern. 

"What can I help you with then?" He tilted his head softly. His smile quirked just a little further at Taekwoon’s irritation. "I never expected you to visit me."

"This isn't a visit," Taekwoon corrected sharply. He felt uncomfortable standing out in the hall while Hakyeon had the cover of his doors threshold. "I wanted to... ask you something." Taekwoon felt his pride shrivel up inside his chest. It wheezed out its last dying breath when Hakyeon's smile became a grin.

" You do ?" He stepped back, inviting Taekwoon in. "By all means, come in then."

Sanghyuk and Hakyeon's shared apartment was nearly as bare as when Wonshik had first shown it to the trainer. There was little sign either lived there by the living room alone. Taekwoon saw the cage he watched Hakyeon bring home on the coffee table. There was a pigeon inside, a white body with blue-grey patches about its body like water mixing with ink on a blank page. Its head jerked about, looking at Taekwoon with one eye. Its tall posture reminded him of his owner.

"My darling Pewter. I missed him terribly while I was away." Hakyeon shut the front door and walked past Taekwoon, over to the bird cage. He picked it up by its delicate handle, regarding the bird inside. It crooned gently, fixing its feet on its perch after being moved. "It's unfortunate he was one of the only ones I could bring with me, but," he shrugged, "so little time and so few hands."

"That's your bird?" Hakyeon chuckled as he placed his beloved pigeon down. Taekwoon remained standing in the middle of the room.

"I did not steal any animals, if that's your concern. He's mine." He bird ruffled his feathers, sticking his head under his wing to preen. "What did you want to discuss, dear?"

Taekwoon shifted his weight on his feet, keeping his eyes on the bird cage. He felt Hakyeon watching him as he waited for a response. Conjuring the words felt like pulling teeth out of his own mouth with antiquated pliers. But Hakyeon would know. Of anyone, Hakyeon would know. Taekwoon couldn't delude himself on that.

"Wonshik is upset." Hakyeon huffed out a laugh and the look Taekwoon shot him was venomous. It was wasted, as Hakyeon had turned away to step into the kitchen. Pouring a drink, Taekwoon could hear.

"Is he now?"

"Yes. I wanted to ask if he's said anything to you."

"Said anything as to why?"

"Anything at all." Hakyeon returned with a mug he cradled in both hands. Steam rose over the lip. "He was... short with me."

"With you?" Just by his voice, Taekwoon knew that was a pleasant surprise for him. He put a hand to his heart. "I would have thought that wasn't possible."

"Did he say anything or not?" Taekwoon was in no mind to be openly mocked. Hakyeon clicked his tongue, looking up in thought.

"I'm afraid I haven't seen much of him as of late. He's had a sudden need of space."

"Why?" Hakyeon laughed.

"Down, boy." Taekwoon folded his arms to keep from clenching his fists so hard he cracked a knuckle. "I didn't do anything to your sweet Wonshik. I'm sure he just believes some space would do him some good." Hakyeon took a delicate drink from his mug.

"And he made that decision merely on a whim." His voice was so brittle with sarcasm it could have cut the trainer. Hakyeon shrugged.

"It would be impolite to discuss private matters without asking first." Hakyeon leaned against the wall behind him, ankles crossed. He was studying Taekwoon. Taekwoon scowled in return, refusing to give him neither inch nor mile. The trainer's eyes traveled up and down his body,  studied the hard lines of his glare.  Taekwoon could see the cogs turning.

Hakyeon hummed after a moment. Came to some kind of conclusion. He took another drink.

"It must be killing you if you're coming to speak to me."

"What?"

"Not knowing what you did." Hakyeon pushed himself from the wall, stepping across the room to be before Taekwoon. His smile was somewhere between pity and amusement. "You can't make him forgive you if you don't know what you did wrong."

"I know what I did," Taekwoon snapped at the bait. He knew what he said, what he did wrong. He didn't need Wonshik to forgive him, but rather understand what he had meant in the first place. He couldn't explain if he wasn't even listened to. Hakyeon idly rubbed his thumb over the ceramic of the cup. "What I don't know is what you've done."

"Me?" As if it was so unbelievable that he could have done something to upset the artist. "I've never done anything he didn't ask of me." Standing so close, Taekwoon could smell the bite of cinnamon in the tea. "He's entirely head over heels."

"I cannot fathom why."

"So witty today." Taekwoon drew away before Hakyeon could tap the underside of his chin in far too friendly a gesture. He was going to get a finger bitten off some day. "What did he do to get you so worked up?"

⤫-⤬-⤬-⤬

"Wonshik, may I speak to you?" Taekwoon stood in the doorway of Wonshik's office, hand still on the doorknob. Wonshik was inside, frazzled as he went about whatever he was doing. Flipping through a large portfolio full of color.

"What do you need?" Wonshik hadn't even glanced at him, focused on thumbing through the pages to find what he was looking for. Taekwoon felt his heart lying somewhere with his feet before he firmly put it back in place. He was being foolish.

"I wanted to explain myself." Wonshik's heavy sigh cut him off. He pulled sheets from the portfolio. Old advertisements, Taekwoon recognized. He was familiar with Wonshik's style by now.

"I think you made yourself clear. There's nothing to explain." He shut the portfolio in a snap and brought it over to a chest of drawers, placing it inside.

"There was a misunderstanding." Taekwoon’s face warmed when he twitched at the sound of the drawer shutting. Just short of a slam.

"I understood what you meant, Taekwoon." The guard was leveled by Wonshik's gaze, stuck to the spot. There wasn't warmth there. Exhaust, more than anything else. He looked like he hadn't gotten any sleep since they last spoke. His hair was unkempt, hanging in his face. "You made yourself perfectly clear."

The artist returned to the desk, gathering up the stack of old posters and what looked like letters.

"Was there anything else?"

"Wonshik, please." Taekwoon hated how small the words made him feel. Hated the urge in his hands to grab Wonshik's sleeve and pull in order to get his attention. Hated most of all that if he studied the feeling in his gut very closely, he could identify a primal satisfaction. Part of his spirit purred at Wonshik's disregard. It said yes, finally. He finally understood his role as the replacement for that dead man haunting Taekwoon. 

Wonshik stared at him. Unidentifiable thoughts flying past. The guard couldn't hold still under the scrutiny. If Wonshik truly was his replacement, he would have been properly punished by now. The duke had never been fond of the silent treatment. Taekwoon never learnt if it was a matter of personal preference or for the guard's sake.

"Let me explain," Taekwoon tried, softer this time. Wonshik's shoulders slackened, like his tone had made him lower his defenses. His expression changed to something sorry. It was too tender for Taekwoon. He couldn't speak until Wonshik said yes.

"Not right now, Taekwoon," he sighed. He crossed over to the lamp to turn it off. The only light that pooled in the office now came from the hallway behind Taekwoon. "I need to go."

Taekwoon couldn't ease the racing of his heart when Wonshik stepped in, grabbing onto the door Taekwoon was still holding. Close enough that Taekwoon felt like he was suffocating. Like he was small. They were practically the same height, Wonshik simply heavier and more muscular. Taekwoon felt much smaller and infinitely more delicate. He couldn't meet his eye, staring at the junction of his shoulder and neck.

"Taekwoon." He flinched when Wonshik raised his other hand, still holding the papers. He was gesturing out to the hall behind him. He was asking the guard to move. He couldn't. He was rooted to the spot, hand glued to the doorknob.

When he was selected, he was a good foot shorter than the Duke. He was one of the youngest of his entire detachment. They had a ritual at the end of the day. They would stand on either end of the duke's chambers and he would dismiss Taekwoon for the night. Come the morning, Taekwoon would be the first face he would see, before even servants. That ritual had been repeated so many times Taekwoon couldn't even fathom how many times he'd gone through it. He remembered the first night, though. He remembered his heart in his throat as he stood in front of the man that held his entire future in his hands. The man he would die for, if it came to it. He had been scared of that man long before he ever became his close guard. It was mundane, in comparison to every time after. He simply explained to Taekwoon how the routine went, what he expected of the boy. Taekwoon said that he understood and that was the end of it. He shut the door in Taekwoon's face and the boy went off to his own room. So unequivocally simple. Taekwoon was afraid for no sensible reason. He schooled himself out of that fear eventually. Just as he schooled himself out of expecting any comments on his work for the day. Childish hopes then. What needed to be said if he did what he was built to?

"Taekwoon, maybe we can talk about it later, but i need to go now." His eyes jumped up at Wonshik's voice, finally meeting his eye again. He had a befuddled frown, different from his irritated one. Taekwoon blinked at him, struggling to find anything he could say. They really didn't look all that similar. Even if the age gap weren't so vast, Wonshik was darker, his eyes were angled down in a tired expression, his hair was short and his face was bare. They weren't alike in any way except for their ability to strike Taekwoon at his core. Wonshik took his hand off the door, going to put it on Taekwoon in a gesture that was probably reassuring. Taekwoon stepped back. Jerked back, moreover. He stood stiffly in the hallway as Wonshik stood there with his hand awkwardly hung in the air. He slowly let it fall to his side.

"I'm sorry." Taekwoon turned away from him and didn't look back as he went down the hallway.

⤫-⤬-⤬-⤬

"That's none of your concern."

"If you would like," Hakyeon stepped around him, going to a side table by the door and Flipping through the letters on it conversationally, "I could speak to him for you."

"Are you capable of minding your own?" Hakyeon laughed, waving a letter in his direction.

"I like you like this. Not so choked up on the leash." He stopped, reading one of the envelopes. He sighed to himself. "I won't tell him about this kicked puppy act, then. Though I'd love to hear what he would say."

"Stop saying that." Hakyeon smiled at him over his shoulder.

"Saying what, dear?"

"I'm not a dog." The trainer turned around, free hand resting on the side table as he looked at Taekwoon.

"But you make such a good one. So well trained and desperate for praise." Taekwoon stiffened, remembering his moment with Wonshik at the door. Remembering where his mind was then. "You would make a good pet, if someone could only fix that temperament." Taekwoon scowled, moving for the door. This was pointless, and he wouldn't dare let what happened in front of wonshik ever be seen by Hakyeon. He would attack the moment of weakness like a shark to blood in the water.

"You're disgusting," he muttered as he swung the door open. Hakyeon just hummed pleasantly.

"So nice speaking with you, dear." Taekwoon only got a passing glance at the letter under his hand before he shut the door. A refined hand wrote Hakyeon's name on the front and addressed it to Requiem. 

⤫-⤬-⤬-⤬

A letter from his mother crumpled in one fist, tear tracks drying on his face, Sanghyuk made his way through the circus’s winding halls toward Jaehwan’s private practice room. 

It had been sent to him by his sister; the letter. Hurtful words penned in his mothers handwriting that Sanghyuk wished he hadn’t read. Pleas for him to come home. That she missed him terribly. That his father missed him as well. That she longed for their family to be made whole once more. 

He wasn’t crying from sadness. Sanghyuk was crying from frustration. The fact that his sister had agreed to send the letter in the first place frustrated him. The fact that his parents hadn’t forgotten they had a son frustrated him. The fact that his mother refused to understand why he ran away frustrated him most of all. 

Even with this freshest wound throbbing in his heart, Sanghyuk didn’t want his friend's company. He didn't want them to comfort him or ask him questions. He did, however, remember what Jaehwan had told him at the end of their first skill assessment: ‘If you need to calm your mind again, you have permission to use my room even if I’m not there.’

So, that was where Sanghyuk was headed. He’d practically ran from the apartment building and crossed the street. Down the night-dark alley and into the yard. Through the back door and into the main building. 

Tossing the note in a trash can he passed, Sanghyuk focused all of his energy on not thinking about it. Not thinking about his childhood or his family home or, god forbid, the circumstances that drove him away. Thinking about those things would give them power, would allow them to hurt him again, and he refused to allow that. 

He was so focused on not thinking that he barely noticed the door to Jaehwan’s room was already cracked open. It didn’t ring any alarms in his head. Sanghyuk kept on walking and didn’t stop until his hand was on the doorknob and he was already halfway inside. 

Jaehwan was not in the apartment he and Hongbin shared, which was where Sanghyuk assumed him to be at this hour. It was so late...

The ringmaster was sitting in the middle of his lyra. Not the one that hung above the net; the other lyra with a longer chain. Close enough to the ground that Jaehwan only needed a good jump to climb up on it. 

He was wearing a leotard, but not the kind he usually wore for practice. This one had long sleeves and the leg openings were cut at the tops of his thighs. More like the costume he used to wear when he performed as an aerialist. His feet were bare where they dangled in the air, his long fingers gripping the top of the hoop beside its mounting point.

As Sanghyuk stood there watching, frozen, dumbstruck, the ringmaster slid down so he hung only by his hands. Letting the lyra sway for a moment before slowly lifting his legs up and somersaulting so his knees hooked around the top of the hoop where his hands had just been. He made holding himself up there look entirely effortless. 

Jaehwan gripped the bottom of the hoop, extending one leg out in front of him with a perfectly pointed foot before inverting his position. He hung still for a moment, and then gracefully kicked his legs out and fell, folding his body flat in half around the bottom of the lyra. The sudden drop made Sanghyuk’s heart stutter, but if it frightened him, the ringmaster gave no sign. Each of his movements were graceful, controlled. Now hanging down from the bottom of the hoop with his hands and resting his ankle inside its edge. His other leg dropped back and down so far it nearly touched the back of his head. 

He pushed himself up and spun, balancing on only his hips. Holding out his arms like wings extended in flight, slowly kicking one foot up towards his back and lowering it again before doing the same with the other. 

Sanghyuk was thoroughly mesmerized. He had never seen anything more enchanting than Jaehwan performing in his entire life, and each time he witnessed a performance only enchanted him further. The sense of awe had not yet worn off. 

Spinning again, turning twice around the bottom of the lyra and finally hanging straight down, Jaehwan let himself gently begin to sway. And it was only then, momentarily roused from his state of dazed wonder, that Sanghyuk fully took in his surroundings. 

Gaze drifting across the rest of the room. A room that was not empty of everyone but the ringmaster and himself. Jaehwan’s uncle was there. Seated on a large chair that was normally pushed up against the wall, but had been dragged to the center of the floor where the safety mat should be. So close that, if he stood up, the man would be able to touch Jaehwan’s hand. 

Taking in the man’s expression. He hadn’t seen Sanghyuk, that much was obvious. The owner of Lumen ad Somnia appeared exactly as enchanted as Sanghyuk felt. Unaware that Sanghyuk was there because his eyes were fixed unwaveringly on Jaehwan’s body.

Getting a clear view of Jaehwan’s face for the first time. Those wide pupils and slack mouth. Like he was on drugs. Like his physical self was there, but his mind was a million miles away. 

Something flipped in Sanghyuk's stomach, and he backed out of the room so fast that he nearly tripped over his own feet. Abrupt understanding of what he’d just walked in on made him violently nauseous, but he forced himself to move. To walk and keep walking. 

And then, when he was a safe distance away, far enough that they wouldn’t hear him, Sanghyuk broke out in a run. Running as fast as he could out of the main building and across the yard. Down the alley and across the street. Up the stairs and into the hallway. Only stopping in front of one door and banging on it as loud as he could. 

It opened after barely half a minute, its occupant glaring at the acrobat through his curtain of hair, clutching a dark bathrobe around his lanky frame. “Do you know what time it is? Why are you making such a racket?”

“Taekwoon,” Sanghyuk wiped the corner of his mouth, shaking, “I need to talk to you. Right now. It's important.”

Taekwoon barely had to open the door before Sanghyuk pushed past him to pace in the dark living room. He almost lit the room himself with his fervent, anxious energy. Taekwoon eased back his hair as he sobered up. He hadn't been asleep, but he also didn't expect anyone to try to break his door down in the middle of the night. Whatever Sanghyuk needed to talk about, it had to be grave. Anything less and he would talk to Hongbin or Jaehwan. Even with the hour and the wine, Taekwoon still felt a tremor try to build up in his fingers. He keenly remembered the last time someone had ran to him with bad news. He still had the blood on his hands in his mind. 

“Sanghyuk, take a breath.” He watched the acrobat stop in place and fill his chest with air, as if he were about to dive into the ocean. “Now tell me what happened.” he caught Sanghyuk's eye, holding his gaze. Making sure Sanghyuk knew he had his full attention. 

But Sanghyuk couldn’t take a breath. 

“You’re our head of security-“ he stammered, so incandescent with fear that it felt like the nerves in his body should be shining like tiny pinpricks of light beneath his skin, “I’m coming to you with this because you’re our head of security. It’s your job to keep us safe, yes?”

He began to pace, utterly oblivious to the tense set of Taekwoons shoulders and the tremble in Taekwoons fingertips. 

“Yes,” the elder replied, hands clasped across his flat stomach, “That is my job at this circus. Tell me what’s wrong.”

“It’s-" 

Another hesitation. Words were failing Sanghyuk, refusing to obey his brain, locked behind his teeth and begging to be swallowed down unspoken. But he couldn’t allow that. He had to get them out and there was no one better to hear them. 

“It’s Jaehwan. And the owner- his uncle. I just saw, and I don’t have any proof, but I think he- I believe that something deeply inappropriate is going on. It could have started ages ago, maybe even when Jae came here in the beginning, I don’t know, but-”

“Breathe,” Taekwoon repeated, “I cannot understand you unless you speak plainly, Sanghyuk. Breathe and tell me what is going on.”

“His uncle. Jaehwan and his uncle. I think,” Sanghyuk’s throat tightened convulsively, “He is taking advantage of Jaehwan. Taking advantage of the power he holds over Jaehwan, must be, and it’s wrong on so many levels that I can’t even begin to explain.”

He heard Taekwoons weight shift where he stood, but Sanghyuk couldn’t push the words down anymore. They’d clawed their way up his throat and refused to die. 

“It’s not just that. I saw him and Hakyeon-”

“Which him do you mean? Jaehwan or his uncle?”

“Jaehwan,” the acrobat whispered, “I saw Jaehwan and Hakyeon being- intimate, but it wasn’t intimate. Hakyeon was being so cruel- There’s something going on, Taekwoon. Something horrible is going on and I think they’re both using him. Manipulating or tricking or blackmailing him in some way, because he despises Hakyeon. Loathes him so much I can’t even understand it. And his uncle… He may idolize him but his uncle looks at him like- like he’s a windup toy the man wants to break. At the very least, I’m almost certain he’s using Jaehwan for physical… Intimacy.”

Something flared in Taekwoon’s chest, not unlike the urge a dog must feel to bite a hand that reaches out to it, sink its canines between bones and pull. White hot anger that he could feel in his teeth. He watched Sanghyuk like one watches the pendulum of a clock, his pacing up and down the living room.

Jaehwan was being used, not just by Hakyeon but the very man he considered family. The man that put him into the position of power he was at the circus. Jaehwan was laying down like a dog and taking it from all sides and reaping the benefits. He cared so little for his responsibilities because he was never meant to be in this position. If Sanghyuk was being honest, then Jaehwan was even more detrimental of a fool than Taekwoon had thought he was. 

It had to be the reason why Hakyeon hadn't been sent out. The one leading a group shouldn't be a toy passed around the yard. They should be unreachable, high above their peers to keep control.  If Jaehwan was ornamental, title simply a reward for good service , then why would he ever actually maintain control? He was no better than all those below him if his position was simply given to keep him in arms reach. How simple it would be to manipulate a man with no real power. All you need is pull the lead in that familiar, nostalgic way. 

And of course the viper in the grass that was Hakyeon knew how to do just that. He saw the weakest point and pressed into it until it bled out what he wanted. Jaehwan was the only real obstacle to him staying with them. Once he was bribed into keeping his mouth shut, there was nothing to keep Hakyeon from what he wanted. 

“When did this happen?” If he didn't say something, Sanghyuk was going to explode into another incomprehensible jumble of words. He could practically see them boil up inside of him. 

“Just now.” He gestured, like he was playing out the route and the scene in his mind. “I went to Jae’s practice room to rehearse, and I wasn't- I didn't even know he would be there; let alone his uncle.” Taekwoon would have startled at Sanghyuk's sudden approach if half his mind weren't elsewhere. The acrobat took him by the shoulders. Taekwoon almost felt sorry for the desperation on his face. “You have to do something about this, Taekwoon, you must. Something is so, so terribly wrong and I can’t.” Taekwoon grabbed onto the acrobats wrist, momentarily silencing him. The younger's grip was tight with anxiety. 

“I will do something, Sanghyuk. Trust me.” Sanghyuk nodded quickly, gulping down some of that desperation. 

“I do trust you. You're the only one here that can fix this problem and it needs to be fixed.”

“What of Hakyeon and Jaehwan? Was that tonight?” Taekwoon pulled Sanghyuk’s hand from him. Sanghyuk removed both to run hands through his hair. He shook his head. 

“No, no. A few nights ago. After Hongbin sat for his portrait. I was going across the street with Wonshik and…” he holds his grip on his hair as he stares down at his feet. Reliving the scenes with new context and realizing the horror there. Taekwoon was too far in his mind to remember his own version of that expression. “I checked after the show- checked Jaehwan. I needed to see what Hakyeon did to him, but he barely let me look. He pushed me away and…” his eyes widened. “And his uncle interrupted before I had a chance to ask, and then I left. He pushed me out of the room.” 

A part of Taekwoon’s anger pointed inwards, wishing he would have simply thrown Hakyeon from the window when they spoke that afternoon. He had said nothing of this, made no implication of what backhanded manipulation he had gotten up to. He effortlessly lied to Taekwoon and made him believe that all of Wonshik's grief was pointed solely at the guard. He was the one caught with the ringmaster when he already had an illogical kind of commitment to the artist. Perverse was too kind a word for the parasite, now that Taekwoon considered what he had said. Demented, turning every single one of them round to his side and making it feel as if Taekwoon had slipped into the other side of the mirror. A universe where everyone ate out of his palm. Thank whoever may be out there for Hongbin and Sanghyuk, for the only other men with their minds intact.

Taekwoon pinched the bridge of his nose, head beginning to throb. His thoughts came too fast and disorganized. Wine joining hands with his flood of emotions to punish him. He needed to do something. Would do something, as he had promised. He couldn't yet, however. He hung his head, trying to piece something together. There wouldn't be any advantage to saying anything now. Hongbin had no power here, Hakyeon was a lowly tick of a man, Sanghyuk was in no state to do anything other than tell Taekwoon, and Wonshik would likely try to take the news as Taekwoon trying to spread lies to take the pressure off of him. There was a time and place for these things. 

“What? Did you know about this already? Do the others know?”

“No. I need to think.” He couldn't do so if Sanghyuk kept talking. “This is a delicate situation. Let me think.” Jaehwan's uncle was now rendered useless as well. The months Taekwoon had spent at Lumen ad Somnia clearly communicated that he cared for little more than his ornamental ringmaster. If Taekwoon said anything about what he and Hakyeon were doing, he would simply remove Taekwoon. Taekwoon might as well begin to wave a flag proclaiming that he was the mole. 

He had to remove Hakyeon first. He was the blade buried deep in the wound. He would have to be removed in order to treat the injury. The circus had functioned fine when Jaehwan only contended with one grasping fool. The balance had been thrown with the additional pressure put on him. The support of the circus had exceeded the weight it could take and was beginning to fold. If Jaehwan was in Hakyeon's pocket already, then Wonshik was the last hope at removing Hakyeon. But in order to get Wonshik to listen, he needed to get the artist to let Taekwoon say more than ten words to him. 

Only one thing was clear, and it was that Taekwoon couldn't say anything yet. Not if he wanted this to play out right. 

“You can't tell anyone about this. Do you understand that, Sanghyuk?” He finally addressed the acrobat, startling him. His grave tone was a poor replica of the one that said the same to him years ago. Poor impression or not, he proved he had learnt from a lifetime of secrecy. “This is a very complicated situation. If we go about it wrong, everyone will get hurt.” Sanghyuk opened his mouth, but Taekwoon continued. “You and Hongbin especially.” 

“I won't.” He gulped. “I won't, I swear.”

“They can't know that you know either. You have to do everything you can to act like you did before.” 

“ How ?” 

Taekwoon stared for a moment, the past finally managed to collide into him at full force. Sanghyuk looked nothing like him, especially not back when he was so young, but he still managed to see himself as a boy in the desperate note of his how . He still saw himself standing in his charge’s office, hands trembling and voice small, asking how it was possible to pretend everything was normal. How could he ever act like he did before when the two were like this now? It felt like he was drowning on dry land every time someone looked at him. He knew that they could tell. He knew they could see the stain of his charge’s fingerprints on the close guard's skin, even if they were invisible. He could only manage to tell Sanghyuk what he was told back then. 

“You'll find a way. You must.”

⤫-⤬-⤬-⤬

Chapter Text

“Are you drunk?” Hongbin looked at Taekwoon's unfocused gaze as he squinted at the vaulter. He looked as though he had fallen down the stairs of the complex. Hair tangled, cheeks pink, posture piss poor. Taekwoon didn't answer outside of some indecipherable murmur. He walked away from Hongbin, door still wide open. Hongbin came in, shutting it for him. He watched Taekwoon sink down onto his carpet, laying flat on his stomach with the bottle he had snatched off the table. Half full wine. 

“No.” Hongbin crossed his arms over his chest, staring down at the pathetic display in front of him. 

“I have a hard time believing that.”

“Not yet,” Taekwoon corrected, voice muffled by the carpet fibers. 

“Taekwoon.” The guard didn't respond, but he could tell that he was listening. Hongbin kicked his foot, just for good measure. “This is painful to watch.”

“Why are you here?”

“I came to check on you.”

The only reply Hongbin received was a grumble muffled by the carpet. 

Arms still crossed tight, Hongbin began tapping the toe of his riding boot beside his friend’s knee. “You’ve been locked up in here for nearly two days now,” he said, squinting at the back of Taekwoon’s head, “did you think your absence was going unnoticed?”

Taekwoon propped himself up on one elbow and raised the bottle to his lips, but Hongbin snatched it from him lightning quick and deposited it on the table. Safely out of the guards reach. 

“Tell me what’s going on. No more alcohol until our conversation is finished.”

“What does it matter to you?” Taekwoon huffed, dropping his head back to the carpet with a thump.

“I'm your friend,” Hongbin put simply. Sharp enough to cut. “I thought you would only forgo working if you were gravely ill.” He gestured at the pathetic man on the floor. “I appear mistaken.”

“I don't spend every moment working.” It was a childish, avoidant, retort and he knew it. The only reason he didn't is that Wonshik had forced him into taking weekends like the rest of them. Or the Sabbath, at the bare minimum.  

“Yes you do.” Hongbin nudged him again. “Will you get up and talk like a grown man? It feels like I'm talking to a toddler.” Taekwoon groaned as he forced himself up. His head swam being upright. He focused on Hongbin's boots while he pushed down his nausea. “Finally.”

“Leave me alone,” Taekwoon grumbled as he rubbed the heel of his palm into his eye. It had been too long since he last properly ate. 

“No.” Hongbin settled on the ground in front of Taekwoon, sitting like he was in acrobatic practice. “Not until you talk.”

“ Hongbin .” The vaulter didn't budge, continuing to scowl. A silent battle of wills between them. The one man more stubborn than Taekwoon was right in front of him. Taekwoon could feel the words bubble up the heavier the silence became, the more time that ticked by. Hongbin's fingers tapped each one that passed. Taekwoon tasted his explanation on his tongue and cringed at the idea of saying it out loud. He'd sound like a child. That's what has you so distraught? He would laugh in disbelief. Taekwoon huffed. 

“Wonshik is upset with me.” 

Hongbin leaned back, away from Taekwoon. He didn't laugh, but his brows raised. 

“Wonshik is upset with you?” As if there was any other man Taekwoon could be referring to. He pointed behind him, to the wall that separated Taekwoon's apartment from Wonshik's. The guard nodded once. 

Hongbin sighed, deep from his chest, before he spoke. 

“Why would he be upset with you?” His tone spoke of a thin patience being worn down to nothing. Like he was talking to a rather bothersome child. Taekwoon pulled his knees up, holding his legs against his chest. It was comforting when having to stand up straight and expose yourself was trained into you. 

“I said that the way Hakyeon treats him is perverse.” Taekwoon didn't expect a derisive snort to come from Hongbin. For him to smile like he agreed. 

“Perverse doesn't not necessarily imply bad .” 

“I meant that it's wrong .”

“Then apologize if you don't want him upset with you.” Like it was so simple and Taekwoon was simply an idiot. “Why the binge drinking?”

“Because he won't-” Taekwoon gestured at the wall between the two apartments, some inarticulate agitated sound leaving him. “He won't let me explain.”

“What is there to explain? Its rather clear what you meant.”

“He thinks that he is the problem. That I would be upset with him for how they are.” Taekwoon reached for the bottle, but Hongbin beat him too it easily. He kept it beside him now. Held in his clutch so Taekwoon couldn't make any more failed attempts. Taekwoon groaned, dragging his hands over his face. He forced himself up onto unsteady feat. 

“He is not the problem. He is not the one that's," Taekwoon began to pace, or rather stumble, around his living room, grasping for the right words in his frustration, “That's disgusting.” 

“Uh-huh.” Hongbin was clearly disinterested. He glanced down at the bottle label, letting Taekwoon rant on. 

“He's not the one that attempts to woo every living thing he sees. He's not the one torturing the man that's so clearly infatuated with him. The opposite in fact.” Hongbin reaches up a hand as Taekwoons trips on the edge of the carpet, but the guard recovers just as quick and continues. “He fawns after the man who completely disrespects him and his place here. He's infatuated with this pervert who couldn't care less about his well being, about the way things are meant to be.” Hongbin watched him go up and down the room. The movement of a clock pendulum. Or the rising growl of an on coming thunderstorm. 

“No one should act as he does, not where anyone could see, and especially not with someone above them.”

“He should be like you.”

“Yes!” Taekwoon paused, stopping in the middle of his carpet to look down at Hongbin. “What?”

“He should disguise all his love as platonic devotion” Hongbin gestured at Taekwoon's person. “Like you.” Taekwoon blinked down at him. He swayed softly on his feet. 

“I'm not-”

“Oh please do not attempt to say you are not in love with him.” 

An ice cold dread settled like a rock in Taekwoon's stomach. He suddenly felt painfully sober. Hongbin continued when Taekwoon stammered. 

“Only someone in love with him would get this upset about all of this.” Taekwoon shook his head quickly. He stepped away from Hongbin, gulping down panic. 

“Don't say that.” He smoothed shaking hands over his sides. “That's not true.”

“You practically just spelled it out,” Hongbin argued. 

“It's wrong!” It rushed out of Taekwoon, like the vaulter had squeezed it out of him with his last breath. Taekwoon's skin prickled with the weight of nonexistent eyes. He looked at the window despite knowing there was no one watching them on the third floor. He continued rubbing his hands along his sides, like he was staying to dry them without a towel. Hongbin slowly got to his feet as Taekwoon crossed the room to snap the plain curtains shut. 

“Me and Jaehwan are a couple. Me and Sanghyuk have…” Hongbin tasted for the words, “something together. The other trainers and performers. What makes it wrong for you?”

“It's different,” Taekwoon replied cryptically. What was angry stomping up and down the room became nervous buzzing. He had flinched when Hongbin first started speaking. Like he was afraid of being overheard. 

⤫-⤬-⤬-⤬

“Taekwoon, I already told-”

“Please-” Taekwoon cut in before Wonshik could get any further. His hand was trembling on the doorknob. He stared down at it while Wonshik stared at the guard's back. He could feel his eyes on him, just like he always felt his old charge’s. Taekwoon's stomach twisted and made it painful to turn his body around to face the other man. He heard Wonshik shift in his chair when he walked closer. He came to stand before his desk, just as small as he was before. Wonshik's voice was soft. 

“Taekwoon.” The guard took a deep breath before he took the leap and plummeted into that sinking feeling. 

“I need to explain. Give me five minutes to say everything I need to and then I'll never speak of it again.” He glared down at the mahogany desktop. He ignored the blurring at the edges of his vision from fighting tears. Wonshik said nothing. He simply looked up at him. 

Taekwoon stumbled at the permission. He didn't have to fight for it, and without a fight he realized he didn't know how to start. He knew all he had to say, not how to say it and when. He froze under the spotlight. There was a prodding at the back of his brain telling him to turn around and run straight back out. He still had time to gracefully surrender. But then, he heard Hongbin as well. He heard his friend insisting he finally say the unspeakable, to bridge this gap between them. He would be disappointed if he knew Taekwoon took the cowards path. Taekwoon wasn't a coward. He would not yield. 

He was not a coward, but he was afraid. 

“When I was fourteen,” his voice barely even shifted the air of the office. It was timid and broken. It humiliated him with its sound. His palms stung where his nails pressed in unequal crescents. “I found my charge… in a compromising position. He was with someone he should not have been accompanied by, let alone…” Taekwoon swallowed around fear. His heart matched the speeding pace it did then when he peeked out from just the crack in the door. Young eyes gulping down the sight he was not meant to be privy to. “I saw that. And he saw me.” His forbidden little triste had actually pointed him out first. Said there was someone at the door. The duke had looked over his shoulder to the door. “If someone had known, it would have been disastrous for him. It could have,” Taekwoon gulped, hearing the older man's voice so clear in his mind, “sent everything toppling down." There was the quiet sound of chair wheels turning on the floor, of Wonshik slowly rising. Taekwoon's arms shook from how tight the tension in him was. “He caught me after, trapped me and told me I could never say a word about what I saw.” 

“Taekwoon…” Wonshik rounded the desk slowly. He stood just an arms length away. His voice full of sorrow even when Taekwoon had only begun. 

“I- he saw how I reacted, too.” Humiliation was a thick, slimy thing in Taekwoon's throat, strangling him. “I worshiped him,” he murmured. “Not the way I should have. Not in the way a guard looks to his duke but in- it was indecent. Perverse.” Wonshik flinched at the word like it was a physical thing. “I shouldn't have. I knew that.” The tears finally boiled over, rolling over his cheeks and leaving them raw. “I tried to keep it down. Tried to stop it. I should have been better and he told me as much.” Taekwoon sniffed. 

“If I were to ever tell someone of what I saw, he would as well. Everyone would know what I was, how I really saw his worship.” He conjured images of the boys father in his head. How disappointed he would be of his son, to abuse this position. How disgusted he would be that all his labors in raising him were soiled. “I would lose everything. He was all I had.” His skin burned where he rubbed his sleeve across his face. It came back just as soiled as his image. “I promised him anything if he didn't.”

He had cried then too. Heavy tears that stained his face and his uniform as he begged the duke not to. Vowed that he would never tell a soul, that he would take it to his grave. Anything, anything he wanted if he didn't tell anyone. If he could keep this position. 

The duke told him to stop his sniveling. Taekwoon bit his lip bloody to keep it in then. He would be good. He was good. He promised. He vowed. Quiet, and no one has to know just what you are . Taekwoon nodded so hard he could feel it in his neck even in the present. He would be the perfect sword for his hip if that was the only thing people thought of him as. 

“Those feelings were meant to be pushed down. I-if I was obedient, and if I pushed them down, no one would know. No one would get hurt.” No one would be disappointed. Everything would be perfect until that bloodstained night. Uneasy tranquility. “That's what makes him perverse,” Taekwoon finally reached the purpose of this all. Wonshik could finally connect reason to his words. “No one should be so… open. He treats it like its nothing. Like he's meant to do it.” Taekwoon's voice raises with his temper. All the aggression and self loathing overwhelmed his senses. “He doesn't get to treat you like that. You're above him. You should treat him like that. He should kiss the ground you walk and thank you for the time of day. He doesnt- he doesn't understand how its supposed to be. He should worship you. That's what love is. He should want to throw himself to the wolves for you.” Taekwoon ribs felt like they were closing on his heart, squeezing the last bits of life out of it. He couldn't see past angry tears. “I'm the one who loves you! I tried so hard not to but it never works. It never worked and he came here to taunt me for it.” Taekwoon's voice had become as coarse as sandpaper, tearing his throat as he spoke. “I do everything I can but it's not enough. I should have learnt, I thought I learnt how stupid it was.” Meekly, like the last drops of water out of a rung rag, “But you're so good, even to me. Even when I haven't earned it. I couldn't ruin you with this.” 

Taekwoon was pulled in. He hid his face behind his hands, even as it was pressed to Wonshik's shoulder. Wonshik's arms wrapped around the guard. His hold was loose, leaving room for Taekwoon to escape. He couldn't. He stayed in that embrace, let it ease his shaking. Wonshiks palms were warm on his back, on his shoulder. His cheek was pressed against the side of Taekwoon's head. Taekwoon could have followed and mimicked his breathing if he were calm enough. Such a steady and even thing. His heart was the same where they were pressed together. 

“There's nothing wrong with you, Taekwoon.” He grasped onto Wonshik's shirt in fists. He felt his low, soft voice reverberate in his bones like a whisper in a cavern. Wonshik squeezed him tighter, knowing Taekwoon wasn't trying to escape now. The pressure was comforting, like a heavy blanket draped over Taekwoon's front. The way he pressed his nose into Taekwoon's hair was so intimate Taekwoon felt his heart trying to claw free from its skeletal cage. New, quieter tears poured out. “I'm sorry someone made you think there is.” There was a genuine sorrow in his voice. The hand on Taekwoon's back began to rub up and down. He was surely soiling Wonshik's fine shirt, wrinkling it in his death grip. Wonshik said nothing of it. It wasn't even an afterthought to him. Lightly, barely even a touch at all, he kissed Taekwoon's head. “I already care about you. You never had to earn it.”

Wonshik held Taekwoon as long as he would let him. They stood there in the office intertwined until Taekwoon's tears stopped coming. Until his breathing mellowed. Until his heart matched with the others in its rhythm. Taekwoon's hands eased out of their fists, passing over the fabric of his shirt. Wonshik's hand had stopped moving at some point, simply resting on the other. He said nothing when Taekwoon hesitantly moved his own arms, curling them around the artist's middle. He fit in between Taekwoon's long arms perfectly. Calmer now, he could catch the clean smell of Wonshik's clothes and skin. No graphite or paint or turpentine. The warmth was there, though. the same kind that permeated his apartment. Taekwoon had never been able to describe it, but he knew it to be Wonshik. He would know it anywhere. It smelt like sitting down in his apartment and watching him draw, pretending to do the same. Like watching his focused gaze and his lip caught between his teeth. It felt like home, in a bizarre way. Taekwoon sighed deeply. 

“How do you feel?” Pressed close, he could feel how his low voice rolled in his chest like the ocean lapping at his feet. 

“Tired,” Taekwoon answered honestly. He was exhausted. Twisted and rung out to dry. Wonshik blew a breath of a laugh. 

“I'm sure.” Taekwoon shut his eyes, resting for a moment against Wonshik. He was so warm. “How about I walk you home so you can rest?” He pat Taekwoon's back softly. “You went through a lot.” Whether he meant in the grand scheme of things or simply this confession didn't matter. They were both a weight. Taekwoon nodded from where his face was still buried. He could hear Wonshik's smile. 

“You have to let me go first, Taek.” taekwoon forced himself to let go, to quickly step back. He knew he must look dreadful. He kept his gaze down in hopes that he wouldn't see Wonshik seeing him. Taekwoon knew he was looking at him by the way he didn't move to clean up the work Taekwoon had interrupted. He was most certainly seeing the color bloom in Taekwoon's face, more than it already was. “Let me just clean this up.” 

“Please.” Taekwoon gestured to the desk, urging him to so he would stop staring. Being seen in such a state was like getting flayed open. Wonshik could pull back the skin and see right through him. Wonshik went around the desk, letting Taekwoon breathe. 

Wonshik led him out of the building.  He didn't walk any closer than he normally did. No hand rested on Taekwoon's person. It was better that way. There was nothing to see with them like this. Still, there was that urge to take his hand just to feel that warmth again. 

“Would you rather your apartment, or mine?” His voice was still so soft. Even when they were beyond closed doors, he offered Taekwoon the exact same level of kindness. 

“Mine is not… in a good state.” Hongbin had said as much when he visited. It wasn't something wonshik needed to see. He'd seen more than enough that day. 

“Mine it is then.” they left from the backdoor of the circus, since it was closer to his office than the front. Still as bright and beautiful as it was when Taekwoon had walked in. It didn't feel so antithetical to the state of his mind now. Taekwoon looked to the stable as they passed, Sugar moving about in her stall. He saw Hongbin just inside when they were closer. Hongbin saw him as well, meeting his eye when he picked up the bucket at his feet. Neither spoke,  but Taekwoon dipped his head in a nod. Silent thanks. Hongbin smiled in return. Taekwoon looked ahead as he continued to follow Wonshik. 

⤫-⤬-⤬-⤬

“Well, it doesn’t sound like he’s upset with you then, does it?” Hongbin asked, now seated across from Taekwoon at the kitchen table. 

Taekwoon hung his head. “How can you be so sure?”

“Because, unless you just told me a mountain of lies, Wonshik is not upset with you.” It sounded harsh, the vaulter knew, but blunt communication was required in situations like this. “There’s no reason for you to drink yourself into a mopey stupor over nothing. I understand how difficult it was to share what you shared, but this self-indulgent-pity act is stupid. It's a waste of energy.” Hongbin nudged Taekwoon's foot under the table, getting him to glance up. “Talk to him tomorrow. It will do a hell of a lot of good.” 

“Do you have any idea how difficult it was to tell you ?”

“Yes, which is why Wonshik should be easier. You're the only one holding this grudge. Whatever you say to him, I know he'll forgive you.” Taekwoon scoffed. 

“And how do you know that?” 

“Because you're the only person he likes as much as Jae.” Hongbin rose from the table, rolling his shoulder. They'd sat there for some time. “You'll both be fine if you just talk.”

⤫-⤬-⤬-⤬

Wonshik gently set a mug down in front of Taekwoon, steaming chamomile. He put his hands in his pockets when he stood up straight, looking down at Taekwoon. The guard kept his eyes on the tea, one hand picking at the blanket on his leg. 

“Can I ask you some things? Or would you rather relax?”

“You can ask.” Wonshik frowned. 

“You're certain?” Taekwoon nodded softly. He wouldn't be able to relax knowing Wonshik had things he wanted to say. The artist came around, sitting beside Taekwoon. He made sure not to sit on the blanket, leaving it between them and on Taekwoon's leg. Wonshik laced his own hands together, one foot bouncing. He was hesitating. Taekwoon couldn't get his body to move, to pick up the mug. 

“Can you tell me about your family?” Wonshik timidly asked. Taekwoon sighed out the breath he held. 

“My father is captain of the royal guard. I have a half sister. My mother is my father's second wife.”

“Was that why you became a guard?” Taekwoon nodded. He never even contemplated a different path for his life. He would always follow in his fathers footsteps. Always try to earn his affection. “How did he feel when you became the…”

“Duke.” 

“The Duke's closeguard?” Taekwoon rubbed circles in the blanket with his thumb. 

“He was proud. He never expected I would be picked.” it was the closest he ever felt to his father. To think that he would never see him again. 

“How did you feel?” Taekwoon was finally able to reach out and take the mug in his hands. He couldn't bring it to his lips, but it was progress. Wonshik's gaze burnt a little less. 

“It was the best day of my life.” It was the zenith of all his goals at that age. He had been recognized for all the work he did. The two men that had shaped his life most had shared him in their gaze for that moment. Wonshik's hand settled on the guard's knee. 

“You stayed his closeguard all that time? Until you came here?” Taekwoon nodded again. 

“I was there when he died,” he muttered. Wonshik squeezed his knee briefly. “I was there for everything.”

“Was it,” Wonshik ran his tongue along his teeth, hesitant to ask, “because of your secret?” Taekwoon took a drink of the tea. It burnt his tongue, but it was a reprieve. The comfort of burning muscles after rigorous training. He shook his head after. 

“No. He had many enemies. That's why he had me.” He had told Taekwoon before that through his life he had built an impossible tower of cards. Only one needed to be pulled for everything he built to come toppling down.

“Am i… like him?” Taekwoon finally met his eye. He expression was something fearful. He didn't know what Taekwoon would say. Taekwoon compared the images in his mind again. Wonshik to his worship. Wonshik's open, bleeding heart. 

“No.” He watched the tension seep out of Wonshik. “You're kinder, and patient. Everyone adores you.”

“You might be biased,” he tried to be humorous. Taekwoon didn't.

“You're a good man, Wonshik.” There was a reason that Taekwoon felt the way that he did. It was who Wonshik was. “That is why I care so much for you.” Saying love now was too overwhelming. It didn't escape his mouth like it had in the office. It felt like he had said it once more irregardless. He still teetered it on his tongue. Wonshik's hand settled on his knee.

“You're a good man, Taek.” The guard didn't try arguing. He was too exhausted for it. Throat too raw. He stared down at the steaming tea.  At Wonshik's hand on him. His knee fit well in his large palm. Wonshik was looking at him again and Taekwoon still couldn't meet the gaze. He could sense him smiling, however.  Softer, “Thank you for telling me.”

“I had to.” There was nothing else he could have done. No other path to take. “I needed you to understand.” 

“I'm grateful regardless.” his thumb rubbed into the bones of Taekwoons knee. Little innocent circles. It made Taekwoon's skin buzz. “I'm not ignorant of how much trust it took to tell me.” Wonshik squeezed Taekwoon before he finally took his hand away. “I'm proud of you.” Taekwoon's hold on the mug went white knuckle. His throat closed up again. Wonshik stood from the couch. Seemingly blind to his effect on Taekwoon. “Get some rest. You can stay as long as you like.”

⤫-⤬-⤬-⤬

“Did you have a moment, honey?” Wonshik peeped into the training room after his knock was answered, looking to the ringmaster. He was halfway up the rope ladder. He looked down to Wonshik, the book in his other hand. 

“Is everything okay, Shikkie?”

“It's nothing dire.” He shut the door before he crossed the room. He stood a foot from the bottom of the ladder. Jaehwan was in the same clothes he always wore for acrobatic practice. Soft soled shoes bent as he came back down the rungs, eye level with the artist. Or rather, sitting on the rung to be just slightly above him. Like he was on a swing or his lyra. Wonshik flipped open the record book to the page he had been keeping with his thumb. 

“Did something come up?” Wonshik shook his head. The page was full of schedules for animal trainers, for veterinary visits, for feed times. Wonshik had a plethora of “black books” for the circus. Anyone would be able to lead it without him if they could follow them. 

“No, I just wanted to,” wonshik chewed his lip, seeing the subtle tired lines in Jaehwan's face, “I wanted to discuss Hakyeon.” 

“Oh.” It was the same expression he would wear at the Metropolitan club. A kind of wall. Wonshik shamefully cleared his throat. 

“I wanted to… apologize. For not listening to you. You were trying to help.” 

“Shikkie…” Jaehwan outstretched his hand, offering it to Wonshik. He thoughtlessly took it, holding the ringmaster's hand. They always fit well together, an inseparable pair. The shame burned a little brighter.

“I'm sorry, Jae. It would have saved us all some trouble if I had listened.” He turned Jaehwan's hand over, rubbing his knuckle. The artist gave a dry chuckle. “Jiwon thought we had gotten into a fight. She said she would hit me for you if we did.” Jaehwan pouted his lips. 

“You went to see her and you didn't tell me?” 

“You'll see her once her break starts, Jae.” He dropped Jaehwan's hand. He returned it to the sides of the ladder like the chains of a swing. “It was just dinner.”

“Without me.” Wonshik laughed, hanging his head as he shook it. 

“I'll plan another for the three of us then, to make up for it.” 

“Good.” Jaehwan fixed himself on the ladder, crossing his legs. “Was that it?” He glanced down at the book in Wonshik's hand. His neat, upside down, hand writing. 

“Well, not exactly.” Wonshik looked down at the tables and words as well. He avoided Jaehwan's eyes by looking at all the places he had already figured out he could fit Hakyeon. “Would you be against Hakyeon staying here? If we did what we did with Hongbin?” He glanced at Jaehwan through his lashes, gauging his unreadable expression. “I do think he could fit well here. I've seen him work before.” Wonshik sighed. “And he wants to, he really does. I can tell he's very eager to leave Requiem; and I looked through everything and there's a way we could fit him in rather easily. See,” he turned the book around, showing Jaehwan the points he was talking about, “we could simply put him-” 

“I already talked to Uncle about him,” Jaehwan interrupted simply. As blaise as if he pointed out the weather. Wonshik stopped, forming a befuddled little frown. Hand still on the page

“You did?” Jaehwan nodded. 

“He's already written up a contract.” Jaehwan looked Wonshik over, frowning. “Did he make you ask me?”

“He didn't make me do anything,” wonshik denied a bit too fast. “I just- i hadn't expected him to ask you directly. And if he had, I would think he would tell me, since I said I would do it.” Why wouldn't he have just asked Jaehwan in the first place if it was so simple? Why go through Wonshik? Did he think Wonshik had changed his mind, or that he had been making a false promise? Wonshik slowly shut the book. He was looking at, but not seeing it. Jaehwan's knees. They were bruised. Did Wonshik give Hakyeon a reason to not trust him?

“It was only the other night. Uncle wrote up the contract a day or two ago.” He must not have gotten to it then, wonshik settled. Still, something about it bothered him. He ran a hand through his hair. 

“That makes this much easier, then.” He chuckled to himself. “I'm sure Taek will be thrilled to hear the news.” 

“Is he okay? Bunny was with him all afternoon yesterday.” Jaehwan pouted, the soft concerned eyes of a puppy. Wonshik smiled. 

“He's fine, Jae.”

“Good. He seemed even more irritable than usual recently.” 

While Wonshik wanted to tell Jaehwan, he didn't. He told Jaehwan every little thing, every little secret. But this wasn't his secret to tell. Not with how ashamed Taekwoon had been to even tell Wonshik himself. Taekwoon had been holding onto this his entire life, it wasn't right to take away the confession from him. 

“Bin really helped him, probably even more than I did. I need to thank him the next time I see him.” He and Jaehwan had never had a confession like that, now that he considered it. Jaehwan's personality spoke enough for him, over him. And Wonshik was such a delicate, infatuated, thing when they were boys. They both simply knew, much like Wonshik knew about Taekwoon before he had ever confessed. Something instinctual. Wonshik hoped Taekwoon could find a way to overcome that shame and fear, if for nothing else than the guard's comfort. Selfishly, Wonshik wanted it for his own sake as well. He always struggled to keep his love and affection contained. Putting a lid on the pot would simply make it bubble over more aggressively. “He'll be alright,” wonshik muttered. “He just needs some time to recover.” Jaehwan was smiling at him, head tilted to the side. Batting those pretty long lashes. 

“Does he?”

“What is that look for?” Wonshik's cheeks warmed. He knew what it was. Jaehwan always made that face when he had figured out something Wonshik hadn't said. Often hadn't even realized himself. 

“I could ask you the same.” Jaehwan extended a leg, poking Wonshik with the toe of his ballet flat.

“I'm not doing a look.” 

“Really? Because you looked awfully pensive for a moment. Then you got this smile…” he dragged his foot up Wonshik's side. He stopped right at the point he knew Wonshik was ticklish. Wonshik gripped onto his ankle. 

“Jae.” A grin spread across Jaehwan’s face. He leaned his top half forward. 

“It almost seemed a touch love sick, if i must say.” Wonshik frowned at the grinning ringmaster before shooting his hand up to the bare skin of the back of his knee. Jaehwan squealed and tore himself back as Wonshik tickled him. “Stop! Stop it!” He yelled, unable to squirm too much without falling off his little perch. Wonshik had his own grin as he, lovingly, tortured the ringmaster. Jaehwan's smile was as bright as his laugh was loud. Both seemed to intensify when Wonshik took him up in his arms and pulled him off of the ladder. Picking up and carrying Jaehwan had never been hard, and Jaehwan always appreciated it. He wrapped his arms around Wonshik's neck.

“You are impossible.” 

“Why are you hugging onto me then?” he bent his knees to gently drop his book on the floor. It barely even made a noise. Both hands free, he was able to properly support Jaehwan. 

“Can you blame me?” He groped at Wonshik's back muscles blindly. The artist shook him with his laughter. 

“Bin and Hyuk don't pick you up enough? Hyuk is probably stronger than I am.”

“Well, yes.” Jaehwan huffed. “But not like this. No one can replace you.” Wonshik bounced Jaehwan, fixing his hold on him. 

“I love you too, honey.”

Wonshik nearly dropped Jaehwan as he suddenly pulled himself back. He gripped onto Wonshik's shoulders still, but was far enough for Wonshik to see his wide eyes. 

“I have an idea!”

“And what's that?” 

“We should go to the lodge!” Jaehwan jumped out of Wonshik's hold. Back to both feet on solid ground. Wonshik rubbed his arm as Jaehwan elaborated. “You said our precious kitten needed some time to recuperate, and Hongbin's been itching for space and…'' Jaehwan's mind seemed to catch up with his words for a minute. Frowning at the idea of Hongbin needing space. He came back when Wonshik took his hand again. “And we'll have to spend time with Hakyeon properly, as a member of the group.” 

“You could use the rest too.” The surprise was evident on his face. Wonshik smiled sympathetically. “I can see you're tired, Jae.” Jaehwan opened his mouth, going to say something, before shutting it again. He nodded softly, eyes cast away. 

“Yes. Yes, Bunny told me I've been working too much.” 

“A holiday at the lodge sounds great, Jae.” He squeezed their joint hands. “It would do everyone some good.”

“Was this weekend available?” Jaehwan looked at the book on the floor. It didn't hold his personal schedule that Wonshik maintained for him. They were all identical, though. 

“I'm sure I could clear it even if it isn't.”

“Have I ever said how much I adore you, Shikkie?” Wonshik nodded sagely. 

“Millions of times, in fact.” 

Chapter Text

⤫-⤬-⤬-⤬

"Jaehwan and I had made a plan for this weekend," Wonshik said, scratching away at a drawing on the order sheet in his hand. The delivery would be there shortly, and no one was close enough to speak to other than Taekwoon. Knowing how he'd react at first, however, Wonshik couldn't look at him as he spoke. Not that Taekwoon did either. While he always stood beside Wonshik like this to guard over the yard, his eyes seemed very intentionally focused on anything but Wonshik.

"Which is?"

"We're staying at the cabin for the weekend, all of us. We agreed that it would be good for everyone to have a bit of reprieve from," Wonshik thought of every little scuffle that had happened over the past two months, "everything."

"Everyone." Taekwoon didn't need to say anything for Wonshik to know who he was against joining them.

"All of us." Wonshik hazarded a glance and a smile, even if Taekwoon didn't seem to be looking back. "You should take the opportunity to relax."

"I can't say I'd be relaxed in that situation." Trapped in a cabin out in the dense woods with his most cherished and despised of people for three days. He surely saw himself going mad within the first night of being there. Wonshik couldn't let him stay, however. Couldn't stand to do so. It felt wrong to prod at a weak point Taekwoon had just exposed, but it was the kindest way to get him to join them. Wonshik sighed.

"I wanted to talk to Hakyeon about the relationship between us." He could practically feel Taekwoon perk up, his attention a palpable thing. "I believe we have different intentions." Wonshik spoke softer than before. To keep his privacy, of course. There was certainly no feelings of shame or embarrassment at falling into the exact situation he had been warned about. It was only to keep his personal affairs between the two of them. Taekwoon was eerily still for the energy Wonshik could feel coming off of him. Like knowing a glowing red metal coil to be hot without touching it. "I would be grateful for your support." He bumped his side into Taekwoon lightly, a friendly gesture. It startled Taekwoon out of something, because he gulped and nodded.

"Fine."

"You'll come with us?" Wonshik smiled. And then smiled even more at Taekwoon hazarding a glance at him before flicking his eyes back to the yard.

"Only because you asked." Wonshik chuckled, hugging Taekwoon to his side. The guard squirmed near immediately. There were only a handful of other employees in the yard before them. None directly looking at them.

"You'll have a great time, I promise." Before Taekwoon could slip out Wonshik showed the order form to him. The little doodle in the margins. "You'll be like this by the first night."

"That is a cat." Wonshik rolled his eyes good-naturedly.

"It's a representation of you in the form of a cat," he corrects. "Peaceful and content." It did look rather like Taekwoon, especially when he had fallen asleep on Wonshik's couch. The paws tucked under its body like Taekwoon's hands clinging onto the blanket atop him. Taekwoon finally broke away from his touch, fixing his waistcoat with a huff.

"I don't know if I'm capable of that." And Wonshik didn't doubt him. The art of riding along, at ease with the current, was obviously foreign to him. Still, he hoped to show an old dog a new trick, if only for the dog's own benefit .

"Well see how you feel after the trip."

⤫-⤬-⤬-⤬

The central cast of Lumen ad Somnia circus was taking a trip to a hunting lodge -allegedly owned by Jaehwan’s uncle- for some quality time. An excuse to bond; to grow closer as a unit. It was an excursion that Sanghyuk had been dreading since Hongbin broached the subject and now, alas, the day of departure was upon them. 

“Do I really need to go?” Sanghyuk asked, for the five-thousandth time, forlornly watching his partner check the straps of Marzipan’s saddle. 

“Yes,” Hongbin replied, “We discussed this already.”

Sanghyuk shifted his weight to the other foot, trying not to look as restless as he felt. He’d thought the day couldn’t get any worse, until he was informed that he would travel in the carriage with the other three while Hongbin and Jaehwan rode to the lodge on their own. His deliberate exclusion only served to make his mood worse. “Then can I at least ride with you two? I barely know the others, apart from Hakyeon, and he spends about as much time in our apartment as I do-”

“No,” interrupted Jaehwan, twining himself around Hongbin's shoulders like a clingy shawl, “Think of it as an opportunity to get to know them better. Now, hurry along and get your luggage. We’ll be on our way.”

The ringmaster wouldn’t even look at Sanghyuk. Every drop of his attention was focused unwaveringly on his precious vaulter. The sight of them was beginning to make the acrobat feel sick. 

“Can I speak to you for a moment, doll?” he tried, mildly desperate now. His mother had sent another letter -only a day after the previous one, and he couldn’t bring himself to throw it away. The hateful thing had been a leaden weight in his trouser pocket for days now, and while he didn’t want to throw it away, Sanghyuk certainly didn’t want to be left alone with it.

With a pout and a huffy exhalation of breath, Jaehwan managed to tear his eyes from Hongbin long enough to peer up at the acrobat. The impatience in his lovely eyes made Sanghyuk flinch. “Speak to me about what? I believe we just settled this.”

Sanghyuk cleared his throat. “In private, please.”

Finally sensing the undercurrent of tension in Sanghyuk that must be painfully obvious, the ringmaster unwound himself from Hongbin and dragged Sanghyuk away by the arm. All the way around the stable building so the others couldn’t overhear. 

“What is it, Hyukkie?” Jaehwan asked in a sharp whisper, his tapping foot stirring up the hay and dirt, “The sooner we set off, the sooner we’ll get there.”

“I don’t-” the acrobat swallowed, “I don’t want to go with them.”

“And why not? Aren’t you getting along with everyone?”

What excuse could he give? Jaehwan had told Sanghyuk to tell him if Hakyeon ever did something Sanghyuk didn’t like, it was true. But he couldn’t say that the person he was anxious about traveling with was Hakyeon. He couldn’t explain that he didn’t want to be trapped in a small box with Hakyeon for the next few hours, because then Jaehwan would want to know why. And Sanghyuk couldn’t tell him. Taekwoon had explicitly told him to keep quiet about it and, even though it was taking longer than Sanghyuk would have liked, he trusted that Taekwoon was working on a way to have the situation remedied. 

So, what could he say? Other than backing out of the trip entirely, faking an illness or something like that, he couldn’t come up with a single excuse.

“Yes,” he replied, hesitant, “But I just… Don’t enjoy being excluded.”

“Oh, Hyukkie,” Jaehwan sighed, eyes softening a touch. He went up on tiptoe and pressed a chaste, lingering kiss to the acrobats cheek, “We aren’t trying to exclude you. But bunny has been so hot and cold with me lately, I want to be alone with him so we can bond a bit. Have a little heart to heart. Do you understand? It’s not that I’m trying to exclude you.”

Sanghyuk raised his eyes skyward, praying to god for strength so that he didn’t lose his nerve and start yelling at Hakyeon while they were trapped on the road. “I understand, it’s okay.”

Jaehwan pulled back to look at him, and then gave Sanghyuk another quick kiss. “We can spend time together once we’re all settled at the lodge. The three of us, me and you, you and bunny, whatever you’d like. I promise.”

Following the ringmaster back out into the yard, Sanghyuk firmed his jaw. Keeping his eyes down as he went to retrieve his bag and load it onto the retreating carriage. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Jaehwan throw himself onto Hongbin, saw Hongbin catch him and spin him around, heard Jaehwan let out a delighted peel of laughter. 

And then -without a backward glance or a word of apology or a promise of reunion- the pair took their leave. Swinging up onto creaking saddles and trotting out of the yard. 

⤫-⤬-⤬-⤬

“You're certain this is a good idea?” Wonshik sighed, taking the bag from Taekwoon's grip as he asked. It seemed to unmoor him. He stood there with his hand reaching out for nothing. It was the same bag he had with him when they first met. 

“Absolutely certain. Trust me.” He took Taekwoon by the shoulder and steered him to the open door of the carriage. Sanghyuk was already inside, glowering at the window. He seemed as unhappy about all of this as Taekwoon. Jaehwan had told Wonshik not to worry himself over the fact, as pointless as it was to tell him not to worry. “You'll have a great time if you just allow yourself to.” He gave Taekwoon's shoulder a squeeze before releasing him. He moved to place Taekwoon's luggage with the rest. Taekwoon resolutely stayed put. 

“I didn't expect this to be the day you don't roll over for him. I'm shocked.” Hakyeon came up to Taekwoon's side, smiling easily. He was carrying a smaller leather suitcase with him. The guard suddenly seemed much more interested in getting in the carriage. 

“I was almost worried you weren't coming,” Wonshik humored before Taekwoon could say something vitriolic in response. It was scarcely even a joke. He had been worried. Worried Hakyeon wouldn't come with them, worried about what he would say when Wonshik finally spoke with him, worried if he even could. Hakyeon waved a hand. 

“I wouldn't miss it for the world, sweetness.” Wonshik tried not to cringe at the name as he took the luggage from him and set it with the rest, finally able to tie everything down properly. “I've been looking forward to another night like our family dinner.” Taekwoon scoffed. Sitting in the carriage seemed to now be preferable to having to listen to Hakyeon speak. He climbed in, sitting across from Sanghyuk. The two met eyes only briefly. They said nothing to one another. 

“Hopefully this will be even better than that.” Wonshik hopped off the carriage once their luggage was properly secured. He nodded to their coachman as he stepped around to the door. 

“The love birds went on without us?” Wonshik held up a hand to help Hakyeon into the carriage. He succeeded in holding back a flinch at the touch. 

“Jaehwan wanted to spend some time alone with Hongbin. There's only room for four in the carriage regardless.” Hakyeon hummed, sitting himself beside Taekwoon like it was the simplest thing in the world. The guard glowered at him, moving as close to the wall as he was able. Sanghyuk's annoyance turned to apprehension, as though he hadn't considered who exactly he would have to be riding with until this moment. The tension could have been cut with a dull blade as Wonshik finally took the step up. Only Hakyeon seemed happy to be there. Happy surely because his presence was so unwelcome. Wonshik sighed as he took his place beside Sanghyuk. 

“What should we expect from the lodge, dear?” Hakyeon's hands rather quickly went to tatting once they had started moving. The quiet sound of his bobbin clicking along with the roll of the wheels. 

“The lodge has staff, just a maid and groundsman and chef. There's room for everyone, though someone might get stuck in the parlor. Not that that's too terrible. I've slept on both the couch and window seat in there before and was just fine.” Having something to explain helped Wonshik relax to a degree. He could focus on what it was like his first night at the cabin. “There's acres of forest to get lost in on the property, and probably hundreds of books from Jae and his uncle.” The thread Hakyeon was working with was a shining gold. It sparkled around his fingers as he worked. 

“What time should we get there?” Taekwoon had arms crossed over his chest and was pointedly looking nowhere in Hakyeon's direction. Sanghyuk was doing the same, though with everyone in the carriage. His eyes remained pointed out the window as his knee bounced quickly. Wonshik was sure if he opened the door now, Sanghyuk would fly out of it, still in motion or not. 

“In time for dinner, maybe sooner than that. Jae and Hongbin will get there first.” Sanghyuk's hand on his knee tensed, as if he was clutching at a sudden pain there. 

“I'm surprised they didn't take you with them, Sanghyuk,” Hakyeon chimed in. 

“I would have rathered they did.” Hakyeon laughed while Wonshik set a kind hand on Sanghyuk's shoulder. 

“You'll get to spend plenty of time with them this weekend. I'm sure they'll make it up to you.” Sanghyuk went to answer, say something sharp in return. He instead grit his teeth and jerked his leg up. Taekwoon settled with his legs crossed. 

“Apologies.” The look in his eyes told Sanghyuk the kick in the shin was entirely intentional. Hakyeon was smiling to himself. 

“It'll be a good trip, trust me. Me and Jaehwan used to come here every other week. We spent hours in the parlor or playing hide and seek out on the grounds.”

“You two have always been inseparable,” Hakyeon mused, tilting his head. Sanghyuk thought of something that could very easily tear them apart. That will. Taekwoon obviously hadn't done anything with what Sanghyuk saw yet. 

“Of course! No one could ever replace him.” Hakyeon hummed. The spiral his hands were working in was almost mesmerizing. 

“The way you three fawn over him, it's no wonder he's so proud of himself.”

“He is rather likable.” Wonshik's voice was full of amusement and warmth. Hakyeon scoffed. 

“Oh yes, I'm very aware, darling.” Sanghyuk couldn't speak with Taekwoon's heel on his toes. 

Sanghyuk chewed his lip, gazing off into the distance through vacant eyes. It was hard to pay attention to the colleagues arranged around him with his thoughts racing as fast as it was. Their conversations were circular and self-defeating and Sanghyuk felt like he’d been steamrolled by a wave of mental and physical exhaustion. 

How was this ill-timed trip to the country going to go? How could it be called a vacation? How was Sanghyuk supposed to relax when Taekwoon still hadn’t done anything? He’d promised that he’d do something about Hakyeon, and yet there he was, sitting at Hakyeon’s side and behaving like he was none the wiser. Sanghyuk had kept up his half of the bargain; he’d kept his mouth shut and hadn’t brought the issue up to anyone else, not even Hongbin. But Taekwoon had done nothing. 

“Does anyone mind if I smoke?” he asked, abruptly cutting into Hakyeon’s sentence. 

All three peered at him and Sanghyuk shifted a bit, drawing his foot out from under Taekwoon’s with deliberate care. 

“Not particularly,” Hakyeon replied, “But please do unlatch the window. This isn’t an opium den; cigarette smoke waft around our heads isn’t nearly so fashionable as that.”

The acrobat slid his silver cigarette case from his pocket and clicked it open. Offering them up for the animal tamer to see. “I do have some that are opium laced, if that's more to your liking.”

When Hakyeon demurred, Sanghyuk slid a cigarette free and shut the case once more. Settling back on the coach seat as he lit up. The nicotine hit him in a rush that made his fingertips tingle and his vision blur for a moment, but those sensations were welcome. They served to quell his anxiety. They dampened the pressure that was beginning to build at the base of his skull; his worries compounding into a headache. For the moment, anyway. 

Beside him, Wonshik stirred, giving Sanghyuk’s knee a gentle nudge. “What’s got you so on edge this morning?”

“It can't be because your sweethearts abandoned you and left you with us, is it?” Hakyeon chimed in, mockery dripping from his tone like poisonous honey, “Something so trivial... Surely not...”

That was part of it, yes. Sanghyuk didn’t like being left behind. He liked Jaehwan’s blatant show of favoritism toward Hongbin even less, which was remarkably stupid, considering how deep their entanglement was. Their feelings for eachother were far more developed than whatever feelings either of them had for Sanghyuk. He knew it was stupid but it hurt Sanghyuk's heart all the same. 

Acting like he hadn’t heard the animal tamer speak, Wonshik added, “Aren't you looking forward to our little vacation?”

Sanghyuk took a second pull on his cigarette. “Yes,” he lied, sighing the word on silver smoke and shooting a pointed look at Taekwoon, “But some small part of me expected the whole plan to fall through. We all -you all, I should say- have such important roles at the circus... So many important things that need taking care of. I didn’t think such a vacation would be possible.”

Whether Taekwoon understood the unspoken meaning behind the remark or not, Sanghyuk didn’t know. The man had a face like a slab of granite. Inscrutable and unreadable at the best of times. 

“Now you two are starting to sound alike,” Hakyeon mused, indicating Sanghyuk and Taekwoon. “All work and duty and responsibilities. The circus can fend for itself for a few days.”

“Only because we attend to our responsibilities,” Taekwoon muttered. He knew what Sanghyuk was doing. He watched his hands tremble as he brought the cigarette to and from his lips. He couldn't wait for this to all finally be behind them either, but there was still time. Sanghyuk's fussing would only delay that. 

“Oh, don't speak like you didn't have to be dragged out here.” The animal tamer tone was unexpectedly sharp, like his patience had suddenly been cut short. “It's only because Wonshik asked you so sweetly.” Wonshik's eyes went between the two and Sanghyuk took a significantly longer drag. 

“He asked us both.” Taekwoon kept his eyes focused on Sanghyuk and the opposite wall of the carriage. Held his focus there so he didn't play Wonshik's card for him. So he didn't tell Hakyeon exactly how unwanted he was here. 

“For some unfathomable reason.”

“Gentlemen,” Wonshik interrupted, as firm as he was seemingly capable of. “Please stop with the hostility.” And there was his typical softness. When he glanced at Taekwoon, it so clearly said for the time being to the guard. 

“I asked you both because I wanted all of us to be here. I wanted to spend time together as a group. I care for all of you.” 

“For god's sake, you're going to burn your fingers if you keep up like that,” Hakyeon admonished as he plucked the cigarette from Sanghyuk's fingers. The tremble in his fingers became more evident, and his hits more cloying desperate. “Should count as nicotine abuse,” Hakyeon scoffed before taking his own drag. Wonshik appeared like a kicked puppy. “We understand it was a gesture of good will,  sweetness.” His voice became docile once again addressing Wonshik. He held the cigarette between his lips as he returned to his tatting. There was only the soft click of his handiwork and the wheel on the road for a moment. Sanghyuk began to bounce his knee. 

“If any of you truly, genuinely didn't want to be here, you wouldn't be.” Taekwoon looked at Sanghyuk when he sighed. Quiet enough Wonshik didn't hear it, but Taekwoon saw his shoulders rise and fall. “Let's just put aside how we got here and try to enjoy it, alright?” Wonshik glanced at the trio around him. Hakyeon pulled the cigarette from his lips. 

“Of course, dear.” 

Taekeoon reached over and pulled the cigarette from him, replicating what he had done to Sanghyuk. The animal tamer's mouth dropped open as he watched Taekwoon flick what remained out the window. The guard settled back in his seat with arms crossed, nodding once. 

“We will,” he answered Wonshik. The small, grateful smile he got in response was more than enough of a reward. Sanghyuk dug the heels of his palms into his eyes. 

⤫-⤬-⤬-⤬

“I’m so glad you agreed to join me, bunny,” Jaehwan chirped, securing Sugar’s reins to a nearby tree. Watching from the corner of his eye as Hongbin fell back to slouch on the picnic blanket. 

The vaulter shrugged. “Did you think I'd refuse?”

“No- or, rather, I hoped you wouldn’t. I fear that we have been growing apart lately, and that is the last thing I wish to happen.” Jaehwan sank down to sit on the blanket at Hongbin's side and unveiled the provisions he’d gathered before their departure. A ripe grapefruit. A parcel of goat cheese. A jar of apricot preserve. Several slices of crusty french bread. Two small pink cakes that smelled like strawberry and coconut. A bottle of sparkling rosè that had been chilled, once upon a time. “Your partner makes for amusing company, bunny, but having him trail in your shadow so constantly grates on me every now and then.”

“It grates on you?” Hongbin arched a brow, “So far as I can tell, you eat up his adoration like a starving man at a banquet.”

Jaehwan spread a thin layer of cheese and jam on one of the slices of bread and held it up to Hongbin’s mouth. Watching, intent, as the vaulter took a bite. “As I said; he makes for amusing company. But there is no one I would rather spend a lovely afternoon alone with than you.”

To his delight, Hongbin dimpled prettily in response. Disguising a blush behind one hand as he chewed. He didn’t find Jaehwan’s affection irritating today, thank god.

The ringmaster laughed; high and bright and full of genuine amusement. The sun was warm on his exposed bits of skin and the air was sweet with the perfume of freshly bloomed flowers and his bunny’s happiness was visible. 

“You know how thoroughly I adore you, bunny,” he added, “Don’t you?”

“I do,” Hongbin replied, “And I’m sure you know that I adore you too.”

⤫-⤬-⤬-⤬

"Hakyeon." He was stopped by a hand around his wrist, keeping him from following the other two into the cabin. He turned back to Wonshik. The artist didn't meet his eyes. "Before dinner, after you unpack," he started. The fact he could still be so bashful was endearing. Hakyeon took a step into him. It startled him like they hadn't been far more intimately close before. "I wanted to ask if you would join me. For tea. In the study." Hakyeon smiled, tilting his head to the side. Wonshik seemed to be holding his breath, waiting to hear his answer. His eyes darted down to their hands as Hakyeon tangled their fingers together easily.

"How romantic. I would love to join you." He leaned in closer, a breath away. Close enough that a kiss would be a very simple thing. "For tea," he tacked on deliberately. It was just like Wonshik inviting him back to his office, or his apartment, or his room. All code and subtext. Wonshik went to say something at first, before he seemed to lose it. He shut his mouth again and nodded once.

"I'll see you there." He pulled his hand from Hakyeon's carefully. Hakyeon waved to him over his shoulder as he made it up the path to the cabin. Wonshik's sigh was heavy.

A curtain fluttered closed within the house. 

Wonshik savored the few moments of solitude he got to unpack his things. He knew this room like the back of his hand, the one he used to share with Jaehwan when they were children visiting with his uncle. They always ended up in one bed by the end of the night, jaehwan sleeping at an angle with his legs on top of Wonshik and dark hair spilling off the edge of the bed. They had whispered together here after the maid had already scolded them for making noise so late into the night. He'd put his clothes into this drawer a dozen times. It would be bizarre to share this room with someone else, that jaehwan would be in an entirely different room. It had been such a short time that their family grew three fold. To actually consider the time was jarring. He was staying in the room he had dozens of times with Jaehwan, this time with someone else entirely. He wouldn't have jaehwan trying to crawl inside his skin in the middle of the night. He would have taekwoon in the other bed a healthy distance away. Taekwoon would not chatter away hours and keep wonshik from sleeping. He likely wouldn't talk at all, unless Wonshik initiated it. Everything was so similar, yet so different.

"Wonshik." The artist jumped, nearly dropping his sketchpad on his toes.

"You have got to stop doing that," he scolded playfully. He set the pad of paper down as Taekwoon stepped into the bedroom. He'd already brought his bag up. Wonshik could see it at the foot of the other bed.

"I apologize." He stood in the center of the room with his hands behind his back like he was awaiting orders. His eyes followed Wonshik unpacking.

"If you'd rather stay in another room, we could set that up. I know it must be..." he hesitated, gesturing at Taekwoon's person like it would explain anything, "difficult."

"It doesn't bother me one way or the other," was his clipped reply. Wonshik sighed. He knew that would be the answer. He took the decorative pillows from the bed and set them aside in the armchair.

"If you insist." Taekwoon shifted his weight on his feet. His shirt sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, and even though it was such a simple thing, it made him look more relaxed. Comfortable. Wonshik smiled at the thought of how difficult it was to get him to do even that at first. It fell as he realized he now understood why Taekwoon always seemed so ashamed of himself.

"You still plan on speaking with him?" Taekwoon quietly asked, no need to specify who he meant.

"Of course." He had said he would, and he tried his hardest to be a man of his word. He tucked his, now empty, bag under the bed. He felt uncomfortable with nothing left to do.

"I saw you speaking with him before." And Wonshik understood the code there. He didn't want Wonshik to get cold feet, or to have lied to him in order to convince him to join the rest of them. Wonshik stood in front of him. Unyielding as ever.

"I've got everything taken care of, Taek. You don't need to worry." Taekwoon nodded.

It was odd how Wonshik could feel it so clearly now. The tension that always permeated the air around Taekwoon, especially when it was the two of them alone. Like there was some great force being resisted. Ignorance was bliss, and whatnot. Wonshik couldn't ignore its presence now that he knew how Taekwoon felt. It was a miracle he wasn't suffocated by it before. 

"I just hope it goes well."

"I could go with you, if that would help."

"I don't think it would," Wonshik answered honestly. He saw it as doing anything but helping. They were oil and water; and they would come together no better after what Wonshik was going to say. If Taekwoon was there, he wouldn't be able to say what he wanted at his own pace. The guard nodded, looking no more pleased nor upset. He dropped his eyes for a moment.

"I can only wish you luck then." This all felt so stiff. It felt like Wonshik had gone back and replaced his Taekwoon with the one from before. He didn't have his friend, but his subordinate. But then, was Wonshik ever a friend to him? Or was it always something much more than that? Would he have said anything at all if there hadn't been that rift between them? Wonshik found it unlikely. The guard's defining emotion was that of shame. The only solution to shame was stoicism and anger, the things Taekwoon showed most. Perhaps he was ashamed now, that was why he was so stiff and formal. Would that improve after Wonshik spoke to Hakyeon, or only grow worse? He knew Taekwoon wouldn't approve of Wonshik and Jaehwan's decision to give Hakyeon the choice. Wonshik didn't want to start over with less than he had the first time. At least back then, before all the others, Jaehwan only had Wonshik in the way Wonshik only had him. That wouldn't be the case now. Jaehwan had moved on from him in that way.

Taekwoon went stiff at Wonshik's head on his shoulder. That tension didn't help making his boney frame any more comfortable. Still, Wonshik found comfort in the contact. He shut his eyes and sighed deeply. This all had to play out well. If everything worked, then he could relax. He could spend his time here with the people he cared about. He could find his next normal.

"I need this to go well," he muttered. Taekwoon smelt of very little. A phantom of cigarette smoke from the carriage, soap from laundering and starch from his collar. He was warm, though, and his clothes had the kind of age that made them soft, said they were meticulously cared for. With the hesitancy akin to sticking a hand into a tiger's gaping maw, Taekwoon put a hand on Wonshik's elbow. Thumb in the crook of his elbow. He was trying to comfort him, as inexperienced as he was in such a thing. 

"It will." Taekwoon's voice was scarcely audible, like it had to fight to make a noise at all. Wonshik followed the pattern of his breathing. He chuckled humorlessly.

"It has to." The stability of the circus’s inner family was its very own balancing act. So many moving parts working against one another. Wonshik felt a tinge of envy for Jaehwan and how simple his half of things seemed. Simple enough, at least, if not for Hakyeon.

"It will," Taekwoon said again, more firmly this time. His head turned ever slightly towards Wonshik. The artist nodded minutely. It will, because he said it will.

"I'm happy I can trust you." He had quickly forgiven past faults, saw the reason in them. Taekwoon had been after his best interest. Had he listened, it would have saved him the pain of this situation. What Taekwoon said that had been cruel had been spoken out of his own fear. Fear of himself, of what Hakyeon would do. Of what he saw as similar between the two of them. Taekwoon hadn't been the one to betray his trust.

Taekwoon's hold on his arm tightened briefly. He let his own head sag. Not enough to rest his own on Wonshik's shoulder in an odd kind of embrace, mind you. Still, it brought him closer. Felt more intimate. He shut his own eyes tightly. Calm before the storm. Everything would work out.

⤫-⤬-⤬-⤬

“I do so love it here,” Jaehwan sighed, falling sideways so his head was pillowed by a tuft of soft grass, “The fresh air does my poor heart good.”

Hongbin smiled down at him, reaching out to stroke his hair. “Is your heart usually in such a sorry state that it requires medicinal trips to the countryside?”

Resting a hand on his forehead, the ringmaster gave a put-upon sigh. “No, bunny, of course not, but they certainly can’t hurt.”

The pair had arrived at the lodge several hours ago. Their horses had been stabled and their bags had been unpacked; what few bags they’d brought for the ride, anyway. The bulk of their luggage arrived when the carriage did. 

After an hour of private indulgence -which they, as a couple who lived so close with their colleagues, considered a blessing- the carriage had crunched down the gravel drive. Sanghyuk had spilled out first, hands stuffed in his pockets and the perfume of cigarette smoke lingering in his hair. Wonshik barely had time to step out after him before their youngest ascended the front steps and hidden himself ineffectually behind Hongbin. 

“Are you sure your uncle won’t mind us staying in his room?” Hongbin asked, for the umpteenth time.

They had escaped from the lodge’s confines once the newcomers were settled, lounging on the ground a few yards down the drive in the shade of an enormous oak tree. The motivations for the choice of location were twofold: Jaehwan always felt most peaceful when surrounded by nature and he wanted to enjoy it as much as he could, and Jaehwan also wanted to help Hongbin get used to open space. So much of his life had been spent trapped inside Requiem’s walls that being outdoors this way made him skittish. 

Jaehwan patted his knee. “I told him we would stay there before we left. He knows we need the extra space and he doesn’t care. He isn’t as protective of his private spaces as you are, bunny. To my uncle, a room is simply a room, not a domain.”

“You’re as protective of your space as I am,” the vaulter poked the side of his head and Jaehwan laughed. 

“I am, it’s true, but only when my loved ones occupy those spaces. It wasn’t an insult, bunny, simply an explanation to assuage your concern.”

Footsteps nearby caught the ringmaster's attention and he raised his head a bit, peering around to see who was coming to interrupt. 

It was only Sanghyuk. 

The acrobat had discarded his traveling cloak at some point, as well as his waistcoat. The black suspenders he wore stood out in stark contrast against his white shirt. His sleeves were rolled to his elbows and his collar was unbuttoned. But, most eye-catching of all, there were pieces of hay stuck in his dark hair. And a small ball of black fur was cradled in his arms. 

“What do you have there?” he called, pushing himself back up, feeling Hongbin’s delicate hand rest on the small of his back. 

Feeling generous, in a better mood than he’d been in for weeks, Jaehwan took up Hongbin’s discarded jacket and spread it over the grass. Inviting Sanghyuk to join them as sweetly as he could.

“I was planning to go for a walk, just to stretch my legs, and this little lady came sprinting at me out of the barn,” Sanghyuk replied, folding himself down so he sat cross legged atop the jacket beside them, “She climbed up my trouser leg and meowed at me until I picked her up. And now she’s… Well she’s asleep.”

Jaehwan smiled, finding his expression rather lovely, but Sanghyuk wasn’t looking at him. The acrobat had eyes for nothing but what the ringmaster now realized was a kitten. As black as night and roughly the size of Sanghyuk’s fist.

“Our barn cats are friendlier than most,” he hummed, keeping his voice low, “The kitchen staff spoil them so much that they’re more like pets than mouse-catchers. I’ve never been charged by one though.”

Hongbin rested his chin on Jaehwan’s shoulder. “I didn’t know you liked cats, Hyuk. If I had to guess, I would have picked you as a dog person.”

“Dogs are fine,” Sanghyuk sniffed, stroking the kitten's tiny ears, “But I love cats. Always have.”

“Did you have them growing up?”

“No. We had hunting dogs, of course, and barn cats like this one, but pets were strictly forbidden.”

“No?” Jaehwan frowned, arching a delicate brow in surprise, “If I had a child, a pet would be the first thing I gift them. At the very least, it would encourage them to be outside playing, rather than making a mess underfoot.”

The fond grin on Sanghyuk’s face wavered, but his gaze didn’t. All his attention focused on the animal in his arms. “Pets were a distraction. They made us soft, according to my father.”

Ah, Jaehwan thought, settling back against Hongbin’s hand on his back. Needing the touch to ground him. To support him. Somehow, he’d managed to forget for a moment exactly who Sanghyuk’s father was. Of course that hateful man would have denied young Sanghyuk any source of affection other than himself.

“I’ve never heard something so ridiculous,” Hongbin said, visibly baffled, “If anything, they teach children how to be responsible. I can attest to that from personal experience.”

“I agree with you, but my father does not.” 

Silence descended over them for a moment, a heavy, oppressive silence. Jaehwan wanted to break it, filled with a sudden urge to comfort the acrobat. He understood Sanghyuk's experience, empathized with it, far more than Sanghyuk could understand, but he couldn’t. Sanghyuk was ignorant of their shared past and Jaehwan couldn’t give the game away now. So, he stayed quiet.  Waiting for Sanghyuk to finish his thought. 

“When I was younger, five or six, one of our barn cats had a litter of kittens, and two of them were so sickly that they didn’t live through the night. I couldn’t stop crying about it, I was inconsolable. I’d never seen such a precious little life depart like that… When my father realized why I was crying, he locked me in the cellar with the dead kittens and wouldn’t let me out until I went quiet. It was a lesson that I shouldn’t care for creatures that he deemed lesser than us. An attempt to toughen me up, I suppose.”

“That’s vile,” Jaehwan said under his breath, unable to keep his disgust unexpressed. Bile rising in the back of his throat.

Hongbin shifted and the ringmaster turned back to look at him, grateful for the excuse to avert his eyes from Sanghyuk’s oh so familiar face. “They tried to do something similar at Requiem, to stop us from caring about the animals and just treat them like props, but I always hid in the rafters until the lessons were done.”

“You’re away from all of that now,” the ringmaster reached out to touch both of them, gripping their wrists tight and staring down at his grass-stained knee, wanting to soothe old wounds away, “You’re both here. You’re safe. We never endorse cruelty like that.”

The vaulter nodded. “I wouldn’t be here if you did.”

With a soft mew, the kitten stretched one tiny leg out. It spread its tiny toes and extended its tiny claws, and then relaxed again, snuggling against the acrobat's stomach. The expression that broke across Sanghyuk’s face was perhaps the softest thing Jaehwan had ever seen. 

“Would-” the ringmaster began, tentative, wanting to give Sanghyuk a drop of the kindness his father had withheld, “Would you like to keep her? The little angel would be a great help at keeping the mice out of our apartments, I’m sure.”

“Can I really? Won’t she be missed here?”

The hint of giddy, childlike excitement rising in Sanghyuk's voice made Jaehwan laugh. A warm, affectionate laugh. Always inwardly pleased when he managed to do the right thing. “There are enough other cats running around here to take care of the pests. And besides, she looks so comfortable in your arms… It would be dreadful to separate you now.”

Sanghyuk’s murmured “Thank you,” was drowned out by a shout from the lodge's front steps and Jaehwan whipped his head around, catching sight of their three other guests spilling through the door with Taekwoon in the lead. 

⤫-⤬-⤬-⤬

"You actually meant tea." Wonshik startled at Hakyeon's amused coo, nearly smacking his knee into the low table in front of him. A steaming teapot had already been filled, waiting to pour its contents into the two delicate cups on the serving tray. Sugar and cream in their own fine little china bowls. Wonshik had meticulously prepared the tray. A level of attention to detail that matched his high strung state. He jumped to his feet as Hakyeon looked over the room. Parts of it reminded him of his fathers study when he was a boy. The shelves of books and trinkets, the large fireplace softly crackling, the rich dark wood desk. It was only missing the haunting taxidermy taking up every inch of wall space. He much preferred the Persian rug under Wonshik's feet to the bear skin he had spent his entire childhood avoiding stepping foot on.

"Hakyeon." Wonshik clasped his hands in front of him, as though he had to deliver some dire news. A pang of worry itched into the back of Hakyeon's mind, but he pushed it away with confidence.

"Were you expecting someone else?" He spared a glance back at the doorway he had just entered. "Your puppy maybe?" Wonshik shook his head, stiff when Hakyeon was standing right in front of him.

"No. I'm just - relieved you came."

"And why shouldn't I have?" Hakyeon took Wonshik's hands, untangling them from one another. They didn't tremble, but there was a tension there. Poor thing was wound as tight as a bowstring. He eased Hakyeon back to the couch opposite he was sitting in before.

"You should sit," he not answered and all but pushed Hakyeon down onto the couch cushion. Hakyeon hid any concern behind a chuckle.

"You would think someone was terminal with how you are tonight." He gave Wonshik's retreating hand a squeeze. "Relax, sweetness." Wonshik sighed, walking around to the back of the opposite couch to pace. Like he needed the space. Hakyeon was reminded of the letter he left abandoned next to his door at his pacing. His father paced when he reprimanded him in the past. Somehow, you could still hear the click of his steps in written word. Like his words followed a steady beat of a metronome. Return at once. Beat. Save yourself the embarrassment. Beat. I know well what you're doing. Beat. Wonshik could not even aim for the same kind of presence. Still, his anxiety set Hakyeon on edge.

"I think we should break off our arrangement." Hakyeon paused at the words, stopped in the middle of pouring his cup of tea. No water had even fallen from the spout. Hakyeon looked up through his lashes.

"I'm sorry?"

"I've been considering that we might have had different intentions." He was grasping the back of the couch, eyes fixed on the tea set. Hakyeon finished pouring his cup. The sugar cube spun in place at the bottom.

"You don't sound particularly certain, my dear." The whole story began to quickly weave together in Hakyeon's mind. Nerves at breaking things off, at sending him away, guilt at sending him back to whatever he and Jaehwan saw as so markedly evil about Requiem. His fathers commanding letter was an omen of things to come.

Were that the case, Hakyeon settled as he stirred his tea, then he would ask of Jaehwan. Jaehwan, who said who would have his uncle write up the necessary papers for him. Jaehwan, who Wonshik could never deny or go against unless the ringmaster was simply being delusional.

"I'm certain," Wonshik said with more conviction than he seemed to contain. He chewed his lip. "I simply... saw it as more than it was." He nodded to himself. This was something similar to that first morning after's breakfast. Just as vulnerable, though more tragically so. He resembled a kicked dog and Hakyeon wanted to laugh at the gall to be so guilty when you knew exactly what you were sending someone back to. Wonshik had made his countless speeches about wanting Hakyeon to be somewhere better than Requiem. "It wasn't the same kind of commitment to you. It's just a misunderstanding."

"Wonshik, darling," he met Hakyeon's eye and the vulnerability was off-putting, "sit. You look ready to collapse." Wonshik, unsurprisingly, obeyed. He came around to the right side of his couch and sat. Graceless and heavy. "What made you come to all of this?" Hakyeon used the same voice he had for small animals, for any creature Requiem kept. Like Wonshik might bolt if words were spoken too forcefully. He reacted best to a delicate touch, in great contrast to Jaehwan.

"I saw you and Jaehwan. Together."

"Ah." While Hakyoen hadn't expected it, it didn't shock him. If Wonshik could still care for the well being of a man that didn't love him, it would take something much more substantial to break him. Jaehwan was apparently just that.

"It made me consider if this had any meaning to you." Hakyeon set his teacup back on its platter, holding both on his lap. He considered the thought of simply lying. It would be simple to say that he wasn't certain until now. He didn't need to be sent off because of a lack of love. Hakyeon was full of it, only too ashamed to show it! The thought passed as quickly as it came. Hakyeon would not debase himself or Wonshik to such a level. He respected Wonshik enough to know he wasn't stupid, simply innocent. That's how they were able to come here in the first place.

"I had no idea you were so possessive of my attention, or Jaehwan's for that fact." He recalled all the little visits Jaehwan had made to Requiem in the past. All the visits to Hakyeon specifically. How he seemed completely content to split himself between Wonshik and him and who knows who else. He remembered  being intertwined with Jaehwan only to spot Wonshik across the crowd at a party of some sort. Ah, your white knight has come to rescue you, darling, he had muttered against Jaehwan's ear. Jaehwan had kicked and thrown a fit as usual at Hakyeon's teasing, but at the end of the night, he was still dragged off by Wonshik. The same man he had run off from with clear intentions of falling into another. Hakyeon had never gotten the impression that Wonshik had cared what Jaehwan did, only that it was well beyond time for them to make it back to Lumen ad Somnia and Jaehwan was the one keeping them. If he was a possessive man, he was late to showing it.

"Did it mean anything?" Wonshik's voice was as timid and soft as a new born lamb's wool. Hakyeon didn't need to think before he answered.

"No." It hit Wonshik like Hakyeon had stood and physically slapped him. His breath halted in his lungs. It didn't mean anything to him, Wonshik, Jaehwan. He artfully chose not to say that both were merely a means to an end. That was the only meaning any coupling had.

He did not say that it seemed to mean a great deal to you. He would not acknowledge the breadth of Wonshik's feelings. Acknowledging those would be an admittance of guilt in itself. If he knew how much Wonshik cared, why would he behave in such a way? That was surely where his mind would go. Hakyeon could never claim to be scared to tell Wonshik anything. Even a lack of returned feelings. The only excuse he would have for not breaking things off sooner would be that he simply did not want to. That wouldn't instill in Wonshik the kind of guilt that let Hakyeon stay. It was in his best interest to saddle Wonshik with all the guilt. Wonshik rubbed a hand over his mouth and the only sound in the study was the crackle of the fireplace and his deep, shuddering sigh. He was trying to compose himself. Hakyeon regarded him silently. Such a large creature trying to make himself small, failing to understand how frequently he walked in a vipers den. Jaehwan had failed to instill a single lesson about the dangers or meaning of love in the artist. There was a pang of sympathy there, like stumbling across a bird with a broken wing. Destined to be consumed by starved predator. Hakyeon had been taught not to bring such things back into the house. If they were meant to survive, it was by their own volition. They couldn't rely on him.

"I'm sorry you saw it differently, truly."

"It would have hurt less to know it meant anything at all," Wonshik muttered against his palm. His body was tensed to the near breaking point. He was holding back tears. Hakyeon had been met with tears a few times before in these conversations. More often than not, however, they were angry, bitter things. They were paired with screaming and vitriol. Hakyeon placed down his cup and saucer gently. He pulled his handkerchief from his pocket, tenderly offering it forward.

"Don't cry, darling." Wonshik looked at it, studied the pale white cloth. He shook his head after a moment, moving no more than that. Hakyeon tucked it back into his pocket, unaffected by the refusal. "I know it's quite a loss to you now, but I'm certain you'll find someone that will better suit your tastes." Wonshik frowned deeply as Hakyeon settled himself back in his seat. He took another sip from his tea. He was certain one man was already throwing himself at Wonshik's feet at the chance to sleep in Hakyeon's place, to have his seconds. The sweet tea turned bitter in his mouth at the idea that he would be returning home while everything appeared to fall in place for that dog.

"Taekwoon was quite concerned about you before." Wonshik raised his brows at the comment seemingly coming out of nowhere. "He insisted that I was the cause of your frustration." Hakyeon chuckled humorlessly, picking a loose string from his trousers. "I'm sure he was beside himself when you cleared up the confusion." He was sure they made up perfectly after that. That was why they were tucking away for their little conversations and Wonshik was sparing the guard smiles as a reward for playing the good little guard dog. Hakyeon was not envious of Taekwoon. The man was a deluded, sanctimonious narcissist obsessed with a man who would never love him with such a reciprocated intensity. Still, it was better to watch him suffer. It had been a joy to watch him tie himself in knots asking Hakyeon, of all people, about Wonshik. To allow him even a small victory was more than Hakyeon could bear.

"I was upset with both of you then," Wonshik put carefully. He seemed confident in the reply until he begin to straighten the items on the serving tray. "I've cleared things up with him since then," he added on quietly. "And now you..."

"It's a miracle he isn't here with you then." He would sit right beside Wonshik with his arms crossed and a grin stretching further and further across his face the more Hakyeon was dismissed. Maybe even sit at Wonshik's feet like the dog he was. "Though it does make conversation so much simpler. He makes things so tiring." Hakyeon waved a hand with a shrug. "It must be nice for you though, how far he'll bend himself backwards for you. I'm sure he'll be thrilled to take my place."

"It's not..." Wonshik's eyes cast to the side, to the door of the study. Not unlike Hakyeon was confessing to Wonshik's crimes while the constable was right behind him.

Hakyeon caught his glance to the side. He turned his head to follow it, finding Taekwoon leaning in the doorway to the study. Hakyeon gave a humorless laugh.

"And there he is. I bet you're savoring this, aren't you?" Taekwoon didn't move from his spot or his expression. As stone faced as ever. His only give was a lick of the lips. Hakyeon hummed, tilting his head coyly. "Here to get off to my humiliation? Does it make you feel powerful?" Hakyeon simpered.

"Hakyeon," Wonshik tried to interject. Hakyeon wasn't listening. He wanted to see him squirm one last time.

"He's never going to do it. No one is ever going to fuck you the way you wish he would." Hakyeon gestured to Wonshik on the other couch, savoring the way Taekwoon's eyes briefly went wide. The satisfaction was short-lived.

"Will you stop?!" Hakyeon actually jumped at the shout. He looked at Wonshik as his voice rang and died out like a gunshot. He was glaring down at the tea set, far more expressive than Taekwoon. If one was only looking at the two, they would think Wonshik was taking all of the emotional damage for them both. He huffed, and Hakyeon could see frustrated tears welling up before being forced down. There was a distant touch of relief in the back of Hakyeon's mind. Finally, some spine, it said.

"This isn't about anyone else. This isn't for anyone else. I know what I want and you've made it clear what you want. That's all there is." Hakyeon blinked at Wonshik. That poor kicked puppy expression. His anger was so quick to turn to sorrow, the trainer wasn't sure if it ever even was anger at all. Wonshik sighed, bone deep weariness. "There's one thing for you to decide." He was trying so hard to be professional, to be mature. A little boy drowning in his fathers too-big suits. He couldn't fit into the role, not perfectly. "Jaehwan and I discussed it, and we will accept whichever option you choose." Hakyeon raised a brow, skeptical. For someone so sure, he couldn't meet Hakyeon's eyes. "If you want to remain at Lumen ad Somnia, we would gladly have you."

"You want me to stay?" It would certainly be counterintuitive to everything Wonshik said. It was shutting a door and opening a window. With all the grief and misery Wonshik was portraying, Hakyeon was already mentally packing his bags. Allowing him to stay would not be a matter of being the bigger person, it would be stupid. Were Hakyeon in his place, Wonshik would have been out of the door on the first day. For the first and only time in the month they had known each other, Taekwoon seemed to see it the same way.

"What?"

"You don't have to return to Requiem. If you want to stay here, we'd make you a proper contract and move you in permanently." Wonshik rubbed his palms together, licking his lips. "We couldn't force you to go back there just because of my feelings."

His head jerked up at a bang. Taekwoon bashed the side of his fist into the door before he stormed out of Hakyeon and Wonshik's eye sight. The artist rose when Taekwoon began to shout for the ringmaster. His voice was pure bloodlust. Hakyeon followed after Wonshik once he shook himself out of his surprise. He fought a grin as he followed both a shouting Wonshik and Taekwoon out of the cabin and to the woods where he knew the other three to be. 

"Jaehwan!" Taekwoon shouted for the ringmaster. He wouldn't have heard him even if he had responded, not over the thunderous pulse of blood in his ears. Not over the echo of Hakyeon's sneering voice in his mind. Like you wish he would ... as if Hakywon knew anything about him. As though Taekwoon was nothing more than a pane of glass that could easily be seen through. Hakyeon didn't know him, and he wouldn't make a fool out of him. Jaehwan wouldn't make a fool out of him. The will to let water pass under the bridge was swiftly destroyed once the words left Wonshik's mouth. Hakyeon would not stay. He would not use this place for all the good left in it. Taekwoon would not let Jaehwan continue to fail them again and again.

"Jaehwan!" The front door hit the wall with a resounding bang that echoed through the forest around them. Like you wish he would. What Taekwoon had wished in the past was immaterial, it distracted him from what he needed to be. What he wished of Wonshik was immaterial to who he needed to be for him. What he needed to be for this entire group. Jaehwan was the head of the ouroboros, consuming them all. Taekwoon needed to cut the snake at the head, needed them all to see that keeping him as their corner stone was slowly killing them all. Taekwoon did not wish to be Wonshik's lover, he wished to be his blade. Just like his worship before.

"You!” The three were at the other end of the clearing, evidently confused. Jaehwan had begun to stand on unsure feet.

"Precious?" Taekwoon stormed across the clearing with all the intent to kill Jaehwan, strangle him to death in the crisp spring grass. Behind him, distantly, there were the rushing steps of Wonshik and Hakyeon. Wonshik had been calling to him the entire time, he realized briefly. He didn't want to know what Taekwoon intended to do to the ringmaster. Jaehwan recoiled at Taekwoons approach. It made a predatory glee rise in his chest. The broken-winged bird caught in a snare.

"You insolent, useless little slut." By the time Hakyeon and Wonshik had both caught up, Taekwoon had pulled Jaehwan to his feet by his dark hair. Once upright, he fisted the ringmaster's coat and pinned his back to the tree trunk, looking moments away from killing Jaehwan. His expression was more confusion than true fear, even with the position.

"Taekwoon!" Wonshik might as well have said nothing at all. Stood there as lost and still as Sanghyuk and Hongbin. Taekwoon was only paying attention to one thing.

"Of all the inane, empty headed decisions you could have made, you decide to let him stay?" Taekwoon sneered, and the three around him seemed to relax minutely. That was all this was. Taekwoon was simply frustrated. He shook Jaehwan the moment he opened his mouth, keeping him from saying whatever he hoped to respond with. "I don't know if it's worse that you'll open your legs for anyone that asks, or that everyone uses that to their advantage." Distantly behind them, Hakyeon simpered,

"I've never seen a man be so incurably jealous"

"That is enough." Wonshik tugged on Taekwoon's coat, trying to pull him back into sense. The guard shook him off, turning to meet his eye. He kept a hand on Jaehwan as if he were a squirming pest that had made it into the house. Wonshik appeared to be stunned by his glare, its intensity. The full brunt of it aimed at him for the first time.

"Listen." He tugged on his hold of Jaehwan. His fistfull of the eerily calm and steady ringmasters coat. "You can't see him, Wonshik. You can't see how everything wrong with this entire establishment is because of him. You don't know what he's done to get here."

"Taek-"

"You know how Hakyeon really got to stay here? Because he fucked him and then ran off to his uncle to ask for a favor. The same kind of favor that brought Sanghyuk here in the first place. He is a pawn for every other man's game, Wonshik!" Wonshik hazarded a glance to Sanghyuk. The acrobat looked as though Taekwoon had stabbed him through the gut with nothing but words. He was pale and sick. "He doesn't care about you or this circus! The only reason he's here at all is so that he can be found whenever his uncle wants something to play with." Taekwoon met Jaehwan's eyes. The horror there was more rewarding than the blood on the knuckles after a well placed punch. He finally broke that illusion of calculated calm. "You can't see it, but I can." Lowly, only meant for Jaehwan, "I know exactly what you are." 

Before any of the gathered men had time to take a breath, Hongbin was on his feet. He’d shoved Taekwoon hard enough that the guard released the ringmaster and stumbled a few steps back, and then grabbed the concealed knife always sheathed in Jaehwan’s boot and. Pointing it level between Taekwoon’s eyes. Nudging Jaehwan behind him and advancing on the man with a rapidity that was downright alarming. “Do not speak to him like that,” he snarled, the low pitch of his voice raising the hairs on the nape of Sanghyuk’s neck, “Don’t spew such filthy lies. You will not insult him this way, not in front of me!”

As lost in a haze of confusion and dread as he was, Sanghyuk had enough presence of mind left to intervene. The little kitten had been tucked away behind the tree -swaddled inside the jacket Hongbin had shrugged off half an hour ago- so that she was safely out of the way. Sanghyuk had seen Taekwoon’s anger and his stomping feet, and he hadn’t wanted her to accidentally get trampled. 

“Bin, don’t,” he said, in as sharp a tone as he could manage. Grabbing his partner and hauling him back before Hongbin could do any damage. Wrapping a tight arm around him and prying the knife from his delicate hand. Sensing Jaehwan safely against his back. “And you,” he turned his glare on Taekwoon, heart stinging with this fresh betrayal, “Keep your mouth shut. You’re talking nothing but nonsense; There’s no need to be so hateful.”

"You think I'm lying?" He squinted at Sanghyuk, at the group as a whole. They were all looking at him with a mixture of hurt and confusion. They didn't understand. They didn't want to see what was true.

"What do you mean favors?" Wonshik asked cautiously, like Taekwoon was a rabid dog biting at anyone that came too close. Hakyeon, with a measure of sympathy and understanding Taekwoon thought was impossible for him, muttered a small,

"Sweetness..."

"They were fucking him," Taekwoon spat. Wonshik flinched as if the words were actually venom that Taekwoon had spat at his feet. "Why do you think a man he had never known suddenly adopted him? Send him to the highest ranks of his circus? Why do you think that same man invites Sanghyuk's father to all his parties? Why do you think Jaehwan came to me to ask about him?” He paused long enough to inhale, momentarily shifting his furious gaze to Jaehwan. “Did you think I would take your questions about him at face value and not look into the matter further? You knew exactly what Sanghyuk was the moment you laid eyes on him, and yet you said nothing of it, because you didn't want to admit what every man in the city has done to you! I'm sure every person in attendance at your so-called uncle’s parties has had a turn with you!” Taekwoon stabbed a finger in Sanghyuk's direction. Despite holding onto Hongbin, he looked completely unmoored. A gentle breeze could knock him over. "You ran away from home and embraced the life of a half forgotten upperclassmen exile because your father fucked Jaehwan when he couldnt bring himself to fuck you!" He moved his focus to Hongbin, who was practically foaming at the mouth. Unable to stand still with all his fury like a feral animal. "You have even less reason to defend him. He keeps you to have someone he sees as more broken than himself. That's why he's always hounding you, always tiptoeing around your past. Treating you like a newborn fawn." Taekwoon looked over the group again. "He keeps all of you here because he's nothing if someone doesn't want him."

Hakyeon laughed, cutting through the thick air around them.

"Please don't tell me you're trying to take the higher ground on that fact." There was a mean venom in his eyes that begged Taekwoon to take the bait. "You would die of starvation if your master failed to give you the time of day." Taekwoon took a breath, grinding his teeth together. If he beat Hakyeon now, it would serve nothing. It would be giving him exactly what he wanted. Hakyeon's smile stretched, cat-like. "Oh? Nothing for me? Burnt yourself out?"

"I'm honestly glad he fucked you in the end,” Taekwoon muttered. “You two are a perfect match for each other. You'll do anything for the attention." Hakyeon clicked his tongue.

"Save for making myself someone else's bitch."

"He only wanted you because he was too naive to see you can't love anything if you don't have a heart." Wonshik, still next to Hakyeon, began to work through a series of emotions, of words he didn't voice. His lashes were wet.

"And where does that leave you, precious?" Hakyeon's use of Jaehwan's pet name for the guard was intentional. He tacked it onto the sentence like he savored the sound of it.

"I'm not heartless." Hot indignation mixed with something cold and wet in Taekwoon's chest. He forced it down, refusing to let Hakyeon have a leg on him. "You all need the truth." 

Two separate but equally strong emotions were warring for dominance in Jaehwan's mind. 

The first -born from his gentle, caring heart- wanted to walk away and calm Hongbin. Hongbin was from Requiem and Requiem broke people. Hongbin had drawn Jaehwan’s own blade in Jaehwan’s defense, and the ringmaster vividly recalled the burst of anger the vaulter had displayed at the Metropolitan Club. The situation needed to be deescalated and Hongbin needed to be soothed. Sanghyuk needed to be soothed as well, because Jaehwan could see his profile and the panicked tears glinting in the corners of his eyes. Eyes wide with shock and disbelief.

The second -which swelled inside him like a tangle of icy vines- wanted to tear Taekwoon apart. Jaehwan had considered Taekwoon a part of his family. Loved him and always wanted to ensure his peace and comfort at the circus. But, right then, he wanted to dig his fingers into Taekwoon’s flesh and shred him into tiny pieces because if Taekwoon knew this, knew all of this, every agonizing aspect of Jaehwan’s past... Taekwoon had betrayed their friendship, perhaps was never his friend at all, and was trying to use Jaehwan’s pain against him? Using it to try and turn them all against him?

Jaehwan knew he would regret it later, but at that moment, he couldn’t bring himself to care. This man was no more than a stranger to him now. And Taekwoon hadn’t simply picked on Jaehwan, those insults had spilled over and wounded Hongbin and Sanghyuk as well. Nobody was allowed to injure his loves this way. Jaehwan’s temper was well and truly lost. 

“You have a heart, do you? ‘I’m the one trying to be better, to do the right thing and expose the snake in the grass;’ that's what you really mean, isn't it? You’re ‘the righteous man that can do no wrong?’” Jaehwan asked, copying Taekwoon's tone. Making his voice hoarse with the feelings Taekwoon tried so hard to feign.

He stepped forwards, out from behind Sanghyuk, eyes alight for the first time since the one sided screaming match began. “I should behave like this is a test, yes? A test to see if I can subdue the vindictive ache in my heart and forgive you for what you said? I should do the right thing and let you vent your frustrations, I know; I should keep my mouth shut and take it. I should... I should... But you know me, Taekwoon. Did you really think I would sit by and do nothing? Let you strut around like God's gift to this earth and dictate morality at my expense? Yelling at me is one thing, but you think I'll sit back and let you hurt Sanghyuk. Hurt Hongbin? Think again.”

The awful thing in the ringmaster’s chest began to bloom. Black flowers that sprouted in the wake of his pain. They grew from his flesh, their petals a deep shade of viscera. 

Jaehwan’s quick steps ate up the air between them. Getting in Taekwoon’s personal space and looking him dead in the eye. His breathing was shallow; he could feel the soft heaving of his own back, but didn’t try to soothe it. Smoothing his hair behind his ear instead. And when he opened his mouth again, the words inside him burst out like gunfire. 

“Who do you think you are, Taekwoon? Standing with your feet planted on my ground? Wearing clothes that my money bought for you? Stomach full of the food I provided you? Who owns the bed you sleep on every night? Who owns the stove you so love to cook on? Who owns the desk you sit at, the office you hide in, the nooks and crannies where you store your secrets like a spider at the center of its web?”

Wonshik moved in then; intending to stop him as  Jaehwan knew he would. But the ringmaster cut that line of action off with a flick of his hand. “I know what you’re going to say, Shikkie. That there’s nothing to be gained from cruel words and violence. That rage breeds rage. That I shouldn't rise. That this doesn’t need to get any worse and the pair of us should hug and make up. Taekwoon knows me, Shikkie, but you know me better. You know him too. You know he wanted a fight and you know I'm more than happy to give him one.”

If Wonshik said something, Jaehwan didn’t hear it. He’d returned his attention to the man before him, glaring into those catlike eyes, as shiny and dark as obsidian. “You have no real idea what you’re talking about, and yet, you still decided to talk,” Jaehwan said, his voice lovely and low, “You disparage my character, you mock what I’ve been through, you act like everything I’ve worked for is no more than a gutter brat taking handouts...”

“They deserved to know, so they can see you for what you really are,” whispered Taekwoon, and Jaehwan couldn’t help but flinch at the gruffness of his voice. Taekwoon was pale with this, body ridged with the lingering heat of his anger. The flutter of the vein at his neck giving away the rapid march of his heart. 

“You’re mistaking this for a discussion. You’ve already said more than enough,” Jaehwan interrupted, getting closer, “You see me for what I am? Well, I see you too. I see the military bearing you hide behind; always standing with your heels together and your spine ramrod straight. But that's not the real you, is it? I’ve known men like you all my life. I saw through that facade right from the beginning. You're a wounded little boy and you’re poisoned with hate. You stay quiet in public and scheme behind our backs. You pinch and twist until you get your way. And you don’t even realize what you’re doing, do you? In your mind, you’re divine aren't you?”

Pausing for breath, Jaehwan did his utmost to school himself into a state of calm. Not screaming or shouting or snatching his knife from Sanghyuk, because he knew full well that words could cut deeper than any blade. Jaehwan took all of the anguish and rage curdling inside him and brought it to the surface. Mouth curling in a smile of pure malice. He pointed at Wonshik. The pure and perfect anger inside him forcing itself up and out, spilling from his mouth. He couldn’t have stopped it if he’d wanted to. He didn't want to stop. The anger felt so lovely and warm.

“I don’t think he warned you, Taekwoon, did he? That I can be as conniving as a devil and as cruel as you? I don’t blame Wonshik for that, he always tries to see the best in people. That’s the only reason he can stand to look at you, Taekwoon. You got lucky finding someone like Wonshik, but now you’ve pushed your luck too far. You’ve gotten greedy, haven't you?”

Smile falling, dropping his hand and clenching it into a fist at his side, the ringmaster continued, “Let me tell you this straight out now. No more dancing around. You think I use sex to my advantage? I absolutely do. I’ll do anything and everything to get what I want. I've worked for what I have, Taekwoon, that's beyond a doubt; I never pretended otherwise, I don’t act like a saint. I didn’t just lie down and take what life handed to me. I didn’t whine about it like you. I was on your side until today. I gave you grace, treated you like my family, would have protected you with all that I am, but that's over now. 

The flowers in his chest were wilting, impaling Jaehwan on their many, many thorns. “I’m sick and tired of you walking around like you’re the picture of morality. You think I don’t know about your past? Wonshik is my soulmate, the most precious being on this earth to me, and you think he and I don’t talk? You think I didn’t hear how you weave sob stories to get his attention? You play the man you think I am far better than I ever could, my sweet Jaehwan number two. You think I'm ornamental? I’m the star of our show. You are nothing more than a set piece, and even that is giving you more credit than you deserve. You’re a pathetic mediocrity. You take repulsive liberties. And your lack of empathy? It’s honestly inspiring.”

Jaehwan clenched his fist tighter, nails leaving bloody red crescents in his palm. Every inch of him bristled with threat. Daring the guard to talk back. “You take every inch we give you, trying to fill the hole in your frigid heart? You just take and take and take because you feel like the world did you wrong? Because you just adore playing the victim? It will never be enough, Taekwoon, I can tell you that truth from experience. But, oh... Am I being too harsh?”

He could see a gleam of tears dampening Taekwoon’s lashes but they didn’t taste of sadness. They were indignant outrage. He was insulted that Jaehwan would dare to try and turn his words around when he was so clearly in the right. Jaehwan didn’t care where the tears stemmed from, enunciating like every word he spoke was gospel. 

“Did you hear yourself? The venom you spewed before I even opened my mouth? Can't take what you give? I let you talk yourself out before because fencing words with you is like trying to play chess with a checkers player. But we’re done talking now, so listen and listen well: if I ever hear my name in your mouth again, you’ll find yourself on the street. And if you ever harm Hongbin or Sanghyuk or Wonshik, and I find out, it will be the last time you speak at all. You may think I'm all talk, but believe me, that's not an assumption you want to test.”

And with that, before anyone could stop him, Jaehwan turned on his heel and strode away. Unable to meet the eyes of his loved ones, unwilling to see whatever reactions his speech had produced. Unwilling to learn how their opinions of him had changed, now that Taekwoon had spilled his secrets out on the lawn for all to know. Hot tears stinging his eyes, jaw clenched so tight that it hurt, gravel crunching beneath his feet as he went and ringing silence left in his wake. 

⤫-⤬-⤬-⤬

Taekwoon did not watch him leave. He swallowed around the all consuming indignation tearing a hole in him. He could feel them all looking to him, to Jaehwan. Waiting for the final clap of thunder before the storm eased into rain. Taekwoon met them without wavering. Collected when everything else was in chaos.

"You two certainly know how to put on a show." Hakyeon gave a slow sardonic clap. Taekwoon didn't even spare him a sideways glance. His insiped comments meant nothing when weighed against the other three men's reactions. Wonshik's tears had poured over at some point, but his expression now was anger rather than sorrow. Hongbin easily pulled himself out of Sanghyuks grasp. If his hold on Hongbin could even be considered a grasp anymore.

"I cannot believe I trusted you." Wonshik's voice was eerily similar to what it was in the parlor speaking to Hakyeon. Forced calm, quiet heartbreak. He turned before Taekwoon could even reply. He stalked back to the cabin. Back to Jaehwan. To make sure he was okay.

"You conniving little brat," Hongbin hissed as he lunged for Taekwoon. No one to hold him down or back now. Blind rage makes an easy opponent however, even if Hongbin were half as trained as Taekwoon. The guard easily caught his wrists and bent them away. Hongbin fought against the hold, but Taekwoons grasp was vice-like.

"I didn't say a thing that wasn't true."

"Bullshit!" Taekwoon narrowly avoided getting his toes crushed under Hongbin's boot.

"Just because you don't want to believe it-" what words he meant to say were cut off by a crack, by ringing in his ears. Hongbin had slammed his head forward, cracking their skulls against each other. It stunned Taekwoon enough to loosen his grip, to allow Hongbin to tear his arms free. He shoved Taekwoon from him, nearly knocking him on his ass if it weren't for the tree behind them. Taekwoon was able to brace himself against it as he clutched his head.

"Don't ever speak to me or Jaehwan again.” Taekwoon shook his head, trying to clear out the remaining fuzziness. His vision was still a little blurred at the corners, but he still stepped towards Hongbin. 

“I'm helping you.” 

“Go fuck yourself,” Hongbin spat back so eloquently. 

“Ask him yourself if you're so concerned.” Taekwoon pointed back to the cabin behind Hongbin. No one was keeping him here. He could run back to his precious Jaehwan and coddle him all he wanted. Having a hand so close to Hongbin in this state, however, was a mistake. 

Hakyeon barked out a shocked laugh when Hongbin got his teeth into Taekwoon's hand. The guard hissed and reflexively tried to pull himself free. The painful pinch of bone on bone of his teeth digging into the little meat on Taekwoon's spider-like hand. 

“Fucking- animal!” Taekwoon tried to push the vaulter off, who growled like an overgrown beast. Hakyeon slid up beside the two of them, finally done laughing at the two. He still wore that aggravating smile, though. 

“Alright, that's enough.” He scuffed Hongbin with ease, like he was a misbehaving kitten. The vaulter let go of Taekwoon, panting and glaring. Hakyeon bent Hongbin by his hold, forcing him to meet his eye. “You've made your point, my dear. Run along inside before you cause any real trouble.” There was a commanding pull on his hold before he let go of Hongbin. He huffed at Hakyeon like a horse. Taekwoon half expected him to stomp his foot like one. He looked over his hand to find the clear round pattern of teeth imprinted into his skin, small amounts of blood beginning to ooze from where skin actually broke. Hakyeon turned to Sanghyuk, still frozen to his place, as Hongbin stormed off. 

“Why don't you go with him, dear? You don't look so well.” Sanghyuk blinked several times. He was pale and trembling. He only limply nodded before following everyone else's path back to the cabin. A stumbling walk turned to a near run the closer he got. Hakyeon sighed and clasped his hands together in front of him once it was only Taekwoon and him. “You, I would suggest you stay out here for some time.” He grinned at the guard, completely cat with canary. “Lick your wounds and what not.” 

Taekwoon glared at the wound on his hand, at the buzz in his mind, at Hakyeon's grating voice, at his failure, at everyone's disbelief, at Wonshik's rejection, at Jaehwan's insults. It was all entirely too much. His eyes and throat stung with anger and embarrassment. The corners of his vision blurred again, though not from the pain of his head. Even if that did intensify with his feelings. Hakyeon sighed, sounding put upon, as Taekwoon sniffed. Taekwoon pressed his fingers into the bite mark left by his former friend, drawing more blood to the surface. The sting was a small relief. Wonshik had said he trusted him just an hour ago. Everything had been coming together perfectly. 

“It's not how I would have gone about it,” Hakyeon spoke. He looked at the forest around them, kept his eyes away from Taekwoon as though he were a particularly disgusting vagrant. He didn't move away from the guard, however. Stood only a step away. “But I do have to applaud your efforts. It was quite a good attempt.” 

“I ruined everything.” Taekwoon's voice was grotesquely wet and sorrowful. He twisted the skin of the wound to justify the hot tears rolling down his cheeks. Hakyeon gave a single, sardonic laugh. 

“Oh most certainly, but at least you tried.” Hakyeon turned his gaze onto Taekwoon. His smile did not reassure him in any way, but it wasn't as though it could make anything worse. He could scarcely see it anyway. He rubbed his wet face on his arm. “I don't disagree with Jaehwan that you're a low down dog that simply rolls over and whines, but,” he paused and taekwoon questioned why he even let him speak at all, “that was a very respectable grab for power. I have to applaud that.”

“It's not about power.” Hakyeon scoffed, waving a hand. 

“Yes, of course. It's about being the better person, or whatever you've deluded yourself to think. The point remains that you put on a very good show.”

Taekwoon said nothing in response. He did not need Hakyeon to praise him. It actually repulsed him to think that they were able to coexist on the same side of any matter. Though, in the new opinions of the circus, the two surely seemed alike. They now saw Taekwoon as akin to Hakyeon in how venomous and self centered they could be. They were both traitorous rats now. There was no comfort in being labeled as the thing he was working against. But… where one door closes, another opens. 

“They hate me as much as they do you now,” Taekwoon muttered. He stared at the cabin, unable to see any of the life humming inside of it. Hakyeon shrugged. 

“I would argue more. Wonshik could never hate me. And I never gave Sanghyuk any reason to hate me as much as you just did.” Taekwoon didn't have the strength to argue the point of Wonshik. Deep down, he knew it to be true. He knew Wonshik would be far too kind to ever hate either of them. That didn't make his disappointment sting any less. Taekwoon felt a part of his soul die as he made his next offer. 

“We could try again. Together.” He met Hakyeon's eye as the trainer raised his brows. He looked over Taekwoon, assessing if he was truly serious. Taekwoon did not spare the effort to try and persuade him with a look. It had never worked anyway. 

“As much as I would love to help you do all that to Jae again, he's the only reason you have anyone here with you currently.” He pat Taekwoon on the back with the kind of tension that said touching him any more than that would kill him. “Should that change however, I will consider it.”

“You'll consider it,” Taekwoon repeated dryly. Hakyeon smirked. 

“I don't think you're in quite the position to be demanding favors, darling.” Taekwoon pushed off Hakyeon's hand. The touch was too much. Standing next to him was too much. What had his world become that he would ask Hakyeon at all? 

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