Byunghee used to believe that he knew what love was.

He 'loved' his mother. She was a kind woman, who always kept him healthy and educated. She would smile at him warmly and encouragingly, prepared for nearly all situations.

He 'loved' his father. He was admirable, strong, and hard-working. When Byunghee saw his father, he saw the man he wanted to be. His father wasn't hard-headed, he was understanding and affectionate.

He 'loved' his sister. She was talented in areas he never imagined a woman would be able to succeed in. She helped mother with housework, but she still helped father with maths work. She was loyal and free.

But that was never love.

His mother decided that his father was never around enough, that he was out of the house too often and didn't love his family any more. And finally, on one night, all the tension exploded, dissipating in his mother's pure rage. Byunghee awoke from his slumber to the enraged yet sorrowful screams of his mother.

His sister decided to take his mother's side, against his father. Byunghee pleaded his sister to explain what happened, but the older girl just shook her head and patted his head before walking out of their home.

It had taken Byunghee but a simple, meaningless hour, to find the tainted petticoat, not belonging to his mother, laying on his father's bed, with neither his father nor the petticoat's owner in sight.

It had taken Byunghee but a simple, meaningless minute, to start crying on his cot after hearing the heavy front doors open another simple, meaningless hour later.

Byunghee didn't know what love was any more.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Byunghee's father was a respectable man in their town. He was in great favour with other nobles and with the queen herself. He held a venerable occupation, and he followed the Bible's teachings like a good Christian. He may not have been a natural English man- the parents of both Byunghee's mother and father were Korean born, and moved to England by ship after having their children- but he may as well have been one, with how embedded he was into English culture. He had never done anything before to put any suspicion on him, which is most likely why Byunghee never revealed his father's "tendencies."

But he was also scared.

He knew what his father could do when he was angry. He saw those marks on his mother's neck on the night she left. He saw the cuts on his sister's arm. And he knew what his father would do to him.

Even so, staying here in England, in the same town, in the same house- it sickened him to no end. Ever since his mother and sister fled the place, his father would bring in a sweet lady at night, and bring a different one the next day. Byunghee vaguely wondered if his father would ever run out of the untainted women he so eagerly sought out. Sometimes Byunghee would manage to fall into a dreamless slumber before the noises, other nights he would not be as lucky. They would haunt him constantly, until they finally became simply ineffective to Byunghee. He stopped crying. He stopped hating. He stopped feeling.

He was completely numb.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Before he left the house to go shopping, his father stopped him. With a fake smile, he warned Byunghee to be careful, that there were some accursed nomads were in town now, their camp set up around the town's square, near the markets and forests borderline. He ruffled his son's hair, and it was almost as if he cared. But Byunghee knew better.

It wasn't particularly chilly out. Spring had already arrived, and soon enough it will bid adieu, and summer will return again. Wind brushed Byunghee's face gently. Nature's breath was neither cold nor hot; it was just there, brushing through the young man's hair kindly and compassionately.

As he approached the marketplace, he noticed, out of the corner of his eye, a group of people, mainly children, dashing towards a certain area. After getting a better look, he realised people were circling around something interesting. He noticed a tent, and had a decent idea of what was happening. He began to walk towards the attraction.

Now, Byunghee was not a foolish man. He had heard his father's words very carefully, and understood them perfectly. But he believed himself strong-willed enough to not lose himself to the rambunctious acts of the nomads. He was more dignified than that. In addition to that, Byunghee was a curious person, and this crowd had peaked that curiosity within him.

Moving past the crowd with little effort, Byunghee managed to see what everyone was gaping at, and he must say, he could understand the awe.

The first thing he saw about the women was their dresses. The dresses all had the same design. The blouse was tight and hugging around the chest and upper arms, but the sleeves were ruffled and free and flowing down their forearms. The blouse did not cover the full torso like normal dresses did in England to protect a woman's modesty. Instead, these dresses left an open patch of skin around the stomach. Around the neckline, golden designs were woven intricately, and the beads and other accessories used to create these designs jingled and played in the air as the dancers moved. But the most amazing thing about their clothing was for sure the skirts. They were full length, down to the women's ankles. On the bottom edges, there were more golden designs with thread and beads and whatnot. The skirts themselves were covered in precise flower designs, each skirt's design unique, but still similar. They were folded in a certain manner, and Byunghee only realised why when the women spun around. Underneath their skirts the women wore several petticoat-like things, but they were not the typical white or pink lacy type that the women here wore. They were solid colours, but Byunghee could not see them very clearly, as the women were turning too fast. With the numerous underskirts and the specific folds on the outer skirt, the skirts seemed like a mirage never-ending cloth as the women dance with passion. ¹

The only difference Byunghee could see between the women's dresses was the colour.

While the background dancers wore cooler, more muted colours, like blue or a light purple, the centre dancer wore a passionate crimson and fuchsia dress. She danced with such devotion, such fervour, such zeal, it was nearly impossible to take your eyes off of her. The woman's extremely wavy hair was left loose, gracefully flying in the wind as she danced, and a single rose was perched upon the top of her ear.

She was the epitome of emotion.

Yet another face had taken Byunghee's breath away. Not the mature, beautiful woman dancing with such passion in front of him. No, instead it was the young boy, with slight bags under his eyes, with messy hair, with drained emotion, who was playing some foreign instrument, who looked utterly bored with the whole thing, who couldn't be much older than Byunghee, who caught his attention.

At this time, Byunghee blandly noticed that he was not the only one with Asian descent in this town.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The nomad's show was successful, as expected from such a lively performance. People gave them gold coins, and all sorts of jewellery and riches. By this time, Byunghee had completely forgotten about going to the market place, and instead he made his way over to that interesting boy he saw.

"Hello" he said politely. He wasn’t sure how you spoke to a traveller, let alone handsome young male travellers. The boy looked at him, slightly confused. He nodded silently in greeting before returning to packing his things. "Uh... I really liked the show. That musical solo you had in the middle was very well done." Sighing, the boy looked over at him.

"If you liked the show, you should tell the Miss," he spoke softly, gesturing to the scarlet vision of a dancer. Byunghee decided internally that he had never heard a voice so soothing, so musical, and that he had never seen lips so full in all his life.

"But I wanted to tell you first." The boy raised an eyebrow at this. "Plus, there's such a big crowd around her; it'd be pointless to try and get past them," he added hastily.

"You didn't seem to have a problem getting past crowds during the show." Oh, so the boy noticed. The boy... Byunghee couldn't keep calling him that, could he?

"What's your name?" The musician blinked at the topic change before narrowing his eyes slightly, but not maliciously.

"Why should I tell you?" he retorted back.

"Because I want to know" He figured the boy wouldn't answer to that reason, so he continued. "I'm Byunghee."

"...Korean?" He nodded. "So am I."

"Really?"

"Yes."

"Were you born there? Or did your family move here? But the others in your... group don't seem to be Korean, or even Asian, except that young boy, although I doubt he's your father. Your younger brother, possibly, or cousin-"

"-Yang Seungho."

"Excuse me?"

"My name, Yang Seungho." Byunghee blinked then smiled, something he hadn't done very often since the incident in his family.

"Nice to meet you, Seungho." Byunghee kept smiling, even when the other looked away.

He swore he saw the boy's-Seungho's lips tugging upwards a bit as he continued to pack his things, and a warm feeling flooded Byunghee's heart.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After that meeting, Byunghee would come to town's square every day, just to see Seungho. And every day, Seungho would tell him something else about him.

"I don't know who my parents are," he said on their second meeting.

"What?" Byunghee asked.

"Yesterday, you were asking me if my parents were here, since you couldn't find any Asian adults around." He shook his head. "You're quite slow, aren't you? Yet you ask me these questions..."

"I... I just didn't expect an answer."

"I see that." A pause. "That boy you saw before is my little brother, Seunghoon. We never knew our parents well, since they abandoned us before we were old enough to understand the world surrounding us. The head dancer that you saw... the Miss found us soon after, as I am told, and Seunghoon and I have been part of her travels since then." Byunghee saw a slight flicker of sadness in those aphotic eyes, and suddenly felt a brief urge to comfort the mysterious other.

"So she's your guardian?" Seungho nodded.

"The closest we can get to one."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When Byunghee returned home late that night, he could already hear the noises. It was already night, but it was still earlier than usual for his father to start at... he must have really enjoyed this woman's company.

He stripped off his coat and walked to his room. Without freshening up, eating, or even changing clothes, he just collapsed on the bed. The noises were bothering, but his mind seemed to drift away from them easily.

That night, he fell into a deep sleep, regardless of the noises, with a mysterious musician in mind.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Seungho wasn't the emotional type, Byunghee noted. He kept a level head for everything Byunghee said, good and bad.

He only showed brief flashes of his feelings when he played his music, but it wasn't what Byunghee would expect from such a talented street musician.

His eyes, usually clouded and unreadable, became completely empty, void of anything. His shoulders tensed a little bit, although it was barely noticeable. His lips tugged downwards momentarily, before returning to that flat line they were always at.

Seungho wasn't happy with his music; he was lost. He wasn't lost in it; he was lost because of it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Academy classmates could not be called true friends. At least, that was how Byunghee felt. Growing up, he would surround himself with his classmates, calling them his companions, but they never really were. All of them, including Byunghee, were just naive children, thinking that everyone could be friends, could love each other if they just tried. Life never really worked that way, but it kept Byunghee happy for a while.

When it came to Seungho, though, he wasn't sure.

Were they friends? Byunghee would go to visit the boy every day, and every day the other would tell him one new fact about his life, just because Byunghee was so nosy. They were simple facts, like his birthday, his favourite colour, and so on, but his visitor seemed to love hearing them. But even so, could they really be considered friends? Was it okay for Byunghee to be dreaming of Seungho if they were "friends?"

He wasn't sure, but he didn't know if he wanted to find out.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Hello," he said, tapping Seungho on the back to get his attention. The other glanced over his shoulder and nodded in greeting before returning to his things. "How are you today?"

"No personal questions today, Byunghee?" Seungho asked, and the visitor repressed the urge to beam. Seungho had never addressed Byunghee by his name, so they must have close now in his eyes.

"No, nothing today, gypsy boy." Seungho glared at him. "What?"

"Do not," he spat, "call me a gypsy. I'm nothing of the sort; none of us are."

And with that, Seungho walked away, with all his things in hand, into one of the tents.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Byunghee was sure that when he came to the market again the next day, Seungho would avoid him or just ignore him completely. But Seungho wasn't known for doing the obvious.

"Hello," he said as Byunghee approached. The other was surprised. "What? Have you really run out of questions, Byunghee?" Snapping out of his reverie, Byunghee asked the first thing that came to his mind.

"What's your favourite instrument?" he blurted out.

"Excuse me?" Seungho raised an eyebrow.

"You're always playing different instruments for your shows; I want to know what's your favourite," he clarified, and Seungho nodded.

"I see. I suppose... the als, although they are a bit hard to set up, since they don't have legs." Byunghee nodded in understanding. "But..." Seungho stopped.

"But what?"

"Nothing."

"Tell me." It wasn't a request, it was a demand, and Seungho knew that.

"I've always wanted to play an organ. Their elegance, their beauty... it's so intriguing."

"Then why don't you play one?" Seungho shook his head.

"Someone like me is not fit for such artistry."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was only a matter of time, Byunghee knew, until people noticed.

"Why, good morrow, Byunghee," his father said as he prepared to leave.

"As to you, father."

"You've been out of the home quite a bit lately."

"Oh... I've been meeting with some acquaintances," Byunghee said quickly. His father raised an eyebrow.

"Acquaintances? Byunghee, if you wish to be married, you could just ask me. I'm sure I'd be able to find the perfect bride for a man of your standard." Byunghee felt repulsed at the thought of marrying some random woman his father, of all people, picked out for him. He was shocked at these feelings but didn't let it show.

"I'll remember that, father. I'll be leaving now." The father shrugged.

"Just be careful, and stay away from those nomads. They're sinful."

Not as sinful as you, Byunghee thought as he walked out the door.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Before Byunghee could reach his "friend," a scarlet vision stopped him.

"Hello," the head dancer, 'the Miss' as Seungho called her, said. "You're back again, of course. How old are you, boy? You look quite young, about Seungho's age."

Byunghee looked up to see her smiling at him. She was a good head taller than him – that was for sure.

"I am 20 years old, Miss." he answered politely.

"Don't be like that, boy. You sound like Seungho. Relax a bit." Byunghee smiled and nodded.

"Of course. But Miss, may I ask why you stopped me?"

"Sit down here," she said, gesturing to some boxes. He complied, and she sat next to him. "You visit Seungho every day."

"I do, but Miss, how did you notice? You're always so busy."

"I watch Seungho and his Seunghoon constantly. They're like my own children... although they're not much younger than me..." She shook her head, as if to clear her mind. "As I was saying, you visit him every day, and you make Seungho happy."

"Really?" he asked, bewildered, and a bit pleased. She nodded with a smile.

"He never shows his emotions, and he can be very cold. Yet with you, he seems to open up more. I can't explain it, but I am glad about it." She paused again. "Tell me... uhm..."

"Byunghee."

"Byunghee, of course, another Korean child. So tell me, Byunghee, what do you think of a romance between two men or between two women?"

"It's sinful and an act of sodomy. God made men for women, and women for men." he answered almost immediately, shocked at the sudden question, remembering what was preached to him as he was a little boy when-

"And what did you think of King Edward II? ²" she replied quickly as well.

"He was evil and unfit to rule our beautiful land." She nodded.

"I see. Now, Byunghee, I'd like you to tell me what you think of the two things." He looked at her, confused. "You were simply repeating to me what you had heard as a child. I want to know what you truly believe." Byunghee's shocked at the wise tone of her voice. Were nomads really all that bad?

"Miss, I'm not sure what you are talking about, but you should-" She frowned and spoke up before he could finish.

"You're a smart boy, Byunghee, I already know that. So stop saying obvious lies. I'm already sure you and Seungho are perfect together, and that you believe the same, deep down." Hearing this, Byunghee choked on air.

"W-what?" Seungho and I aren't like that!" he said, and she sighed.

"Byunghee, what do you think of Seungho?"

"He's a nice person... well, sometimes. He keeps an air about him that's menacing and mysterious, yet alluring and beautiful at the same time. He controls what he says and chooses his words very carefully, like he doesn't want to take any chances of saying wrong things... I really just want to make him lose that control, at least one time, to make him say everything he feels for once, to know everything he thinks, to... make him reveal himself... to me completely..." Byunghee trailed off in shock -but not as much horror as he would have wished- as he realised what he was saying.

"You see? It's not as odd as you believed."

"The feelings you think of, feelings of love and adoration and partnership... I don't feel that way for Seungho." Byunghee barely managed to keep his voice straight as spoke, turning away from the older woman. "Those are feelings a man should have only for God."

"So you do not love your family?"

"Love for a family is nothing but admiration and friendship."

"And for women?" Byunghee almost looked back at this.

"What of them?"

"What feelings do you think men should have for women, for wives?" Byunghee hesitated slightly, then answered.

"Women are foolish and, once corrupted, a distraction from the path to God. They're oblivious to the truths of life; they need us to guide them, or else they'll all end up like Eve-"

"And what about me?" She cut him off, and he actually did look back this time.

"You?"

"Yes, me? Am I foolish? Am I corrupted? Am I going to end up like Eve?"

"You... you're blind, oblivious to the truth of this world. You believe the unbelievable lies, and try to spread our false philosophy to others... it's evil! Unholy! It's-"

"Listen, boy, listen well and hard to what I say." Byunghee had no chance to disobey. "I've seen a world you would never understand, a world that none of your 'Children of God' lot would never even try to step into, let alone explore."

"You... speak of it as if we are some sort of cult..."

"In my eyes, you nearly are." She said simply, and started brushing her hands through hair gently, as if she was bored with this whole conversation. "What should a man feel for a fellow man?"

"Nothing but friendship and respect."

"So like family?"

"Precisely."

"Byunghee, the women aren't the only ones oblivious to the truths around them. All of you are, and you refuse to acknowledge it." She turned away from him, her red dress flying gracefully around her legs. She was about to walk away, but then turned her head back, just to glance at Byunghee. Only one thing left her sinfully red lips. "Seungho."

She walked away, and Byunghee thought. He didn't believe what she did, not for a second.

Yet, he still believed all of it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Out of all the several times Byunghee had gone to visit Seungho in the past few weeks, there had only been two times where he hesitated to see the older boy. The first time was when he called him a gypsy, and the second time was now.

He didn't believe what the Miss said, right? So why was he so worked up over this..?

"You didn't come yesterday," Seungho said, ignoring Byunghee's apparent nervousness.

"Y-yes... about th-that... I...” Byunghee didn't know what to say. Seungho looked up and raised an eyebrow.

"What's wrong?" he asked, and Byunghee could hear a little concern in the soft voice. It made his heart warm, and although it didn't help his case, he still couldn't help but like it.

"I... don't know... or understand...” Seungho nodded and hummed, as if he understood. He probably did, too.

"Then there's nothing I can ask about, nothing for us to say... now is there?" It was almost like a challenge.

"I..." He really didn't have anything to say. No matter how much he thought about it, nothing came to him.

Silence didn't follow. There were still the noises around them: the chatter of the townspeople, the cries of little children playing, the rustling of items, the cracking of autumn leaves below people's feet, and so much more. There were sounds all over, so there was no such thing as a moment of silence.

Until Seungho turned.

He didn't just glance over his shoulder; he turned fully, to face Byunghee directly, staring straight into his eyes, leaving his instruments and other equipment behind. And Byunghee felt the whole world stop- it was silent, save for their steady breaths and Byunghee's heartbeat, which was gradually increasing.

He took the time to observe the older man. Seungho's hair was pitch black, resembling the feathers of a youthful nightingale. He didn't take the time to keep it kept like other boys would. Unlike Byunghee's neat, sleeked back hair, Seungho's was frowzy, spewing outwards in several directions. His eyes were clouded with unknown thoughts, yet at the same time so clear. His lips were plump and pink, unusual for any normal man to have, and they were slightly parted, like he was breathing through his mouth. His body was lithe and thin. His clothes were obviously too big, and Byunghee knew that he was even smaller underneath those layers of clothes. His height wasn't very impressive either.

Of course, nomads would not have much luxury, let alone enough to have a healthy build.

Seungho walked forward, until they were only an arm's distance away. He was staring directly into Byunghee's eyes, adamantly, confidently, and the latter just wanted to reveal his entire life story to those glassy eyes.

"What..." he started. His mind went blank, and suddenly, words were just tumbling out of his mouth. "Why are you so empty when you play?"

Sorrow flickered through the smaller man's eyes. Byunghee would have expected him to turn around or look away, like most people would if approached with a sad topic. Seungho did no such thing.

"I want to be a musician."

Korean. Byunghee could tell immediately. He had studied it as a child because he was interested in his culture. It was a while since he had spoken it, but the way Seungho spoke it, he could understand everything perfectly.

"You are one," replied in Korean, gesturing to the instruments. Seungho shook his head.

"Not like that." The sorrow was back in his eyes, and Byunghee's mind was still fuzzy. Those were the only excuses he could use for reaching out and pulling Seungho into an embrace.

Seungho tensed, but Byunghee just let his eyes close, letting out a deep breath that he didn't realise he was holding. It was so comfortable like this; he didn't want to pull away. This feeling... it was pure perfection, in the form of emotions. The older man's body was naturally warm, small, and soft; he was the perfect fit for Byunghee's body. Nothing else seemed to matter to him, as he held Seungho in his arms. He’d never felt something like this before- not with his friends, his family, no one.

And Byunghee wondered why.

Slowly, he was brought back to life, as Seungho squirmed in his arms, whispering soft curses to himself, confused and slightly frightened. Reluctantly, hesitantly as well, Byunghee loosened his hold, allowing the older man to shift out of the embrace. Seungho looked up at him immediately, bewildered, his eyes demanding an answer, but the rest of his face saying nothing. He sighed, knowing he'd need to give some sort of answer.

"I don't know," he said, giving Seungho a small, sad smile before turning and walking away.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

That night, when he returned home, his father was there, sipping tea while gazing out the window. There was no woman with him, and he seemed completely unruffled. Either she had already came and gone, or something important was happening soon.

"Byunghee," he says, his son's name rolling off his tongue. The boy nods his head in greeting, but before he could retire to his room, his father stopped him. "Wait for a moment, boy." He does, turning to face his father. "I will be out of town for a fortnight or more. There is urgent business in Holy Rome, so I must sail there. I shall make sure to inform you if anything happens during my trip."

"I see. Well, I'll pray for your safety, father," he replies respectfully before leaving.

He still lacked a peaceful sleep that night.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He had no idea why he was returning to the plaza again today. Seungho wouldn't want to see him, and both of them were already confused enough. He knew this perfectly well. Yet, something about the thought of not seeing Seungho, not being there to help the boy when he was confused, when he was the one who confused he musician... the thought of it was unbearable for Byunghee. Perhaps that was why he was so crestfallen when none of the nomads were out of their tents.

After a weak debate with himself, Byunghee decided he was already deep enough in the hole, and entered the tents. Dear Fortuna, dear Tyche ³was kind to him today, but at the same time so cruel.

Inside the tent, Seungho was there, grazing his fingers over his cittern, his expression nearly unreadable, as always, but with a little hint of sadness into those raven coloured eyes. He wanted it gone, banished, exiled from those dark orbs. The head dancer Miss was there, as well, but she was not wearing her usual costume. Instead, she wore very casual clothing: a pure white dress with a leather overcoat and shawls hooked around her clothing.

"Is... something wrong?" Byunghee asked hesitantly. The two looked up, hearing his voice, but Seungho immediately looked down again after seeing who it was. The Miss, however, just sighed at his appearance.

"Our singer cannot sing, so we will have to stop our performances," she said.

"For today?"

"For this town. There's no one here who would have a strong enough voice that would be willing to help us. All the singers here are church goers." Another sigh. "Such a shame; I enjoyed this town."

Byunghee thought he saw, through his peripheral vision, Seungho looking at him.

"Why can he not sing?"

"He's fell ill," she relied gravely. "He'll be dead soon enough, and he's certainly in no condition to be singing his last days away. We'll just need to find a new singer on our travels."

Were they really going to leave? Byunghee didn't want to think of a life without these nomads, without Seungho. But really, he couldn't think at all now.

"I'll sing for you."

He definitely couldn't think now.

Seungho's head shot up, and the Miss stared at him, shocked. "What?"

"I'll sing for you. I've been singing for the church my whole life, and I'm willing to sing."

"It's not that easy. You don't have much time, since it's already late in the morning..." she warned, trailing off.

"I don't mind. I've heard your music many times, and I can learn quickly."

"It won't work!" Seungho suddenly snapped, getting up abruptly. "You're a church boy. Everyone will recognise you because of your father, and conflict will arise. It will cause pointless issues for us-"

"Unless he disguise himself?" the Miss cut him off, staring off in deep thought. "Yes, yes... we have masks and extra clothing... Arthur's old clothing is still too big for you two, but it should fit him fine...”

"But Miss-"

"I've decided. You may sing with us."

"But can he even sing?" Seungho must have abhorred Byunghee greatly, with all the resistance he was putting forth.

"Well let us see." She gestured to Byunghee, and the man froze. What exactly was he supposed to sing for secular nomads?

Clearing his throat, he sang the first song that came to mind, and let the words tumble out of his mouth.

Dame a vous sans retollir
Dong cuer pensée désir
Corps et amour
Comme a toute la millour
Qu'on puist choisir
Ne qui vivre ne morir
Puist a ce jour4

He let the notes trail off, opening his eyes, not knowing when he closed them. Seungho's face was blank yet again, but he bit his lip and his eyes showed some of his surprise. The Miss looked approving.

"We'll have him sing in English only, though. He has an accent when he sings French," she said, and Byunghee flushed in embarrassment. "Seungho, teach him our lyrics. I shall inform the others. Seunghoon will be overjoyed that we don't need to leave."

"But why must I-" Seungho started.

"Because you can truly sing." She finished easily, gracefully excusing herself from the tent.

And silence followed. But this time, Byunghee wasn't hesitant.

"Are you angry?" he asked a mere moment after the Miss left. Seungho looked up at him, a small frown tugging those thick lips.

"I have no reason to be so," he replied, looking away, grabbing the first instrument he could fine: a lute. He started playing it gently, humming a bit before looking up at Byunghee. "Sing."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The performance had gone perfectly well, or at least, as perfect as it could have been. The rest of the group was surprised at Byunghee joining, but no one questioned the head dancer's decision. They were, in fact, eager that they would still be able to perform. As to not draw confusion, all the musicians, including Seungho, and the dancers wore masks, and in a big grand finale, the head dancer removed her mask and threw it out to the crowd, finishing her dance with several twirls, her skirt flying in the wind.

After the show, all the musicians, excluding Seungho, congratulated and complimented them. They complimented and even blessed his strong voice, saying that if they were church-men, they would call him their gift from God.

Byunghee was, oddly enough, not offended.

Seunghoon was ecstatic to meet him; apparently, he had also noticed Byunghee talking with Seungho. Although, Byunghee had not the time or patience to sit and talk with the youth for any longer than it would take to say a "Thank you very much" to his compliments. Immediately after the show had finished and other musicians left him alone, he removed the mask, like the others had done, and he dragged Seungho, who didn't struggle, not wanting to make a scene or show any emotions in such a crowded public place, by the wrist to a secluded area behind the buildings and tents.
Byunghee grit his teeth as he noticed the Miss giving him a knowing glance.

"Release my wrist" Seungho demanded as soon as they were hidden from people, and Byunghee obliged.

"Don't leave," he said quickly before Seungho could try to escape. Sighing, the older boy looked up at him, eyes hardened and unamused.

"What do you wa- hmmph!" His question was cut short as Byunghee pulled him into an embrace, burying Seungho's head into the younger man's chest. He squirmed excessively, but froze when Byunghee tightened his arms more.

"Shh..." he whispered, to Seungho and to himself. He felt the older man relax in his hold and smiled a bit. He didn't want to let go. He didn't want to return to reality. He didn't want to deal with the judgement of others. 'Listen to me, please. Hear me out." Hesitantly, Seungho nodded, as well as he could with his head nested into Byunghee's coat. "I cannot explain my reasons for what I did yesterday, nor today. No matter how hard I try, no matter how wrong I know it is, I cannot control these urges I have. I... I think what I feel is sinful, but I feel nothing of the sorts. I feel at peace. I feel whole, not like a sinner or an evil man. I don't understand any of this, but I.. I don't care either. Please do not patronise me, please do not..."

He trailed off, hearing Seungho muffled speech. Carefully, he loosened his arms, just enough for Seungho to free his face and speak normally.

"Who said it was wrong?" he asked quietly, with no expression in his voice, but yet, in no means a monotone.

"Pardon?"

"Who said it was wrong?" He asked again, looking straight forward. His eyes were blank as always, and his voice still showed no expression. It was almost as if his spirit and mind was gone, and only his physical body stood in Byunghee's arms.

"I..." he started, racking his brain for answer. Seungho slowly raised his head, until his eyes were meeting Byunghee's, in the most perfectly direct way they possibly could be, with their height difference. They were blank no more.

Certain gentleness touched those deep orbs. The concealing clouds dissolved into nothingness, leaving Seungho's emotions bared. There was no sorrow, or confusion, or anger, or anything of the sorts. Simply curiosity and encouragement, with hints of hope? Byunghee noticed that Seungho's eyes were not completely black. There were very small flecks of grey, hidden nearly perfectly. They were barely noticeable, and unless one was truly looking, they were impossible to find.

He was brought back to the matter at hand by a hand on his cheek. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he registered that this was the first physical contact Seungho had initiated between the two, but the majority of his brain was focusing on how soft Seungho's hand was, how warm it was, how comfortable it was.

"Who?" he asks again softly, his voice nearly a whisper.

"I don't... know.. Th... They all say it's wrong, but they know nothing. They know not of what the world is truly made of, of what other people besides themselves believe, of what truth really is, of what is bad and what is good, what people really do, what my father does behind closed doors!" He panted as he realised what he said. But Seungho was not fazed by any of it, not in the slightest.

"If they are so ignorant, then why do we listen to them?" he asked softly. Byunghee could barely believe how calm his voice was. There was no impatience, no overriding emotions. Instead, he just spoke clearly and gently, simply allowing Byunghee to say what he needs to.

"We... because society has been created that way, so that we must listen and obliged to all of what they say," he replies, his heart and mind calming just by Seungho's presence and words. The older boy stares at him for a few moments, in complete silence, his eyes boring into Byunghee's own ones. To Byunghee's surprise, he leaned his body into taller one's body before opening his mouth again to speak.

"I do not follow by what society tells me to do. I have never been considered a member of society, so why should I follow their rulings?" He paused. "Does society own this body and this mind?" His hand, which had, by instinct, gone to Byunghee's hips, tightened slightly, crumpling the fabric in his small hands.

"... Neither society nor I own this body or this mind. I own only my soul, simply because I am unable to give away to anyone but an undesirable Devil." he replied, and confusion was laced into the older boy's eyes.

"Then who owns your body and mind, Byunghee?" His voice was slightly timid, but it strengthened quickly by the end of the question.

Byunghee released a deep breath.

"You do, Yang Seungho."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was surprisingly easy to sneak away into the crowd, away from the public view, and back to Byunghee's home. No one found them or followed them around, and no one recognised Byunghee in his disguise. Only back at his home was there a small drawback.

"Byunghee, who is this?" an old woman with a caring face asked, her expression slightly suspicious. "And where are your clothes?" She was his nanny when he was younger, and now she stays at the home, as a sort of leader to the maids.

"Ah, he is a friend of mine. He made a tiring journey here from France, and I was hoping he could stay with us," he lied easily.

"Ah, really?" She looked interested, staring straight at Seungho.

"Oui, madame, je suis de la France. Je m'appelle Seungho," ⁵ Seungho, catching on quickly, replied in perfect French. Then he added in English, "I hope I am not bothering you."

"He only knows me in town. We had to wear these clothes as to not grab suspicion. It's fine, right?" Byunghee added.

"Well, I suppose... just inform your father next time," she said, believing him easily, walking away to tend to the kitchen.

"Ah... wait. You and the rest of the servants are dismissed for the day. You may return to the servant's quarters; Seungho and I will tend to ourselves if need be." She nodded and walked off to tell the others.

"Where shall we go?" Seungho asked, and Byunghee gestured for him to follow. They walked to the east wing of the house, Seungho wary and Byunghee beaming. Eventually, they reached a large, oak door with designs from Botticelli's work carved smoothly into the wood. Amazement was a mere understatement for the older boy's emotions.

The room itself was extremely simple. Basic designs on the walls, very little furniture or decorations across. In fact, without the object of surprise and adoration, the room could be compared to a pompous prison cell. But it was not, all because of the grandeur organ in the middle. It copied a church organ so perfectly, it was nearly a replica. That must have been one of the advantages of being so high in society.

"Play," Byunghee ordered softly. Seungho did not hesitate, immediately strolling up to the marvellous instrument and sitting at the seat. Byunghee closed the door and followed him, waiting for him to begin. Seungho raised his fingers to the keys, took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and began to play. His fingers played over the keys the water flowed over rocks in a stream. Byunghee recognised the piece to be one of Elias Ammerbach's pieces, but the old composer was put to shame by Seungho playing, in Byunghee's opinion.

Once the piece finished, Seungho looked up at him, expectantly and silently. Byunghee could say nothing, could do nothing but gape in amazement and stare into those soul-fetching eyes.

Abruptly, he grabbed Seungho by the wrist and dragged him to his room, shutting the door quickly. When he turned around, he saw Seungho already making his way over to the bed, sitting down on it delicately and still looking up at him expectantly, but for a different reason now.

"What did you think of King Edward II?" he asked, thoughtlessly.

"He made horrid military decisions for England," Seungho replied nonchalantly.

"And of his... supposed sodomy?" Byunghee continued tentatively.

"Must love always be sodomy, Byunghee?" the other shot back, but not in a scathing manner. Simply in a questioning manner. Byunghee shook his head 'no'. "That is my answer."

Silence.

"Qu'est-ce que tu vas faire, Byunghee?" Seungho asked in French.

"Je ne s'ais pas," he replied, walking towards him.

"Oh, vraiment?" Byunghee reached him and took one of Seungho's cheeks in his hand.

"...Non." Seungho mirrored Byunghee's action.

"Es-tu sur?" The distance between their bodies and faces shortened, to the point where they could feel each other's warm breaths and Byunghee leaned over and Seungho looked up.

"Oui." The distance was gone, and lips touched. ⁶

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Laying in bed, Byunghee let his thoughts run amok within his mind. Such an act... the act he had just performed.. was it truly an commitment of sin? These types of ual relations, for a purpose other than procreation, was said to be sinful, particularly with two beings of same gender. That's what he had been told his entire life.

Yet what he felt with Seungho... it was more than good. It was positively blissful. Why were people trying to pull him away from such a divine feeling? Why was it considered so sinful to feel so good? It didn't make sense to him, in any way whatsoever.

It probably never would either, he thought as he looked over at the sleeping Seungho next to him. The boy was gorgeous during ; that, he could not deny. His skin would glow under the candlelight and the moonlight in Byunghee's room, his hair would fly everywhere, the plump lips would release the most musical noises. Unlike his father's , Seungho was not loud in bed. He made soft sounds, similar to his usual calm voice. He was also incredibly affectionate. He would cling onto Byunghee's body desperately, kissing him on the neck and on the cheeks and on the lips. Their kisses were clumsy and inexperienced, but neither minded; they were too caught up in the heat of the moment, their souls nearly animal-like with passion and desire.

Byunghee reached his hand over to some of Seungho's soft hair. Apparently, Seungho was a light sleeper, because a few moments later, he stirred, his eyelashes fluttering as his eyes opened.

"Hm?" he mumbled sleepily, looking up Byunghee before leaning into his touch. "Hello."

"Hello," Byunghee replied in a whisper, marvelling in how peaceful Seungho was.

"So are we going to Hell, Byunghee?" The question took him aback at first, but his eyes quickly softened, and he shook his head.

"No."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

They had left early that morning, before any of the servants awoke and returned from their quarters. Byunghee packed whatever was important to him and some extra money in a durable bag before taking off with Seungho. Byunghee's father would not be returning for another 13 days at least, giving Byunghee enough time to get far away enough from England. Once they reached the camps, everyone was already prepared, waiting for them.

"You're sure?" the Miss asked him. He nodded.

"I knew what I had entered from the moment I offered to sing for you," he replied easily, his hand on Seungho's waist tightening slightly. She nodded in approval, obviously happy, before Seunghoon bounced up to them.

"Hello!" he nearly exclaimed, and Seungho shushed him. It was too early for the townspeople to be awake at this time; loud noises would merely cause them problems. Seungho flushed in embarrassment "I apologise..."
"It's fine, Seunghoon," Seungho said with a soft smile. It reminded Byunghee of the one he gave when reaching his .

"Let us make haste," one of the men from behind said. "It is nearly dawn; messengers will be running about soon." The Miss nodded at this, and turned to the three young men.

"Come, boys," she said, before turning and walking to the horses. The Miss and the rest of the dancers rode in the carriages, while the men either led the carriages in the front, or rode their own horses.

Byunghee and Seungho mounted a horse together, Byunghee in front and Seungho behind him, while Seunghoon joined another one of the musicians. As quietly as they could, the rode to and past the gates.

The last thing Byunghee saw of the town was the cross residing on top of the town church.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Tell me.." Byunghee started. They had been riding all day, and decided to rest for the day. They were quick and efficient, meaning that they would have more than enough time to reach the docks by tomorrow. From there, they would decide whether to go to Spain, Portugal, or France.

"Yes?" Seungho asked, opening his eyes slowly. He was resting under a tree with Byunghee, not too far from the rest of the group, but far enough for them to have their privacy.

"Why do you dislike gypsies?" It always bugged Byunghee, and he really didn't want to leave it away for any longer.

He noticed Seungho tense a bit before sighing. "I do not... dislike them, necessarily. They have their ways, like we have our own. They're no reason for dislike or tension."

"Then why were you so upset when I called you one?" Seungho was hesitant to answer.

"Although I do not necessarily abhor them, I have not exactly had the best experiences with gypsies."

"What do you mean?"

"I... I had a lover before. Changsun was his name. He was helplessly sweet and caring, but helplessly foolish as well. He met a young gypsy woman, one who had taken a great interest in him. She called herself Mir, obviously a fake name, and tried to seduce him. Her plan succeeded, and he ran off with her as soon as he could." He sighed once more and shook his head. "I would never wish to be related to such flaunty behaviour, which is why I had snapped at you for calling me one."

Byunghee nodded his head in understanding and leaned over to embrace him.

"Well, there's no need to worry about that now. It's the past, and I am here for only you," he whispered warmly. Seungho smiled, mouth and eyes.

"I hope you are telling me the truth, my sinful church-boy." Byunghee grinned, leaning in more so that their heads touched.

"Of course, my sinful musician."

<sup>Footnotes:
1. [This is the design I was going for when writing this: here ]↩
2. [ King of England from 1307 until he was deposed by his wife Isabella in January 1327. It was "rumoured" that he had homoual relations (he really did, some people refuse to admit it though), and he was disposed as king and killed for that. Read more here ]↩
3. [The Goddess of fortune and the personification of luck in Greco-Roman mythology. Fortuna is her Roman name, while Tyche is her Greek one.]↩
4. [The song is Dame à vous d'amie by Guillaume de Machaut. (It's French)]↩
5. [Yes, Mrs. I am from France. My name is Seungho.]↩
6. [In order: "What are you going to do, Byunghee?" "I don't know." "Oh, really?" "...No." "Are you sure?" "Yes."]↩</sup>