“Un… Un-ah.” No. This wasn’t happening. The weight of Yeo Un pressed heavily against him, impaled on Dong Su’s sword. Un’s hand was against his back, holding him.

 

“Since the past, I wanted to die by someone’s hand. That is to die by your hands, Dong Su.”

 

“You can still live,” Dong Su protested. He would make sure of it.

 

Un pushed himself farther onto the sword, pulling himself closer to Dong Su. He coughed, and Dong Su felt warm liquid seep through his clothing. “Un, you…”

 

“Until I reach the underworld…to His Highness, to Sword Saint, I’ll get on my knees and bow deeply,” Un whispered. His fingers pressed into Dong Su’s back, who in turn clutched tightly to his arm.

 

“Don’t be hurt your whole life for a fellow like me,” Un pleaded. “Thank you, Dong Su-yah.”

 

Yeo Un went limp.

 

 “Un-ah! Don’t die, Un-ah. Un-ah. Un-ah!” Dong Su begged, tears streaming down his face. He held him close and screamed. “Un-ah, don’t die! Un-ah! Un-ah!”

 

Dong Su felt like he was the one who had a sword through his side. This couldn’t be happening. Why? Why had Un thrown his weapons away? Dong Su had been prepared to die as Un leapt into the air; he even began to lower his sword. But he had also closed his eyes, afraid to see Un. He hadn’t seen when Yeo Un had let go of his swords. He hadn’t been able to retract his weapon fast enough to save him.

 

As carefully as he could, he pulled his sword from Un’s body, dropping it immediately in the grass. Warm blood spilled onto his hands. Trembling, he held Un’s body as he cried loudly against his shoulder. “Un-ah,” he choked on a sob.

 

Suddenly he felt Yeo Un’s body pulled away from him, and he was surrounded by several of the royal soldiers.

 

“What are you doing?” he barely managed to ask, as he watched them heave Un onto the back of a horse, his body flopping lifelessly like a doll.

 

One soldier turned to him to reply. “The Sky Lord is a treasonous criminal. He must be disposed of as is fitting to his crimes.”

 

Horrified, Dong Su stumbled to his feet. “What? No, you can’t do that,” he protested. What would they do to Un? Behead him? “He’s already, he’s already…” his voice faded helplessly. He couldn’t bring himself to say the last word. The horse with Un’s body was already galloping away. He fell to his knees, feeling a familiar sense of absolute anguish. He had felt something similar when the Crown Prince Sado had been killed by the Heuksa Chorong and Yeo Un had betrayed them all, but this time there was no betrayal. Just…heartbreaking loss.

 

It had been getting harder and harder lately for Dong Su to act like he wasn’t affected by any and everything that involved Yeo Un. His heart seemed to be getting pushed and pulled this way and that every moment. In the past day alone he had gone from sheer, giddy happiness at Un’s return, to disbelief and horror at Cho Rip’s report to the Crown Prince and the order to kill the Sky Lord. It had been a relief when Un had visited him last night, and yet it only took a second for his heart to break at Un’s words of departure.

 

“How can we live together? I will leave here. To a place with no people. A place that’s very far. Don’t come find me.”

 

He didn’t know how it had happened, but somehow Dong Su ended up back at home. Someone must have brought him. Or had he walked there on his own two feet? He had no recollection. The buildings were quiet. He sat outside, staring into the shadows.

 

“Dong Su,” he heard Jin Ju come up beside him. “Are you all right? Your injuries….”

 

Injuries? What injuries? He listlessly looked down at himself. “Oh.” He couldn’t even feel the numerous cuts on his arms and body from Un’s sword. His heart hurt too much. He touched one area on his side, as if it could somehow connect him to his friend. “I’m fine.” She left without saying anything more.

 

The others must have come and gone, eating dinner with him sitting there, but he didn’t notice. He only touched the wine, slowly downing cup after cup. The burn warmed him but quickly went cold again. He felt the world grow quieter. The voices of the others disappeared.

 

Yeo Un stepped up beside him and silently took a seat at the table. Dong Su could feel his eyes on him. Feel the warmth of his smile. Dong Su sighed heavily. He leaned forward and poured himself another full cup. He closed his eyes as he drank half the cup. When he opened his eyes, not Un, but Ji Seon was beside him. He sighed again.

 

“Why are you drinking so much alone?” she asked him.

 

He forced a laugh. What kind of question was that?

 

“You miss him?”

 

His half smile dissipated. “Yes.” He took a deep, painful breath. “I miss him very much.”

 

It was the first time he had admitted these words aloud to anyone. Ji Seon, through the years following the merciless change of her fate, had grown independent and more aware. They both knew that his youthful pining after her had long come to an end. Despite what everyone else thought, they had not once been intimate, or even kissed. She knew he cared for her, as he also cared for Jin Ju or Mi So. It was also no less true that Dong Su would put his life on the line to save her. But although no words had been spoken between them, the two both knew that Dong Su had no room in his heart to love Ji Seon as he had before. Of all of their friends, only Ji Seon had suspected the truth.

 

“Un, that brat. But that brat…is only in this wine cup. I wish to forget him after drinking a cup. But I think of him again, so I can only refill it.” He could feel the tears burning his eyes. “I wish to forget him after drinking a cup,” he repeated, emphasizing the irony, “but I think of him again, so I can only refill it.” He laughed again and finished his cup.

 

~

 

The first thing he was conscious of was the taste of blood, and the smell of musty straw. Almost immediately after, he became aware of the severe pain in his side. Grimacing, Yeo Un moved an arm to press against his side, but it was blocked by the heavy straw mat covering his entire body. It took all of his strength to push the mat off of him. It fell to the floor. Gasping for breaths that only served to put him in more pain, he struggled to sit up.

 

He appeared to be within the darkness of the palace mortuary, surrounded by corpses covered in straw mats. The smell of death permeated his senses. He tore a section of his clothing and wrapped it tightly around his chest. He had already bled for several hours, and the wound appeared to be clotting on its own, but he knew as soon as he began moving again it would bleed anew.

 

It took several moments to gather enough strength to get to his feet and shuffle toward the door. He kept to the shadows as he weakly staggered along, leaning heavily on walls and trees along his path. He was careful to not leave a blood trail. Luckily the mortuary was near the palace walls for easy disposal of the dead, but by the time he had tumbled over the wall he was seeing double and having difficulty breathing. He headed for one of the only abandoned houses he knew of. Cheon had spent much time there before his death, but Un was sure that it would be safe now.

 

He collapsed just inside the house, his strength evaporating. He his lips, now dry and sticky from the blood. If only he had some water. But now that he was on the ground again, there was no way he could get up.

 

Un drifted in and out of consciousness throughout the night, shivering from the cold. At one point he saw a mirage of Dong Su sitting across from him, smiling. He knew it was a mirage, a hallucination. Dong Su’s hair had not been so long and wild for a while now. This was the Dong Su of the days before everything went wrong.

 

Yeo Un choked on a sob, crying silently. Doing everything silently had become second nature to him now. But the pain now was tenfold.

 

“Un-ah, it’s all over. You can come back now.”

 

“Dong Su-yah,” he whispered, feeling his tears slide down his neck. “Dong Su-yah.”

 

The mirage only laughed and folded his arms, settling back against the wall beside Un.

 

 ~

 

Dong Su woke up to bright sunlight, still outside on the table but covered by one of Ji Seon’s outer coats. She had been unable to convince him to go inside last night. He had eventually passed out from the wine.

 

He heard running footsteps, and Mi So came bursting through the front entrance.

 

“Dong Su!” she exclaimed, looking worried. When he didn’t bother to respond, she continued. “It’s all over town—they’re saying that the Sky Lord’s body has mysteriously disappeared!”

 

He immediately became alert. “What?” He jumped to his feet.

 

“I don’t know; I just heard some guards talking about it while I was in the market. They think that the Heuksa Chorong came to claim him during the night. He wasn’t in the mortuary this morning.”

 

Dong Su was already gone, running down the road into town. Something felt wrong. He knew the Heuksa Chorong would never bother to steal a dead body, even if it was that of their leader. They were assassins, after all. Their bonds, their loyalty, couldn’t be that strong. He ran all of the way to the palace, and spoke with General Seo Yu Dae.

 

“There’s nothing to tell you, I’m afraid, Dong Su,” the old general shook his head. “He was left in the mortuary yesterday. When the guards went to retrieve him, the mat where he had been laid was empty. There was no sign of a break in, and none of the wall guards saw any suspicious activity.”

 

“Why,” Dong Su muttered, “why would anyone take him away?” He punched his fist against the wall. “Hasn’t he suffered enough?!” He straightened up. “I’m going to find him, General. I will make sure he can rest in peace. It’s the only thing I can do for him now.”

 

Standing outside the palace walls, Dong Su took a shuttering breath. If Yeo Un had only been gone a handful of hours, the people carrying him couldn’t be too far. He hoped they were somewhere in the town, or nearby.

 

He searched thoroughly but quickly, relying on his instinct. He ignored several places that couldn’t possibly hide a body. He only asked those he felt wouldn’t lie. But no one had seen anything. It was like Yeo Un had just vanished into thin air.

 

As the sun climbed high over the trees, he found himself on the outskirts of the ghetto, near several abandoned houses. He began searching them, one by one. He found nothing but empty storage areas and broken pottery. He ducked into the third house and stopped abruptly. Someone was there. Just barely visible, camouflaged by shadows and dusty sunlight, someone was there.

 

Dong Su put his hand to the hilt of his sword as he approached. The thin, darkly clothed person was slouched against the wall, trembling and breathing weakly. As he stepped on a creaky board, the person looked up, and Dong Su felt all of the air leave his lungs.

 

“Un-ah.”

 

Yeo Un was pallid, lips devoid of all color. But he smiled up at Dong Su, fresh tears following the path of dried streaks down through the dirt on his face.

 

“Baek…Dong…Su,” he mouthed, reaching out a bloody hand toward him.

 

Dong Su rushed forward, dropping to his knees. Not once, in the past torturous day, had he even dreamed that this was possible. He grabbed Un’s hand, clasping it tightly between both of his. Un looked startled.

 

“Dong Su,” he gasped. “Is this, is this real? You’re not just another mirage?” When Dong Su nodded, vision blurred, Un held up his other hand to gently touch his finger tips to Dong Su’s face.

 

But then he grimaced in pain, and Dong Su came back to the situation. He couldn’t have Yeo Un die again. He had to save him.

 

“Don’t worry, Un-ah. Everything will be all right.” He leaned down and heaved Un up, staggering to his feet. After glancing around briefly, he found a better place in the sunlight where he laid his friend down again. He took off his outer shirt and draped it over Un’s shivering form.

 

“I’ll be right back,” he promised, standing up. “Don’t move.”

 

Un nodded weakly. Squeezing his hand one more time, Dong Su turned and ran.

 

~

 

Darkness claimed Yeo Un again, though this time it was warmer than before. He came to sometime later, to the sense of his body being shifted around. Cool air touched his chest as his clothing was pulled away from his shoulders. He murmured indistinguishable words as he struggled to wake himself fully. His entire life had taught him to keep alert even in his sleep, but he had never been injured so badly before. He had never let anyone far enough past his defenses to get more than a scratch or bruise here and there. His breath became uneven in his fight to open his eyes.

 

The hand pulling at the cloth around his chest disappeared briefly, and suddenly he felt fingers in his hair. Cheon had occasionally patted him on the head when he was feeling paternal, but these touches were different. They were gentle, almost loving. He felt himself relax, and he managed to lift a hand to feel the wrist by his face. His eyes opened.

 

“Dong Su.”

 

His longtime best friend smiled down at him. “Stay still. I need to clean the wound and get you patched up.”

 

“Dong Su,” Un started, but then coughed from a dry throat. Almost immediately a gourd was held up to his lips.

 

“Drink this. You’re dehydrated.”

 

He sipped the water carefully, but still spilled some. Dong Su wiped the few drips from his chin and lips, fingers coming away dark with blood. Setting the gourd down, he resumed his work on the sword wound. Un hissed suddenly when the cloth was peeled from his wound, tugging at dried blood. His hand shot forward and clutched tightly at Dong Su’s side. He squeeze his eyes shut as something was pressed against the wound, and the smell of medicinal herbs reached his nose. Dong Su’s arm slipped underneath his back and lifted him slightly, turning his body toward him to reach the other side.

 

Yeo Un felt his eyes sting again. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

 

Dong Su didn’t pause what he was doing. “What?”

 

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry for everything.” He swallowed a pained groan as he was lifted again and fresh cloth was wrapped tightly around his chest. His knuckles turned white, fingers tangled in the material of Dong Su’s clothing.

 

“Un-ah.” He was pushed back again as Dong Su wound the wrap around him a second time.

 

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I know you can’t forgive me after all I’ve done, but…just, please. If only I can stay by your side. I don’t want to be alone any more, Dong Su-yah. Don’t leave me again.”

 

“I never left you, Un-ah. I never did.”

 

Un felt a chill run through his chest. He was right. It was Un, not Dong Su, who had left. He had betrayed everyone. Dong Su was right to never forgive him. His grip on Dong Su loosened. He let his hand fall to the ground.

 

His tunic was pulled shut once more. There was a moment of heavy silence and no movement. He could feel Dong Su’s eyes on him. But then he was suddenly enveloped in warm arms and pulled close against Dong Su’s chest.

 

“All I ever wanted was for you to come back,” Dong Su whispered into his ear. “I never gave up on you, not once.”

 

Un buried his face into his shoulder and wrapped his arms around Dong Su’s waist.

 

“Thank you,” he murmured. “For coming after me. Even though I told you not to.”

 

Dong Su let go and stood up. “Let me make you something to eat. You need strength.”

 

He was right. He hadn’t felt any hunger pains; his wound had been the only pain he was conscious of. But Un hadn’t eaten in nearly two days. That, combined with his severe blood loss, had left him shaky and with barely enough energy to hold his hand up. He also felt sleepy.

 

Shivering, he mumbled, “Will you build a fire?”

 

He thought he saw Dong Su shake his head. “A fire might alert others that we are here.” Suddenly Dong Su grabbed his shoulder roughly, startling him. “Don’t fall asleep, Un-ah.”

 

“Fire,” Un insisted vaguely, weakly trying to wrap his arms around himself.

 

“Are you cold?” He heard shuffling and then felt Dong Su cover him with something warm. He opened his eyes to see that he was now wearing Dong Su’s tunic. He realized that Dong Su’s torso was covered in cuts and blood.

 

“Dong Su-yah.” He couldn’t lift his hand to even point. “Why are your wounds still untended to? They’ll scar, or get infected.”

 

“I’m fine. Don’t worry about me. Worry about yourself.”

 

“But,” Un felt his eyes watering again, “it’s all my doing. I’m so sorry. I was…trying to provoke you,” he admitted. “I knew you didn’t want to hurt me. There were so many times when you could have cut me. But you stopped yourself each time.”

 

He tensed slightly when he felt Dong Su wipe away his tears. “Did you want to die?”

 

“Yes.” His voice was barely a whisper.

 

“Do you…still want to die?”

 

The former Sky Lord was silent.

 

“Yeo Un. Do you still want to die?” Dong Su’s voice was more urgent now.

 

“I…want to be with you,” he replied instead. Whether that meant he died or lived, he didn’t care anymore. Just as long as he could be with him.

 

Dong Su gave a sad chuckle. “You should have said so the other night. None of this would have ever happened. You should have just stayed with me then.”

 

~

 

Yeo Un was very weak. Dong Su spoon-fed him a few pickled vegetables and some cold rice porridge, but he could barely even chew. And even with both of Dong Su’s tunics over him, Un was still shivering. Dong Su rubbed each of Un’s arms and legs to put some warmth back into the wounded man’s body, but it didn’t seem to help much. Un needed to be warm, and staying in the abandoned house for much longer would be dangerous. He began considering how to get Un home without anyone in town noticing. If he could somehow hide Un along the road, they would be safe, but how?

 

“Un-ah,” he patted him on the shoulder. He received a grunt in response. “I’ll be right back. Try to stay awake.”

 

Un became more alert, worried. “Where are you going?”

 

Dong Su smiled. “Just around these houses. I’m going to look for something that can help us.”

 

Within minutes he had found a pile of old rice sacks, bushels of straw, and a rickety but still functional pull cart. He spread out a layer of straw in the cart and then put down a large rice sack in the front corner before going back into the abandoned house to get Un. He felt bad about taking back his clothes, but it was necessary. Un didn’t protest at all as he lifted him up and carried him outside. It was more difficult getting him into the cart without hurting him further, but in the end they managed with only a few painful moments.

 

“Just lie down and keep your head on that sack,” Dong Su instructed. Then he spread more straw and piled up the empty rice sacks over and around Un so that it was impossible to tell there was a person inside.

 

“Are you okay?” he asked. “Can you breathe all right under there?”

 

“Yes,” came the muffled response.

 

He sighed in relief. “Good. Now let’s get you home. Try to stay quiet and don’t move.”

 

Trying his best to avoid large bumps in the road, and being as gentle as possible, Dong Su began to pull the cart out of the ghetto and onto the road. He prayed for no problems.

 

An agonizingly long hour later, but luckily with no obstructions, he stepped inside the hideout he had called home for the last several years. He pulled the cart as far out of sight from the open gate and the road as possible, and then immediately set down the cart.

 

Jin Ju was the first to notice him, walking up as he began to hurriedly toss away the rice sacks.

 

“Dong Su, what’s this? Why did you bring all of this refuse here?”

 

He didn’t answer her, pulling at the sacks. He felt terrified. In his rush to get home, he hadn’t stopped even once to check on his precious cargo. He heard Jin Ju gasp as he finally lifted away a rice sack to reveal Un’s body. He felt his own breath catch. Un’s eyes were closed.

 

“Oh no,” he moaned, reaching in and lifting Un up, out of the cart along with piles of straw and a few loose sacks. When he felt Un’s soft breath upon his hand, he closed his eyes in utter relief. “Thank goodness.”

 

“Dong Su!” Jin Ju exclaimed. “Why did you bring him here?”

 

“He’s alive, Jin Ju,” he smiled widely as he brushed off all of the straw and tossed away the sacks.

 

“What? Are you insane, Baek Dong Su?”

 

Scooping Un up into his arms once again, Dong Su strode into the house and into his sleeping quarters. Jin Ju followed.

 

“Quickly, get hot water and cloths. We need to get him clean and warmed up. He’s been lying with the dead.” Once Jin Ju was gone, Dong Su covered Un with his blankets.

 

“Yeo Un. Un-ah. Wake up. I told you, you can’t sleep yet.” He took one of his hands and grasped it tightly.

 

Jin Ju came back not long after with a steaming bowl of water and a soft cloth, which she handed to Dong Su. She stood hesitantly in the doorway as Dong Su soaked the cloth and wrung it out before gently wiping at Un’s face and neck. A drop of hot water dripped into his nose, and he abruptly wrinkled it, groaning quietly and turning his face away.

 

“Oh my goodness, he is alive!” Jin Ju exclaimed.

 

“Of course he is,” Dong Su retorted, leaning closer over Un. “Un-ah, come on, wake up.”

 

He saw Un’s eyes shift slightly underneath his eyelids, and then they cracked open a little.

 

“Dong Su-yah?”

 

“Yeah. Are you all right? We’re home,” he smiled.

 

Un’s face melted into an exhausted but beautiful smile. “Home?”

 

“Yes.”

 

Jin Ju continued watching Dong Su tend to Un, only leaving when he began to pull away his clothing to wash the blood and grime from Un’s chest and stomach. Dong Su found some clean clothes of his to replace Un’s with, and the weak young man did what he could to help him switch clothing. Dong Su was horrified at how thin his friend was. This wasn’t just the result of two days of fasting, but weeks or even months of neglect.

 

“Haven’t you been eating?” he murmured, unconsciously running his fingers over Un’s protruding ribs. Un seemed to be nothing but bones and muscle, but even the muscle seemed to be less than he remembered from their younger days together.

 

Un looked away, pulling Dong Su’s clothing around him. “I haven’t been hungry lately. I eat when I must.”

 

Dinner that night was an uncomfortable affair. Once the others heard that Yeo Un was not only alive, but hidden in Dong Su’s room, there was much protest.

 

“But they are direct orders from the Crown Prince! He must be surrendered!”

 

“You are committing treason by doing this!”

 

“After all of the suffering he has put you through, why?”

 

Only Ji Seon remained quiet. She hadn’t spoken with Dong Su at all since his arrival with Un, and he found he had no energy to attempt to speak with her. Instead, he concentrated on ignoring everyone’s words. He knew none of them would do anything about Un without his permission.

 

Jin Ju found him still sitting at the table, drinking wine long after everyone else had retired.

 

“Will you at least take care of yourself?” she asked. “If you plan to protect Yeo Un, you need to stay healthy yourself.”

 

He looked up. “What are you talking about?”

 

She pointed to the dried blood and torn clothing he still wore. “Un isn’t the only one wounded. You need to take care of those. They will get infected. If you get sick, who will take care of Un?”

 

~

 

Un lay in peaceful warmth, listening to the sounds of the house. He knew he was alone at the moment, but he could hear Sa Mo moving around and muttering in the other room. Besides Jin Ju, he wasn’t aware of anyone else coming to see him. He wondered if anyone else even knew he was there. Was Dong Su keeping it a secret? Just in case he was, Un kept still and pretended to be asleep.

 

Sometime later, he heard someone enter the room and move things about. He could smell medicinal herbs again, but when it was clear that they weren’t being used on him, he slowly cracked open his eyes. Dong Su was sitting beside the sleeping mat, applying medicinal herbs and cloth to the wounds on his torso and arms. He clearly had already washed up, because his skin was still wet and rosy in some places from the cold water.

 

Un remembered a time when Dong Su would whine and moan about the pain when he got hurt; now, Dong Su quietly tended to his own wounds without a single complaint or grimace. When he was finished, he set aside the bowl and stood up. Un’s eyes followed him as he took out fresh clothing and began to change. As Dong Su put his arms through his sleeves, he turned and gave a start as their eyes met.

 

“You’re awake,” he said, quickly kneeling down beside Un and forgetting to tie his shirt shut. “How are you feeling?”

 

Un wanted to sit up, but he knew that Dong Su would never let him. “Much better. It doesn’t hurt as much now.”

 

“I’m glad.” There was a long moment of silence as Dong Su stared at him. People always talked about knowing someone’s thoughts by looking in their eyes, but Un couldn’t understand anything just by looking into someone’s eyes. Was that concern? Or pain from his injuries? Sadness?

 

“Un-ah.” Dong Su put his hand on his shoulder. “You have no idea how happy I am that you are safe right now.”

 

Happiness? Un hadn’t seen that. He watched as Dong Su stood up again and extinguished the lanterns. He heard him return and then settle down on the floor beside the sleeping mat, sighing as he shifted around to get comfortable. As Un’s eyes adjusted to the darkness, he realized that Dong Su was staring up at the ceiling, arms behind his head. Un let his eyes slip shut.

 

He wasn’t sure how much later it was, but he was pulled back from the edges of sleep by a soft sound nearby. Focusing his hearing, he found that it was the sound of someone’s shuddering breaths. He opened his eyes. Dong Su was curled up, shivering, a cloud of fog puffing from his lips with each breath. Un found himself smiling slightly at a similar memory of Dong Su’s stubbornness. He reached out a lethargic hand and touched Dong Su lightly on the arm.

 

“Baek Dong Su,” he whispered. “Dong Su-yah.”

 

“Un?” Dong Su blinked over at him.

 

“I’m cold,” Un lied. “Will you lie over here for me?” He almost laughed at how quickly Dong Su moved from his spot on the floor to underneath the blanket.

 

“Is this better?” Dong Su shivered, pulling the blanket up over both of their shoulders, hesitating for a moment as his arm hovered over Un’s chest.

 

“Mm,” Un smiled. “It feels like in the old days.” He felt Dong Su shift closer to him, and warm breath not too far from his ear. He shivered.

 

“Still cold?” Dong Su somehow found his hand and rubbed it between his hands to warm it. But Un folded his fingers around one of the hands, and held it tightly.

 

“Un-ah.” Dong Su was still.

 

Un pulled the hand closer and held it by his chest. “Let’s stay like this for a while. I’m tired.”

 

“Un-ah.”

 

“I’m tired of running away. I’m tired of secretly protecting you from the shadows when everyone thinks I’m doing nothing but trying to get you killed. I’m tired of it all.” His throat closed up, and he felt hot tears run down the sides of his face.

 

Dong Su settled in close, an arm draped over him, and then suddenly Un felt the press of lips to his temple. What was this?

 

“You don’t need to protect me anymore, Yeo Un.”

 

“What?” he tried to see Dong Su’s face in the dark, but all he could see was the vague reflection in his eyes.

 

“It’s my turn to protect you, now.”

 

End.