Heavy eyes held up by bloody fingertips

[Tak Gunji]

Another day, another strange feeling in his gut.

After the child disappeared, Gunji felt the presence of another person but when he turned around, nobody else was there. He'd stayed inside the apothecary a little while afterward, waiting for the fog to finally fade. When he left, he thought he still felt the presence. Now he stood in front of the apothecary in the dark of the night, staring at it. While it looked like another innocent shop--the kind that out-of-towners laughed about and visited for it's "uniqueness," Gunji knew that true witches owned it. Real magic could be created with ingredients from this store, although the things they sold non-witches were made for little more than parlor tricks.

Truthfully, Gunji hadn't felt right since that feral wolf caught hold of him. Part of him felt like it was unraveling. For years--centuries--Gunji had kept it all together. He had furthered himself by concentrating on being the best at what he knew he was: a vampire. But now he felt something draining away. Leadership wasn't a good color on him; he was losing his place and he felt it, felt the underlings rocking him out from underneath them.

Part of him didn't care, though. That was the disconcerting part. He felt like he was longing for the deepest sleep but still had no strength to do it himself. What kept him going? This feeling? Gunji reached out, touching the door in front of him. The owners were long gone, probably asleep in their beds.

The familiar feeling grew stronger still and Gunji's fingers slid inward into a loose fist before he looked up.

Down the street, the silhouette of another person. A familiar body. A familiar feeling. Gunji lowered his hand and turned around.

"What are you looking for?"

[Hwang Ryeol]

Once the kid was safe, Hwang Ryeol had no reason to stay and so when the vampire was distracted, he slipped away. He took with him a disconcerting feeling, however, which stayed with him. It was a constant tickle in the back of his mind; a niggling voice that colored every thought. Something was off. Something wasn't right.

The more he mulled it over, the more agitated he became. Hwang Ryeol wasn't one of those easily perturbed types. After several hundred years alive, there wasn't much that he hadn't seen. Wasn't much out there that could unseat him, but the run-in (if it could be called that) with the vampire did just that.

He returned to the apothecary several times but met no success. The vampire didn't return. Hwang Ryeol didn't know why but he needed to see that vampire again, in the light. He had to know why his thoughts kept circling back to him. Why every time he turned around, he expected him to be there. Why his heart beat faster every time he thought back to their encounter, brief though it was.

Tonight, he was there again, slinking through the shadows. The shop stood closed, the owners already in bed. It was an ungodly hour. He slipped around a corner and—there he was. The vampire. Hwang Ryeol fought the urge to run; he kept to his stealthy crawl, creeping ever closer. If he thought he was being sneaky, however, he was apparently mistaken.

The vampire turned suddenly and Hwang Ryeol saw his face. He froze, half in and half out of shadows, staring. "I..." For the first time in a long while, he didn't know what to say.

[Tak Gunji]

Indeed, what was he looking for, this lost soul in the night? It appeared to Gunji that he'd stepped closer and closer to him but he was still not within touching range. However, he was within sight. The words left Gunji's lips without care. He knew that it was the same one he'd met several nights ago. Or rather, passed by in the night. Two ships, passing by one another. There was more to it than that. Gunji got a better look at the half of his face that shone in the streetlamp and he let out a sharp sound.

It felt like he was being torn apart, looking at him. The memories nearly crushed them in their weight, dropping down on him without warning. There were many, too. Secretive smiles, lingering touches, dark eyes meeting over banquet tables. Gunji's mouth felt dry. He could barely swallow.

There was no missing the familiarity in his gaze, either. He was looking back at him like he could hardly believe what he saw. Gunji leaned against the doorway just to keep himself on his feet.

"Hwang Ryeol...?" he whispered.

[Hwang Ryeol]

"General..."

Hwang Ryeol had nothing to brace against; he swayed lightly on his feet, reaching out for nothing and grasping air. It can't be. He was supposed to be dead. Hwang Ryeol carried his memory all this time, believing that his existence was rooted firmly in the past, and now... Now he stood before Hwang Ryeol, in the flesh, alive.

Or... rather... undead.

He was the vampire from the other night, the one who triggered such a strong reaction in Hwang Ryeol. Staggering like a drunken man, he lurched into the light, eyes wide and staring. "Gunji?"

When did it happen? Who... turned him? Hwang Ryeol held out a hand, as if to reach for him, then suddenly jerked it back, recalling his own fate—he was yin. Touching anyone other than Riku meant unbearable pain and suffering.

[Tak Gunji]

The old-fashioned name rang in his ears from a voice that had lived in those days. Slowly, Gunji looked back up at him. He had a hard time maintaining eye contact for long before he was looking back down, sliding a hand up over his head to stop the sudden ringing ache. This couldn't be happening. He shifted his neck uncomfortably. No, this wasn't real, it wasn't possible. Gunji had dragged on in this disgraceful existence, not knowing that Hwang Ryeol was actually out there. He... he was out there this whole time. And now that he stood before him, Gunji was ashamed, embarrassed to be seen this way.

That didn't stop the visceral need to reach out when Hwang Ryeol reached for him. Their hands were so close to connecting when Hwang Ryeol snatched his back. Gunji's lips parted without a sound as his hands grasped at a hand that was no longer there. He should have been faster. He was faster than that. Gunji took a stumble backward, away from Hwang Ryeol. Hurt, unexpected, flashed through his chest and he shied away like a stray dog.

"Why are you here?" he asked in a quiet, dispassionate voice.

[Hwang Ryeol]

Their hands would have met before. Hwang Ryeol would have pulled him in—dragged him close—with that irreverent grin that he was known for. General, he called Gunji, even behind closed doors, but it always held a note of fond teasing when it was just the two of them.

He flinched as Gunji stepped back, as though the physical distance hurt him. Hwang Ryeol kept staring, taking him in. The hair was different; the clothes were modern. The face... the eyes were still the same. Even the hurt—and in their last days together, there was much more hurt than comfort. Hwang Ryeol finally averted his gaze, rubbing the side of his arm absently.

"I'm... investigating." The worst kind of vague response. What was Gunji even asking? Why he was here, in front of the store, or why he was here at all? He tried not to read too much into the tone of Gunji's voice, tried not to let it get to him. "I know the owners of the apothecary."

[Tak Gunji]

He was Hwang Ryeol and yet he also wasn't. There was no trace of the impish, mischievous Hwang Ryeol that Gunji remembered. No trace of his teasing tones or his irreverent words. Despite the fact that he called him General, even in those days, it was spoken almost as a joke because they both knew that there was something more between them than simply leader and subordinate.

That was no longer present. Gunjj was looking at Hwang Ryeol's face but was it really him? It felt like him, despite the energy being all wrong. Maybe his eyes were deceiving him too well. He watched Hwang Ryeol's actions, taking in the almost sheepish way he touched his arm and looked away. How could it not be Hwang Ryeol? He even responded to the name with familiarity. He didn't deny that it was him. After this long...? How could he be here? Now?

So caught in his own thoughts, Gunji nearly forgot what he had asked and he was taken aback by Hwang Ryeol's answer. Investigating. Investigating what? Him? Whatever happened the other night? He knew the owners. How did he know them? Gunji took another step back, as if to leave the vicinity of the apothecary.

"Are they looking for me?"

[Hwang Ryeol]

It was alarming, how far apart they had drifted, but Hwang Ryeol had to remind himself that they were different now. They had lived separate lives--many times over--and no matter what memories Hwang Ryeol had of Tak Gunji, the man standing before him was not the same one whose gaze captivated him so long ago. There was no coquetry in their gazes; no playful undertone to their stiff exchange of words.

An uncomfortable silence fell before Hwang Ryeol responded, picking and choosing his words carefully. "They've been robbed a few times. Potion ingredients have gone missing. I was doing them a favor, keeping an eye on the place... last time."

He studied Gunji in the dim glow of the streetlamps, wishing that there was a way to bridge the gap--to bring up the awkward subject of why either of them existed here, in this time, in this place. Instead, all he could do was clear his throat softly and lower his head to look at a crack in the pavement, heart aching and eyes stinging.

"Who--I thought you--died. By now."

[Tak Gunji]

"Ah."

Gunji didn't say that he'd been around to get ingredients from this very place before. Obviously, the ingredients were for him--he was not a witch in this life or any other. But he did often supply such things for others that he hired for certain jobs. Not everything could be accomplished with a demanding stare and a dark presence. Curious, though. Gunji had never before seen Hwang Ryeol around here. Had the owners just now grown wise to his methods or was there something more afoot?

It was hard to keep focus on that train of thought when the moonlight glinted off Hwang Ryeol's eyes just so, revealing something there that haunted Gunji. A worrying, dizzying sense of longing crept over him and he wished he could step back again but somehow, now, he was frozen in place. Not by any sort of witch's magic, but rather by nostalgia. By something richer than nostalgia. History. A past. Gunji had none for so long, pretending that this was all there was--this moment and the moment after... no moments before. No Hwang Ryeol.

"I thought the same of you."

[Hwang Ryeol]

Hwang Ryeol didn't know how to say it--that he was Yin, bound by fate to someone else. Not when, in their lifetime together, he was so adamant about being together with Gunji. About solely being with him. When news of Gunji's marriage broke, he went mad with rage. With hurt.

He vanished after their disastrous last fight, met his demise, and was reborn as... something else.

Did Gunji ever miss him? Think of him? Remember him? So many years had passed now. Decades, if not centuries. Hwang Ryeol had tried to put Gunji out of his mind. In the beginning, it was impossible. Everything reminded him of Gunji. Isolated in his condition, unable to even touch others, he withdrew. Riku was there, though--Riku helped pull him out of his dark little world. After he emerged, it was already too late to go back; so many years had passed that he thought surely Gunji had died.

But he was here now. Here, in front of him, no longer the same man he used to be, just as Hwang Ryeol was no longer the man he used to be. Awkwardly, he lingered, and then took a step forward. That step was the catalyst to another, and then another. He didn't reach out to touch Gunji, but he looked--hard--at him.

"Have... you been well?"

And was she still with him? His eyes asked the question, even if his lips refused to form the words.

[Tak Gunji]

No, no, no. Why was he moving toward him? Gunji stood his ground, despite the way he shivered inside and every muscle screamed to step back. How much farther could he step back now? His eyes closed when Hwang Ryeol stepped in close enough to touch him, expecting it. Hands. When the hands never came, he opened his eyes, finding that Hwang Ryeol's gaze bore holes through him.

What a question. The polite, distant, and nonchalant response would be yes. Yes, he was well. He had everything anyone could ever want; he had a lifetime of experience with the world. More than that, he had more than a single lifetime under his belt now. He had watched wars come and go, countries fall and get back up. Over the years, he felt like he'd seen so much. Too much, really. He felt dispassionate toward the world, towards anybody left in it. He thought he had. How had he lived this long without ever knowing that somewhere, Hwang Ryeol was still here?

I'm well. The words were on his lips as he parted them but they weren't given voice. He swallowed them instead, turning his gaze away even as Hwang Ryeol's continued to cut straight through him.

"No."

[Hwang Ryeol]

No.

The word cut through him like a sword, leaving him momentarily speechless. Slowly, he dropped his gaze to the pavement, as awkward silence fell again. It didn't escape his notice that Gunji avoided looking at him, that when his eyes were on Gunji, Gunji's were elsewhere. It became like that in the end, Hwang Ryeol felt; his eyes were always solely on Gunji but in the end, Gunji turned his gaze to... her.

As the moment for a polite, sympathetic response came and went, Hwang Ryeol remained silent. There was nothing he could think of to say to Gunji to make him feel well again. Truthfully, there was probably nothing to say to an answer like that without opening up a can of worms by asking why.

So he reached out, and this time his fingertips just barely brushed the back of Gunji's hand. Almost immediately, he bruised. He burned. His fingers trembled with the pain but he made no sound, except--

"Me neither."

[Tak Gunji]

Ah.

He touched him.

Gunji looked up, unable to disguise his surprise. Then he looked down, studying the hand that touched his. It was soft and barely there but Gunji felt it coursing through his entire body, as if that one, light touch had suddenly set off an electric storm inside his body. He almost felt... alive again. He didn't notice anything off in the way he was touched; he thought perhaps Hwang Ryeol was looking for permission to do as much. In their past, it would have been unbecoming to touch in such an affectionate way. Gunji tilted his head, his eyes narrowing slightly before his expression softened.

"Where have you been all this time?" His voice was soft, too--barely audible even against the silent backdrop of the cool, dark street.

[Hwang Ryeol]

"...everywhere," was the simple answer to that question, as Hwang Ryeol pulled his hand away. Did Gunji not notice the bruising? Or did he not care? Hwang Ryeol couldn't believe that it was the latter, though; not when Gunji reacted to his touch. Be it good or bad, it was still a sign. It wasn't indifference, and he didn't pull away. His expression wasn't hard, not in the way that Hwang Ryeol remembered, when Gunji was displeased.

He curled his fingers into his palm to hide the injury. Why did he do it? Maybe part of him wanted Gunji to know what had become of him, without having to say it. Did Gunji know about the celestials and their yin? He had to—he couldn't have lived this long under a rock, or in a bubble.

"What about you? When did you... leave?"

[Tak Gunji]

Everywhere. So vague. Could Gunji say anything different, though? He'd been "everywhere" too. When time was so abundant, there was enough of it to go anywhere he desired. Or anywhere he was pulled to. Gunji felt like he spent a good deal of his time being tugged along with others' whims. Even now, when he thought he'd formed his own group with his own goals, somehow it had been perverted and tainted by something else. What was meant to be a safe form of obtaining sustenance became a violent new movement. Gunji heard whispers behind his back, saw stirrings from the corner of his eye. There were plans he was not privy to. There was something bigger, more sinister going on beyond his comprehension.

And he let it go. He didn't ask questions, like he should have. He let it happen while he stood complacently by, simply waiting for the other shoe to drop, the hammer to fall, the reality to strike.

The Blood Ring was not his anymore and he didn't know how long it hadn't been.

He wished he didn't have to tell Hwang Ryeol what had become of him. In his time, it would have been shameful to become what he was now. Little more than a demonic presence, something dark and unnatural. He wasn't meant to be in this world anymore. He thought that so sincerely for so long that he drifted to the next place and the next. Now that Hwang Ryeol was here, he wondered if this was what had always meant to happen. That perhaps it wasn't a cruel reality but a hopeful one. Really, he wanted so badly to hope.

"After my betrothed was killed."

Briefly, he wondered now, if she still lived on the way he and Hwang Ryeol did but it was a foolish thought. She had died that night. The vampires feasted upon her flesh and she never got up again.

"I fought them but they won and this was my cruel reward." He didn't want to speak of his past torments, however. He searched Hwang Ryeol's gaze for a long moment. "What happened to you? You left... I thought you'd gone on and..."