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?"
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.
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.
"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.
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.
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."
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?"
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."
"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 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.
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."
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."
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.
"...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?"
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..."
"Ah."
It was a terrible feeling of gladness that stole over him then, but he wasn't ashamed of it. She represented everything that he could never be, could never have. She was beautiful, wealthy, and a woman--he had been nothing more than a servant, an underling to a great General in a time where relationships between men were held in secret. In shame. In fear.
But she--she could love Gunji openly and Gunji could love her openly in return. Their union was a celebration, whereas Hwang Ryeol had always felt like a skeleton in Gunji's closet (to coin an amusing modern turn of phrase). So, yes. He was glad that she was gone, although now different barriers stood between them: time, Gunji's past... Hwang Ryeol's present.
He stood silent under Gunji's scrutiny, frowning, heart twanging at the mention of vampires. So that was what happened. They killed her and spared him--though that might have been too generous of a word for what they had done. Hwang Ryeol nodded slightly, still frowning, his gaze distant for a moment as he recalled his own turbulent end.
"My celestial came for me."
Gunji died shamefully and he slunk away. It was no wonder that Hwang Ryeol had moved on with his life. He wasn't a vampire, though. Gunji could tell that much, which left him questioning what had happened to him. What happened to him? He saw the way he nodded, accepting Gunji's shortened version of events. Hwang Ryeol's history was even more condensed and at first, Gunji didn't understand what he was hearing. My celestial came for me. The words could have been spoken in a foreign language for all the sense they made. Then they began to sink in and Gunji stared at Hwang Ryeol with dawning comprehension.
Celestial.
Before he'd become what he was, Gunji didn't know what that was. He'd been alive--half alive--so long that he'd come across a few of them, though. Yin. Celestial. Yin. Hwang Ryeol... Gunji's gaze flicked downward, to the hand that had touched him. If it had pained Hwang Ryeol to touch him, he had done a good job of disguising it. Gunji stared at him for so long that it seemed way beyond time to speak when he finally did.
He had always been one who had to think about things before making full sense of them. This was difficult to grasp, however. Gunji had been almost happy that they met again. Almost. He'd never quite reached it--he needed time to process it--but now he couldn't even properly feel that because Hwang Ryeol was a yin. Somebody else was his soulmate. And they'd come for him. It was almost poetic. Now it was his turn to nod slightly. Then he looked away. His hand touched the wall beside him blindly just to connect himself with the environment around him. His gaze moved from the ground to the sky.
"I should be going."
Details were not necessary--none were asked for, none were given. Too much time had passed for them to recount all the troubles of their past. Hwang Ryeol personally had no desire to relive the turbulent times, nor the good ones. They didn't involve Gunji; Gunji wouldn't want to know about how he eventually warmed to his celestial, or how deeper feelings had blossomed between them over time. He didn't want to hear about the others in Gunji's life, either. The less they knew of each other now, the better, as much as he hated to think it.
Gunji was displeased with his answer, though, and Hwang Ryeol couldn't blame him for it. Celestials and Yin were fated. It was like saying that what he and Gunji had meant nothing because they weren't soul mates. Wasn't it true, though? Gunji loved her. His fate was tied with hers, not with Hwang Ryeol's, otherwise... they would be together now.
"...I should too." Riku was waiting to hear back from him, now that he knew what was going on at the apothecary. Hwang Ryeol just wasn't sure he wanted to tell him now, after discovering that Gunji was the one stealing all of those potion ingredients. For a beat, he looked at Gunji, at the way he reached out to touch the wall as if to ground himself. He swallowed, his throat working to produce words.
"I... work with the county medical office. If you ever need help..." What kind of help, Hwang Ryeol didn't know but the offer stood. He too looked away, then turned, feeling the awkwardness between them so acutely that it made his ears burn.
Yes. They should just leave. It felt wrong, somehow. Meeting like this felt monumental, like the hand of fate, although Gunji had long ago given up on the idea of fate, instead falling into fatalism, into nihilism, into... this strange wraithlike existence.
The county medical office. It sounded so normal and so everyday that Gunji almost wanted to laugh. He didn't, of course. Not a thing changed in his expression but deep down, he could see the humor in it. Hwang Ryeol had been hiding in the medical office this whole time. That meant he must know about the vampire problem because, well, they resulted in bodies... or the lack of bodies all the time. What did he do there? Did he protect them? Or...?
He must have. Their stories had been hidden for a long time. Probably longer than Gunji had been here. Had Hwang Ryeol been here the whole time? His fingers curled inwardly just slightly as Hwang Ryeol turned away. He's leaving! his entire being seemed to scream. He even leaned slightly forward, muscles meaning to move, to step forward. He didn't, though. All he did was say, "Hwang Ryeol," because he hadn't spoken his name in a long time and he had forgotten how it tasted and how it sounded until tonight.
He stopped and froze. Maybe part of him had been waiting for it--not for his name, but for something. A sign, a reason to turn back. Slowly, Hwang Ryeol twisted his head so that he could look over his shoulder. Gunji hadn't moved, though he seemed closer. Or was that Hwang Ryeol's wishful thinking? His lips parted, then closed again. One of his hands twitched by the side of his leg.
"General..." No hint of teasing now, though it felt more familiar on his tongue and sounded less stiff in his own ears. He didn't turn fully around either, though. "...Gunji."
Riku's waiting.
But she was gone and couldn't stand in their way and he and Riku never officially decided that they would be exclusive. If anything, their 'relationship' was never defined at all. Something was keeping him from turning, all the same. One of his feet shifted against the ground, producing a dry scraping sound in the silence. Hwang Ryeol's fingertips still throbbed and burned; he dropped his gaze to look at his hand, with the fingertips scorched and blistering. His hand closed back into a fist.
Why wouldn't he turn to face him? Gunji's gaze remained fixed on Hwang Ryeol, silently watching his every move, as if he could read into the slightest flick of the eyes or shift of his feet. Hwang Ryeol was saying a lot with his body language; unfortunately, Gunji wasn't sure how to read it. A slight line creased his brows and he licked his lips. Nothing but his name. Nothing else to say.
Somebody was waiting for Hwang Ryeol and he must be feeling antsy, wanting to get back to them. His celestial. His. Gunji had no such person. He'd been turned and then spurned by his sire, only to sire others. Foolishly. He didn't know what he'd been seeking out when he'd done so. Turning a person wasn't an accident so he had no excuse for what he did. Yet the ones he'd sired seemed happier in this new life than Gunji did.
Do you have to leave?
He didn't ask. He didn't want to sound pathetic and all he had left was his pride. So after a long and silent moment, he lowered his head and stepped back. He didn't know what else to say. There was no magical word to make him turn around, even if he had stopped to listen. Gunji couldn't stand the idea of saying anything pathetic and then watching him walk away anyway. It was better this way. Quickly, he turned around and stuffed his hands into his pockets, hurrying away from Hwang Ryeol and down the street.
Wait.
Gunji was saying that, when he spoke Hwang Ryeol's name. It didn't take much of a genius to figure that out, especially with their history, no matter how long ago that was. Hwang Ryeol had lost many of those memories—many were blurry in the recesses of his mind. It was hard to even remember a time when he was himself, and purely his own person. When he was Hwang Ryeol and not Riku's Yin.
He waited, but Gunji said nothing and Hwang Ryeol didn't feel worthy enough to turn around to face him. To reach out. To catch a hold of his arm, covered by sleeves. There were ways to circumvent the curse of the Yin's inability to touch others—none that made up for it in full, but it wasn't as if he couldn't stand a little pain now and then.
Still. He didn't feel worthy. He never did, not even way back when. Hwang Ryeol was a serf; Gunji was a noble, and a great General. They were never on even terms to begin with. Silently, Hwang Ryeol dropped his head and turned away too, once Gunji disappeared from sight. He wanted to know where Gunji was going, where he had been staying this whole time, but he could find that out on his own time. Now that he knew Gunji was alive and around, he could at least peek in on him now and then, and make sure that he wasn't the target of hunters.
It was still with a heavy heart that he entered the county medical examiner's office, and made for the back where a single room was still lit up, bright as day. Hwang Ryeol peeked in and lightly rapped on the door, though he hadn't exactly been stealthy in his approach. "Hey."
Here came the less tasteful part of his work: the part where Riku had to input all his notes into the database. He could have hired an intern to do it for him but the problem was, Hazleton had... problems that needed to be carefully buried. Any intern of his would have to be knowledgeable (and agreeable) to Riku's methods. Seeing as how Riku rarely ever trusted anybody in his full confidence, it meant that this work of his would just have to be done--either by his own hand or by Hwang Ryeol's. Since Hwang Ryeol had a different job for the evening, that left Riku to it.
Tapping on the files with his pen, Riku sank back against the chair when he heard the sound of somebody at the door. He looked up, knowing who it would be. With their bond, he knew where Hwang Ryeol was at any given time, as if a physical chain connected them wherever they went. What surprised him wasn't his current approach but the fact that he hadn't been gone long.
"You're back early," he observed. "I thought you'd be out there playing sleuth a lot longer." He pushed the files away and turned his chair so he could face Hwang Ryeol, making a motion for him to close the door behind him.
"Well that's not a very nice way to put it, playing sleuth." Hwang Ryeol frowned as he entered the room, closing the door before Riku had finished gesturing. He knew Riku would do that; after spending so much time together, it was almost impossible to not be able to guess his next words, or thoughts, or intentions. It went both ways, though; Hwang Ryeol was sure that he was more than an open book to Riku, too.
"The apothecary's fine." There was a very brief pause as he crossed the room, towards and then around Riku's desk. "I think whoever came to steal ingredients there might be long gone by now."
Which... wasn't exactly a lie, and hopefully Riku wouldn't pick up on that through their link. If Hwang Ryeol had told an outright lie, he knew that he'd be caught and brought to justice for it, but little half-truths were still his to tell. "Also. I need a hug." He just... wanted to touch someone. A hand, a body, shoulders, arms, skin. Gunji was miles away by now, nursing the pieces of their broken past--just as Hwang Ryeol was trying not to do the same internally.
He wanted to touch and not have his skin blacken and blister and scorch. Without waiting for permission or confirmation, Hwang Ryeol dropped against Riku, lowering his forehead against Riku's shoulder. It was an awkward position, but he didn't care. At least there was one person he could touch without being punished for it.
"Hm," was all he had to say on the subject of playing sleuth. Personally, he was invested--more invested than he currently seemed--in what happened at the apothecary. After all, he was here to make sure that humans remained ignorant of the supernatural state of their little town. Too bad everything seemed to be erupting all at once across their little area of the world. Riku was this close to just walking out and letting them deal with the fallout on their own. He had done what he could, after all. There was only so much a man and his yin could do for the community at large. And if they didn't want to help themselves, what could Riku do about that?
Riku looked up from his work. Did he not see anybody then? The person was long gone? What did that even mean? Riku felt some sort of disturbance in their link, although he couldn't say what it was. Hwang Ryeol didn't seem to be lying to him but he seemed much less concerned about the culprit now, which meant he must have seen something. He waited for Hwang Ryeol to elaborate without being pushed into it but he didn't seem to want to address that. It was as if the entire subject had been swept away by his naked admission and Riku's brow creased slightly.
A hug? What happened? For a moment, he simply allowed Hwang Ryeol to embrace him before he slid his arms around him to comfort him. They had been close for a long time. Simply wanting to be touched or to touch somebody in this way wasn't unusual. All Hwang Ryeol could rely on was him. Lightly, he stroked the back of Hwang Ryeol's head before tilting his head toward him and kissing the top of his ear.
"Something happened."
"Nope." Hwang Ryeol stayed where he was, tilting into Riku's kiss. This was the only person who could touch him like this and give him kisses like this. It was kind of unfair, really. What if he wasn't attracted to Riku? What if he didn't get along with him? There was a lot that could happen between two people. Plus, Riku could touch other people. It was only Hwang Ryeol who suffered.
"Just wanted a hug," he murmured, squeezing Riku. "Can't a guy want a hug without getting questioned all suspicious-like?"
Of course something happened! Hwang Ryeol wasn't usually clingy. He was affectionate, certainly, but not needy. (Or so he liked to think, anyway.) Plus, Riku was no idiot, but Hwang Ryeol was determined not to bring up Gunji if at all possible. That just... didn't seem like a good idea, under any circumstance. Bringing up an ex was a surefire way to ruin relationships and he didn't care if that was between Celestial and Yin, or just between regular human lovers.
"Certainly," he said, "but you have to admit, this is a little... out of the ordinary for you."
Riku wasn't exactly distant or withdrawn from Hwang Ryeol but the reverse could be said of him when it came to others. Riku had little time for others, while still maintaining the work that he did. It wasn't all out of selflessness, after all. He had a vested interest in keeping the supernatural out of the public eye. Living for as long as he had taught him a few things--and he'd seen what happened when the public at large learned of supernatural beings in their midst. It wasn't pretty and Riku had no intention of living like that again.
He also had Hwang Ryeol to protect. If anything, he had more to lose now that he had Hwang Ryeol. If something happened to Riku, it wasn't likely that Hwang Ryeol would survive it. If he did, he wouldn't be the same afterward, although one could argue he wasn't the same as he had been before the ritual that bound him to Riku. It wasn't Riku's fault that they were fated, though, was it?
Most of the time, they were happy with their lives and their arrangement. Sometimes, Riku got the feeling that there was more to it. But whatever it was, those ties were long broken, along with the lives of everybody Hwang Ryeol could have possibly have known. In that way, he wasn't in the least threatened. That and the fact that Hwang Ryeol quite literally couldn't touch anybody else without suffering. There was nothing to worry about.
"Is it all that chaos with the feral wolves?" he asked. "They aren't going to find out anything. Those bodies are mine and you know what I'll put down on the reports."
Before this—before tonight—Hwang Ryeol was happy. He didn't always like their arrangement but with nothing to tie him to the past, there was only the present and the future to look forward to. Hwang Ryeol was an affectionate person by nature but he didn't mind that Riku was the only person he could do anything with. It wasn't as if he would latch on to strangers off the street, even if he could touch others. In this day and age, it wasn't wise to get too close to anyone without knowing fully who they were and what their intentions were.
Meeting Gunji, however, turned his whole world upside-down. All of those old, long-buried emotions came storming back. It was true that he and Riku were fated, but what did it say about fate that Gunji survived, too? And that they met here, of all places? There had to be a string of fate tying them together too, even if it wasn't as strong as the one between celestials and their yin.
Hwang Ryeol nodded as he finally lifted himself off of Riku, sighing. "Yeah, I know. It's... nothing, really. I'm just tired." He flashed Riku a swift smile, then turned away from him. Idly, Hwang Ryeol picked up and inspected some papers on Riku's desk, skimming them but not really taking anything in. "Maybe I'll go home and sleep early tonight..."
So it wasn't the chaos. Then what was it? Whatever it was, it seemed private and personal but Riku liked to think there were no secrets between them. Still, he didn't feel deception in their link, only a deep sense of melancholy and something else. He couldn't tell if it was regret or guilt but why would Hwang Ryeol feel that way about anything if he wasn't deceiving him? Riku tilted his head back slightly and regarded him quietly. After a moment, he reached out and gently stroked Hwang Ryeol's jaw in an attempt to persuade him to look back at him again. The papers he was looking at didn't matter. They were just the usual work that Riku did, fudging documents and hiding the real methods of suspicious deaths.
"Do you want me to come with you?"
Maybe Hwang Ryeol was just asking him--in a roundabout way--to put down the papers and come home. It didn't seem like the full story but... it could be a part of it.
Part of him did want Riku to come home with him--the part that responded to his touch, even if he didn't quite look back at Riku. But most of Hwang Ryeol was afraid that if they spent more time together tonight, that all the threads would unravel. He debated nonetheless, letting a lengthy silence fall between them. The desire for comfort was strong. There was a wistful melancholy deep within that wanted someone to help ease the pain, but he didn't know how to bring it up with Riku.
In the end, Hwang Ryeol shook his head gently. He lightly stroked Riku's forearm and smiled, though it was a smaller smile than usual. His gaze, however, was fond. "Nah. I'll be okay. I just need a good night's sleep." Hwang Ryeol straightened off the desk and took a deep breath. Let it out. He stooped and kissed Riku lightly on the cheek.
"But don't work too late tonight, okay?"