Details:
jaemyang
9.6k words
angst, fluff, comedy, gender swap, masquerade ball, wizards, potions
tw // mentions of death
rating: mature
note: as it is fantasy, let's pretend the Houses were established in the late 1500's
ㅡ cross posted on ao3 ㅡ
Summary:
You see, rules aren't actually quite that hard to follow once your heart is set on it. But here's the thing, this organ of ours is too tender, and once pleasured, triggered or hurt, it'll forget every boundary that's enforced on it and follow only what it believes to be right; wants for it to be right; feels it to be right. So, it is a given that as these two were enjoying their time, that's all their heart had been thinking about, making them forget that midnight was approaching close by until it was too late; the clock tower welcoming them with its cruel sound of awakening and ugly reality.
ㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡ・❥・ㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡ
Careless chatter along with pleasant classical notes fill the vast ballroom embellished in gold ornaments and masked beauties minutes into the masquerade ball Earl Na Jaemin was requested to attend by the host himself. And who is he to refuse his close friend's personal invite? Jaemin would also like to add that it is quite the difficult task to say no to Duke Park's youngest son, Lord Park Jisung. However, no matter how much love and respect he holds for the younger, he can't help but internally sigh as his mind finds itself drifting away from what the ladies in front of him are discussing and instead focusing on how many candles the chandelier in his direct sight of line is holding - the second time in the span of a quarter of an hour, may he specify. A very not Na Jaemin move, his friend would say if caught.
With all due respect, Jaemin truly believes that the party the younger organised surpassed all the previous ones with how delicately it was planned. After all, he was the one who had to offer his ear as support for the other's endless ranting regarding the subject. And he will indeed say with his whole heart that he is proud with the outcome, because he is.
Various paintings from all over the sea paint each wall with their own unique story; long forgotten by the many guests who are too busy satiating the companion in front of them, listening to the same old fables they have to offer, and giggling with their whole heart - once again acting as if though it was their first time hearing it all over again.
This is exactly why Jaemin can't help but get, simply, bored.
No matter how luxurious the golden curtains are; how rich, melodious and experienced the orchestra for the night sounds; how scrumptious the snacks - sitting pretty on top of the long and rectangular mahogany tables covered in silky rose-gold cloths, rested by each wall - taste; how many gentle ladies and gentlemen alike offer him smiles of compassion - for his late parents - and respect - for his newly earned title; the interest just seems to easily seep away, just like he sees another guest's drink come to an end as quickly.
A short lived joy, that's what parties are to him.
You've got to understand that he has seen it all. Jaemin has seen the same faces in similar occasions so many times that he wouldn't be surprised if he can recognise everyone in this room despite the intricate masks they wear to blanket their identity. And that's exactly what he finds himself doing the very next moment: guessing who is behind which doll up.
"Lord Na," a deep voice brings him out of his hunting for excitement in the little activity he actually found himself enjoying, making him give the one who asked for his attention a curious look. "Another Lord asked for you to try this drink."
Jaemin gives a charming smile to the waiter as he grabs a wine glass from the golden tray when it is brought in front of him. He takes a sip from it, already expecting to internally cringe at the alcoholic taste it would inevitably carry - he never was a fan of drinks - but is instead taken aback by the strong taste of grapes with only a touch of age. Only then does he give the glass a proper look, realising for the liquid inside to have been a purple similar to the suit he is wearing today. His clothing, however, leans more on the blue spectrum unlike the drink which is predominately on the red range. It doesn't take long for his eyes to fall on another certain pair which wink back at him.
Cutie, Jaemin thinks, seeing Lord Jisung turn his back to him and continue on whatever talk he was invested into before choosing to send a drink over. He probably noticed I wasn't drinking.
With that, Jaemin chooses to go back to his memory game, this time with a drink at hand, not minding how the ladies in his little group are not even trying to involve him in one of their many conversations; all the better for him, really. They probably just want my presence, is what many years of similar attention has taught him. But does he currently care? No, not at all. On the other hand, because of such, he finds himself playing in peace.
In half an hour, Jaemin strips half the guests of their masks, having too much fun in seeing people that are known to hate each other interact simply because of a veil covering their eyes - sometimes even flirt. Ironically enough, their eyes are never covered and yet, that's exactly how they act.
His next target comes in the form of a white suit with black-laced designs at the cuffs and collar. To match the black details, the person carries a similarly designed black mask. Jaemin only has to wait for them to turn a bit at ninety degrees to realise the one he's looking at is none other than Her Excellency Huang's only child, The Honourable Renjun Huang
Next to him is a man clad in a navy suit, a golden mask (similar to his own) secluding his sharp handsome features from desperate hungry eyes wanting to get a glimpse every chance they're allowed. It doesn't take him long to pin the tall man down as Lord Lee Jeno, simply for the fact that the Lord is known to always be next to the foreign guest whenever he comes to the country for any affair. Many aristocrats joke with a light heart that Jeno is Renjun's official guide. If you are to ask Jaemin for his opinion, however, he'd say it with his whole heart that it is more so the other way round; Renjun is Jeno's compass, his magnet. But that's only his opinion.
Red appears in his peripheral when he's still wondering why only now he remembers that no one had previously informed him of His Honourable attending this masquerade ball. All thoughts regarding it quickly disappear in favour of recognising another masked face. However, this time, it proves to be quite the task.
Wrapped delicately in a red dress stands a lady next to the two men, giggling carelessly at whatever Jeno has said, rich red wine in her glass dancing along with her sounds and gestures when she moves to lightly slap Renjun's shoulder - said person acting quite dramatic and clutching it as though it wasn't just simply an equivalent to a pat.
Jaemin slightly squints.
Just like Renjun, she wears a similar black mask; although, her one being more detailed to contrast the simplicity her dress is brought forward with. That, however, does nothing in helping him know who the person exactly is.
For once, in so long, he feels lost.
He ponders on the matter for a while more, observing the trio's behaviour: using the two gentlemen's body language to be a way of hinting to which kind of relationship they may have - hopefully making it easier to have a starting point to the least. He later realises, that it's all in vain.
But then, he feels the music stop. Keyword: feels - doesn't necessarily hear it; is too overwhelmed to hear it, actually.
To get caught staring is something he expected from the very start of this solo game of his. But for that, he also already knew how to play it off. As many know of him and vice versa, throwing a charming smile or two wouldn't have hurt anyone if he indeed does end up making eye contact; raising his glass as a greeting along with it being a plus. However, last time he checked, for some reason, as familiar as these brown irises sparkling under the many chandeliers seem, they look so foreign for what they are accompanied with. Thus, the planned charming grin turns into an awkward one and the raise of glass gets substituted with clutching said object's body gently, still being careful in not breaking it.
Hot. He's blushing; he knows that - can feel it.
Only when the other looks away does he allow himself to do the same, the sound of violinists playing their solo section being what welcomes his hearing along with shy giggles.
Trying not to frown about how the ladies around him most probably misunderstood his embarrassment as something else which relates back to them, Jaemin slightly shakes his head, finally accepting his defeat and deeming the mysterious face to be a new face Renjun must have brought along from his land to accompany him - it wouldn't have been the first time.
Wanting to forget the inevitable embarrassment he brought upon himself, even if it was only for a few seconds, the Earl lets his eyes travel to the dance floor in the middle of the room where many pairs have been dancing for long; some who have been there from the very start! Then again, this is a masquerade ball.
Yes, Jaemin, a ball. Said person finds himself recalling the sole purpose this party has. So, let's try to get a dance before the night ends, hmm?
Before he can step forward to proceed with his choice, a voice stops him like a spell; music, once again, gone.
"West Wing's corridors, I'll be waiting."
Or maybe it is the words?
Jaemin doesn't really care to know which exactly, not at this very moment at least. His mind runs miles to understand who it could have been because when he turns, they're not there anymore, as expected.
His eyes find themselves back to what he believed should have been a trio; to his surprise, they are currently a duo. And maybe it's hope, or he was subconsciously wishing for that all along, but when he looks over at the double doors and sees the edges of a red skirt leaving, his heart can't help but pick up a slight pace out of excitement and expectation.
This isn't so boring after all. Jaemin thinks to himself as he mindlessly leaves the glass in his hand on a tray a waiter is carrying with similar ones while heading towards the same pair of huge doors. West Wing, huh?
Once the ballroom's closed doors are behind him, the young Earl tries to reminisce the many times he spent in Duke Park's palace with his son - mostly doing mischiefs and trying to get Jisung out of his private tutor's clutches. How they haven't banned him from interacting with the younger still stupefies him till this day!
Before he knows it, Jaemin already travelled enough to realise the West Wing's corridors to be only a turn away.
He stops, takes a deep breath and ponders. He ponders on nothing at all.
Jaemin doesn't know what to expect, what to see, neither does he know what he, himself, wants. So then, he doesn't contemplate anymore, takes another deep breath, calms down and proceeds to step forward, turn left and finally arrive into the West Wing's corridors.
The moon does the courtesy to illuminate this hallway in its white glory, making everything much more visible compared to where he just walked through. Then is when he remembers, as he sees it, that the West Wing's corridors is the main path to access the private garden of the palace. With that in mind, Jaemin comes to a conclusion.
A satisfied smile appears on his lips when he spots a figure in red sitting on the fountain's stone borders and gently leaning in to play with the water pooling inside - the hand which is used naked from the confines it had in the form of velvet gloves.
Jaemin doesn't know where he gets the composure to stop himself from jumping over and sprinting his way there. Anyway, he's grateful for it. As it is, he instead finds himself take his steps quite leisurely, as though they have the whole night for themselves. And maybe, that's exactly it. In this secluded area, under the moonlight, where they are by themselves, the concept of time doesn't seem to exist.
His polished black dress shoes land on the grass with a deaf sound once he descends from the marble pavement, onto the two stone stairs and into the secluded garden. That is enough to have the other's attention on him, eyes curious with a spark as they observe him make his way over.
"It upsets me that I can't recognise a beauty like you despite the many times we have met." Jaemin is the first one to voice anything in the air which only had been carrying the sound of wind and the faint playing of the orchestra up until this moment. "Or well, assume we met as this place is not really one everyone knows."
He receives an amused chuckle in return.
"I wasn't really expecting anything less from our new Earl, really." The lady finally gets up from her place and makes her way to him. Once there, mask to mask, she gives a pleased grin. "You indeed take well after your parents, Lord Na."
Jaemin doesn't even bat an eye at the compliment and only smiles back. It has been quite the line since he assumed position as the new head of the House of Na. And if he tries to recall properly, maybe he heard it since the day he was born. But this isn't about him, but rather the still unidentified person in front of him.
"Thank you," however, he still has manners. After all, he is a gentleman.
"Lady is fine." She gives him a title, understanding the hesitant end.
"Thank you, My Lady." Jaemin repeats, later adding, "Although a name would be more appreciated."
She laughs. When calm, her slender fingers - nails painted black, Jaemin notes thanks to the naked hand - softly rest on his shoulders.
"Now, now," she starts, slowly circling her hands around his neck. "That would be no fun. Don't you think so too?"
"True, I guess. Then what do you suggest I shall give in return for such honour?" Jaemin asks, his own hands finding their place on her waist.
Already starting to take lulling steps from side to side, making Jaemin move along by default, the lady pursues her lips in a pout to muse. "A dance should be more than sufficient, I believe. Entertain me well, and you'll have a name before midnight."
"I see." Jaemin brings his right hand up to where her own right one lies on his shoulder, delicately picking it up to swiftly twirl her around and bring themselves close once again - this time closer - one hand holding hers and the other in their respective positions from before. "I would have given that without needing anything in return, really. However, may I ask, why midnight?"
"I know." A pause, as she is raised up and they both spin. "And I don't know; midnight sounds like a good time for reveals."
"I assume that's what you've been thinking while playing with the water?"
She giggles, "Was it that obvious?"
"Maybe..." Their eyes meet and that's all Jaemin pays attention to, steps to the dance and faint music they're following to long forgotten and left to muscle memory to deal with. In his defence, that's what hours of dancing with his private tutor and the other ladies should allow him to do. And he's glad to see that he can hold himself quite well.
Time becomes a faint memory; only a minuscule worry tucked at the back of their mind.
Jaemin doubts it's only a dance they dance. He knows they have been going at it long enough when his feet start to hurt. What more about the lady who's wearing heels then! Even so, he can't imagine himself having the will to bring this moment to a halt, despite it being the best decision for the wellbeing of both. You see, Jaemin fears that this might be the only time he'll even get to be with this person.
What's the point of possessing a name if it will all result to nothing but a fragment they choose to forget?
So, he doesn't ask and keeps on dancing, gazing back at the other's eyes, only then realising how close they have gotten with each step and twirl amongst the grass underneath them.
They stop, at long last.
It's an improvised decision both take at the same time when they realise their next actions would only be restricted by these current ones. No words are spoken as two pair of lips meet not even under the witness of the moon - the light had disappeared behind the clouds a few minutes ago.
Once they separate and slowly open their eyes, so does the moon reappear with the clouds flying by.
Jaemin doesn't know what is happening; what will happen next; whether he'll regret it or not. Though when he sees the mischief which is carried in both the smile gracing her lips, and the sparkle in the eyes, he knows he is not against it, that he'll enjoy it. So he stops worrying and melts in the kiss the other chooses to initiate.
This time, when they separate, Jaemin does the courtesy to bring them together once again; well, tries. Tries because when he is just a sliver away, the lady turns her head to the side, his lips landing on her soft cheeks in a peck before she too gives him one and then makes a run for it, inviting giggles filling the chilly air, prodding him to join her in this game of hers. And really, she already played his game long enough so why not indulge her a bit more in her own games as he has the time, the want.
The sound of heels and shoes tickling the marble floor echo along with their laughs; no other person apart from themselves being aware of their plays as they get farther and farther away from the ball room.
The two find themselves in a darker and more secluded turn of the West Wing's corridors, but they couldn't care any less of where they are when their lips meet once again, hands finding themselves roaming around the other's bodies with a mind of their own.
When they accidentally take an abrupt turn, Jaemin securely holds her body close, an arm circling around her head to protect it, as his back takes the hit she would have taken had he not switched their positions quickly enough when realised what was about to happen.
A pained groan joins the onslaught of sorry-s that are thrown his way.
Worried hands hold his face and that's when Jaemin looks down at the face which looks so preoccupied even with a mask covering half the features.
"Hey," Jaemin chuckles a sigh, caressing the tear - she probably didn't even notice she shed - away. "I'm alright. Everything is fine."
"But still." A frown is thrown his way but because of the pout that follows it, it becomes less intimidating. "Don't ever do that again."
Jaemin lightly shakes his head as he gently turns them around and instead has the lady against the wall. "That, I won't promise."
"Why?" At this point, the two are just saying anything and everything to drag the moment until they believed it to be the opportune time where no more words would be needed.
Curling back behind her ear the few strands of chestnut-coloured hair that got loose in their play, Jaemin leans down, lips a thread away. "I would never let you get hurt. Not when you're under my care; or when I have the power to prevent it. If only you provided me with a name, then maybe for your whole life too."
Maybe, just maybe, he still wants a name, just to know, at least. But when the still-stranger acts like she heard nothing regarding names, he doesn't push at it anymore and enjoys the moment at hand instead.
"Aren't you quite the gentleman?" She more so states regardless of how it is a question.
"I am." Jaemin looks at those eyes again. "May I?"
His answer comes in the form of another kiss. This one is wet, hurried, and hungry. Not before long, they separate again, one for air and the other one to litter light kisses all over the exposed neck. Fingers mess with his blond hair, pressing his head down with a little force the next second.
"Go ahead." Comes her breathless voice; Jaemin follows with no complaint.
Carefully, wanting this to be an enjoyable process for the both of them, Jaemin licks a chosen part of the skin around the shoulder area, delicately grazes his teeth over it at first, and then earns a huff of pleasure when he finally sucks at it with the same tenderness.
For the next one, he moves up a bit, on the collarbone, and wetly kisses and sucks at it with a bit more strength. Satisfied with the result he's getting out of it, it being pleasured moans being sung right into his ear, Jaemin chooses to go at this pace.
He once again catches those thin lips in-between his own, sucking at them earnestly and loving it when he gets the same amount of fervour as response.
Wanting to mark another place, he nuzzles his way from her jaw up to under her ear, loving the scent she chose to wear for the night: forest roses. Breathing on it is enough to tell him that he found a sensitive spot because when he goes to caress it with his teeth, strong hands clutch his suit firmly, a muffled satisfied hum relaxing in the air. So, he goes for it. With a last inhale, he presses his lips on the chosen spot, gentle sucks increasing into harsh ones, wanting for the other to release her moans without him having to ask her.
The distinct bells from the clock tower sound loudly through the quiet night, indicating to everyone who is there to hear it sing that it has finally struck twelve at midnight; a new day.
Jaemin finds himself turning a deaf ear towards that obnoxiously loud sound in favour of frowning at the closest one that fills his ears.
"Ah Jaemin!"
The lady- No, the person he's holding groans out loud at last, though not matching any of the previous ones not just in passion but also tone - this one being more masculine sounding.
Jaemin doesn't want to be one to judge, after all, how one moans all depends on the way they are pleasured. However, he can't help but let fear get the best of him: to let it take control of his hands as they rise from their sit at the waist and reach up to where a full chest should be. When his hands come in contact with a warm, naked and slightly-toned chest, however, Jaemin pales and quickly jumps back.
Right then, he also notices how the area they had picked had never been dark nor secluded in itself but rather the moon was hidden by the clouds passing by all along. As the whole place is lit up in a misty white, Jaemin assumes the clouds chose that it was finally time to show him the face he oh so has been wishing to recognise for so long.
Staring back at his own wide eyes are dilated pupils shaking in fear, trembling lips on the verge of tears and a man's body dressed in a suit he wishes would have been green. That wish has no other reasoning other than red being the last colour he wants to see right now.
Behind them, the clock still cries loud, bringing them back from what they thought to be hours of staring when it was only mere seconds. That's when it finally dawned on them; it is midnight, at last.
You see, rules aren't actually quite that hard to follow once your heart is set on it. But here's the thing, this organ of ours is too tender, and once pleasured, triggered or hurt, it'll forget every boundary that's enforced on it and follow only what it believes to be right; wants for it to be right; feels it to be right. So, it is a given that as these two were enjoying their time, that's all their heart had been thinking about, making them forget that midnight was approaching close by until it was too late; the clock tower welcoming them with its cruel sound of awakening and ugly reality.
"S- Sorry," says the now man in a frantic manner, stumbling not over just his speech but also his steps as he tries to move, talk and not look at Jaemin all at once. "I- I have to go. Again, sorry."
For some reason, Jaemin doesn't want that. So, he calls out. "Wait!" When his words are ignored, he tries again. "I said wait, Lord Liu!"
This time, the person does stop - only because he fears.
Jaemin panics when he sees Lord Liu starting to shake violently. "Wait, no! I mean... Yangyang, listen, please! I am not threatening you in any way, please, calm down. Let's talk about it."
Maybe the plain use of his first name isn't the best thing Jaemin chose to do that day because Yangyang turns around to look at him dead in the eyes, tears already waterfalls on his cheeks.
Right then, the elder one finds himself understanding on why those eyes had seemed so familiar from the very start and why he hadn't been able to put his finger on it till now. Obviously it's because his mind associated those irises with the face and body of Duke Liu's only son, Lord Liu Yangyang, his friend, most importantly, a guy; not an unknown female wrapped in a red dress.
Before he can even come up with a coherent sentence to say so as to not alarm the younger, Jaemin sees Yangyang walk out with no regards to how he started shouting his name out loud. After the other starts in a sprint and he realises he's been stuck at his spot from the very start, not even moving an inch, he stops trying and can only see the man in a red suit disappear behind a turn in silent despair.
. . .
Jaemin walks back inside the still joyous ballroom without the initial excitement he had left with.
Absentmindedly, as his legs guide him to the side of the room, his eyes search every nook and cranny this room has to offer for a red suit, black mask and brown eyes - a specific pair. For some reason, though knowing perfectly the chances are low, he still wishes for Yangyang to have returned back here.
As he isn't really paying attention to himself while doing his little search, it is no surprise that he ends up bumping into someone out of pure accident. One would say that it is his fault but Jaemin couldn't care any less as he is the one who is nearly pushed to the floor if it isn't for the strong hand that quickly wraps around him, holding him back up in place.
Once he looks back up to apologise and thank, he is so grateful his saviour is the one he is, as anyone else would have seen it as a perfect slip up to tease him for.
"Jaemin, you good?"
Jaemin shakes his head as he finds himself wrap his own arms around the taller and hide his head in the crook of his neck, ignoring how a whole ball with aristocrats from many places surround them. He dares see who has the guts to say anything to the host himself.
"Jaemin?"
"Do you mind if I go back home early, Ji?"
"Are you not feeling good?" Jisung says, concern very much evident in his voice as he brings a hand over to try squeeze it between the other's forehead and his body, wanting to measure the temperature. After lots of struggles, and no help from the other whatsoever may he add, Jisung is grateful to say that no fever or flu has caught his friend.
As he is to question again, another concerned voice fills their little bubble - though this one having nothing to do with Jaemin.
"Lord Park, I'm desolated to interrupt you, but have you by any chance seen the lady who accompanied me tonight?"
Jisung looks over to the one who asked for his attention, confusion evident in his face. "I don't believe I know who you are talking about, Your Honourable Huang."
The addressed man cringes at both the displeasing news and the title he is hearing from the younger. "Many a times I have reminded you that you, out of all, needn't to call me like that; Lord will do."
"But it's rude to your country, culture, and most importantly you!" Jisung's argument is ignored in favour of asking if, if he hadn't seen the lady, then, whether he knows of Lord Liu being around. "I don't believe he even attended the ball." Jisung pouts at his own words, upset his distant cousin by three stairs didn't join him like promised.
Renjun turns around, about to leave, but then stops. He pivots, eyes the man in Jisung's hold, and chooses to ask, "And what about you, Lord Na? Have you seen any of them?"
Silence amongst them surfaces.
Jaemin has feared this but also expected it. Gulping down the guilt and fear, he subtly shakes his head while still hiding his face. He knows Renjun knows he is lying. So, he decides to clear up the matter and finally comes out of his so called hiding, squinting a few seconds to the light which invades his eyes harshly, before looking straight back at the elder.
"No," he sighs as what he says next is painfully true. "I have no hint of where any of them could be right now." Because the only other place is the fountain but he wasn't there, and I'm so fucking worried because he looked anything but fine but why do I feel like I'm the last person he'd want to see? So, please, Renjun, take care of him, is what he wants to add but refrains when he sees fear already creep up the other's face, white in colour.
"T- Thank you!" Renjun doesn't wait longer to push his way through the dancing masked-pairs and out the doors.
Jaemin sees Jeno follow suit when realising the other's disappearance too.
Looks like they were both looking for you. Please be safe.
. . .
A week.
A week passes from that day and the two never even cross path once. Well, never tried to cross paths either. On the other hand, they knowingly avoided each other. To be precise, Yangyang avoided him and Jaemin did nothing else but respect his choice.
But now, it is too far gone. They need to talk.
This isn't only about Yangyang - never was from the second he lured him out. Jaemin too, who finds it hard to sleep recalling what happened for many reasons, deserves answers.
So, one late Friday evening, after dinner, Jaemin finds himself asking for one of the maids to come over in his study later, grab the letter addressed to Lord Liu and have someone deliver it accordingly the next morning.
In it is an invite for Yangyang to join him in having tea tomorrow afternoon in his gardens to discuss topics that require both their input.
(Un piccolo gourmet, Renjun had once dubbed it according to his foreign vocabulary, when simple pastries were served to him at a similar event in the Na Household. To this day, Jaemin does not know if the elder was being straight up sardonic or truly thought he said something pleasing. But then again, it wouldn't be the first time he confused cabbages for swearing. Although, Jaemin has really no room to speak about the matter when he remember that exactly because the foreigner lives quite extravagantly is why he chose to introduce him to a bit of simplicity.
On the name of the one who has introduced them to one another, Liu Yangyang, Jaemin swears that The Honourable Renjun Huang and him are actually quite good friends despite their distinct way of communicating.)
Jaemin really just left it that vague, as recently there has been an increase in blackmailing and most of the information is earned from such papers. Risking is the last thing he wants to do right now, as if though it isn't exactly what he is doing right now.
. . .
Saturday afternoon, Jaemin finds himself walking in the enormous flower garden his mum had always curated with great love and now, left under his care. She loved flowers, so his father had gifted her this place when she was expecting him as a way to calm her nerves and celebrate the good news he was. His mother would make it a point to remind him that his father was seen here more often than them, always making the elder man deny the truth everyone at the mansion was aware of.
Jaemin smiles at the memory and makes his way to the greenhouse, where he'll be sitting down to have tea and nut scones with his long awaited guest.
When the maid had come knocking at his door, informing him of the arrival, elated would be too little of a word to describe how he felt.
Because of such short notice, he thought the younger would have refused. Actually, short notice or not, Jaemin deeply feared that he'd have turned him down no matter the approach. So, indeed, he is surprised by the unexpected outcome. However, that doesn't make him any less nervous. The topics at hand are still quite sensitive, and he still doesn't know why exactly he is here.
Maybe to reject it face to face as it isn't quite the simple subject to just write about? Now that he thinks about it, that isn't impossible either.
Jaemin frowns when he sees his guest leaning on the white bridge connecting the two parts of the garden, not understanding what he is doing there when he should be already waiting for him inside the greenhouse. The maid beside him spots him and quickly makes her way over, giving him the answer he awaited.
"Lord Liu asked to wait for you here, wanting to precede the rest of the way to the greenhouse in your presence, Lord." Jaemin nods in understanding, thanking her and sending her back to the mansion to resume her earlier task.
Now, only they remain in this area.
Lord Na takes his time while heading over, and by so, allowing Yangyang a few more moments to himself, just in case a last minute run-out still seemed tempting in that mind of his. And if it is, he is not even embarrassed to admit that it wouldn't be his first one to assist, but rather his fifth. For some reason, it just seemed as though the man loved to run away from him. Only if he too had such guts and shamelessness. Then, Jaemin believes that by now, he'd have outnumbered the younger.
"Heard you wanted to be accompanied to the greenhouse by yours truly." Jaemin says, his voice calm and collected like the small stream passing underneath them - maybe with a hint of play too.
"Really?" Yangyang stands up straight, hands still on the railing; head a little bowed low at an angle to observe the different coloured fish swim by. "Wonder if they'd have let me be if I said that I just wanted to admire the fish a bit longer."
Jaemin looks down at the creatures in question, relaxing and meeting his hands at his back, smiling at their way of playing with one another. "If you asked, you would have known."
"True." A moment of silence and Yangyang exhales serenely. "They're beautiful."
Jaemin hums in agreement.
The whisper of the wind fills the silence between them in a tranquil shawl, rendering the awkwardness they believed they'd been thrown in a little less scary. However, the weight of something unsaid flying around is still quite bothering.
"So are you." Both find themselves saying the same thing, at the same time, later looking at each other to specify their words; once again, using the same vocabulary somehow. Maybe they have telepathy; maybe they're as intelligent, or as dumb; or maybe those words just need to be said in that very form with no change needed - simple yet meaningful. "Beautiful, I mean. You're beautiful."
Once processed through what was just said, that is all that's needed for both of them to turn crimson in face. If one asked, they'd shamelessly excuse it as the winter's doing.
"Umm..." Yangyang hunts for anything he can talk about to start a conversation. Jaemin believes that it is a way to subtly make up for the times he had always been the one starting. "Congratulation for earning the title of Earl."
Jaemin chuckles and shakes his head in amusement. "I haven't earned it yet, only inherited, and you already congratulated me last month after I met the Queen to sign the papers - were the first one along with Jisung and Jeno may I remind."
"Uh, yeah..." Yangyang hums, actually recalling the day. "I swear titles such as ours are something we inherit, not earn. But then I guess you meant living up to people's expectations so all the best of luck with that. People are hard to please."
"Thank you." Jaemin says genuinely, feeling touched that he has tried to at least understand his view of earning.
"Hmm... Also, my deepest condolences go to you for your late parents. They were very sweet people. You probably miss them too."
"Ah, Yangyang..." Jaemin shakes his head in faux disappointment. "You already did that at the funeral, even gave me a hug, our first hug."
Yangyang gives him a side look, for a second there making him fear that he has said something wrong, or something he shouldn't have, only to roll his eyes playfully at the answer and bite his tongue so as to not grin at how he caught his mistake. "I was talking to the fish; I know I already gave you my condolences. They were their parents too, you know. And you're wrong, the first time we hugged was to, and I quote, "make Jisung jealous so he'll ask for hugs" and may I add, that it failed miserably. He instead used it as an excuse to get away from them."
Once Yangyang can't hold it in anymore and starts laughing at the memory, Jaemin follows suit. Spare him for the younger's laugh is too contagious.
Indeed, the cold whispering by is just the feel of the wind and not the atmosphere they are managing to recover.
"What now, do I congratulate you for returning in the royal family safe and sound as if that is exactly not the first reason we ever interacted ten years back?"
And there goes their moment becoming one with the wind once again. Jaemin thinks he should have gotten the hint and shut up long ago.
"I mean," Yangyang looks off to the distance with a small smile. "If that is how you feel, it would be nice, yes." He hesitates, but chooses to voice what isn't a secret, "You know it well that despite it having been a decade already, not many have accepted the Aunt's," he frowns before correcting himself, "The Queen's decision."
Jaemin sighs and lets himself lean on the bridge just like Yangyang had been a few minutes prior. "I can't speak for everyone, for just like you said, people are hard to please; thus, it being a given that just because something is right or good, we can't expect for the majority to pick it. Because, at the end, no matter how you look at it, convincing one person is hard enough, a nation maybe a little easier if someone takes the first step and others follow, so what more, and Lord bless their souls, the opinion of a nation that has set believes that'll never budge even if the world were to collapse, or the one they believe were to come down to say otherwise, them quickly assuming for it to be the devil's work.
"What do you say? Would you see it as the devil's interference?"
Yangyang thinks over for a bit before humming, "Why would a Lord descend to such a polluted place when he has a throne up there to see everything and anything. If I was given a similar position, the thought to come down in itself would be revolting."
Jaemin raises his eyes up to the sky. "Forgot you're a closeted semi Atheist."
"And an ex-non-royal at that." Yangyang adds, not knowing he deliberately gave Jaemin the ground he needed to continue the argument.
"Yangyang," he starts simple, like a cunning fox eyeing his pray and waiting for the right moment to pounce - this should be a sign to stop hanging around with The Honourable; like he'll ever listen to that. "You love charity work, don't you?"
"Yes, I do. Why the sudden question?"
"Why do you do it?"
"Because I know how it feels to beg and starve for days no end and although it is a very farfetched dream to not wish it upon anyone else, I want to at least contribute as much as I'm allowed, mostly for the children." Yangyang rests his case with confused brows, still having no clue for the other's need to bring this up.
"Then why do you believe that God wouldn't send someone down to help His people?"
"That is not what I said."
"The Lord knows what we see and can't see; feel and can't feel; know and can't know; that's what we are taught. So why wouldn't He come down to guide us?"
"I don't understand where you're trying to go with that and even if I did, I stand with my point that if He really is that powerful than there's no need for Him to come down. For Him, shouldn't the flick of a wrist be more than enough to end world hunger? To end us all?"
Jaemin claps and turns around abruptly, standing back straight with a satisfied grin on his lips, like when a student finally responded just the answer the teacher predicted. Yangyang, realising he might as well have been that gullible student, takes a step back from surprise.
"That, Lord Liu, is what I mean by strong believers are hard nuts, regardless of whichever topic, be it religion or not." Still seeing the confused look on the other, Jaemin elaborates. "When we have a set belief on something, no matter how much one tries, even when concrete proofs are brought forward, we'll ignore it in favour of sticking to our belief, be it because we want to or just want to simply follow what our fathers and the people before us followed; the one around us are following.
"For example: a greedy man will have a very hard time convincing you that charity is useless since you already have your own views, and so, vice versa." Yangyang cringes at the simple though of that. "Likewise, expecting to abandon my believes would be delusion as it is what I grew up with and feel comfort in.
"When we look at it like this, our Queen is the person doing the convincing for your cause. And she's done more than enough. Getting the House of Lords, the House of Commons and the other royals to welcome you in the royal rankings was a lot of work. But just because they agreed to sign a piece of parchment that'll go down history doesn't mean they chose to accept you.
"On the other hand, they are but only laying the path for the future to have a choice on whether to personally accept the law or not. So that witches and wizards won't have prejudice in a time where their opinions are the underlying law is why your father got back his palace despite having lost it in the fire after announcing to have been in love with your mother, a witch, and wishing to marry her."
Yangyang finds himself lowering his head in shame, believing that he just insulted the Queen despite her hard work, ignoring how Jaemin's words actually hurt, a lot, as if though he's defending the ones who want him to perish for being who he is: the son of a human and a witch; a sin.
Only when he hears a sigh and two hands cup his face oh so gently to make him look up and caress his cheeks does Yangyang acknowledge the pain and tears the words brought forth.
"See," Jaemin kisses the frown that forms on his forehead, driving it away for only a crimson shade to be welcomed. "If you keep on looking at the negative side of it, about the many that'll need time and forever to accept new rules because of what they're used to, you'll always find yourself crying, just like now.
"But have you ever asked for whom? For whom are you shedding all these tears? They won't care, so it shouldn't be for them. You? Is it for yourself? In a way, it could be. But is it really worth it when it relates back to those who give no real mind about what you feel? Wouldn't it feel better to cry over something, someone, that's willing to care back for you?
"I am not trying to defend their actions in any way or form, because I too believe that it is disgusting and not right to act as though something which is accepted is not. However, my point stands where you'll realise that staying hooked up in who accepts you and who doesn't won't do you any good. On the other hand, because of it, you'll have a hard time to accept the ones who truly love you. You'll accidentally ignore them in favour of worrying about majorities which shouldn't matter.
"Again, I can't precisely speak for others, but I know that it will be hard for anyone to convince me, Na Jaemin, that you're anything but a precious jewel that deserves so much and more, and that I'd want to protect and care at every step, despite knowing that he can hold his own, simply because I care.
"I love you Yangyang and for you to truly realise that, you have to let go of the useless whispers that have no mind being around you, understood?"
By the end of that, Yangyang is a crying mess. That's the longest and stupidest way someone told him they cared. Stupid? Really, he doesn't believe that at all. It's just right now his brain is too fried to think of an appropriate word.
As a natural response, he starts to lightly hit the other with weakly balled fists - all the crying is draining him. "Did you have to do that whole monologue?"
"Will make you think twice before thinking you're any less when you clearly aren't."
"And how would you know what I think?" He remarks half-heartedly.
"It's not that difficult to see what's going in that pretty head of yours." Jaemin pushes the younger's forehead back with his index. "And I think I know you well enough to know what faces you make."
Yangyang bites his lower lip as a nervous tick before mentally screaming: fuck it, deciding that they've done enough beating around the bush.
"You said you accept who I am, right? So, that means you wouldn't see me any differently if I said that that rumour that has been circulating around for a while now is actually true; I'm actually gay. And that, just because for once I wanted to dance with a man that isn't my dance instructor, Jeno or Renjun, I abused the power my mother taught me and gifted me for my own pleasures by making a potion to turn myself into a female as that was the only way any men would have spared a glance towards me.
"I hated it. Being a female, I mean; not the part where we were together. And I'm extremely sorry I did that to you but you're also the only person I could build the guts to ask. I was scared, scared of how others would have treated me. My sister's complaints of how man act when courting her are a nightmare so what more if I'm the one approaching. They'd think that I gave them permission for who knows what. But I knew you'd be respectful so if I wanted a dance, it would have been with you."
Jaemin shakes his head mortified. "Yangyang, please, you don't have to change yourself to adapt to your preferences, mainly if you can't stand that change. You love being a guy but still paint your nails black because you like how it looks, that is one thing; changing your whole appearance and attitude just so someone from your choice would love you, is another. Both at least have one common factor that is Yangyang. But in one of those two, both are only two of Yangyang's traits; in the other, one of them is the only thing that Yangyang has left of him, and it does not even mainly revolve around him but rather what he wants on someone else
"Do you really want to live like that? By being someone you're not?"
Yangyang only looks down, not being able to hold the other's hard gaze because he was spot on right.
"If you wanted to dance with me, you could have just told me. There was no need of you having to take such extreme measures." Jaemin says while lifting his chin up so that he'll look at him. "You know I'd never refuse."
"I know." Yangyang says, bitterness pooling at the tip of his tongue when he remembers something. "So don't Jeno and Renjun too. They never refuse, saying they want me happy and that's why my dance instructor lets me have one of those two instead of another lady, because they don't want to make me feel uncomfortable."
"About that..." Jaemin finds himself hanging on his own sentence, not really knowing which way to phrase his next words. "Renjun and Jeno, do they..."
Yangyang tilts his head in question, frowning when the sentence isn't completed and he loses the warmth around him, seeing Jaemin going and leaning on the bridge again, this time looking troubled and a bit desperate.
"You know, do you think Jeno and Renjun are the same?" Jaemin finally pushes the question out as vaguely as he can because as sure as he is of one, he isn't about the other one.
"Oh..." Yangyang presses his lips in a thin line. "No, not Renjun, I believe. Though, for Jeno, i truly wish him the best."
Jaemin sighs, having expected the answer. Renjun is too much of a stuck up Catholic and Jeno is a loyal pup; you can't get more loyal than him.
"Why do you ask?"
Lord Na chuckles faintly. "Nothing, really. Was just wondering if there could be a possibility for any of the two to hold romantic feeling for you."
Yangyang frowns. "They only do what they do to make me feel happy."
"Exactly! They went out of their way to dance with you on many occasions and it isn't because they were drunk or wanted to make fun of you but rather give you the opportunity to have your turn in having fun. I'm really thankful to them," he turns to him and gives him lopsided grin, "Just a bit bitter, that's all. But there's nothing to worry about if they don't feel like that."
Yangyang gulps, cheeks turning a bit rosy when he can't be bluntly oblivious anymore. "Why do you say that?"
"Isn't it obvious?" Jaemin gives him a charming grin. "I hate competitions."
Jaemin erupts in loud laughter when he receives a hard glare.
"So you're not willing to fight for me!?" Yangyang scoffs, folds his arms and turns away. "Unbelievable."
Jaemin nearly squeals at the other's cuteness when he catches a glimpse of a pout. Not helping himself, he goes over and back hugs the other, receiving complaints from the victim when it comes in the form of a jump.
"That's what scares me." Jaemin finally says after they both calm down from the giggly mess they had become out of nowhere. "If we were to go to war tomorrow, I'd be begging the Queen to be allowed to help in the medical field rather than the front lines. However, with all due respect, your aunt wouldn't be able to stop me from courting you even after putting me behind bars. Your preference, you should have kept it to yourself, because now you gave me every right to not stop."
Yangyang blushes and is so grateful that Jaemin can't see him unless he has been staring up from his position on his shoulder, that is. When he looks to the side to check, why isn't he surprised when that's exactly what he meets along with a very fond smile?
In favour of voicing his opinion, Yangyang ignores how that smile keeps on pushing all his buttons by making him remember the way this man kisses. "What if I don't want you to stop?"
"Sorry?" Jaemin asks surprised as he stands up straight and turns the other so they're face to face. "You, you're actually willing to let me court you?"
Yangyang sighs in disbelief. "Is this what Renjun meant by dealing with us is a headache because than I understand."
"He said what?" Jaemin, offended, jutting his lips out angrily.
The younger can't help but chuckle at that. "He called us dumb birds in love that need the answer spoon fed to them. I mean, as much as I didn't understand at first, I do see where he comes from now. And sadly agree too." Somehow his hands find Jaemin's, and he starts playing with them. "We drag things until we can't anymore, fear the same ending when we both are wishing for the other, and keep on strolling in-between the lines even when we know what we both exactly desire, not wanting to hurt the other. But I guess it works for us, since at one point we explode in our own way and just say everything to each other. For example, our first ever fight."
Both laugh at that. Their first ever fight truly is a memory.
"You know," The elder brings his free hand up, holds the younger's neck and gently runs his thumb over the faint purple mark he had spotted where he had left it under his ear. "I thought I'd say all that but I guess hanging out with Renjun doesn't hurt us after all."
"Just say that you're still bitter over your first encounter." Yangyang leans into the touch and looks at him with a light glare. "Anyway, you've already done too much talking already."
"True." Jaemin sighs in content as he finally looks at the other in the eyes. They really are the brown irises he finds himself comforting and finding comfort in. Beautiful, he thinks. "But there's still something I want to say."
Yangyang sighs in defeat, a smile gracing his features. "And what may that be?"
"I would feel honoured to be given the chance to court a gem like you, Yangyang. So will allow me to show you how much of a precious person you are to me by showering you with the love you more than deserve and being the shoulder to share your weights on? Because, really, my dear, you aren't alone. I'm always willing to be there for you, always have been and always am." Once the words are out, Jaemin finally realises the weight and feelings they carry. Out of panic, as he gets no answer, he licks his lips in nervousness and says, "I- It's fine if y- you-"
The unneeded sentence in Yangyang's eyes gets locked in Jaemin's throat with a kiss sealing its flow. It's only a peck and yet it speaks more than ever; Jaemin instantly relaxes at the contact.
Once separated, Yangyang takes a few steps back until they're at arm's length and their hands are the only ones still linking them together. Then, he finally pulls back, a huge playful grin painting its way on his bright face. "I'll be in your humble care then, My Lord. Just like how you'll be in mine." He turns and starts sprinting his way under the vines decorating the path that leads to the greenhouse. "I'm not going to wait forever and will probably finish your tea too if you're not quick enough!"
Jaemin only has the time to sigh at the other's antics before he's shouted to be quicker, again. So he follows. After all, who is he to say no to Lord Liu Yangyang?
On the way, he doesn't really let himself wonder what happened that night and how they still need to talk about Yangyang's fault in using those potions mostly because he doesn't want to sour his mood remembering how desperate the poor man was and how he never noticed it. They'll talk it eventually, he knows. Now, he instead treats the night as a blessing in disguise and chooses to smile back at the giddily shy smile that welcomes him when he finally reaches the greenhouse.
"Let's drink then."
ㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡ・❥・ㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡ
note: This is actually a gift for a friend I really adore. You should check them out! Their social media au Gossip Dream is one to live for! They go by dreamaslann on twt. Look at me shamelessly promoting them hehe. Remember to be respectful. Anyway, I hope you had fun reading this and thank you!
ㅡ luna