Yesteryear

The Church

San had propped his upper body up next to Wooyoung. The candlelight shone on the bare spread of his chest and danced in the dips and valleys of his muscles. One of Wooyoung's hands trailed over it as he lazily repainted the man's body as if he were an artist about to sculpt San out of stone. San let him; not ticklish as they basked in the warmth between them under their shared cover.

From time to time, San's eyes flicked to the pearl in Wooyoung's hair that had stayed in place snugly, even as the rest of his body had fallen apart under San. Something akin to pride shone in his eyes whenever he found it hidden between Wooyoung's wild curls.

"Was waiting for me difficult?" Wooyoung's voice was scratchy in the bedroom of San's flat. He lived on the upper floor of a three-story building tucked away in the prettier area of town. They had opened the door to let fresh air in, and some of the Mediterranean plants Wooyoung had spotted lining every centimetre of his balcony reminded him of the Hanging Gardens. The mild climate of Italy hadn't killed the plants off in winter and they already strived again with the little sun spring brought.

"I was glad knowing you were safe from some troubles I ran into. We joked about it, but the plague was horrible. Men who usually knew to defend themselves and fight for their loved ones in wars were entirely helpless." San matched Wooyoung's softness. A smile ghosted over his lips when Wooyoung's finger caught onto his nipple and brushed it playfully.

"Wooyoung, I wanted to ask you something."

Surprised by the sudden change in topic, Wooyoung adjusted his head. From sleepy eyes, he looked up at San's grave expression. His brows had drawn together over his sharp gaze that eyed Wooyoung ever so intimately.

"What is it?"

"What is your concept of... love?"

The sudden deep question had Wooyoung's finger chill on San's chest. In response, San picked up Wooyoung's hand with his to settle both of them down on Wooyoung's chest. His thumb stroked the back of Wooyoung's hand.

"It's very different from yours," Wooyoung whispered. "In my time, we get married, but affairs are akin to stabbing your partner in the back and there are no slaves to play with. People promise their loyalty to each other as lovers and devote all of their feelings to one person."

San listened quietly. Albeit Wooyoung explaining a foreign concept to him, an understanding that would be unusual for anyone living in this time conveyed in his gaze.

San had never been usual, though. In his journey through life, he had experienced love so differently.

"We don't marry just for political or social ties, or for kids. We just want to be close to our special people in every way possible. Whether they are men or women also plays no role."

"Do you have someone like that? Whom you love so dearly?"

Wooyoung had to smile. San asked it so seriously, as if he considered backing out from a person long not in existence since there was no fair duelling option to win the main prize - Wooyoung.

"I don't. Or else I wouldn't be here in your bed."

San understood that. His smile turned bashful.

"I think I love you, Wooyoung. Although I can't tell you if it's in the way you would love me. And neither do I know how to show that love to you in a way that aligns with your standards."

Wooyoung's heart did a gigantic leap in his chest. San probably felt how Wooyoung's breath stumbled and then continued irregularly.

The butterflies going rampant in his belly took Wooyoung's words for a long minute. Then he schooled his expression to match their dreamy mood again.