The Path Beneath our Skin

Chapter 4

CONTENT WARNING: Dubious sexual acts, with depictions of self-harm and violence

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Seunghyeon's words were unbelievable. Taeyong was dangerous? Impossible. He'd been kind and caring and nothing less than the perfect companion.

Maybe they meant it in a different way. Daehyun had dated gold diggers before, and that had been dangerous for other reasons.

But Taeyong owned this estate, and even if he worked from his office, he worked diligently all day.

Was it a petty reason? Daehyun had no siblings of his own to assume what kind of grudge they hold against Taeyong.

And even if Taeyong had done something once in his past to an ex or two, it didn't mean he was dangerous. They all had skeletons in their closet. Having secrets didn't mean anything. It was a part of being human.

"Daehyun?" Taeyong asked, his voice cutting through his thoughts, a sweet lifeline in the grey sea.

He looked down at Taeyong leaning against his arm, with worried eyes and a jutted lip. "You're quiet."

Daehyun sighed, offering him a small smile. "Sorry. Just thinking."

Taeyong stared at him for a moment before continuing down the corridor, showing Daehyung yet another part of this unusually large manor. "How's your head? I mean, does it feel foggy?"

Daehyun nodded. "A little," he muttered, Taeyong humming in response. The concentration on his face was adorable. It made Daehyun's heart squeeze, and the thought of pushing him against the wall itched at his fingertips but was cut short when he looked up.

He stopped walking. A portrait? The other paintings that lined the house were generic landscapes, but this portrait was grand with the two people staring at him. His stomach twisted.

"That's us, you know," Taeyong whispered into his ear.

Daehyun whipped away from the portrait, furrowing his brows at Taeyong's bright grin. "What?"

"It's us," he repeated, resting his head on Daehyun's shoulder, letting out a contented sigh. "It's from the 16th century. You were an aristocrat, and I was just a mere valet. But then you fell in love with me again and we got married. Fate sucks, but at least it always brings us back together."

Raising his eyebrow, Daehyun would not bother listening if it wasn't for the sparkle in Taeyong's eyes. But it was hard to act convinced entirely, especially when the word love was tossed around. "And you remember all this?"

Taeyong giggled. "Of course. I always remember our past lives together," he said with such confidence before letting out a deep breath. "Though, you never remember. Which sucks since we don't spend so long together," he added, gesturing to the painting. "We were only married for 15 years before you died from the plague at 43. And I followed soon after," he said and looked up. "I didn't kill myself; I promised you I wouldn't. I just got infected too," he explained as if that was Daehyun's concern.

Daehyun shifted uncomfortably under his gaze, a hopeful, pleased expression. It would have been endearing if the contents of the conversation were different. Past lives? Love? Death? He wasn't ready to amuse Taeyong's fairytale wonder.

He tore away and cleared his throat. "That's an interesting story," he said, his throat dry.

Taeyong's grip loosened around his arm, and his face crumbled. "You don't believe me?"