Archive of Our Own

The sheer size and complexity of the multiverse was something that Gon thought he would always find fascinating. He had lost count of the number of parallel worlds he’d explored; a few with Taeeul and then many more with Yeong, where they’d travelled round republics and constitutional monarchies and dictatorships, had visited the past and the future, and had seen countless versions of themselves living countless different lives.

Could Gon say that he understood all the inner workings of the Manpasikjeok that brought them to all these different universes at all these different times? Not entirely. The old flute seemed, in part, to be governed by an external force that Gon had yet to understand, but he was confident that he’d get there someday. He always did, no matter how long the problem took him to solve.

Today, he and Yeong were out traversing the multiverse again. Yeong kept a record of all the universes they’d entered before, creating a map of the place in between where he noted details of the universes so they knew which worlds they might want to visit again, and which portals they hadn’t tried before at all.

It was a smart idea, and one that Gon was absolutely certain he would have eventually come up with himself, given enough time. He was the King of Corea, so of course a bright idea like that would have crossed his mind at some point. But it was… nice. And reassuring, to know that he had Yeong with him to think of these things before he needed to.

They were trying a new portal, this time. This wasn’t one that Gon had a vague memory of visiting before while looking for the Republic, like some of the others – this one was completely new, which meant they could be facing literally anything when they walked through.

Gon hoped it would be dinosaurs. They hadn’t ever gone that far back in time before, but at some point he was determined to see them, and finally settle the debate over their appearance, at least in his own mind.

But alas, when they stepped through the portal and into the bamboo forest on the other side, Gon was disappointed to find evidence of a well-trodden path, the sort that could only be made by thousands of human feet eroding away the grass.

Shame. This one was going to be a boring one, wasn’t it?

At least he had Yeong with him, to keep the world interesting. Taking Yeong’s free hand – in his other was a suitcase full of clothes and other ‘essential’ items that Yeong insisted on bringing every time, and also insisted on pulling himself, no matter how many times Gon offered – Gon started leading him through the forest, into an area where they might start to see more people.

After all, maybe it wouldn’t be so much like their own world in the present day. Maybe it would be hundreds of years into the future, or maybe they’d been transported back to the Joseon era.

There was one Joseon they’d visited where it was Yeong’s family on the throne, instead of Gon’s. Though he denied it every time Gon pointed it out, Yeong found the whole concept incredibly entertaining, as made obvious by the huge grin plastered across his face the whole day, whenever he thought Gon wasn’t looking.

Perhaps it would be like that again, Gon mused, as he watched the seemingly endless swathes of green go by. Perhaps this Corea would also be ruled by the Royal House of Jo, and Gon would get to enjoy seeing his boyfriend fully relish this reversal of their roles once again.

As Gon spotted some people in the distance, a distinct feeling of excitement began to build up in his chest.

Looks like they were about to find out.

“They’re not wearing traditional clothes,” Yeong observed as they drew closer to the people, “so we’re twentieth century at the earliest.”

“No mobile phones,” Gon also noted, “so I don’t think we’re in the present day either. And I’m not seeing any different crazy technology, so I doubt we’re in the future.”

“Their clothes look too casual to be earlier than the sixties,” Yeong added. “I think we’re between late sixties and early two-thousands.”

Gon agreed with him. The baggy jeans and comfortable t-shirts definitely suggested an era where fashion was starting to become more relaxed. Looking at the group they could see, though, Gon didn’t think the high waistlines on the jeans were reminiscent of anything in the nineties or early two-thousands, from all he remembered of those years.

As they grew closer, though, and Gon could look at them better and properly analyse their appearances – he knew exactly which era they were in.

“Look at their hair,” he instructed Yeong, “there’s only one decade where people could get away with hair as big as that.”

“Eighties,” Yeong breathed, a smile spreading onto his face that Gon was pretty sure was unconscious. “We’ve ended up in the eighties!”

“I didn’t realise you’d be so happy about that,” Gon chuckled, finding Yeong’s sudden happiness infectious. Really, when Yeong was smiling, it was impossible for him not to do the same; not when that sight had once been something that was impossibly rare.

It wasn’t now, of course, but Gon still felt the same rush of excitement he felt back in the early days. How could he help himself? It was the most beautiful sight in the world.

“Well,” Yeong explained, dipping his eye line a little as his cheeks gained a slight pink hue, “it’s the eighties, you know? There’s a reason the music is still so iconic, and there are so many modern TV shows set in this era – it’s just… cool. And while you might remember the end of the eighties, I don’t know, I don’t remember it at all, and I’ve always thought that’s a little unfair.”

“If it makes you feel any better, I don’t have any concrete memories of my time in the eighties, just odd fragments of conversations with my dad,” Gon clarified, “but you’re right. I suppose it is pretty cool that we’re here. Though I kind of wish we’d had some warning – if I’d have known we were coming to the eighties, I would have grown out and permed my hair specially.”

“You would not!” Yeong laughed, staring up at him incredulously. “You have another thing coming if you think I would let you publicly do that to your hair in the twenty-first century.”

“Yeong-ah! That is rich coming from the man who fell in love with me back when I still had my long two-thousands hair. This would be exactly the same, except curled – or would you prefer I styled it into a mullet?”

“Please,” Yeong begged, hiding his flushed face in Gon’s shoulder, “your hair is perfectly good as it is. You don’t need to change it.”

“Fine, fine, I won’t do anything. But you and I both know—” Gon gave Yeong a pointed look, which Yeong rolled his eyes at “—if we had grown up thirty, forty years earlier, if I had a mullet right now, you’d think it was the sexiest thing in the world. And you can’t deny that, because you know I’m right.”

Yeong, notably, didn’t have anything to say in response to that. Instead, with a sigh of “Come on,” he led Gon back to the portal, where they both changed their clothes into outfits that Yeong had prepared.

If he was being perfectly honest, Gon wasn’t quite sure that the eighties really required a change of clothes from their regular suits, but considering how much time and effort Yeong had put into painstakingly crafting outfits for them to wear in every major era, Gon was happy to oblige him and change.

For Gon, Yeong had packed a black t-shirt – in none of his outfits, Gon noted, there had been anything resembling a dress shirt, or anything that could be buttoned right up to his neck, which was a detail that Gon appreciated – paired with a baggy teal jacket and trousers, finished off with a brown belt. Finding the ensemble a little warm, Gon rolled up the sleeves of his jacket to his elbows, before taking a look at Yeong next to him.

Yeong, who was wearing a white t-shirt tucked into cuffed jeans, with Converse Hi-Tops on his feet, and a black leather jacket tied around his shoulders. He had also purposefully messed up the gel in his hair a little bit, so now a few strands fell forward onto his forehead.

They should have gone to the eighties sooner. Gon should have purposefully taken them back in time, to the nineteen-eighties, booked them into the nicest hotel they could find, and spent their whole trip feasting on the gorgeous meal that lay before him.

Was he salivating? Maybe. Gon was entirely unaware of any of his bodily functions; the one and only thought that was clouding his mind in that moment was a resounding ‘Hot damn!’

“It’s a bit hot,” Yeong explained, “but at the same time I didn’t want to just abandon the jacket, so that’s why I’m wearing it like this? Is it ok? And yours?”

“You’re right,” Gon breathed, ignoring Yeong’s questions completely, “it is hot.”

Yeong tilted his head in confusion for a second, before his eyes widened in understanding and he quickly feigned an expression of annoyance.

“Gon-ah. You can undress me later, ok? Right now we’ve got a world to see.”

“Yes, Captain,” Gon said with a grin, linking his arm with Yeong’s. Though Yeong sighed and shook his head in defeat, his small smile betrayed how much Gon already knew he was secretly enjoying the attention.

And so with that, the pair left the portal for the second time, leaving the suitcase in the place in between so they didn’t have to cart it around this new world. With a newfound spring in their step now they knew a little of what they were expecting, they quickly made it out of the forest and into civilisation, into a town that was still clearly Busan, despite it being over thirty years earlier.

It looked… somewhere between a fantasy and a memory, Gon thought. Because he did remember odd bits and pieces of this, but certainly no concrete details of what the world actually looked like. The most he really knew about the eighties was from pop culture, both from media made at the time and in the present day, so seeing it in person was a strange kind of surreal. Especially when it was Busan they’d ended up in – this was Gon’s city, and it was so familiar, yet the feeling was also so unfamiliar when the roads were filled with cars that might be considered classic nowadays, and there were still video rental stores lining the streets, and not a single person owned a smartphone.

And like Busan in the Republic – or, more accurately, the Republic of Korea where their friends happened to live – there were no advertisements or big billboards with his face on them.

This was, however, still a monarchy. Or it seemed to be, anyway.

Because where his own face might have been, back at home, in this world the pictures were all of his father.

If Yeong had noticed, he didn’t say anything. Oh, who was Gon kidding? Of course Yeong had noticed, but he was decidedly avoiding the elephant in the room, and instead trying to focus on small things, like pointing out how people were strolling around listening to music on a walkman, or how it must have been so much easier to be a guard in these days, as they didn’t have to worry so much about online threats.

Yeong was probably right not to comment on it. That wasn’t actually his father, after all. They were in a totally different universe, so that man on the billboards had as much connection to Lee Ho as Gon did to Jihun.

So Gon was fine. Really, he’d seen pictures of his dad before, all his life, so this was no different. Sure, this version of him was alive, right now, but that didn’t mean anything. It’s not like Gon would even end up seeing the man, anyway, what with him being the King here and Gon essentially just being some random citizen, so he shouldn’t spare those billboards a second thought.

He wasn’t going to spare those billboards a second thought. They were a neutral presence in his field of vision, and he did not have any strong feelings about them.

“I think there’s a newsagent’s over there,” Yeong pointed out, after a while; and sure enough there one was, a perfect distraction from the world around them. Upon entering new worlds, it had become their routine that first they’d look for a newsagent’s with a stand of newspapers outside, so they could quickly see the date, and any world events that may be relevant for their time there. For example, if the Corea they were visiting happened to be at war, then Yeong would be dragging Gon back to the portal at lightning speed, just in case they were at risk of being spontaneously bombed.

Guiltily, a part of Gon was beginning to hope that this Corea was currently being hit with some major catastrophe, and they’d have to go back. While he still agreed with Yeong that the idea of being in the eighties was very cool, the reality of it being a monarchy with his family still in charge… well, let’s say he would have preferred to be here if it was a republic, or if this was another world where Yeong’s family ruled instead. At least then it would have been easier to forget that the person he missed most in the multiverse was out there, existing, and alive.

It didn’t take long to reach the newsagent’s, once Yeong was on a mission to get there. Dropping Gon’s hand, Yeong picked up a newspaper and held it so Gon could see it.

The first thing Gon noticed was the date, since at this point he had trained himself to look out for it. Monday 24^thAugust, 1987.

However, what Gon then noticed, barely a second later, was the headline directly underneath it.

King Lee Ho to pay visit to AIDS patients, as Haeungung Palace donates large sum.

Gon snatched the newspaper into his own hands, in an attempt to get a better look at it.

Surely that headline did not say what he thought it just said.

Surely he misread. Surely the monarch’s name was Lee Do, or Lee Oh, or Lee Mo, or something!

But no. No matter how many times he read it and reread it, the name remained the same.

King Lee Ho. He was here. He was alive.

He was there, on the front of the newspaper, wearing a pristine suit with a crossed red ribbon pinned to his lapel as he waved to the camera. He was smiling. He was alive.

Gon skimmed through the rest of the article. At one o’clock today, his father was set to visit the HIV and AIDS ward at Busan St. Mary’s Hospital, to which he was donating billions of won to help fund treatment and research. Recently having suffered the death of his wife, the article said, the King would be able to empathise with the patients and their families, as he felt their pain on a personal level.

His wife, who had just left their one son behind. Lee Gon.

There was no denying it. This was their world. It had to be. Or at least a world that deviated from theirs after this moment in time.

That was his dad. That was his dad. His dad, who would die so horribly in seven years’ time, but who was living, and breathing, and alive!

“Gon-ah,” Gon was only vaguely aware of Yeong saying. “Gon-ah, are you alright?”

Yeong placed a hand on Gon’s arm, alerting him to the fact that it was trembling, slightly. Or maybe that was just the shock of the contact, he wasn’t sure.

“We can go back if you want,” Yeong soothed, rubbing his thumb gently up and down Gon’s arm. “We don’t— we don’t have to stay here, if it’s too much. We can go back, or try another world. Would you prefer that?”

And miss out on the chance, this beautiful, golden, once-in-a-lifetime chance to see his father again? Even just a brief glimpse in a crowd?

Placing the newspaper back down with newly steeled reserve, Gon then shook his head, taking a deep breath before asserting, “I’m alright. A version of him would be alive whatever the eighties world, right? This one is no different. We probably won’t even see him anyway.”

Not that Gon wouldn’t try, but he wasn’t going to tell that to Yeong just yet. It wasn’t for any particular reason, just… there was a chance, if Yeong knew, that he might try and stop him. To preserve his mental health. And Gon appreciated that, he really did, but even if his head was totally fucked afterwards, he had to see him. He had to try. However much therapy he’d have to sit through to work through the aftermath.

From the way that Yeong was hesitant to let go of him, Gon had a feeling that Yeong might have known that anyway. But, to his credit, he didn’t protest. He simply linked his fingers with Gon’s – but then seemed to think better of it, and removed his hand.

When Gon turned to Yeong to ask why, Yeong preemptively explained, “With so much emphasis on the AIDS crisis, especially today, don’t you think it might be dangerous? Somehow I doubt that the public in the eighties would be quite so accepting as the public in the twenty-twenties.”

Though Gon’s heart wanted to argue with Yeong, and hold his hand anyway… Yeong was probably right. Unfortunately. Gon knew himself how different the public’s perception of LGBTQ issues was at the beginning of the twenty-first century to now, and that was after thirteen years’ worth of progress from their current time.

It was a shame, and Gon’s hand felt almost uncomfortably empty as it hung down by his side, but he understood.

He certainly wasn’t going to make the mistake of arguing with Yeong about safety, anyway. Maybe he could have got away with that before they were dating, but nowadays Yeong possessed all the necessary confidence in his station to be able to lecture Gon for hours about his recklessness.

“Oh, don’t make that face,” Yeong laughed, nudging Gon’s side as he pushed him back out of his thoughts.

“What face?”

“That sad little puppy face. I promise I’ll make it up to you later, ok?”

“Hm,” Gon remarked, setting off with his hands clasped behind his back, and looking back at Yeong to follow him, “I was about to say that I didn’t mind, and I understood where you were coming from, but perhaps I do feel incredibly hurt and betrayed that you would dare not want to hold my hand in public for very valid reasons.”

“What will you have me do to make up for it?” Yeong asked, raising an eyebrow and subsequently making it very hard for Gon to think, as his boyfriend looked like the perfect eighties heartthrob.

There was only one thing for it.

Very quickly, before Yeong could protest or he himself could think better of it, Gon leaned down and pecked Yeong’s lips, and felt incredibly smug afterwards. This feeling only grew stronger when Gon heard Yeong’s shocked gasp a fraction later, and felt a smack on his arm a second after that.

“You idiot!” Yeong hissed, raising his voice at first, but then lowering it when a few people around them turned their heads. “You— do you have no sense of self-preservation whatsoever?”

“That’s why I keep you around,” Gon simply stated, briefly glancing to the side of him with a wide smile on his face, one which didn’t dim in the slightest when it met with Yeong’s outraged expression.

“That only works if you give me the chance to stop you, which you never do!” Yeong complained, “Seriously, you were brought up around some of the most safety-conscious people in the country, and yet somehow you still ended up with the foresight of a drunk pigeon!”

“Yeong-ah.” Gon paused, for dramatic effect. “Is there anyone around us giving me grief for kissing you? Except you, of course?”

Yeong hummed disdainfully under his breath. “You realise how that really isn’t the point I’m trying to make—”

“Yeong-ah. Answer the question.”

“No,” Yeong mumbled, in such a way that Gon could physically feel how much it pained him to give that answer.

“Exactly. So you can spare the lecture, because you have nothing to worry about, and instead you can focus on how happy you are to receive affection from your beloved boyfriend.”

Yeong scoffed, and Gon was sure he must have been rolling his eyes.

“I hate you.”

Gon smiled. “I love you too, my diligent Captain.”

After much cajoling, a little while later Gon finally persuaded Yeong to store their suitcase in a storage locker so he didn’t have to cart it around all day. This took effort only because Yeong’s pride demanded that he keep on being a martyr and push through the unnecessary strain, but as soon as he complained about his hand starting to get a little sweaty, Gon was able to use his infallible logic of ‘why do we need to take all the Joseon clothes around with us all day?’ to convince Yeong that all they really needed was some gold to exchange for money.

Yeong also took his camera out of the bag so he could take pictures for his album – the only item Gon considered fair – spare suncream, pepper spray, a small umbrella, a notepad and pen, and his own ID card ‘just in case’ it would be valid enough to be useful.

Gon personally hoped that anyone wanting to check an ID card would check hard enough to see that the card was issued in the twenty-first century, but he was willing to let Yeong take whatever he needed to keep himself happy.

And so, once their load was determinedly lighter, Gon started to lead Yeong toward the hospital. He tried his best to disguise the route a little, to make it seem as if his only goal was to take a scenic tour through eighties Busan, but the truth was that he really couldn’t care less about their surroundings.

Well, ok, that wasn’t entirely true. He couldn’t say he didn’t care when Yeong took the opportunity to tell Gon about his own unique little insights, or when he got to stop and admire as Yeong took photographs, documenting their trip for them to look back on in years to come.

Like a nightclub they passed, for example. Gon himself would have overlooked it, finding no reason to pay any attention to a building that was shut for the day and that he would have had no interest in entering anyway; but Yeong was able to point out that this place was old and deserted back in the modern era, so it was strange to see it now, with signs of life.

Club Bihaenggi, which Gon thought was a stupid name for a club, was apparently popular in the eighties and nineties, according to some of the people Yeong used to know when he was part of that scene. They’d told him stories of how it was the place for meeting new people, and how they still knew couples that were together that had met there.

That meant that some of those couples might be meeting each other now, not yet knowing that they had met the partner they’d love for a lifetime. Of course, neither Gon nor Yeong would know who these lucky people might be, but it was still a nice thought to think that anyone around them on the street could be these people. Like… maybe one of the people they’d passed in the marketplace, busking on the street; or the tired-looking waiter clearing plates in a nearby restaurant.

“You should take a picture here, if it means so much to you,” Gon suggested, when Yeong started to hover as they had almost walked past.

“A random club in the daytime?” Yeong asked, “Really?”

“It’s clearly not random if you know so much about it. Go on, I can tell you’re going to regret it if you don’t do something to commemorate this.”

Blushing, but not protesting, Yeong took his camera out of its case, when Gon suddenly had a much better idea.

“Give it to me, I’ll take it for you,” Gon said, holding out his hand to take the camera. When Yeong tilted his head to the side in confusion, Gon elaborated, “So you can be in it, idiot.”

“Do you even know how to use it?” Yeong asked, handing the camera to Gon anyway. “It’s quite sophisticated, there’s lots of different modes and I don’t want you to accidentally choose the wrong one.”

“I think I’ve got it,” Gon laughed, as Yeong got into position. “Look through the viewfinder, press the shutter button, and don’t touch anything else for the love of God, Lee Gon, please don’t mess up my camera?”

“Shut up and take the picture,” Yeong ordered, pretending to be stern before being unable to hide his smile.

He really did look very good in this aesthetic. Gon was almost tempted to go trying to find a filter that would make this photo look like it was taken with a camera from the eighties, too, but he figured that keeping his idea to himself was probably safer. They could always edit something like that on afterwards, after all.

For now, Gon was happy to watch Yeong pose, totally unfiltered, showing off his beauty to the people lucky enough to be walking past.

Perhaps he took a cheeky couple more as Yeong started to walk up to him once he was done, because that candid beauty was still photo-worthy in Gon’s eyes. He could always buy Yeong more storage for his photos – really, that was no trouble at all.

And luckily this explanation went down ok with Yeong when he came to inspect the photos, since apparently Gon had ended up taking rather more than he’d originally intended.

Gon himself was rather proud of his work. Sure, it was easy to create good art when you had such a beautiful muse, but even so! Maybe he should take up photography!

“Excuse me?” came a voice from behind them, just as Yeong was looking through the last of the photos. When neither of them reacted immediately, Gon just about felt a tap on his shoulder when Yeong had reacted in an instant, holding his camera close to him with one hand while he used the other to grab the poor man’s wrist.

Though Yeong let go in an instant, it was still more than enough to shock the man, who rubbed his wrist protectively.

“I’m sorry,” he said, “I didn’t mean to startle you, I just wondered if you wanted any pictures taken together.”

“Together?” Gon asked, directing his question more at Yeong than the stranger, to see what his boyfriend thought about the proposal.

“You two must have met here, right?” the stranger assumed, gesturing with his head towards the building. “I met my partner there a couple of years ago, so I get the sentiment.”

“You met your partner there?” Yeong echoed, his eyes flashing wide in amazement. “That’s incredible.”

“No more incredible than the two of you, I’m sure,” the man said, with a warm smile. “Now do you want me to take that picture?”

“Of course, yes!” Yeong eagerly handed him the camera, and pulled Gon over to stand beside him, beaming the whole time. With Yeong like this, it was impossible for Gon not to be at least a little infected by his energy, so he was able to easily match his smile – especially so when Yeong put his arm around Gon to pull him close, and inclined his head towards Gon’s shoulder; because after too long with limited contact, these small gestures made Gon want to burst.

“Beautiful!” the man remarked, before the two of them came to inspect the new pictures. “You two make a lovely couple. Almost as lovely as this camera,” he then laughed, “seriously, where did you even get something like this? I don’t even know what kind of technology—”

“It’s brand new,” Yeong hastily clarified, pulling the camera back towards him and quickly putting it back into its case. “I… I know some people at the company… it’s very experimental stuff.”

“He’s really obsessed with getting the absolute latest technology,” Gon added, sporting his trademarked King Lee Gon smile as he firmly placed his hand on Yeong’s shoulder, all in an attempt to sell the act. Yeong was trying to smile too, but his wasn’t nearly as convincing.

“Hm,” the man mused, looking between the two of them somewhat skeptically, “I suppose I’ll have to keep an eye out for it in a few months, then.”

“Yeah,” Yeong pretended to agree, “I suppose you will. Well,” he said, clearly wanting to change the course of the conversation, “thank you, Mr…”

“Kim,” the man filled in, “Kim Jinseok.”

“Thank you, Jinseok,” Yeong said, inclining his head in a bow that Gon quickly matched.

When Jinseok left, Gon was about to remark to Yeong how much of a close call they’d had, and that they probably shouldn’t let anyone else take pictures for them, when he realised that Yeong looked somewhat starstruck.

“Jinseok,” Yeong breathed, slowly bringing his hands to his face in awe. “I just met Jinseok. In the eighties.”

“Do you know him?” Gon asked, turning to look at Yeong properly.

“I knew him. And he’ll know me, in about twenty years from now. Kind of. He’ll know Junseo, but— wow. He’s the one that would always tell stories about the Bihaenggi, about how he met his boyfriend there when he was engaged to a woman he didn’t love, how he lost contact with his family when he was outed at the wedding, how he built a new life for himself from the ground up with his boyfriend and all their friends after that – this is what he must be living right now! I can’t believe it! Here I was, worried I was going to run into my parents as asshole sixteen-year-olds, but this is— I feel like I’ve just met a celebrity!”

“Yeong-ah,” Gon chuckled, “you’ve spent a lot of your life around various people who would count as celebrities – me, for one, and you’ve never been this excited to see me.”

“Mmmm… I don’t know about that,” Yeong countered, “you didn’t see my reactions in private when you came back from the naval academy. Or whenever you came back from any of your other random holidays, for that matter. Or—”

“Ok, ok,” Gon laughed, “I stand corrected. Just as long as you’re not totally bored of me, that’s the main thing.”

“Please. As if I could ever be bored of you. You know me better than to be worried about that.”

“I suppose I do,” Gon conceded, because Yeong, of course, was right. He knew that Yeong would never be bored of him, just as he would never be bored of Yeong. As clearly evidenced by their day here, Gon could know him for over a quarter of a century and still be learning new things about the enigma that was Jo Yeong.

***

After Yeong had happened to meet someone from his past, it was, then, Gon’s turn. He’d lost track of time a little bit – he’d wanted to reach the hospital for one o’clock, but after stopping for lunch, and then treating Yeong to some impromptu shopping when his gaze lingered slightly too long on a mannequin in a shop window, the time had come and gone.

Still, this was the direction in which Gon was headed now, and if they didn’t see his dad, then they could always stop by the palace. Just to be tourists, obviously. Certainly no other reason.

Just like there was no other reason for Gon pointing out the crowds of reporters and eager civilians surrounding the entrance to the hospital, other than just to make a neutral observation. And just like there was no other reason for Gon leading Yeong to the front of those crowds, other than ‘just to see’ what was going on.

Yeong tried to warn Gon about going into the crowds, citing valid reasons to avoid them such as ‘we might lose sight of each other’ and ‘you won’t be able to avoid people touching you.’

Gon didn’t care. None of that mattered when there was a small chance, a tiny, glimmering hope, that he might see his father again. Alive. In the flesh. Living and breathing, and interacting with his people.

What if he wasn’t everything that Gon had dreamed? Did that matter? They said you should never meet your heroes, but this wasn’t just Gon’s hero, this was his dad, so surely just seeing his face again would be worth it anyway.

That’s all Gon wanted. Just to see his face. He didn’t need to talk to him, didn’t need to see him for more than a moment, didn’t need to take note of what kind of king he was, really.

No dreams needed to be dashed. Gon just needed to see him.

So he pushed through the crowd, instinctively tensing up and holding his breath as the bodies of the people around him touched his, but still pushing forward because damnit he was going to get to the front. All these people could see their King any day of the week, but this was truly a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity for Gon.

He had to see, he had to see!

And then he was at the barrier. And he looked to his right, and saw royal guards, and he looked to his left, and he saw cars.

And the back of an all too familiar head, getting into one. Before the old Captain of the Royal Guard shut the door behind him, and his face was obscured by the blackout windows.

“No,” Gon felt himself say, more than he actually registered saying it. He gripped onto the barrier, his knuckles turning white, needing something to try and ease the tension building up in his body.

No, no, no! How had they just missed him? How? How was that fair?

Gon briefly registered Yeong saying his name, but he couldn’t spare any attention for human interaction right now. His dad was gone. Who knew where he was going?

Why was he leaving Gon again? Why, when he had no right to do so? Not after the first time, not when he’d left Gon to fend for himself, when he’d left Gon needing to grow up too quickly!

It wasn’t fair! It wasn’t fucking fair!

“Gon-ah,” Yeong said again, causing Gon’s head to whip round to see him as he almost heard that name in a different voice, “am I ok to touch you right now?”

After a moment’s deliberation, Gon nodded, and Yeong immediately threw his arms around Gon into a hug, applying that comfortable amount of pressure that Yeong was so good at giving.

It crossed Gon’s mind to ask Yeong whether he was ok with this, since there were a lot of people around them that could clearly see their moment of intimacy, but then he figured that Yeong must be ok with it if he’d initiated it.

“I’m sorry,” Yeong murmured, “I know you wanted to see him.”

“It’s alright,” Gon whispered back, “this is probably better for me in the long run, anyway.”

Or at least that’s what Gon was going to tell himself, starting now.

He probably was better off this way. And it wasn’t like anything had really changed about his life, anyway. He had woken up this morning as an orphan with no expectations of seeing his father again, and he would go to sleep the same way.

And with Yeong’s arms around him, that didn’t feel so bad. It was ok, with Yeong there. He’d be ok.

But then, just as Gon started to feel like he could breathe calmly again, a crackly, electronic voice broke through the murmurs of the crowd.

“The King will be ready to take questions in the Royal Conference Hall in an hour’s time. Representatives from the Royal Rota, you’re free to make your way over there from now.”

It was a man with a megaphone, standing outside the doors to the hospital; and if Gon subscribed to his mother’s religion then he would have been convinced that he was Jesus returned to Earth.

Gon immediately turned to look at Yeong, and he found that Yeong had done the same. And judging by the happily incredulous look on his boyfriend’s face, Gon was confident that Yeong was thinking exactly what he himself was thinking.

They still had a chance. Gon might still see his father yet.

“Which newspaper do you want to represent?” Yeong asked, eyeing the people with cameras already leaving in the direction of their vehicles.

“The Kingdom Daily?” Gon suggested, naming the first paper that came to mind.

“Done! Come on then, Reporter Lee,” Yeong said, pulling out of the hug, but letting his hands linger in Gon’s for a second, “let’s go and see the King!”

Upon Gon’s smile at that, Yeong started to walk, and Gon eagerly followed him.

“I wasn’t sure if you would approve of this,” he admitted, looking across at Yeong for his reaction. “Even I’m not sure how well I’m going to handle seeing him, so I know you’re definitely worried about that.”

“Sure I am,” Yeong said, “but I also just saw how you reacted to not being able to see him, now that the opportunity is here. And who am I to get in your way? I know you’ve always wished you could have had a few more moments with him, and really it’s always killed me to know that that’s the one thing I could never give you.”

“You give me more than enough,” Gon said, the words immediately on his tongue, almost like a reflex.

“I know. Don’t worry, love, you haven’t been wasting your money on my therapist; it’s more that I’ve always hated seeing you upset about him, with nothing I can truly do to make it better. Maybe seeing him today will help soothe that old wound, even if only for a little while. And besides,” he added, changing his tone to a more jovial one – an action which Gon knew was on purpose, and for his benefit, “I want to see him too. I’ve spent most of my life curious about what the late great Lee Ho was like.”

“Are you telling me you’re excited to meet your in-law?” Gon asked, keeping up Yeong’s lighthearted tone. “You truly are a freak of nature, Jo Yeong.”

“But he isn’t just any in-law, is he? He’s King Lee Ho! And I’ve never heard a bad word about him!”

“I hope that’s not just because of his PR team,” Gon then said, becoming suddenly grave. Because it could have been. Lord knew all the news about himself was incredibly sanitised, so who knew what he could trust about what he already knew about his dad?

He wouldn’t put it past Lady Noh and his Uncle Jongin to lie to him. Not when knowing any of his father’s flaws would have crushed him as a kid, and potentially still would now.

Maybe. Gon hoped that, if they did end up meeting his father, he wouldn’t give Gon any reason to find out.

“It won’t just be because of his PR team, I’m sure.” Yeong nudged his side, and from the way his fingers were twitching, Gon could tell that he was itching to hold his hand. “Think about it – if everyone hated your dad because he was a horrible person, wouldn’t everyone have celebrated when he died? Wouldn’t your uncle have been branded a hero, instead of a traitor?”

“I suppose that’s fair,” Gon agreed, “but what if it’s nothing major? What if it’s small things that would go overlooked by most people, but that I would notice?”

“Then I’m here,” Yeong assured him, “as is the Manpasikjeok, so we can pack our things and leave whenever we want. And then we’ll be back home, and safe, and you can vent your feelings in whichever way you wish… within reason, of course, but you know what I mean.”

“I do. Thank you. And that offer is much appreciated.”

“Anything for you, my beloved boyfriend,” Yeong said with a smile, subtly tapping four times on Gon’s hand, hanging down by his side.

The first order of business, unfortunately, was to change into more sensible clothes. While it made sense, because they needed to appear like professional reporters at work, a small part of Gon wondered if seeing his father was even worth it, if it meant that Yeong had to change out of his previous ensemble.

It was lucky that his boyfriend looked absolutely stunning in anything from pyjamas to casual clothes to hanbok to dress suits, otherwise this whole ordeal would have been a crime against Gon’s eyes.

Now, they were both in suits that Yeong had bought earlier on that day: bonafide eighties fashion, if fairly standard business attire could strictly be called fashion.

Well, standard for the most part, except that Gon wasn’t wearing a tie. He had mentioned it to Yeong, wondering if he’d stand out too much without one, but Yeong responded by undoing the top two buttons of Gon’s shirt and telling him that his comfort was a thousand times more important than fitting in.

Probably a sensible idea, to be honest. With memories of that night being somewhat inevitable, with who they were going to be seeing, Gon could see exactly why it would be best to take any precaution so as not to make that worse.

And then, with their outfits sorted, it was time for them to head towards the plaza just outside the palace where the Royal Conference Hall was located. Where, really, Gon supposed that they would be putting the Royal Guards to the test.

Perhaps from a safety standpoint, it would be better for them if they didn’t get in. They weren’t actually reporters from The Kingdom Daily, after all, so by all logic they really shouldn’t have been able to get into the building.

“Hold this,” Yeong said, pushing his notepad and pen into Gon’s hands. “I’ll take the camera, and between the two of us, it’ll look like we’re legitimate reporters working together.”

“Hey Yeong-ah,” Gon said, looking around at all the crowds of actually legitimate reporters, “what if we get arrested? Because they might have all the reporters listed by name, seats pre-booked for individual people—”

“I won’t let us get arrested,” Yeong asserted, “so don’t worry. And if I’m being honest, I don’t think they’ll have any measures quite like that in place; this is before Cheonjongo, and way before I was in charge of the Royal Guard, so I sincerely doubt they’d have taken that much precaution.”

Still, for all Yeong’s bravado, he did still seem to be nervous. He was eyeing the men and women in black suits that were letting the reporters in, as well as watching the streams of reporters going through the doors.

“Walk with confidence,” Yeong told Gon, as they got closer to the doors. “Don’t even make eye contact. Just walk right in, and find a seat.”

“Understood, Captain,” Gon said, trying to force a chuckle to help his confidence.

They were almost there. His father was almost in his sight – and Gon hoped that even if they didn’t get inside, he still might be able to see his dad through the gap in the doors.

He was going to do it. Gon was going to see him.

And then they were at the doors. Yeong kept his pace steady as Gon followed him, and flashed what looked to be his Royal Guard ID card at the current Royal Guards as he gruffly said “Kingdom Daily,” before continuing on into the room.

And then they were in the room. With no hassle at all. No confrontation, and no warrant for their arrest.

His dad wasn’t there yet, but he would be. And Gon would get to see him.

Gon would get to see him!

“I can’t believe that worked,” Gon caught Yeong muttering under his breath, as he looked to find a seat. “That shouldn’t have worked. That was clearly a palace ID.”

“Wouldn’t have got through your Royal Guards?” Gon asked, sitting down somewhere in the middle of a row that was starting to fill up, where hopefully they could go unnoticed.

“Absolutely not! At least… I hope not. Perhaps I should give everyone a refresher on correct ID-checking protocol when we get back, just to be safe.”

“I’m sure it’s fine. They probably live in fear of what you’ll do to them if you catch them slacking, especially now that we’re together. Who in their right mind would want to be caught putting their boss’ boyfriend in danger?”

“You make a good point,” Yeong said, and then paused. “Though perhaps next time we have a press event, I’ll personally monitor the guards on the doors. Just in case.”

“Whatever will make you happy, my love,” Gon said, looking over at Yeong, and tapping four times on his leg. Yeong returned the gesture with a smile, before turning to face the stage at the front.

Because some people were walking out onto it. Some guards in black, one of whom Gon recognised as Yeong’s uncle, Jo Wonjae. The current head secretary. The Captain of the Royal Guard.

And the reigning monarch of the Kingdom of Corea, King Lee Ho. Casually walking onto the stage, pulling out a chair at the centre of the table, and then sitting behind it; thus allowing all his companions on the stage to sit down too.

A hush fell across the room, but Gon barely noticed it over the sound of his own beating heart.

That was him. That was his dad, just sitting there, alive.

Gon wouldn’t even be two years old, at this time. He was probably back in the palace, being looked after by Lady Noh.

But here he was. He was in his thirties, as was his father, but that strange detail didn’t matter to Gon at all when he was able to look upon his living, breathing father again.

Up until now, the last mental image of his dad that Gon had was him lying dead on the floor of Cheonjongo. Now it wasn’t, anymore. Now it was his dad in a large conference hall, looking out upon a sea of reporters, one of whom was Gon.

“The King is ready for questions, now,” the secretary said, leaning into her microphone. “We ask that you keep them on-topic, to ensure we don’t waste time here. Thank you.”

“Will you still be going ahead with your plan to donate five billion won towards AIDS research?” a reporter in the front asked, getting his question in before anyone else.

Lee Ho leaned into his microphone to answer. “That is correct. My visit to St. Mary’s hospital today has reminded me just how vital this research is for helping people not just in this country, but around the world.”

To be honest, Gon didn’t even care what it was that his dad was saying. What mattered more was that his dad was saying it.

For over a quarter of a century, Gon had only been able to hear his voice in recordings, but here he was! He was speaking, and Gon was hearing it live, and even if he could barely listen over the noise of his emotions, he was hanging onto every word.

“So you believe that the visit was worth the risk, then?” a different reporter asked, raising her hand.

“What risk? I wasn’t exchanging bodily fluids with any of the patients,” Lee Ho laughed, “so there was no risk to me. You can all rest assured that I’ll live on to reign for quite some time yet.”

Gon gripped Yeong’s hand at that. Screw anyone that might have been looking.

He almost wanted to butt in and yell to warn him to avoid Cheonjongo in 1994, but he knew he couldn’t do that. He had learnt well enough that meddling with the timeline wasn’t generally a great idea – and it would be especially bad in this case, because he might not have ever met Yeong.

His dad didn’t know, and he wasn’t ever going to know until it was too late. And that was ok. That was how it was meant to be.

“Do you really think that five billion won is enough, Your Majesty?” someone else asked. “After all, the Corean Royal Estate owns upwards of two quintillion US dollars in rare earth metals alone, and there’s a lot of research that still needs to be done, so wouldn’t it be worth spending more considering you have the means?”

Lee Ho paused a little before answering this one. Gon held his breath, though he already knew what kind of answer his father was going to give. In his knowledge, the royal family hadn’t given any extortionate amounts of money to any such cause, because that might look like they were favouring one kind of political ideology, when they were meant to remain neutral.

And sure, ok, Gon hadn’t exactly always remained neutral in his time, but that’s what Corea got for putting a child on the throne. Of course he was going to be a little bold, and a little idealistic.

“If the research demands it, the Royal Estate will be happy to provide,” Lee Ho said, seeming to choose his words carefully, “but we cannot put all of our eggs in one basket, so to speak. There are many worthy causes, and it would be remiss of me to focus solely on one. This is a similar sum to that which I donated to cancer research – another terrible disease, and a struggle that is exceptionally close to my heart, after the passing of my wife.”

It had happened earlier that year, in the spring. Gon had no memories of his mother, but he had heard wonderful things. While Gon had never doubted that they were true, seeing the way his father lost his easygoing smile as he talked about her loss really cemented that fact in his mind.

When Gon had asked him about her, as a child, his father had warmly told him about all the wonderful moments she had shared with Gon, and how she had loved him right up until she had to say goodbye.

Not once had he ever let it show to Gon how much he missed her. But of course he didn’t. Gon was only very small, and his father would never have wanted him to know that kind of burden, not at his age.

Ha. It was funny how things worked out.

“With the late Queen being a Christian,” another reporter asked, “shouldn’t you consider the views of the Christian community? Because if this so-called ‘crisis’ is a message from God—”

“It’s not,” Lee Ho cut in sternly, “it’s a perfectly natural disease that has unfortunately spread around the world through perfectly natural means – and I think you’ll find that these aren’t the views of the Christian community, but the homophobic community. And let me be clear, that is not a group of people that my wife was part of; and even if it was, aren’t we well past the stage of believing that only homosexual and transsexual individuals can contract HIV? My wife would have supported this decision, and I will not back down.”

“Can we please refrain from asking questions pertaining to other members of the Royal Family, thank you,” the secretary added, after Lee Ho had finished speaking.

The room quietened for a moment, as various reporters were writing down what Lee Ho had said, before one then asked, “By speaking out against homophobia, are you saying that you officially endorse the gay community, Your Majesty?”

Gon’s breath caught in his throat as he waited for his father’s response.

And then it was like fireworks went off in his soul, as his dad answered, “Yes, I suppose I am.”

The uproar in the room perfectly matched the inner state of Gon’s mind in that moment.

His dad would be ok with him and Yeong! That’s what that meant, right? That’s what that had to mean?

Gon squeezed his hand that was holding Yeong’s, and Yeong squeezed back, shaking his hand a little in excitement.

“Your Majesty!” someone hastily asked, “Does this mean that you support the unsafe activities that spread HIV in the first place?”

“I’d prefer it if everyone in this country practised safe sex, whether it be homosexual or heterosexual.

“Does this mean you’re taking a stand against all the religious communities in this country that believe that homosexuality is a sin, Your Majesty? Are you endorsing sin?”

“I’m endorsing my people’s freedom to do whatever they want in their personal lives. How is it my right to dictate who my people want to be?”

“If you’re backing the gay community, does this mean that you’re going to legally recognise same-sex relationships in this country?”

“I’m afraid that’s a job for my parliament, not for me – though if the bill is put on my desk, I will sign it.”

“If your son turned out to be gay, would you support him?” Gon all but yelled into the room, putting his hand up and then standing up, needing to get his father’s attention.

The room went silent again – or at least, Gon wasn’t registering any sound, as the seconds ticked by more and more slowly as he waited for his father’s answer.

He was taking too long – had he heard him? Was that the problem? Had the room just been too noisy?

“If your son, the Crown Prince, wanted to be with a man,” Gon tried again, “would you support him? Would you allow him to be with the person he wished, even if that meant he’d never have a queen?”

“Gon,” he vaguely registered Yeong hiss at him, “is this a good idea?”

Maybe it was. Maybe it wasn’t. Lee Ho still had to answer.

And then he started, and Gon was gripping onto his notepad for dear life, needing something, anything to ground him.

“My son… Prince Gon is only very young, at the moment. As a parent, I can’t say that the thought has ever crossed my mind before, but I doubt that’s something we’ll need to worry about with him. And didn’t we say no more questions about my family?”

“What if it was something you needed to worry about?” Gon pressed anyway, standing his ground. “You really can’t know when a child is that young, and having a gay child could happen to anyone. So would you support him? Or would you want him to hide that side of himself, for the sake of the Royal Family’s good face?”

“Are we really speculating about a child’s sexuality?” Lee Ho nervously laughed, looking towards the secretary as he did so.

She seemed to understand immediately, as she said: “Sir, please sit down. The King will not be answering any personal questions at this time, and the Royal Court will not tolerate any slander of the Crown Prince.”

Slander? His valid question about his own sexuality was slander?

And— sorry, this was slander, but every newspaper and every magazine telling him when he was just a teenager that they’d hate for him to be gay was totally a-ok?

Oh, if she was still alive in his time, then he was going to have her beheaded immediately. If there was anyone spreading slander against Lee Gon, then it was definitely her.

“Gon,” Yeong whispered, gently tugging on his sleeve to get his attention, “just sit down. Please.”

Of course, as ever, Yeong was right. This wasn’t a fight he was going to be able to win, was it?

So Gon sat, still tightly gripping the notebook in his hands.

He didn’t pay attention to the rest of the press conference.

That was an easy yes or no question. It was an easy yes.

‘Will you love and support your son, Your Majesty?’ ‘Yes absolutely, Mr. Reporter, he’s the light of my life and I’ll always love him unconditionally.’

Why did he even need to think about it? What was there to think about?

He had literally just said that he wanted people to be free to do whatever they wished in their personal lives! Did that courtesy not extend to his son?

Would he not support Gon’s decision to be with Yeong? Would he not support Gon’s plans to eventually propose to him, and marry him someday? Raise Lee Ho’s grandchildren with him?

But Gon had always thought— his dad loved him. He did. He’d always wanted Gon to be happy, so Gon had always imagined his father congratulating him on their relationship, and wanting to celebrate it with them.

If his father had been alive, would Gon have even been able to be with Yeong at all? Would he instead have pushed Gon to be with Taeeul, or Koo Seoryeong?

Was his father’s love conditional, after all?

But he had never cared about him being a ‘good’ crown prince before! Why was this any different?

Was his freedom to be himself only allowed when he was small? Was that courtesy only extended to crown princes under the age of ten, or something?

Gon barely noticed when the conference was over. It was only when people were brushing past his knees in their efforts to leave that he snapped out of his haze, and noticed Yeong looking at him, and offering his hand.

Instead of taking it, however, Gon slumped forward into Yeong’s neck, snaking his arms around his boyfriend’s body and then gripping on tightly, needing something more effective than the book to calm him down.

It worked, but only a little.

“I’m sorry, love,” Yeong murmured, “but I think we’re going to need to get up and leave now. They’re going to want to clear this place out.”

Gon nodded, signalling that he understood, and the the two of them headed out… though only as far as the nearest bench, upon which Gon promptly sat down again, staring into space.

He briefly registered Yeong sitting beside him, and putting his arms around him, leaning into his side.

His dad wouldn’t approve of this. He knew that now.

The best thing to happen to Gon since Lee Ho’s passing, and he wouldn’t approve of it. How could he be so selfish?

Did he not value Gon’s happiness at all?

“I’m sorry you didn’t get the answer you wanted,” Yeong said, gently rubbing Gon’s back, and tapping four times there.

“It should have been an easy answer,” Gon muttered. “I shouldn’t have even had to try again to ask him.”

“People’s perceptions have come on a long way since the eighties,” Yeong pointed out, “and I know you know that. If he was still alive, thirty years from now, then there’s a good chance it would be a resounding yes. You don’t know how he’d feel about adult Gon.”

“But he was being supportive in every other context!” Gon protested, balling his hands into fists. “Why should it have been different for me? If anything, he should have been more supportive of me! Who else has he always promised to love unconditionally?”

Yeong didn’t seem to have an answer for that one. Gon didn’t blame him; he couldn’t think of one either.

Coming here was a mistake. He should have just gone home when he saw that this was their own world – he had even registered that staying probably wasn’t a good idea, and yet he had stayed anyway because he hadn’t quite believed that his father really would do anything to push himself off his pedestal.

Sure, he had worried about it, but those weren’t ever the real kind of worries! Those were the kinds of worries where you knew in your heart that it was all going to work out ok at the end of the day, because you trusted everyone involved to do the right thing.

His dad was meant to have proved his worries wrong, like any good parental figure. He was meant to have shown Gon that there was nothing to worry about in the first place, and that he was actually safe the whole time.

This wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fucking fair!

“Excuse me?”

That wasn’t Yeong.

Gon looked up, taken back out of his thoughts, to see his father’s face looking down at him, flanked by a whole legion of Royal Guards.

“Are you the reporter who asked me about my son?” he asked, and Gon couldn’t tell whether his father meant that in a neutral or an accusing way. He blamed his own messy mind – how could he trust what he thought his father meant, anymore?

Still, he had to reply, and so he just about managed to utter a quick, “I am, Your Majesty.”

Yeong was on red alert beside him; Gon could sense just how tense he was, his eyes quickly darting between Gon and his father.

Perhaps Gon was about to be arrested. That would be an interesting tale to tell to Taeeul – it would put her in good company in that regard, at any rate.

“I’m pleased I ran into you,” his dad said, his face breaking into a warm smile – thank God – “I must say, your question really made me think, and I don’t think I did it justice back in the conference hall. How would you like to come and have tea with me, so we can talk further? Your partner can come too, if he wants.”

“Oh, no,” Yeong quickly cut in, standing up so he could bow to the old king. “I’m busy, I’m afraid. Work stuff, you know, but I’m sure that my partner here would love to have tea with you, Your Majesty.”

Gon looked over at Yeong to assess what on earth all that was about, but Yeong only gave him an encouraging smile, and a subtle thumbs up.

So he wanted Gon to go? Alone?

To be honest, Gon wasn’t entirely sure that he wanted to face this without Yeong’s support. If things went downhill, then Gon would already be in a weakened state by being around his dad, so who knew what kind of things could happen without Yeong there.

Although… this was Yeong he was talking about. And the two of them were alone, in a different time.

There was no way in hell that Yeong was really going to leave Gon alone, was there?

So Gon said “I would be honoured, Your Majesty,” standing up to bow like Yeong did, and he followed when Lee Ho said to come with him.

Gon could barely look to his side, where his father was now taking Yeong’s usual place. It didn’t feel real.

Over twenty-five years since his father’s death, and Gon was able to walk by his side again?

He wasn’t going to cry, not when his dad thought he was some random reporter, but he was definitely very emotional.

“If you don’t mind me asking,” Lee Ho started, when they had travelled a little way, “what is the relationship between you and your partner? Are you business partners, or…?”

Gon took a deep breath, steadying his nerves, before saying, “Romantic, Your Majesty. Though we work together as well.”

It was fine. Lee Ho didn’t see Gon as his son, because his son was one year old and was back at home in the palace. Gon was safe.

“I see,” Lee Ho said, directing Gon into a quaint little café where a boba shop stood in Gon’s time, “I suspected as much. When I saw him with you, your words earlier on started to make a little more sense. Forgive me; I don’t often get the chance to interact much with homosexuals so no one has asked me any questions like that before, simply because no one has thought to.”

Well, Gon thought, technically his father was interacting with a homosexual every time he played with his little son, but it wasn’t like his father or his younger self knew that yet.

“It’s alright, Your Majesty,” Gon assured him, “truly. The fault here is certainly mine, as I got way too ahead of myself by asking you that.”

“What fault?” Lee Ho sat down at a table by the front window of the café, and Gon sat opposite him. “Did you commit a crime, by asking a question that must have been important to you?”

“Ah,” Gon sighed, hanging his head in shame, “it was that obvious? I normally like to think I’m better at carrying myself than that.”

“Oh, it happens to the best of us, don’t you worry. You must have seen how I handled the person suggesting my wife would have been opposed to the donation – I can hardly sit here and say that was the pinnacle of decorum.”

“I suppose you’re right,” Gon chuckled, looking back up and meeting his father’s kind eyes.

Gon wanted to hug him. He wouldn’t, of course, but he wanted to. He wanted to hold on tightly, and never let go.

“Still,” his father pushed, “you’ve got me curious now, and perhaps this can help me with my own answer. Did your parents react well to your sexual preferences? I suppose they must be worried about you, given the current climate.”

“My parents will never find out, actually,” Gon admitted, forcing a smile but scrunching his hands into fists. “They both died when I was young, so I’ll never know how they might have reacted. I like to think that they would have accepted both me and my boyfriend with open arms, but I’ll never know for sure whether that’s just wishful thinking.”

“Even if they weren’t happy at first, I’m sure they would have come around,” his dad said, totally confident. “I can’t have known you more than five minutes, but I already like you. I’m sure they would be proud of the person you’ve become.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty,” Gon said, bowing his head graciously. “You have no idea how much that means to me.”

He really didn’t.

Gon still wanted to hug him, and to be able to cry in his arms as he told Gon how proud he was of his only son.

“Was it hard,” his father asked, “growing up without your parents? I’m already a little worried about my Gon – he’s so young right now, so he doesn’t really understand the concept of death, and he keeps on asking me when we’re going to visit his mother again. I try and put on a brave face for him, but it kills me to have to tell him how we can’t see her anymore. He deserves better than that.”

“It was very hard,” Gon said, trying to push forward with the conversation instead of stopping to dwell on his father’s confession. “I really can’t sugarcoat it. Living without my mother was easier, because she died before I could remember her, but my father passed away when I was eight, and I was devastated. He was my whole world, up until that point, and when he was gone it was like the universe had collapsed in on itself.”

“Oh my goodness,” Lee Ho breathed, “will Gon be ok? Do I need to invest in therapy for him? Grief counselling?”

“Maybe,” Gon said, “but I think he’ll be alright, in the long run. He’s got a good support system, with all the people in the palace, and he’ll make good friends in the future. And he’s got you, of course; he’ll definitely be alright with you there to look after him. It’ll be hard, but the both of you will get through it.”

A waitress came to take their order, then. His father ordered a cup of lotus leaf tea, and Gon ordered an americano, because he had started to prefer the taste of coffee many late working nights ago.

“So do you believe that my son could be homosexual, then?” Lee Ho asked, though not in an accusatory way. More like he was asking a scientific question, and wanted to find out the answer.

“I believe it’s a possibility,” Gon simply answered, “just like it’s a possibility for anyone’s child. I’m not saying he definitely is or he definitely isn’t, I’m just saying that it’s possible. His royal status has nothing to do with his genetic makeup that would determine his sexuality, so we can’t assume that he’d be straight just because he’s a prince.”

“That’s an interesting opinion to have. Most people, if not all, don’t think like that when they have a baby, but I suppose all homosexual adults must come from somewhere, mustn’t they?”

“Exactly my point, Your Majesty. And it’s my personal belief that if a few more parents considered the possibility that their kids might turn out gay before it’s sprung on them as a surprise when their children are older, then a few more parents might be willing to offer support, and love.”

“That’s true,” his dad said, “but speaking as a parent, I think I can also understand why some parents might not be supportive of their children living that lifestyle. It’s very dangerous to be homosexual nowadays – as I’m sure you’re aware, the current health crisis hasn’t just made the sex more dangerous, but has turned people against the community – so if my Gon were to be homosexual in this environment, then I would be worried about him. I wouldn’t want him to face any undue struggles, and I certainly wouldn’t want him to end up in a hospital bed because of it.”

“Wouldn’t it still be better to offer your support anyway, though?” Gon asked, scrunching up his toes in his shoes to try and keep himself calm.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, Your Majesty, that however dangerous it might be to be gay, if you love your son, then doesn’t he deserve your support anyway? Sure, you’re right, it’s dangerous, and a lot of people might hate him for who he is, but don’t you think he’d appreciate you not being one of them, more than anything else? He’d already have a lot of critics, and he wouldn’t need your voice to join them. I think that would hurt most, at the end of the day, if he previously thought that he could trust you to love him unconditionally.”

“I do love him,” Lee Ho argued. “Of course I love him unconditionally.”

“Then if he does turn out to be gay, doesn’t he deserve to know that? Trust me, he’d know all too well about the dangers, but he wouldn’t want to hear that from his dad. The best thing you can do, in my opinion, is to love him enough that he knows his worth, so he won’t then put himself into any unnecessarily dangerous situations. That will be far more effective than being strict with him.”

“How very wise.” At this point, the waitress came back with their drinks, and after the current Captain of the Royal Guard came over to take a sip of his father’s tea, his dad took a sip himself. “Is that the way you wish your father might have reacted to your own sexuality, had he still been alive?”

“If my father was still alive,” Gon mused, “yes, I think so. I would have wanted him to tell me that it was ok and that I wasn’t disappointing anyone while I was still a teenager, because that would have saved me a lot of grief later on in life.”

“Grief?”

“I had a woman I was determined to marry. Needless to say, that didn’t go so well.”

“Did you marry her?” his father asked, looking at him curiously.

“No, she rejected my proposal. And really, I have to thank her, because if she hadn’t let me go then I never would have ended up with my current boyfriend.”

“I presume you’re happier now?”

“Oh, undoubtedly. My Yeongie – that’s his name, Yeong – I don’t know what I’d do without him. We were friends before we were together, but I think that being able to show my love to him in all the ways I want to has made me the happiest man in existence. He’s everything to me.”

“I’m sure he’s lucky to have you,” his dad said with a smile, “and judging by the look on your face, you must feel lucky to have him. It’s funny— you look just like my son, when he proudly comes to show me the latest interesting rock he’s found in the garden.”

“Well,” Gon laughed, “my Yeong is a very interesting rock. I’m sure your son would like him a lot.”

This made his dad laugh too, and it struck Gon how similar their laughs sounded. Even years after his death, Gon was still emulating him. The thought was somehow comforting.

“I think,” his dad said, after taking another sip of his tea, “in response to your question from earlier, that if my Gon does turn out to be homosexual – or gay, if that’s the term you’re using – that I won’t have a problem if he turns out to be anything like you. I’ve seen a lot of grief today, visiting the hospital and seeing the people in your community fighting a losing battle for their lives, but you’ve shown me just how joyful a gay person can be, and I thank you for that.”

“It’s my pleasure,” Gon said, and he meant it. “And even those people in the hospital that you visited – I don’t think they’d have given their sexuality up, even if it landed them there. For myself, anyway, even if my life ended tomorrow, I’d be so pleased that I’ve managed to spend time being true to myself, with a partner I truly love. Yeong makes me happy, so why would I ever give that up?”

“Why should you?” His dad paused for a second, and then said, “Even if you won’t get any blessings from your parents, as the King, let me give you my blessing. I’m pleased you’ve managed to find happiness for yourself, after all the hardship you’ve endured to get to this point.”

“Oh, Your Majesty,” Gon breathed, covering his face in his hands as a preemptive reaction to hide whatever might have been going on there. “Really, that’s too much.”

“Nonsense. You deserve to hear it. And I know that I’m far too young to be any kind of father figure to you, but it could be argued that as the King, I’m the father of the nation, so I hope that makes me at least a little bit qualified to wish you well.”

“You’re more than qualified,” Gon assured him, feeling his breath getting heavier and hating himself a little bit for starting to lose his cool. “Seriously, thank you. It means so much.”

“Are you alright?” his dad asked, reaching out a hand to rest on Gon’s forearm.

And that was it. That broke him. Because it had been over a quarter of a century since he’d felt his father’s special brand of comforting touch.

“I’m sorry,” Gon managed to say, in between sniffles. “I didn’t want to lose my composure. It’s just – you’re going to be such a good dad to your son. No matter what happens, he’s always going to think of you so, so highly.”

“I’d like to hope so.” Lee Ho offered Gon a handkerchief, and Gon took it, wiping his eyes and his nose. “Most of what I do nowadays is governed by me trying to be someone that Gon can be proud of.”

“He’ll be so incredibly proud,” Gon asserted, “I know he will.”

“Say,” his dad said, looking out of the window beside them, “isn’t that your Yeong outside?”

Gon turned to look, and sure enough, there Yeong was, totally failing at being inconspicuous behind a newspaper. When he noticed Gon looking at him, he shot him a concerned look and put his thumb up, presumably to ask if Gon was alright.

Oh, bless him. He must have seen Gon get upset, and assumed that something went wrong.

Gon gave him a smile and a thumbs up back, to tell Yeong ‘don’t worry, it’s all good.’

“He must be wanting to steal you back,” his dad chuckled, looking fondly over at Yeong. “I suppose that’s fair; I must have separated you two for long enough, now.”

“You are needed back at the palace for a meeting with the Royal Court soon, Your Majesty,” the Captain of the Royal Guard cut in, remarkably acting more distant with Gon’s dad than Yeong had ever acted with him.

Well, Gon supposed that made sense. This man probably wasn’t Lee Ho’s childhood best friend that had been in love with him since he was fifteen.

“In that case, then, I suppose I need to get going. It’s been wonderful talking to you – oh, my gosh, how awful of me! I forgot to ask your name! Please accept my apologies; you just seemed so familiar, it didn’t even cross my mind.”

“It’s Lee Gon, Your Majesty,” Gon said, a warm smile on his face.

“What a beautiful name,” his dad remarked, barely stifling a chuckle. “Your parents had good taste.”

“They did,” Gon agreed. “I can’t argue with that.”

“Well, Lee Gon,” his dad said, breaking into a wide smile as he said the name, then standing up from his seated position, “it’s been a pleasure meeting you.”

Gon stood up as well, bowing low. “The pleasure’s all mine, Your Majesty.”

“Don’t worry about paying for your drink,” his dad said, waving his hand dismissively, “today was on me.”

“Thank you so much—” Gon started, before his dad cut him off by raising his hand.

“Please. Enough with all this overly formal speech. Don’t we know each other better than this by now?”

“I suppose,” Gon said, trying his best to be meek and reverent, but entirely failing to hide his grin.

His father really hadn’t changed one bit – or, of course he hadn’t, because this was Lee Ho’s current life. Of course he was the same.

“Ah, Yeong!” his father said, looking past Gon to the door of the café. Gon turned around, and there Yeong was, keeping his gaze lowered respectfully about ninety percent of the time. During the other ten percent, he was glancing up in awe, and his eyes might have been made of diamonds for how much they were sparkling.

Gon’s father waved, and Yeong tentatively waved back, as he stood next to – but slightly behind – Gon. After a moment, he bowed deeply, muttering a quiet “Your Majesty.”

“Your partner speaks highly of you,” Lee Ho noted to Yeong, addressing him warmly. Yeong, however, was still incredibly tense, and though Gon gave him a subtle four taps on his leg to encourage him, it did nothing to ease his boyfriend’s nerves.

“He exaggerates, Your Majesty,” Yeong said, almost vibrating by Gon’s side. “I don’t know what it was that he said about me, but he was definitely exaggerating.”

“I was not exaggerating, Your Majesty,” Gon clarified, putting on his winning smile to let his father know that he was definitely right. “Yeong is all the best and more.”

“I try my best, Your Majesty. That’s what he means.”

“An admirable thing,” Lee Ho commented, “and I’m sure you don’t need me to tell you how much Gon appreciates it.”

“I take it your chat went well, then?” Yeong asked, looking between the two of them.

“Very well, thank you,” Lee Ho answered. “Gon has taught me a lot – I think I will end today a different man to how I started it. Your partner is very wise.”

“You hear that, Yeong-ah?” Gon chuckled. “Wise. The King of Corea thinks I’m wise.”

“I’m afraid I might have to question the King of Corea’s judgement,” Yeong scoffed, earning laughs from the whole group.

“Are you sure about that?” Gon’s dad smiled, a little more mischievously than one might expect of a king. “I really don’t want to have to behead my new friend’s beloved boyfriend for some misplaced words.”

“Then I take it all back, Your Majesty,” Yeong laughed, definitely having eased up a little more at hearing such a familiar threat. “I’d rather not get beheaded either.”

“Good. I hope you two can enjoy a long and happy life together.”

Gon and Yeong both bowed, offering their thanks again.

“And practise safe sex!” Gon’s dad added, and Gon almost lost his composure by laughing out loud. “You both heard me in the conference hall – I don’t want to be seeing either of you two in the hospital the next time I visit, ok? Use a condom!”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” Gon giggled, inclining his head in another small bow. To his side, Yeong seemed to be reacting in exactly the same way.

“Good. Then my work here is done. Good day, gentlemen,” Lee Ho said, with a small incline of his head towards the two of them, before setting off for the door, Royal Guard in tow.

And that was it. Gon’s dad was going, never to be reached again.

A familiar weight started to fall upon Gon’s heart – one that he didn’t even realise had lifted until it was there again, seeping into every pore of his being.

King Lee Ho was gone. And Gon had never been able to give him a satisfactory goodbye.

Until today.

Barely thinking, Gon chased after him, pushing past the last of the guards going out of the door and running around to the front, where his dad now stood still, looking at him quizzically.

“Gon,” he asked, “is everything alright? Don’t worry, I had one of the guards pay the bill—”

“Can I hug you?” Gon said, hastily tacking on a “Your Majesty” when he remembered that right now he wasn’t meant to be Lee Ho’s son. “I know it’s a really weird request, and you can definitely say no – well, of course you can, you’re the King – but I— it would mean a lot. Really more than you’d know.”

“Do we have time for a hug?” his dad asked the Captain of the Royal Guard by his side, who hesitated for a moment before giving a begrudging nod.

“Alright,” his dad said, and as soon as his arms started to open, Gon was in them, putting his arms around his dad and holding him tightly. He tucked his head into the side of his dad’s and that unmistakable smell took Gon right back to his childhood – not exactly to a specific memory, but more a feeling of unburdened joy and love that he hadn’t felt since he was eight years old.

His dad seemed smaller, now. Gon didn’t even realise before now that he’d grown taller than him.

But still, even when he was now shorter than Gon, even though they were currently roughly the same age, that was his dad.

His hugs still felt the same. That hadn’t changed, in over thirty years. Though no words were spoken, Gon still got the message that he was loved, and that everything was going to work out ok.

Maybe things weren’t going to work out ok for his father, but he was certainly loved. That fact wasn’t up for any debate.

“Thank you,” Gon whispered, his voice unmistakably shaky. “For everything. Thank you.”

“You’re alright, Gon-ah,” his dad whispered back – or maybe he didn’t, and maybe Gon was dreaming – “you’re doing well. And I’m sure that if your father was still here today, he’d agree with me.”

“I think you’re right,” Gon mumbled, desperately fighting back the urge to tell Lee Ho just how right he was.

“Now,” he said, pulling back from Gon, but leaving his hands resting firmly on Gon’s arms, “I think I truly do need to let you go now. After all, we don’t want Yeong getting jealous, do we?”

“I suppose we don’t,” Gon agreed, though he knew that Yeong wouldn’t be jealous at all.

But still, Gon needed to let him go. King Lee Ho had somewhere to be, and Gon was operating on stolen time as it was.

So when his dad dropped his arms, Gon didn’t protest. He stood a little to the side, to allow the guards to move past.

“I hope I’ll see you again, Lee Gon,” his dad said, in what Gon’s heart knew was a final farewell. “At the next press conference, perhaps?”

“Sure, Your Majesty.” Gon pushed a smile onto his face. For Lee Ho, technically he would see Gon again, probably as soon as he got home.

For Gon, he would see him again in pictures, and videos. And his memory, now, since from this moment he’d have one in much higher quality than the trauma-addled ones he’d been left with before.

“Until next time,” Lee Ho said, acknowledging Gon with a small incline of his head.

“Goodbye, Your Majesty. It’s been an incredible pleasure getting to know you, too.”

And then Lee Ho smiled at him, and then he was gone.

“Give your son a hug for me!” Gon shouted out, after a thought, though he wasn’t sure if his father heard him. That didn’t mean he didn’t reply, it’s just that Gon didn’t hear it, because all he could hear was static.

“I love you, dad,” he whispered into that white noise, knowing it meant nothing, and that no one would hear him. “I’ll miss you. I already do.”

He was gone. Again. Forever. For real this time.

Gon dropped to his knees, right there on the pavement. He didn’t care who was watching.

And he let the tears fall. Properly, this time. Big, fat, painful tears, that felt like the manifestation of all those years alone come to life.

Lee Ho was leaving Gon alone again, and he had to. This was how things were meant to be, however much that inevitable fate hurt.

The loss of his father would always feel like a piece of his soul had been ripped away – and even if the open wound had healed over, on most days, the hole would always be there. And Gon could live with it, he knew that he could, but that didn’t mean that right now it hurt any less.

He desperately wanted to go back to the palace with him, and spend the rest of the day in his father’s arms, while he told him tales about the stars. He would never be able to do it again, but he desperately, desperately wanted to.

“My love,” Yeong whispered, who Gon found crouching behind him, “I’m not going to ask whether you’re alright, but do you want to talk to me? A hug? Anything else?”

“Talk later,” Gon said, leaning back to sit on his heels. “Hug now.”

“Alright.” With a soft smile, Yeong offered a hand, which Gon took and then allowed Yeong to use to help him up. Yeong guided him to the closest bench, where they both sat down, and where Gon promptly buried his head in Yeong’s chest, blocking out the world. The only outside force Gon could recognise was one of Yeong’s hands on his back, and the other on the back of his head, stroking gently.

And against all the odds, Gon found himself relaxing. Slightly. But still he was, the repetitive motion of Yeong’s hand and the steady thumping of Yeong’s heart both working wonders to calm him down.

Because of course, he was still loved, wholly and unconditionally. He had been throughout his life, even if the giver of that unconditional love had changed back in nineteen-ninety-four.

He’d be alright. Though he wasn’t sure he’d ever want to come back through this portal again, and though there might always be bad days, he’d be alright.