ill met by moonlight: chapter two
Illustration by Phoebe Nerem
chapter two: lead them up and down
(13:44) To: Sam <3
(13:44) Nero: Hey babe :-) We still on for tonight?
(14:11) Sam <3: Yeah
(14:15) Nero: Perfect! Can’t wait to see you
(19:10) To: Sam <3
(19:10) Nero: Sorry!! Almost there. Mari had a thing
(19:16) Nero: Hey, where are you? I got us a table but
Haneul isn’t here tonight so no free drinks :-(
(19:20) Nero: Hurry up I’m so bored I can’t be sober
AND alone we’ve discussed this
(19:30) Nero: Are you coming?
(19:46) Nero: Ok, guess I’ll leave so I don’t look like an
idiot. Hope you’re okay
(19:46) To: Azula
(19:46) Zuko: Hey Mari did you hear anything from Sam
(19:47) Azula: no why
(19:47) Zuko: We had a date tonight but he never showed
and won’t text me back
(19:50) Zuko: He’s been kinda distant lately I’m worried
(19:51) Azula: did you talk to him about it
(19:52) Zuko: I was gonna tonight but he stood me up
(19:52) Zuko: Do you want me to pick something up?
My Uber is almost here
(19:53) Azula: sheet facemask
(19:54) Zuko: From where? I’m nowhere near a cosmetic store
(19:55) Azula: well get near one
(19:56) Zuko: Fuck no
(19:56) Azula: dude sam’s still at his house
(19:56) Zuko: What?? How do you know?
(19:57) Azula: he seemed shady the first night he brought you home
trashed so i tracked his phone
(19:57) Azula: never liked the bitch
(19:58) Zuko: Mari what the fuck how do you even know how to do that
(19:58) Zuko: Can you call him and ask what’s up?
(19:59) Azula: why would he answer me when he’s ignoring you
(20:00) Zuko: He doesn’t have your number dumbass
(20:01) Azula: behave
(20:03) Zuko: Sorry I’m confused and stressed
(20:16) To: Azula
(20:16) Zuko: Mari?? What happened?
(20:17) Azula: uh
(20:17) Azula: he said something hurtful
(20:18): Azula: are you sure you want me to tell you over text
(20:18) Zuko: Just fucking tell me I’m so confused
(20:21) Azula: he said he’s “done with you”
(20:23) Zuko: Wdym
(20:23) Azula: exactly that
(20:23) Azula: he told me he can’t handle being with you
anymore and he needs out
(20:40) From: Azula
(20:40) Azula: nero?? where are you
(20:40) Azula: you turned off your tracking shit so
i can’t find your phone
(20:40) Azula: you’re freaking me out text me back
(20:45) Missed call from Azula
(20:50) Missed call from Azula
(21:00) Missed call from Azula
(21:00) Voicemail from Azula
(21:02) From: Azula
(21:02) Azula: NERO
(21:02) Azula: ANSWER ME WHAT THE FUCK
(21:03) Azula: i will fr call the police on you i swear to god
(22:10) Zuko: Don’t do that shit again last time was awful
(22:15) Zuko dropped a pin
(22:15) Azula: come home
(21:02) Azula: whose house are you at??
(22:19) Zuko: Jung Rhee
(22:19) Azula: who the fuck is Jung Rhee?
(22:25) Zuko: If I’m lucky he won’t be my murderer
(22:26) Azula: oh my god you didn’t
(22:26) Azula: one pos dude breaks up with you and you’re
already fucking some old guy
(22:43) Zuko: One of your nails broke b/c a dog was
excited to see you and you’re already threatening its life
(22:45) Azula: that was one time asshole
(22:55) Azula: can you just get home so i can test you for STDs
(23:19) Zuko: My driver got lost I’m almost there and
(23:19) Zuko: You don’t even know how to do that
(23:20) Azula: you’re really fucking drunk huh
(23:23) Zuko: And why aren’t you? We’re young
(23:24) Azula: famous last words
Changed name from Sam <3 to POS GOLD DIGGER
(24:00) To: POS GOLD DIGGER
(24:00) Nero: I hope the money was worth it when you rot in hell
Blocked POS GOLD DIGGER
–
Nero’s two-thousand dollar leather jacket gets caught
in the door as he slams it behind him. A huff of growling
frustration leaves his lips before yanking it out of the sliver
between the wall and the mahogany, tearing some of the
lining. He quickly makes a mental note to steal his uncle’s
credit card to buy a new one, but for now he has more
important matters to attend to.
“What the fuck-” Nero swings open the glass doors with
marble rim, not bothering to wince when the glass knocks
into the wall, “- did you do?”
Ju-Won slides his reading glasses to the tip of his nose,
snapping his book shut in an extraordinarily unamused fashion.
Seeing the gold rims of his lenses perch so peacefully on Ju-Won’s
face made him all the more punchable, if you asked Nero.
The asshole of an uncle isn’t even looking at him, and Nero plans
on changing that; with one fell swoop he knocks his uncle’s book
out of his hands, watching Ju-Won’s face remain expressionless
as it crumples to the floor. Seething, Nero waits for his slow gaze
to turn to the culprit of the interruption. It’s no wonder Ju-Won
makes for such an adept businessman. His poker face is impenetrable.
“Whatever could this be about, Nero?” The question comes out as a sigh.
The inside of Nero’s cheek pulsates with the pain of chewing on it,
but it was the only way he would be able to help himself from
tearing apart the tea room. Instead he shakes his head and paces,
pushing his messy hair out of his face. “I don’t know how you did it,
but I know you had something to do with it.”
“Oh.” His uncle, ever the audacious meddler, still seems bored with
the conversation. “Yes, your little fling.”
“My fling?” Nero is incredulous. “If by fling you mean my boyfriend of
seven months, then yes, my fucking fling. What the hell did you do?
Ju-Won promptly stands from his chaise, no longer keeping an air
of casualty. “What the hell did you do, Raniero?” He plucks a printed
photograph from the glass coffee table, holding it calmly in front of
his nephew’s face. A lump formed in Nero’s throat at the sight of it.
It’s a blurry photo, but both his striking face and his former boyfriend
Sam’s memorable profile are wholly recognizable. In the photo he’s
enveloped by Sam’s embrace, laughing as Sam plants a kiss on his cheek
outside of one of the countless bars they had visited that night.
Nero’s stomach does a somersault and for a moment he thinks he’s
going to be sick.
Naturally, this cues Aunt Mi-Suk’s dramatic entrance, brows raised
in faux confusion. “What’s all this fuss about, Raniero?” She stands
in the doorway, poised in clean garments as if paparazzi stand by.
Nero wants to make her botox face frown, but his throat is too clogged
with resentment and anger to say much of anything. Mi-Suk fills the
silence with a ‘sudden’ understanding, “Ah! So Sam obliged, then?”
Nero whirls around to face her, hands balled in tense fists. He knows
exactly what she’s talking about, but his sinking heart refuses to believe
until he hears her say it. “Obliged to what?”
A smirk pricks the edges of Mi-Suk’s lips. “Come now, Nero. You knew
his presence would be brief at best.” She takes easy steps around the room
but is sure to keep a safe distance from her fiery nephew. “You did a
decent job at hiding it, and I’ll admit I did not want to believe my own
blood was a homosexual. So I turned a blind eye. For a moment.”
Another lengthy silence stretches between the three at odds, Nero
waiting impatiently for the inevitable admission of guilt.
Ju-Won breaks the silence and takes a tentative step towards Nero.
“I really do not know how you expected this to end,” he says, “Your
career is taking off. You have the potential to be a celebrity. Hundreds
of women spend all of their pocket change buying Prada; now, why
would they if they knew its cover boy won’t give them the time of day?”
Nero huffs again, more exasperated than angry. He knew he never
should have got into modeling, or even put himself in any sort of
spotlight. “So who I have sex now is up to the public.”
“It’s up to us.”
The former Prada model locks eyes with his uncle. Ju-Won is truly
a cold, callous man, and Nero is sure not to forget it for a moment.
“You paid Sam to leave me.”
Mi-Suk speaks this time, seemingly unbothered by the obvious
moral ineptitude, which Nero is sure never crossed her mind.
“I’m sure Sam’s decision was influenced by his family’s economic
standing.” Her arms cross in a professional manner, eyebrows cocked
in the way all upper crust women conduct their expressions. Infuriating.
“What I want to know-” she begins dramatically, taking a step towards
Nero. The business moguls close in on him, a lion and lioness locking
in their prey. “-is why on earth you thought it was a good idea to get
involved with him. He has no money, no professional standing.
After your last shoot, you can have any girl you want.”
Nero had known since moving in with his aunt and uncle that,
unlike his parents, they had no concept of love nor compassion.
It would be impossible to convey what it’s like to be genuinely
loved by somebody, especially after being unexpectedly orphaned
for so many years. Though, it seems Nero had no understanding
of unconditional love either. It was likely that Mi-Suk offered Sam
no more than ten grand to leave him, and he was gone. Seven months
of flippant kisses, haphazard date nights, lust mistaken for love.
His face relaxes a bit with this realization, cold and still, finally
blending in with the room’s atmosphere. His eyes flicker from the
floor to his aunt. “I did it because you didn’t want me to.” A little
grin tugs at his lips. “And this won’t be the last time I make your
lives a living PR hell.”
With that, the lover scorned turns on his heel and leaves the same way he came.
—
The last time Leo was this caught off guard was when he won
homecoming king.
Wordlessly he takes Nero’s hand on instinct (he’d never refuse a dance).
It takes a moment to register reality; Nero Mun is here, he’s gorgeous,
he’s about to dance at a big fancy gala in front of a hundred people.
It dawns on Leo that despite all of Nero’s dominant charm, he was
considerably taller than his dark and handsome counterpart, so Leo
acts on that presumptuous gender role and delicately places his hand
on Nero’s waist. His heart skips when the latter slips his fingers into Leo’s.
His voice becomes uncharacteristically hitched in his throat; Leo is
rarely speechless, but before he knows it he’s waltzing in the middle
of the ballroom with his childhood best friend, blending in with the
labyrinth of wealth surrounding them. Thankfully, Nero breaks the silence.
“How have you been?”
Leo lets out an involuntary laugh at the simplicity of the question.
“I was about to ask you the same thing.” Just when he thought he couldn’t
tear his gaze away from Nero’s dark eyes, Leo notices something
glinting off his dance partner’s ear. “Did you get your ears pierced?”
And, instantly, Leo represses a grimace. It’s not like him to be so
awkward around people, even those he doesn’t know well. His infamous
charm earned him a precarious reputation around his college campus.
Those who didn’t fall for his alluring smile would either be hooked
by his wit or turned off by his ostentatious attitude. This time, however,
all of his learned charisma was failing him.
For a moment Nero stares at him, professional front faltering a bit,
before letting out a light chuckle. “I- uh, yeah, I did. Had to fight my
uncle to let me wear them for this thing. Not very professional by
his standards.”
Fuck. Leo doesn’t really have a type, but if he did…
Thankfully his focus on the waltz prevents him from melting to
the floor. Compared to Nero’s very formal greeting, that laugh
sounded so incredibly genuine, especially this close. Indre often
refers to people as Monets (a timely ode to the classic rom-com
Clueless), in which somebody could look really good from far away
but a big ol’ mess up close. Nero is certainly not a Monet; more of
a Michaelangelo. Flawless skin, high cheekbones, expressive eyes…
“―school?”
“Huh?” is all Leo can stammer in response. Another repressed grimace.
He’s floundering. Send an SOS. “Sorry, I’m a little distracted.”
The confused, slightly puppy-like expression Leo gets in return is pretty
unbearable. “By what?”
“You.” He feels Nero’s shoulder stiffen under his palm. His steps falter,
so Leo slows his footwork to allow Nero to catch up. Desperate to recover
from the heat he feels rushing to his cheeks, Leo glances at the other couples
swirling around them and explains, “I mean, it’s been a while. Small talk is
kinda weird at this point, right?”
Just like that he’s back to being locked into Nero’s eyes, who chuckles again.
“I can’t argue with that.”
Everything about Nero is warm. His hand burns against Leo’s and his cheeks
are visibly flushed, even in the dim lighting. Leo doesn’t get the chance to
question the morality of this attraction before Nero’s rich voice raises over
classical music. “Where did you learn to waltz? You’re leading me perfectly.”
“Oh!” This is the first time Leo has ever used something he learned from
the countless, abysmal musical numbers he’d been casted for. Never would
he have thought he’d be in a situation where waltzing is necessary, but he
also thought he would never see the Muns again. “I’ve had to dance in a
few musicals at school.” A weak laugh escapes his lips at the realization of
how downright dorky that sounds. Still, there aren’t many realistic lies he
could come up with as to why a middle-class college student knows how
to waltz.
If Not-So-Tall Dark and Handsome thinks it’s dorky, he doesn’t show it.
Instead a soft smile spreads across his face, body still swaying perfectly
in tune. “You must have been good, then. Shame I missed them.”
The music swells and oh God he’s so close. Nero’s breath fans Leo’s
neck, and for a moment everything feels like a movie; dark red carpet,
golden flickering candlelight, ornate column detailing, and of course
Prince Charming in his arms all melts down to a Hollywood fever dream.
Nero’s footwork picks up, Leo adjusting accordingly. His attitude shifts
from awkward almost-stranger to confident playboy. “I won’t lie, I was
a pretty amazing drag queen in Rent.” Because all playboys brag about
their musical roles.
A brief period of cringey silence and furrowed brows passes before
Nero smiles apologetically. “Sorry, never seen it.” Somehow his face
is closer to Leo’s than before, lips just inches away from each other.
Nero’s were curved upwards. “I’d love to see you perform, though.”
In a second Leo turns his head so the kiss lands on his cheek, which
were ablaze with a slew of conflicting emotions. Daringly his eyes
land on Nero’s again, which were also ablaze with embarrassment.
And hellfire.
Nero frowns. A frown that puckers his lower lip and creases the lines
in his forehead, bringing his eyebrows down so they shade those
eyes shooting daggers. As Nero’s cheek flexes irritably, Leo realizes
he really fucked up, and the frown is more of a glare.
“Nero, I don’t―” Leo hesitates, knots forming in his stomach.
“I don’t know about―”
“It’s fine,” his dance partner cuts him off and disentangles himself
from Leo’s arms, expression unreadable. “I’ll see you around.”
Just as quickly as he showed up Nero walks away in the middle
of the dance, and now it’s Leo’s turn to be frustrated. Who did he
think he was, anyway? Asking Leo to dance in front of all these
people without speaking to him for a decade was ridiculous.
This whole gala is ridiculous. And now Leo finds that Nero is
doing what he’s best at; disappearing. He can’t help but wonder
aloud, “What the fuck?”
