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parksvn · 5 years ago

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my soul chose yours (and a soul just doesn't forget that)

guard!Jinyoung x assassin!reader x king!Jaebum

wc: 3.6k+

you’re about to get the upper hand on a mission when things go horribly wrong. Jinyoung is there to pick up the pieces, but Jaebum always gets to be the hero that swoops in to save the day.

a/n: this could become a series, but idk. if it does become a series, the next parts may end up being shorter depending on how the storyline progresses.

The ground is cold and hard, pebbles press against your cheek and your skin burns as blood hisses against the concrete beneath your body.

You’d laugh but your core felt like a searing knife had been left in it, pulsating forceful energy through your blood, curdling every area into sap. The pain was excruciating and sent angry sparks down your spine.

Since your face was contorted in a wicked display of agony, you settled on a smirk and tried to roll away from the boot you knew was coming for your back.

You weren’t fast enough, of course, but it was worth a shot.

Your body swung to the other side and a groan escaped your lips as you huddled into a fetal position, attempting to protect your broken body from the next attack. It wouldn’t matter, you knew that much, but trying was better than just accepting death.

“I’ve asked you once and I’ll ask you again,” your assailant spat, words colliding harshly with your sore ears. “Where is his vault? Who’s assassins were sent after me?”

You scoffed. As if you would ever indulge him in such royal secrets. You were directly connected to the king, his weapon and blade, his bullet whenever he decided to pull the trigger, but to this man, you were just an advisor. Just as to everyone else concerned with your “dealings with the court.”

You knew he was following you for a while before he made his move, crashing his car into yours and dragging you into a conveniently waiting van before dumping you on the side of the road. Of course, he wanted to know all of the king’s secrets; this man was the king’s prime target. He’s stolen more than his fair share of gold and jewels from everyday citizens.

His death was already coming. As of right now, he’s just running from destiny.

And who’s to say that destiny wasn’t already staring him in the face, in the form of your oh so frail and weak body laying so helplessly on the ground.

Please.

“Oh, Marcus,” You grinned, teeth gleaming like fangs against the moonlight, face bloody and dirty like a warrior emerging victorious from battle. “You already know.”

His ferocity dialed down a moment as he registered the calm now taking over your features, how the pain originally displayed suddenly vanished into vapor, how your performance changed like shadows of the moon.

Then he jumped feet away from you, scrambling to rectify his mistake.

You’d be gracious, as gracious as you could muster at the moment with a split lip, bruised jaw, three broken ribs, a slash across the back, and a knife in the thigh. It’d take a saint to forgive all of that and you weren’t necessarily the saint type, but exceptions can be made.

If the king still wanted him alive then you would leave him still breathing at least. No promises on his continued condition of life.

You slipped a dagger from your shoe, your torso sore in the process. As the flat of the blade pressed against your palm, hidden from his frightened eyes, you laid on the ground and waited, waited for him to start the babble in which he would try to bargain for his life.

It started with a few pleases, a few apologies, him saying how much his life was worth in gold or jewelry or cars or houses, how he’ll become a changed man, on how he would return everything and never steal again.

At this point, you sighed, not necessarily from his boring speech—you’d tuned that out minutes ago—but from the exertion you knew was coming. Getting off the ground was going to be…painful. Blood still seeped out of that knife wound in your thigh and if you took it out the bleeding would become a waterfall.

And besides the very obvious piece of metal shooting out of your black pants, your face began to throb and taking breaths began to hurt more than it did a few minutes ago. The adrenaline was beginning to fade along with the endorphins that took the edge off the pain.

Getting to Marcus, hurting him, even fighting him, was going to cause a lot of discomfort. It was going to suck and that’s why, as much as you had no problem maiming him, you were reluctant to get off the ground.

You put your fist, knuckle down, onto the ground, keeping the hand with the blade positioned behind you. On your good knee, you braced your weight, struggling to stand while keeping your injured leg as straight as possible to avoid more tears.

Wetness bloomed near your eyes but you fought it, holding onto the spikes of stabbing suffering shooting through your body. It was a rock to hold on to and a great motivator as you made it to your feet, making sure your mouth stayed clamped shut.

No whimpers, no pain, no fear.

Marcus backed up, taking more steps until he was fully pressed against his car. The van that had originally dumped you there was long gone.

It was just you and him now.

You let the dagger fly, hitting him in the exact same spot that your own injury occurred. He cried out as he hit the ground, his hands shaking around where the dagger stuck out from his leg. “If you think that’s bad,” you pulled another knife from the back of your pants, “you should see what a broken rib feels like.”

He whimpered against the car, “please, please.” In all honesty, the second blade was just for show. You weren’t going to do anything with it and you had already lost interest in beating him senseless as you were getting off the ground. Anything you really wanted to do required too much movement for the injuries you sustained. Keeping your voice steady through the pain was already a challenge.

You gritted your teeth as you hobbled closer, your stomach pulsating pain and your leg felt like fire and stone, hot and heavy.

You stopped a few steps in front of him and looked down. “You will be found. No one will come to save you because everyone who could is already gone. Run all you want, hide all you want, but the crown already knows every move you will ever make, and, just when you think you’ve found freedom, you will be thrown in a cage.”

He cowered away from you, tilting his head downward, tears slipping down his cheeks. Marcus was weak. You always knew that even when you tailed him.

You threw the dagger into his car door, so hard it stuck into the metal, so near his head that it almost took off some of his hair. He cried out.

You didn’t wait to see what he might say. You simply turned around and hobbled away as best you could, walking down the highway until you could find a car that could take you far away from here and as close to the palace as you could get.

Your breaths were beginning to become harsh, angry spits of air and pain that could be heard within a few feet. They weren’t quiet; people would begin to understand how hard you were fighting for your life.

It became pretty obvious that if you didn’t find a doctor or somebody soon, you would collapse into nothing, a heap on the ground withering in pain and waiting for the crows to circle in.

Your teeth ground together as your determination kicked in.

You wouldn’t die out here.

In hindsight, you could have taken the man’s car, but you wanted him to be terrified of freedom, to feel like as much as he felt in control, he was just as much out of it.

You wanted the feeling to linger. Pain is only a motivator till it fades away, but fear follows everyone everywhere. There’s no safety in fear.

You started to move, willing your leg forward, just a little bit further and further and further until you would find someone who’d be willing to help you. Then it would all be over. Then you could rest.

Then you could finally feel—

You only heard an echo of a shot before you felt it rip through your stomach.

You paused.

Then, you collapsed onto the ground.

Your stomach started burning, a little fire crawling through your abdomen, beginning to radiate outwards. You didn’t have to put your hands near your stomach to know that there would be blood, that it would slowly seep through your clothing and onto the ground before you died.

Your cheek felt cold again, just as it did when you were beaten to the ground earlier.

How fitting.

How simply fitting that this would be how it all ended, exactly like it began.

You weren’t sorry, remorseful, or bitter. You did things your way, you’d lived the life that you wanted to live. You wouldn’t change a thing.

You lay there, gasping a little when the blood seeped through your lungs and into your windpipe, as you tasted iron on your tongue while you bit your cheek to stop from screaming. Someone would find the shooter eventually, but you wouldn’t be there to see it.

Shame.

You laughed as your vision began to blur and as the world slowly slipped away.

…

Jinyoung found you after about two minutes.

To say that he froze would be an understatement. He was in complete shock. It took him about another thirty seconds to get out of the car and run to you, the medical response team was already underway, flipping you over, trying to get a look at the injuries and damage.

He was still stuck.

You didn’t look right. Everything about this was wrong. He’d just seen you, a couple of hours ago, chatting up the ambassador of France, looking glowing, radiant even.

In fact, Jinyoung was having trouble keeping his eyes off of you all night. Then again, that wasn’t out of the ordinary.

But to see you broken, unresponsive, bloody beyond all measure, that terrified him. His heart started beating again once he began to move and he only remembered to breathe after his throat began to burn.

But the burning intensified as he fought to keep everything at bay.

You knew this was going to happen, you’d phoned him telling him to start tracking your device, a small ring on your pinky finger, but he hadn’t realized that you were in this much trouble.

You’d never been this hurt, not in a million years. And as Jinyoung raced over to you, his anger began to rise along with an instinctive urge to never let you out of his sight again.

He dropped to his knees near your head, gently reaching out to cradle your neck in his hands, your hair fanning out over his thighs as he propped you up against him. He saw the swelling, the cuts, the scrapes on your cheek and then spared a glance to your body and saw silver emerging out of your clothes.

His anger rose, but also fear. He knew these injuries were serious and when he saw the vermillion color of blood staining your white shirt and dark-colored blazer, he wanted to cradle you closer, press his nose against your skin and transfer his energy to you.

He would accept losing you. Never.

“How bad?” He gritted through his teeth, trying to keep everything steady, everything locked in place.

The nurse looked down, still trying to find the bullet with gloves and her tool. “Very bad.” She kept her tone neutral but he could see how hard she was fighting against her emotions too. You were always good to everyone you met and it made sense to see her upset. It made Jinyoung’s emotions magnify.

He swallowed the ball in his throat down, brushing the hair out of your face, taking a moment to be selfish with you. It was the only moment he allowed himself, before focusing back on the team.

He took a sharp breath. They needed to move you, get you somewhere safe where real medical treatment could happen.

“I know what you want to ask, and the answer is shortly. We need to stop the bleeding and start a transfusion.” The nurse breathed out, the bullet caught between the metal of her tools. She turned and dropped it into a tray, exchanging the forceps for gauze. “Here.”

Jinyoung took the end of the gauze as she pulled and began to wrap it around your torso. “Mr. Park, would you lift, please?” She turned to her colleagues. “Moving.”

He grasped your shoulders, moving his palms to your back as pulled you upward, being as gentle as possible. Your face stopped near his chest, your nose pressed against his neck.

He tried his best to ignore his desire to pull you even closer.

The nurse began to wrap the gauze all around, pulling it taunt. You stirred, a moan escaping your mouth as your features contorted in discomfort. Jinyoung held you slightly tighter as he put a hand to your cheek. “(name)?”

You didn’t respond.

“(name)? We’re getting you somewhere safe. Just hold on, okay?” He only noticed how soft and pleading his voice was when the nurse turned to look at him with something like sympathy and understanding in her eyes.

She looked away and nodded. “We’re ready to move, Mr. Park.”

He nodded numbly as his hands held onto your shoulders. “Ready.”

The nurse began the count down and they picked you up, carrying you back to the car.

He dimly remembers volunteering to sit with you in the back, too distracted with his fear of you slipping away before he gets to tell you everything. Your face is tilted up the sky and Jinyoung has his arm wrapped around your body, a hand stroking your hair as your head rests across his lap.

“Hold on,” He whispers. “Hold on.”

…

Jaebum shoved every bit of paper he could find off of his desk.

He was distraught. Fire coursed through his veins at the thought of someone hurting you, someone getting that close to killing you, and he couldn’t be there.

He couldn’t get to you, couldn’t protect you, couldn’t get anywhere close to saving you because of his damn meeting. And now you were barely holding onto life, being driven to the palace to be placed under intensive care.

He felt like a failure. He’d failed you.

All because of his duty to the throne.

He crumpled to the floor, holding his head in his hands.

Indeed, heavy is the head that wears the crown.

…

“My king.” The servant bowed to Jaebum as he strode through the doors of the medical center, searching for you, needed to see you still breathing to calm himself down again. He’d tried to keep his pace steady but he didn’t care. It was you. It was you. “How may I be of service?”

“Where is Ambassador (last name)?” His eyes burned bright and he did his best to keep his emotions in check, a bit of irritation jumping out of his control.

The servant looked it up. “Room A5, I’ll escort you.”

Jaebum could only nod. He knew the escort wouldn’t be fast enough, but he agreed. It was better to appear as though everything was fine rather than alter the whole palace that something was amiss.

He tried to keep his breathing under control, his steps and gait contained to his normal stride. It was difficult and he fought every urge to sprint. Crescent-shaped imprints would linger on his palms.

“Here we are, your majesty.” He bowed before motioning him inside.

It was chaos, absolute chaos. A flurry of bodies moved around and people were barking orders at each other. It took Jaebum several minutes before he found you and his knees nearly gave out at the sight of you.

You were attached to an oxygen tank, an IV, and a machine for blood transfer. Your face was maimed with cuts, swelling, injuries, and your clothes, your clothes. All of the blood.

Jaebum almost ran over to you. Almost.

The only reason he didn’t was that there were too many witnesses, too many opportunities for gossip and rumors. He didn’t want that. Not for you, not right now.

He spotted his captain in the corner, eyes dead-looking, completely glazed over. Jaebum made his way over to his corner.

“Where?” He growled and Jinyoung took a moment to look up at his king before answering.

“Somewhere ten minutes from the mountains, along a twisted highway.” His voice sounded dead and his eyes were red. Jaebum studied him for a moment longer before watching you and your heartbeat. The rise and fall of your chest calming him down moment by moment.

“Thank you.” Jaebum worked out without a hint of anger or sadness, just relief.

Jinyoung’s eyes slid to his, alive with emotion for the first time since he walked into the room. His eyebrows scrunched with confusion.

“For being there when I couldn’t.” Jinyoung’s gaze softened for a second before locking up, walls coming down.

He could only nod before dissociating again.

Jaebum sat there, standing by his friend, watching you fight for your life.

A mantra, simple but heavy weighed on his mind, itching to shoot out to you.

Stay. Stay. Stay.

…

Your whole body hurt. The only that was safe to move without the desire to scream in pain was your neck as you assessed the state of your body.

It was quiet and the lights were dimmed. You took a breath, wincing. Those bruised ribs and bullet wound would make the next few weeks difficult, but you’d live to fight another day.

You paused for a moment. How’d they find me? You thought back to the moment you’d fallen, trying to stretch into the future, waiting to find a few moments after. But there was nothing but black.

Sitting up was not an option in your condition, so you angled your neck to the side, opting to see something new, but someone was there.

You looked down, his face was pressed against your bed, his arms folded underneath his cheek.

You coughed lightly, hoping to gently stir them out of their sleep. When their eyes popped to yours, you knew immediately who it was.

You froze for a moment. “Your majesty.” You breathed.

“(name).” His eyes were just as wide as yours as he came out of his own slumber. “You’re awake. You’re okay.”

“Yeah.” You looked away from his direct stare, a jolt of heat jumping down your spine. “It takes a bit more than that to kill me.” You said it like you hadn’t considered your own death however long it was ago.

He looked sad. You were confused. Why was he even here in the first place. Did he have other duties to attend to than be here with you?

“I’m sorry.” He reached for your hand and held it within his own. Your breathing slowed down. “I failed you.”

“What do you mean?” You looked to find him hanging his head in sorrow, like a wounded puppy.

“I should have never have sent you there.” His eyes were on fire, rooting you into place, stopping your breathing so as not to stir the embers even more. “I never should have let you go by yourself.”

“We didn’t know. It’s okay.” You willed the fire to go away, hoping that your soothing tone would calm him down. “If I’d have known there were other operatives, I would have suggested another method. We made a mistake. It’s alright.”

He was quiet for several seconds. “You almost died. I almost lost you.” He brought your hand to his forehead. “I almost lost everything.”

Your free hand reached out to stroke his hair, your abdomen screaming at you. “I’m still here.”

Your heard his sniffles and your heart grew, a soft warmth moved through your chest. “Come here.” He looked to you with his bloodshot eyes and began moving, slipping off his boots, and slowly arranging himself on the bed next to you, placing his head atop yours, pulling you into him.

“Never again.” His voice was low and steady like he was speaking a vow that could never be broken.

You smirk, resting his chest against his beating heart, calming yourself down as you drifted off to sleep.

…

Jinyoung felt like he was stabbed through his chest.

He saw you two together. The king and his dagger. How perfect you fit together, how protectively he held you.

Maybe you liked the power, maybe there was a bond you two shared, but Jinyoung couldn’t help but believe that should have been him. It should have been you and him.

You both knew what it was like to be fashioned by steel, a weapon at someone else’s disposal. You’d confided in each other, trusted each other.

But you chose him and Jaebum knew it too. That’s why he hovered, always watching, always making sure you never got too close to him.

Always in the way.

His heart shattered, even more, when he saw the look of bliss as your face was buried into Jaebum’s chest, right near his neck, right where you were propped against him not six hours ago.

If only he’d waited in your room longer, if only he hadn’t traded with the king. Maybe, just maybe….

Jinyoung turned around and stalked away, too tired to pour over what-ifs, too tired to really care. If you wanted to fall for the king, who was he to stop you?

He just wouldn’t watch you fall in love with someone that wasn’t him.

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parksvn · 5 years ago

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can’t you see me?

prince!jinyoung x apothecary!reader

wc: 3.4k+

Jinyoung showed up bloody on your door with his defenses completely down and half delirious. You knew that your feelings for him were entirely ridiculous, but then again the way he was acting made you question just how unrequited they were.

Jinyoung?

Here he is, standing on your doorstep in the pouring rain. His wet t-shirt clings to his body, pulling against the hard skin and muscle, and his chest heaves with effort. If you didn’t know any better, you’d say that he came all this way to declare his affections, to spill his heart on your doorstep.

But, of course, you knew better.

Just as those fairytale thoughts entered your mind, your eyes saw crimson, a trail of it, starting at his left abdomen and oozing down his pant leg. Every time. Every time he’s here because he won’t face the truth.

Every time you’re the fallback.

You’re tired of it.

Beads of rain dripped from his wet hair onto his pale face. Dark eyes stare back at you, guarded and magnetic. His unabashed glare sends your heart into a wild chase, but you reign it in, matching his stand-off nature with your own.

You’ve fallen into those eyes once.

Once. And once was more than enough.

“What?” Your lace your words with ice, hoping the impact will get him off your doorstep, hoping he’ll turn around and walk away. He doesn’t have to make this harder or more complicated than it already was.

He moves towards you, zoning in on your doorframe, ready to crowd you into a corner.

You want to cower. You want to roll into a tiny ball until he goes away and you don’t have to think about him or anything else that he drags along with him. You don’t belong in his world. You’re happy where you are.

Right?

Your neck curls into your chest for half-a-second, then you remember who you are. You pull your spine into a straight line and stare him down, glowering, hoping it’ll be enough to make him stop.

He pauses.

He takes another step and another, his feet drag against your porch and his body begins turning to mush. You see the weakness, the exhaustion underneath his eyes, in his shaky hands, in the way he moves so unrestrainedly.

It’s like he’s been inhabited by a ghost. The only thing that truly reminds you that he exists comes from the dark focus in his eyes. Like he’s a hunter. Like he’s found his perfect target and is calculating the best way to end its life.

But then he collapses, right into you, right onto your shoulder. His hands are disorganized as they search your clothing for something to cling onto, something to make his disintegration less painful. They find their place, grasping onto the fabric of the back of your shirt, squeezing you into him, until you can feel his warm breath skimming against your neck.

His wet hair leaves trails of water near your ear as the dampness of his clothes transfers to yours.

You pretend to care about how soaked you are now, you pretend to be absolutely disgusted and horrified, but you both know it’s just an act. You were never very good at acting.

Jinyoung was always amazing at it. He had to be. He was a prince after all.

You feel his heat and warmth through your shirt and feel a jolt through your spine. You haven’t responded, haven’t placed your hands on his torso at all. You’re waiting. You’re waiting until he asks for what he needs.

Until then, you owe him absolutely nothing, no matter what he’s doing to you now.

“Nowhere else to go.” He mumbles against your shoulder, his lips brushing your exposed skin. “Need help.” He buries into you further and the extra weight on your shoulders tells you that his legs are about to give out. His voice softens and he wraps his arms around your waist, drawing you deeper into a cage you’re only pretending you don’t want to be in. “Please.”

…

Please. Please. Really it’s a simple word. It shouldn’t be as effective as it is, but you know that for Jinyoung to say the phrase, the situation must be dire.

And that’s how you dragged him into your house and bandaged him up. The wound, likely from a knife fight in the street, tipped you off about a few things. One, he hadn’t learned from his mistake at the club last night, and two, that he wanted to die.

You’d warned him the minute that he stepped out of line, the minute that he didn’t follow orders, no matter how handsy they might have been with you, that they were going to hunt him down and kill him, prince or not. You knew the game, you knew that prying for information was going to be hard, that getting the men to talk was going to be difficult.

He wasn’t ready.

And you shouldn’t have taken him there.

Going up against thieves, people who could get around the trade embargoes and find the herbs you needed, was something you’ve done frequently. It’s not uncommon that you’re patching someone who conveniently “got in an accident.” You’re the town’s main healer, an unbiased helper of the people. But this time you surprisingly underestimated Jinyoung’s pride and overestimated his diligence to get the job done.

When he pushed the leader away from you, you knew the jig was up and so did he. You barely escaped with your lives and told him not to show up on your doorstep again or he would die. And here he was, good old Prince Jinyoung here to mess up everything and make it into a suicide mission while he was at it.

You fully intended to set him down on your couch in front of the fire for a little while, let him warm up while you got the supplies ready. But he refused to let you go, clinging onto you and dragging you down to the couch with him.

He laid on top of you for a little bit, too weak to even move and sucking up your body heat. His lips were never more than a few inches from your neck even with your best efforts to move away from him. You smoothed his hair from his face and searched for bleeding while the rainwater mixed with your skin.

Nothing so far, but he’s not out of the woods yet.

You let him sleep for about thirty minutes, cradling his head and drawing small circles against his back as you laid on your couch, soothing him to sleep, then you woke him up, roughly. Probably rougher than you needed to.

If he didn’t take a hot shower soon, he was going to be too sick to do anything. His fingers dug into your sides as you slipped out of his reach, moaning in annoyance, but you were stronger than his feeble attempts to keep you rooted in place. You turned and hauled him off the couch, slinging an arm over your shoulder. His cry in pain jolted him out of his stupor and you both limped down to your bathroom.

White tile with black ornamentation greeted you as you set him down on the edge of the tub, getting the hot water ready. You felt his probing gaze and spared a glance in his direction. His fingers were only inches away from your face.

You slapped them away. “Come on, Jinyoung. You don’t have to pretend that you care.” His eyes looked...hurt. He appeared genuinely offended. It was one of the first times that you saw him this upset that you wouldn’t just fall into him like you used to. Your worlds were different and they needed to stay that way. “Take off your clothes.”

His dark eyes flashed with surprise. You rolled your eyes and shook your hands, flinging water droplets back to their source. “You have to get in the bath or you’ll freeze.” You turned your back and walked into the hall, needing space from him and his emotional openness. “I’ll find you something to wear.”

When you came back, you heard the water sloshing around and creaked the door open, setting his change of clothes on the counter. “(name)?” His voice sounded small and it almost hurt to hear your stone tone against the soft way he called for you.

“What do you need?”

“Can you...just…?” He cleared his throat and went silent for a moment.

“Jinyoung, spit it out.”

“Can you stay by the door?” You sighed and closed your eyes. Really? This big baby who used to bully you all the time for the smallest things is asking you to sit by the door? What is he, five?

“What—?” You turned your head around. “No. I have to get food ready for you because if you don’t eat, you’re going to pass out.” He must have heard your boots recede because you hear his forceful effort in calling you back.

“(name)?” His voice is deeper, much more serious and you pause for just a second. “Just come back. Sit with me.”

Now you could walk in there and pay this huge crybaby any mind or you could go back to the kitchen and make his food so he could leave faster. That would be the smarter option, the safer play, but you were having a hard time making the move.

“Why? Give me one good reason I should give you the time of day after ruining my one connection to rare ingredients for the medicine that could probably save a lot of people.” You cross your arms and wait.

You hear silence. “Okay,” you mutter under your breath and turn away, walking to the living room.

“I don’t. I can’t give you a good reason. I’ve been awful to you and I know I messed up. I don’t have enough reasons to convince you to justify being here and taking care of me. I don’t have really anything to say to justify my own. I just know I don’t want to do this alone.”

You walked straight into that bathroom and plopped down beside him, hand out, waiting for his own, and grasped it tightly. He held onto your hand so tightly that you were sure he was cutting off your circulation, but you were fine with it. His touch communicated what words couldn’t say.

…

After he got changed and joined you in the kitchen while you were making him soup, he was surprisingly silent. Normally he’d be chewing you out for going to such dangerous places, hanging out with such secretive people, committing such illegal activities, but no words of judgment echoed off the walls.

When you turned around, he was much closer than you originally thought. You took him in, examining his hair, the redness of warmth in his cheeks, his softened eyes, his broad shoulders. He’ll live.

You walked over to him, pulled his shirt up, and examined the bandage. It was tight enough not to slide but not to the point where he would feel suffocated. Your fingers skimmed over the white fabric while his stare subconsciously warmed the back of your neck. He responded to your touch, tensing slightly when your fingers applied a small amount of pressure, before relaxing, giving you permission to continue. When you were satisfied, you slid his navy tee back down.

He was leaning into you and as you stepped away you noticed the way he swung back. You almost smirked and got a sample of the soup, walked back over to him, and held it up to his lips.

His eyebrows shot up, but when he saw the tilt of your head and your open eyes prodding him along, he opened his mouth as you gently lifted the spoon. He stared at you the whole time. You watched as the flavors hit his tongue, his eyes shifting in wonder and amazement.

Is it good? your eyes asked.

He nodded and smiled. You turned to get a bowl when Jinyoung beat you to it, reaching above you to grab two. When you fully turned around, he had his hands on either side of you, his eyes boring into you.

He inched closer and you felt yourself take a breath instinctively. His gaze slipped down to your lips before looking back at you. “I still affect you.” He breathed out inching closer. A flame started in your stomach, but you ignored it.

Swallowing, you scoffed. “Duh.” You looked away from him and tried to breathe normally. Of course, he still affected you. You were affected by him the moment you met him. Time would only dull the intensity in the proximity. However, time would never erase his control over you this close.

He brought a hand to your cheek and drew your eyes back to his. He moved quickly, your noses touching, breathing in the same air. You froze.

Is this really happening? And you’re about to let it?

He seemed conflicted for a moment, his eyebrows furrowed, and his mouth contorted into a focused line. You nearly pulled away right there, but, as if he sensed your hesitation, he closed the gap.

He kissed you hard in the beginning, pressing you into the counter behind you. Your fingers clenched the hard surface. It was taking everything in you not to touch him. You didn’t want him to win, but you were losing. You felt your hands start to loosen.

No.

His lips started moving, roaming over yours as he slid his hand to cup your neck, the other placed on your waist, drawing you closer, allowing him easier access. Your heart started speeding.

No.

When his lips left yours to place warm kisses down your jaw, you jumped away from him, placing at least six feet between you and him. Your lips felt puffy already and you knew they were red. But that had nothing on the shock in his eyes or the dark way his eyes traced your figure as you started moving away from him, shaking your head furiously.

“I’m not doing this. I’m not becoming another pawn for you to push around.” You watched as he tried to get closer to you and failed. Your voice started cracking as tears welled in your eyes, your emotions coming to the surface. “I’m tired of always being there for you just for you to abandon me when you find something better. I’m tired of you always scolding me for doing what I want with me. I’m tired of being second place.” His eyes changed, hardening to volcanic rock, and you knew then that you’d won, that you were finally speaking a language he understood.

“I’m going to live my life the way I want to, without you, and without anyone who sees me as the backup plan. I can’t be the person you always come to when things get hard, when no one is there to put you back together again. I refuse. No more, Jinyoung. No more.”

“Why—How could you think that you were somehow second place?” He walks closer to you but you back up till you hit the wall. “(name), why do you think I’m here all the time? Why do you think I always hover? Why do you think I nag all the time?”

“Because you’re awful.” You wipe the tears and slide away from him. “Stop crowding me.” The words are more forceful than you intended, but he seems to get the hint.

He pauses in his pursuit but the pleading look in his eyes doesn’t go away. “Why? Because I didn’t think that you were valuable? Because I hated you?”

“You have a girlfriend.”

“Had.” Your eyes widen at this. “And we were betrothed. I didn’t want that. I wanted it to be my choice.” He backs up, sitting on the edge of the couch as he retraces his memories, making the connections clear to you. “I thought that I would be able to hide it, that if I just stayed away I could ignore it. But even Haru saw through it too. She saw it when I came over all the time, when I couldn’t just leave you alone, when I would stay up all night worrying about you.” He treaded through the room now, moving close enough to touch you, but instead of reaching out, he kept his hands fully at his sides. “Do you really think that I ignored you for weeks because I used you?”

“I don’t get it. You just disappeared. What was I supposed to think?” Why did you leave?

He bit his lip and turned away. ”I was trying not to get you hurt. They obviously figured out who I was and the best way to keep you safe was getting away.” His gaze was unsure now, less focused, and determined than it was before. You saw a hand weave up to his neck, scratching absentmindedly at it. “I’m sorry for going so quickly. I should have said something.”

You nodded and returned to the soup, crossing back into the kitchen and ladling the soup into two bowls. Your heart raced for a second, remembering the events of a second ago before you dropped spoons into each bowl. Taking a breath, you closed your eyes.

He was probably telling the truth. For everything that Jinyoung wasn’t, he was good to the people. People knew him as firm but fair, caring, and generous when he could be. You saw his potential to act kind in certain situations, but you also saw the dark, lying person he could be.

You were conflicted. He appeared open and kind, sincere in his words and his intentions with you, but in the back of your mind, you still saw the concealed shadow that lingered there.

“Eat.” You said as you laid a bowl down in front of him. He froze for a moment, watching you with confusion, before deciding it was safe to sit and drink the soup.

You returned to your stance near the counter, drinking the hot meal standing. The soup had a special combination of herbs to promote healing and skin reproduction. He would be fine in no time.

But the bigger question remained: What in the world was he doing around your neighborhood? Your house, made of wood and logs, stood somewhere off the beaten path, the closet tavern was about 2 miles east, in town. Your home was tucked among the forest, sheltered by foliage and wood.

There was no reason for him to trek all the way out here when town remained so much closer.

He sipped his soup politely, before watching your face morph. Your eyes narrowed and your brow furrowed. “What is it?” He stood, placing the bowl down. “What’s wrong?”

“Why are you here?” Your eyes were black as night, guarded, warning.

“What do you mean?” His head turned to the side as if he was asked a question in school and didn’t know the answer.

“Jinyoung, the closest town is nearly an hour’s carriage ride from here.” You set your bowl down. “What are you doing all the way out here? Why would you come all this way? Why would come to a place that you know wants you dead.”

His eyes flashed for a moment before he responded, “you don’t. You’ve seen all of the horrible things I’ve done and you still tolerate me. You still somehow take me in, even when you don’t want to. You have never turned your back on me, not once.”

“That’s not helping your case.” You grumble and he frowns in confusion.

“No, (name). It is because you have never left me behind that’s the point. Despite how much I wanted to leave you alone, to not disturb your peace, I couldn’t. I was always waiting around for your letters, listening for news about you, anxious to hear if your house was caught in the storms. For the better half of my life, I was watching over you, making sure no harm came your way.” He steps closer and you no longer feel anger by his proximity.

You intentionally let him get close because his eyes aren’t lying now.

“I hadn’t heard from you in five days. I know there are men after you in the town because I sent scouts ahead to check.” You have to look up to see him now. “I came here because I was losing my mind at the thought that something happened to you. Prince or not.”

“Oh.” You nodded and looked down, leaning against the counter again.

So he did feel the same way. Or, at least, something like that.

His voice came out in a soft whisper, his breath gently skimming against your face, his nose nearly pressing against yours. “I am entirely incapable of staying away from you.” You blinked. “Can I kiss you now?”

You almost laughed. Always so cheesy.

You closed the gap for him.

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