Chapter Text
Let go of me, hyung.
You fail to understand. We finally have a chance to leave this hellhole; you must come with me. Now.
But I can’t just abandon these people.
The people who treated you so terribly?
Then, how, how about Jihye-noona? Or— or Hyunsung-hyung? They’ll be left behind, and—
And they will survive on their own. They’re strong.
Against an entire army? Hyung, you’re out of your mind if you think I would just leave them to die. And you know they will, if I don’t stay and do something.
It’s not up to you. This was never your problem to solve.
Well, the target on your head isn’t my problem, either! If you had just stayed quiet, this additional drama with the court wouldn’t even be an issue at all—
Choose.
...Where has your fairness gone? I have the power to save them, and you’re telling me to run away? To hide? I—
Choose.
I...
...
I can’t choose you, hyung.
Kim Dokja woke up to a bright room with a hot blur clouding his vision, mouth parted open like he was still saying those damning words.
“Hyung...” he mumbled tearfully.
The young king stayed in bed a while longer, mourning quietly. He sat up once he gathered himself, but as soon as he did, he noticed his change of clothing, different from when he went to bed the evening prior.
Holding onto the lapel of his robe, with a sharp intake of breath, he realized that it was his older brother’s most cherished bedrobe. (He would often say he didn’t have a favorite, but Kim Dokja’s keen eye took note of what he wore the most often.) It was black with many gilded designs, a sharp contrast to much of Kim Dokja’s clothing which was light in color.
He didn’t realize that it was kept all these years.
Kim Dokja felt all his tears dry up, heart warming, aching and melting all at once. The fabric hugged him tightly, wrapped around him with care.
Hazily, the first dream that he had the night before wafted through his mind like smoke, or fog. There was a featherlight touch; a low, familiar voice. It felt like an illusion of his mind, but...
Kim Dokja tackled the day with a faint smile on his face, engaging in all the festivities with more energy than what was expected of him. His trusted aides commented on this, to which Kim Dokja only responded with a laugh and a wave of his hand. The food somehow tasted better, the sun shone brighter. When Kim Dokja looked through the crowd of the ballroom, he swore he could feel the weight of a secret, but welcome, gaze.
At the end of the night, he made a toast. As was customary, he thanked the guests for coming, and for celebrating his birthday with him. And he also acknowledged his friends, his relatives close and far, and...
“—And my older brother. Who I miss dearly.”
Thank you for the birthday gift, hyung.