Chapter Text
“Soon Wooyoung, soon they will see you like the god you are.” If Seojun was an animal he’d be a snake. Coiled tightly around your body as it slithered its way around you, just the sight of it being enough to strike fear inside of you, even if you didn’t mean for it to. But Seojun was venomous, biting only when he felt threatened, attacking before you got the chance. He killed you slowly, taking all the life inside of you until you were nothing more than a shell of who you once were. He’d taken all life away from Wooyoung, leaving just his corpse to rot and mold how he saw fit. “Soon, my love, they will understand.” He was gentle with his touch, talking as if he was tucking Wooyoung into bed instead of the actual dangerous reality.
If Wooyoung could go back in time, he would have never confronted this man.
Instead, he would flee this place. Start over in a new kingdom far from this hell, change his name and live his life how he wanted to. No politics, no deranged lovers, no broken hearts, just him and the open sky. Him and freedom, yet even that seemed wrong. Like something was missing. Of course, he knew the answer to that one.
Yeosang, it would always be Yeosang. Everything came back to him in the end.
In his mind, he wishes he could tell Yeosang everything he knows now. He wishes he could tell him that he remembered. It may have taken him a long time, may have caused them both so much pain, but he remembered. That had to count for something right? He was still here, still alive, still in this body. It had to mean something. He’d made a promise, he intended to keep it.
Always and forever. My world, my love, my stars and moon.
He remembers. He wanted to jump for joy, to shout it from the rooftops and dance a jig, and hug those he’d lost and tell them: I remember. I know you. I love you. He’d meant it, really he did. But it was all a wish. All it would ever be was a wish. Because there was only one reality for him, and it was this:
He was back in the position that started it all. Chained down to a table with tears streaming down his eyes. Head aching from the memories shoving their way into it, cramming themselves in like a slideshow. Once again, he’d been cut like meat on a chopping board, blood flowing from his body, golden like ichor. The exact same scenario. A table, his blood, tears flowing like water from a cloud, and someone claiming they were doing this out of love. Love for him…love he’d never asked for, love he’d never wanted. When would anyone ever ask what he wanted?
He never wanted anyone to worship him. Never wanted anyone to treat him as more than he was. Not as a god, he was barely a man, all he was, all he truly was down to his core, was a boy. Just a boy who barely knew what he was doing in life. A boy who’d forever remain that…a boy. He’d died before he could ever become something more.
*~*~*~*
The plan they’d made had been simple. San and Hongjoong would have been the ones to infiltrate the castle. Seeing as they rarely appeared in front of other Divines they wouldn’t be as easily recognizable to the guards or staff on site. Once inside they’d split off and case the area, take note of the rooms and every item inside. Once finished with their jobs, Hongjoong would call out to Seonghwa, who’d give the signal to Mingi and Yunho. Mingi would come to the castle then and grab Seojun’s attention. The other boys would slip in then, looking around at the rooms that Hongjoong and San hadn’t gotten to. Yeosang’s main objective would be to find Wooyoung. The plan they had was perfect.
But Yeosang couldn’t shake the feeling that something was terribly wrong.
It started off small that morning, like a ringing in the back of his ear. But as the day went on the feeling grew. By the time afternoon had come he became nauseous, his stomach rolling over as he tried to figure out what could have been wrong. He couldn’t explain it to anyone, couldn’t get the words to say what was happening, but it was as if he knew. Wooyoung was hurt. He didn’t know how he knew, but he knew. It had him standing abruptly from the dining table, his chair scraping against the floor and falling as he rushed to the door. He pays no attention to his friends shouting at his back, nor to the way they rushed after him. There was no time. He had to get there, he couldn’t wait any longer. He couldn’t be late again. He wouldn’t be late again. Wooyoung needed him. He needed him and he needed him now.
*~*~*~*
“Seojun!” Yeosang calls out as enters the room. “How are you?” If Yeosang was being honest he was way past the ‘talking’ stage of everything. He didn’t care for Seojun’s smiles and placating nature nor did he care for his petty attempts at lies. He was only here for one person: Wooyoung.
”Lord Kang! I wasn’t expecting you today. I thought we were meant to meet down at the market.” Seojun didn’t answer the question, Yeosang noted. If he wasn’t willing to answer something so small, what else was he going to deflect?
“I decided it’d be easier to come here. I figured we could invite Wooyoung along with us. Is he available?” Yeosang sent a small smile Seojun’s way as he sat down in the seat across from him.
“Ah, he’s actually been a bit under the weather recently. I’m afraid he won’t be able to join us, even if he wanted to.” A dismissive smile sent his way.
“Really? That must be why he hasn't been in the garden lately.”
”The garden?”
“You didn’t know? Wooyoung and I usually talk in the garden once the sun is set and the moon has risen. A sort of,” Yeosang took a pause here, leaning forward and placing his hand on the table as he began to let his ice freeze it over. He had to time this just right, had to rile him up just enough to slip, “end of the day thing for us.” He was lying of course, but if Yeosang had a talent in anything it was lying. He was good at it when he needed to be, good at twisting the truth just enough to get what he needed. And what he needed was for Seojun to slip up, to make a mistake. The easiest way to do that? Talk about Wooyoung and him interacting, especially if it was right under his nose. Seojun hates Yeosang, even if he won’t outright say it, they both knew it.
“I…didn’t know that. I guess he neglected to tell me. What sort of things do you guys even talk about anyway?” Seojun wanted to laugh it off, but he was playing right into Yeosang’s hands. The moment he’d responded the man had begun to attach his shadow puppets onto the older. He had to do it slowly, like reattaching a piece of yourself you hadn’t known you lost. He had to be careful, Seojun couldn’t be granted the chance to escape punishment. Not after what he’d done, what he’s been doing.
“Oh, I just assumed he told you. You seem so close. Perhaps not as close as I thought.” Hook, line, sinker. If Seojun was a fish then Yeosang’s words were bait, and Seojun simply couldn’t resist the temptation. Amidst Seojun’s internal struggle his rage broke out in the end as he moved to strike against Yeosang, but he was already too late. Yeosang had caught him in his trap, and Seojun couldn’t move. Where Seojun was brawn, Yeosang was brains, and in this case strategy beat strength. By the time Seojun had wanted to spring into action, Yeosang had already frozen his hands and feet to the surface he’d planted them on. The only reason Seojun had failed to feel the chilly temperature of the ice that binded him was because he’d been blinded by the anger that heated his core. Seojun’s anger had a way of blocking his perception of his surroundings, of cutting off his senses to focus on the target of his aggression.
His greatest asset in battle had now become the reason for his downfall. His very own Achilles heel.
“Release me from your hold bastard or I’ll have you executed.”
“How can you do that? You’ll die before your guards find you and by then I will have exposed you for the crimes you’ve committed against the kingdom. I think the citizens would have a field day with all of that information.”
“You wouldn’t dare!” Seojun was a lot of things, but scary wasn’t one of them. Not to Yeosang. This was one monster he refused to bow down to. To show weakness to.
“I won’t. If you tell me where Wooyoung is.”
“Yeosang, come on. You can’t be serious about this.” He was dead serious. And it seemed Seojun was still comfortable if he wanted to deflect his questions. Yeosang didn’t like that. So he did the only thing he could think of. Pulled a dagger from the sheath on his thigh and stabbed it into Seojun’s hand, twisting it three times for good measure before pulling it out. Seojun screamed out in agony. Screaming for someone, anyone to help him. Too bad the room was soundproof. If there was one thing Seojun hated, it was unnecessary pain, pain that he could prevent. He walked around the table, standing next to Seojun to continue their conversation.
“Tell me where he is.” Every second spent looking at this stain on Earth’s surface was a second of torture for Yeosang. He hated this man, a hate so strong it seeped through his bones and flowed through his veins. He wanted Seojun dead, and wanted to kill him with his own two hands but he couldn’t. Not yet, not until Seojun spat out Wooyoung’s location. Seojun remained silent, glaring at Yeosang through hooded eyes, forcing Yeosang to let out a hum. He’d probably lost feeling in his hands by now, the cold giving him frostbite. No matter, that’s why he had a whole body readily available for an impromptu makeover. Yeosang raked the dagger over Seojun’s arms and thighs. He carved into the man’s chest as if it were a pumpkin he was preparing for Halloween. No mercy, he repeated in his head like a mantra. He didn’t care for what others would say about him if they saw what he was doing, didn’t care that they’d call him a monster, that they’d avoid him again.
It would all be worth it to get Wooyoung back.
He would endure their stares and their whispers. The names and disgusted looks. The loneliness that came with it all. He’d deal with the prodding. But no longer would he allow Seojun to get away with what he’d done. He had no need to be better than Seojun, and he did not fear being viewed as worse.
“I’ll tell you!” Seojun shouted out after Yeosang had finally finished carving the word killer into Seojun’s left thigh. “I’ll tell you, just stop. Please stop.”
“Go on then. Tell me where he is.”
“He’s in the Room of Blessings. It’s the,” Seojun had to take a pause, trying to force air into his lungs from all the screaming he’d done, “it’s the third room on the second floor of the blue tower.” He was panting, air unable to reach his lungs. “I did what you asked. So let me go.” Yeosang lifted a hand to his chin, as if thinking about his request.
“How about,” he took a pause for dramatic effect, “no.”
“What? You said if I told you then you’d let me go!”
“No, I didn’t. I said if you told me then I wouldn’t tell the kingdom of your crimes. I never said anything about letting you go. You just assumed I would.”
“The people will hate you for this. They will have your head!” Seojun yelled.
“Then so be it. At least I could do this before I go.” Yeosang leaned forward, now being face to face with the madman. “I want you to suffer, Seojun. I want you to look at me and regret every wrong deed you’ve ever committed. I want you to feel a guilt so deep it rattles your very bones and I want it to hurt you. I want it to squeeze your heart so tight that you feel it explode in your chest. Do you know that?” He let his words sink in for a few moments before continuing on. “More than that, I want you dead, and I want to be the one to kill you. Luckily for me, you look like you’ll kick the bucket any second now. Look at me Seojun. The very person you fought so hard to keep away is the same person bringing you to justice.”
“What justice? Aren’t I supposed to stand trial and get judged by the perception of my peers? I’m supposed to be jailed. There is no justice here, only murder.” Yeosang laughed at Seojun’s declaration.
“I don’t really care. After all you’ve done, you think you deserve a trial? No, you don’t get to live any longer. You used up the sympathy card about three lifetimes ago. I want you dead. And I want you to look me in the eyes as I rip out your heart and crush it right in front of you.”
“You forget yourself Yeosang. I am your king!”
“No you’ve forgotten yourself! You don’t rule me. I am the last person you see before you close your eyes for the final time. I am the dark of night, the shadows that creep towards the light. I cut your string and release the tether holding you to this world. I am the one who tells you when the sand in the hourglass has stopped falling. I am Death, and your time here has come to an end.” He wasted no time in shoving a hand through his chest and pulling out the very thing even he had doubted Seojun to have, his heart, and did the very thing he’d told him he’d do. Crushed it in between his fingers, watching as the life faded from Seojun’s eyes with sweet relief. Finally, he could no longer control Wooyoung. Finally, they’d both be free.
They could finally breathe again.
He walked out of the room to utter silence. The guards have long since been disposed of by the six men slipping into the room behind him. The only sound heard in the hall was the sentence he uttered under his that fell on deaf ears. “But it’s not me who should benefit from the satisfaction of killing you.” The end of his sentence was accompanied by the sound of fabric ripping as he pulled down the drapes marked with Seojun’s crest.
*~*~*~*
“Wooyoung…Youngie, baby look at me.” Yeosang has a special way of making his touch feel like you were on cloud nine…or maybe that was just the effect it had on Wooyoung. It was safe and warm and so full of love it hurt, but not in a bad way. This was the type of love that people craved, the type of love that you could feast on for days and never feel full. The love Wooyoung wanted but had always been too afraid to ask for. This was Yeosang, his Yeosang.
His home.
God how he’s missed home, yearned for it. So strongly, so fiercely, so unknowingly. That once he’d finally had it back, here in this moment, it was like breathing for the first time. New enough to scare you, to bring fear into your very bones and rattle you to the core, and yet so familiar that you knew it was safe, knew you meant to do it. Blearily, Wooyoung let his head hang to the side, making blurry eye contact with Yeosang. Yeosang, who was so gentle with him, carding his fingers through his matted hair. “Baby, can you hear me?” Wooyoung couldn’t do much, body too worn out from hours of misuse. “Baby, Youngie.” He didn’t know what it was about the things he said, or maybe it was the way he said it that allowed the panic to set in, to let itself be known. Maybe it was the fact that he finally felt safe enough to let the fear show. But now that it did, now that he couldn’t hide it anymore.
It started off small, barely noticeable to an outsider, but for Wooyoung it was too sudden. All he could feel was the weight of the chains, snaking around his body, pulling him down…down…down. He couldn’t breathe. It felt as if these chains were choking him, limiting the breath he could draw inside his lungs. He was trapped, he was trapped and he hated it. He hated it, hated it, hated it. He needed to get it-
“Off.” it came out as a broken whisper, voice croaking from dehydration and unuse. “Get it off.” He repeated. Finally, he captured Yeosang’s attention. The problem? Wooyoung had stopped breathing normally at this point. His breath came in short breaths, chest heaving up and down at a rapid pace as the chains continued to dig into his skin. “Get it off. Get it off me.” Wooyoung couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t breathe. He was dying. He was dying again and he hadn’t even gotten the chance to tell Yeosang that he loved him, that he remembered him. How was that fair? How was that fair? It wasn’t. It was so unfair to both of them. He’d just gotten his memories back, had already lost so much time, and now this? No, this isn’t how the story ends, he didn’t want it to end like this. “Get it, get it off me. Get it off, off, off.”
He’d begun to shake this way and that, hands vibrating at an inhuman frequency so hard on the table that splinters ripped them open one by one. The longer he spent on this table, the more he asked himself: Why? Why us? Why now? Not fair, not fair, it’s not fair. “Get it off.” He kept repeating it. In his panic induced haze he’d failed to notice the pace in which Yeosang had begun working to take off the very bindings restricting him. Failed to hear the sweet nothings being spoken to him as he was doing so. Failed to hear the: ‘It’s okay, baby. I promise you’ll be okay’ and the ‘Stay still for a moment, it’s gonna get caught’ or the ‘You’re doing so great, my love. Just a moment more it’s almost off’. The chains burned on his skin, rubbing his wrists and ankles raw from how hard he’d thrashed trying to “Get it off. Get it off me! Please, please get it off.”
“I’m trying, my light.” Yeosang keeps his voice soft, trying to have it calm and steady as he works to ice the metal against him, cooling the fire in his wrists and ankles before he breaks the link holding it together. “I need you to keep still a little longer. Can you do that for me baby?”
“Please get it off.” Wooyoung whines, his tears leaving his face a golden mess as he heaves his breaths. “Get it off, take it off.”
“I will. I will. Just trust me, my love.” Wooyoung’s body trembles as he jerks this way and that, sobs ripping from his throat as he chokes on the air he couldn’t get.
“Take it off.” He cries.
“I’m done! I’m done baby, I promise.” Yeosang pulled the frightened boy in his arms, off the table and into his chest on the floor. They sat there for what felt like hours, Wooyoung was shaking like a leaf, skin as pale as freshly fallen snow with tear tracks streaming down his face. He’d spent such a long time panicking about the chains, their weight, the burn, the mere feel of them, that now that Yeosang had finally tugged them all off he was still panicking. Trapped in this illusion now that he didn’t actually feel anything. Why didn’t he feel anything? Oh gods he’s-
“Dead! I’m dead, I’ve died. No, no, no! I can’t die! Not before-“
“Baby what’s wrong? I’m right here you can tell me.”
“I didn’t tell him, I didn’t say it. Oh my gods I didn’t say it. I didn’t say it and now I’m dead. Dead, dead, dead.” He’s dead, how could he be dead? Why is he dead? No, this was wrong. It’s wrong!
“Baby, you’re not dead. I promise you’re not dead.” Yeosang pulled the crying boy closer into his chest, one hand cradling his head close, the other holding tightly onto Wooyoung’s hand.
“I have to tell him, I have to tell Yeosang-“
“Tell me what?”
“That I remember! I remember him, I remember us and I’m sorry! I’m sorry for forgetting, I’m sorry for breaking our promise. I’m sorry for it all.” Through his confession the panic had stopped and exhaustion had set in. His breathing mellowed out and eyes grew dim from sheer pain. He was so tired. So, so tired.
“Wooyoung, my world, my love, my light and shining sun, I’m right here.” Once again he moved his hands to stroke his fingers through Wooyoung’s hair. “I’m here and I’ve got you. Seojun can never hurt you again.” The boy froze at Yeosang’s words.
“Is it…is it really you? How do I know you’re not lying to me? How do I know this is real?” He began to panic.
“Ask me anything and I’ll have the answer.” Yeosang placated.
“What’s something I hate that I’ve never told anyone?”
“You hate kissing when you’re drunk. You don’t like the feel of alcohol buzzing in your veins and having someone’s lips on yours. You said you don’t feel like you’re in control of your body, like you can’t actually give a kiss if your mind isn’t with your body.” Yeosang answered easily and Wooyoung relaxed into his hold because it was true and it was him. This was his Yeosang. He was here, with him. Wooyoung wished he could cry from the pure relief flowing through him. Unfortunately he’d cried all his tears while being strapped to that table.
He was just…tired. He wanted to go home, back to the apartment where they ordered Chinese takeout and watched shitty reality tv. Where they’d had a wall dedicated to pictures they took of each other and their friends. It was overflowing by now, having taken pictures every chance they could, determined to never forget a trip or a moment spent together. Where they sat on the floor because they couldn’t afford to buy a couch for the first six months. When they finally did manage to save up the money for it they’d bought it at a discount because they’d used half of that money to pay for Jongho’s medical bill. The youngest of their group had hammered his hand while trying to put a nail in the wall to hang a painting in the hall facing the entryway. They loved that couch to pieces, even if it had more holes than cloth, and more springs than stuffing it was their couch. One they’d worked hard to buy. The apartment may not have been much but it was home, his home, their home. It was filled with memories, filled with their time, snapshots of their life.
And after spending such a long time stuck here in this overgrown house he was more than ready to come home.
“Youngie, baby, look at me.” Wooyoung lifted his head to lock eyes with Yeosang, his Yeosang. Every time the realization hit him —that he was finally back here, back in Yeosang’s arms, that he was safe and loved, (Can you believe it? Him? Loved? He had somebody?)— he wished he’d had the energy left to cry. Because he’d spent so long wanting, so long yearning, and now he finally had what he’d wished for all along. Someone to come home to, someone to call home. “Hey, where’d you go?”
”Home,” He paused for a moment, just sitting in silence, allowing himself to memorize Yeosang’s face. the worry lines on his forehead and the laugh lines around his cheeks, and the birthmark near his eye. He wanted to remember it all, to engrave it in his memory, sear it into his brain. Never, he never wanted to forget it again, never wanted to forget Yeosang again. Not like this, never like this, “I went home.”
”Then come on, let’s go back home.” Yeosang stood, clutching Wooyoung tightly in his arms, afraid of waking up and this all being a silly dream. No, he needed this to be real. Because Wooyoung was his safe space, his happy moment, his love and reason for being. His home. He didn’t want to lose him again, he couldn’t bear it.
“Okay.” Wooyoung whispered into his ear. He left out what he really wanted to say though. That they didn’t have to go anywhere, that anywhere was home as long as Yeosang was there. “Let’s go home.”