Chapter Text
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three.
wooyoung
Wooyoung didn’t think Hongjoong would actually let him out. He thought it was probably some sort of odd trap in which he would be killed. But when he stepped into the meeting hall, all eyes on him, he thought, This is REAL. He waved awkwardly to a few people, very aware of Hongjoong’s burning glare on his back.
Wooyoung cleared his throat and said, “Hey, how are y’all today?” Silence. A few looked like they wanted to either laugh or answer, but they did neither and instead looked down, obviously suppressing their laughter at the awkward prince. Wooyoung’s face was beginning to ache due to the constant smiling, so he sat down next to the only person he knew in the room(other than Hongjoong and Seonghwa).
Choi San. Used to be son of the prime minister, now never spoken of and looked down upon, Wooyoung thought, sneaking a small glance at the man next to him. Also my first love interest. Damn, he’s still just as fine as he was then. He smirked to himself, looked away, and his eyes traveled around the room. He began zoning out and noting small things about some of the people—based off his father’s reports. Bang Chan, also sometimes known as Christopher. Runs a small pawnshop, incredibly popular. Yang Jungwon, youngest leader here. He’s definitely younger than me. Lee Felix—aww, he’s kind of cute now! But looks can be deceiving. He’s also now an assassin, and has a kill count of about 110 people. Ooh, is that—
“Wooyoung.” The cold voice of San snapped him out of his daze, and he looked up. San was raising an eyebrow at him, expectant.
“Heya!” Wooyoung said casually, sitting straight. “What’s up? No trick question this time. Oh, why are you all staring at me? What did I do?” He frowned then said, “Is my existence annoying? My brother says that too. So does my dad, actually. Ew, I hate my dad. Did you know what he did a few weeks ago? He fucking—”
“What did I tell you, Wooyoung?” Hongjoong asked, his hands clenched into fists on the table.
Wooyoung scratched his head, trying to remember. “Uh… to follow you to the meeting hall? No, no, wait, let me guess again. Hold on… I don’t remember. Wait, did you tell me to—”
Hongjoong stood up slowly, his eyes seething with rage. “I told you to shut. The fuck. Up.” Seonghwa’s hand on his back seemed to calm the leader down, and he sat again, glowering.
“I was going to say that,” Wooyoung muttered, rolling his eyes. “Rude.”
San nudged him slightly and gestured forward, as if to listen to Hongjoong. Wooyoung made a face, but obliged, watching the leaders talk.
About him.
As if he wasn’t even there.
He groaned loudly and faceplanted onto the table. “I’m right here. I exist . I know my existence is annoying, but STOP ACTING LIKE I’M DEAD OR STILL IN THAT DAMNED JAIL CELL.”
“You might as well be,” San muttered, slapping Wooyoung on his neck. Wooyoung snapped his head up and flinched at all the eyes on him. He chuckled nervously and instead of making eye contact, looked at San’s chin.
Odd place to go to, but okay, he thought, focusing intensely. Woah, even his chin is—
His thought process was once again cut off by Hongjoong saying, “Please at least make a small attempt to listen to the conversation.” He turned to Seonghwa and whispered(VERY AUDIBLY, in Wooyoung’s opinion), “How in hell did you convince me to let him out? He wants to join, I get it. But he’s so fucking annoying.”
Wooyoung scowled and turned to the elder, making sure he was displaying the immense amounts of frustration he was feeling. Hongjoong just looked tired as he rose and said, “Since this meeting isn’t going anywhere, I suggest we try again tomorrow. Wooyoung.”
Wooyoung looked up, saying, “Right, I’m sorry for wasting your time—”
“No, not that, although we partially accept your apology,” Seonghwa intercepted, stopped Hongjoong from saying anything. “But we’re trying to tell you that you will be staying in the guest room for now. San,” he called to the younger. San looked at him and nodded, understanding.
“C’mon,” he said suddenly, taking Wooyoung harshly by the arm. “The guest room is nearest to mine.”
“So we’re gonna be roommates! Oh, that’s great! ‘Cause I actually wanted to talk to you—”
“And I didn’t, my prince. ”
Wooyoung felt a small needle pierce his heart. “Are you still hung up on… that? Look, I’m sorry. I wanted to talk about it—”
“Here’s your room, Your Majesty. Tell me if anything isn’t to your liking,” he spat sarcastically, slamming the door after tossing the younger inside. There were loud footsteps as he walked to his own room, and Wooyoung looked around.
Hm. Interesting. Not as bad as the prison cell—not that great either, he thought, seeing a small mouse scamper across the floor. Sighing, he sat down on the creaky mattress, leaning back and staring at the ceiling. Why the fuck doesn’t he want to listen? Wooyoung thought, closing his eyes tiredly.
You didn’t either, a small voice rang in the back of his head.
I always listened to him, he thought, determinedly trying to drown the voice out.
He left and came here because of you.
It wasn’t my fault.
But it is.
Wooyoung clenched his jaw and his fist, getting up and walking to the small dresser. He picked up a hairbrush, and instead of using it, threw it at his own reflection in a sudden burst of anger. He took a deep breath, watching spiderweb cracks begin to appear. Slowly, he walked away and opened the door to his room, seeing San walking towards a glass door that seemed to lead to a balcony.
Might as well, Wooyoung thought, following him. The door creaked as it opened and San looked at him, startled. “Hi,” Wooyoung whispered, standing next to him. There was a silence—not awkward, not comfortable—in which San was just watching him, a strange look in his eyes.
Wooyoung sighed. “I’m really sorry. I—I wasn’t considerate of your feelings. I’ll accept that. It was my fault entirely. But please, don’t treat me like this.”
“How am I supposed to treat you then?” San asked calmly, frost lining the words. “Like I used to? Would you like me to tell you ‘I’ll love you until the ends of the Earth and back’ again? Would you feel better about yourself then?”
Wooyoung chuckled sadly. “No—I think I’d just feel worse.” There was quiet again, until Wooyoung said, “I do genuinely still love you. She—she was nothing more than a—”
“One-night thing? I believed that the first time you told me. You were drunk as fuck—and I still loved you after that. I shouldn’t have. You’re an idiot, Wooyoung. An absolute, fucking, cheating idiot. Honestly, I trusted you with my heart so many times and you broke it every. Single. Fucking. Time. You fucking bastard!” San yelled, his voice cracking. He inhaled sharply and made eye contact with the younger, grabbing him roughly by the shoulders. “And the funniest thing? I. Still. Love. You. What the fuck did you do to me? I can’t go five seconds without thinking of you. Just leave me, please. I can’t stand my heart and sanity and emotion and love slowly disappearing. Please, please, just stop…” His head hung limply and there were quiet sobs.
Wooyoung looked away as the first tears fell down San’s face. He had seen San cry many times, but this was different. These were tears of anger, hatred, and pining, something Wooyoung had never seen from him, ever. “San,” he said gently. “San, look at me.” he placed his hand on San’s cheek, San flinching as if he was tempted to move away.
He stayed. He leaned into the touch instead, tears slipping silently down his face. Wooyoung pressed their foreheads together. “I’m seriously, very seriously sorry. I’ve never been more serious about something. I’m so, so sorry.” He cautiously pressed a small kiss to San’s forehead and whispered, “I love you.”
“I’m sorry too,” San said. He backed away. “I’m not ready yet. I need time.” He turned and opened the glass door. Before leaving, he whispered, “I love you too.”