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Two sharp knocks. That’s all it takes for Jungkook to freeze in his tracks and panic to rush through him.
He had behaved today, he thought. He’d kept his mouth shut and smiled prettily on his throne like the good little prince he was. He’d attended the royal summit, rife with the pompous elite chit-chatting about political drivel and using words that Jungkook couldn’t understand. Even when his father had thrown that servant to the floor of the throne room and demanded she lick the bottom of his boots for bringing blueberry wine instead of plum, Jungkook had said not a word.
But then again, a reason did not need to be had to warrant punishment, for being good meant nothing in this palace of fear. His lashings were proof of that, still throbbing dully underneath his silk robes.
A gentle yet firm voice from behind the door stirs Jungkook from his thoughts. “It’s just me.”
Jungkook lets out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding as relief floods his veins. He hastily ties his robes in a knot around his waist and thrusts open the door.
He’s met with the kindest of faces in the city of Celestia. His guard uniform has been stripped, leaving behind only a white dress shirt tucked into black slacks. His brown hair, normally slicked back to perfection, was already becoming unstyled and messy. If the queen got a load of him, she’d have him executed for lack of appearances- a common crime in a city where beauty was paramount.
“Hyung.” Jungkook peers behind Namjoon, checking for guards or worse, one of his parents. “The guards-”
“Are making their rounds in the King’s wing. We have four minutes,” Namjoon says, inviting himself in and closing the door behind him.
Jungkook lets out an exasperated sound. “And shouldn’t you be one of them?”
Namjoon grins. “Off-duty.”
Jungkook turns away and crosses the room to the window overlooking the city structures. It was easier this way, not to look at him. Temptation was always too high around the warm-hearted guard. Jungkook learned early on that it was better for everyone to just keep his distance.
Namjoon closes the space between them anyway and settles his hands on Jungkook’s waist. Jungkook can feel his deep voice rumbling against the back of his neck. “Besides, you know I can’t stay away from you.”
Jungkook whips around, taking hold of Namjoon’s wrists. “You have to go. My parents-”
Anxiety starts to wash over Jungkook again as he thinks of all the punishments he’s had to endure over the years. Forty lashings for taking an extra croissant at lunch. Strung up by his thumbs for sleeping in past eight. Three days without food for missing an alterations appointment. All child's-play in comparison to what would happen if Namjoon and he were caught. A prince and a royal guard? It was an offense punishable by death.
“This could’ve been avoided, Jungkook-ah,” his father would always say as he cracked a whip or squeezed his meaty fist around Jungkook’s throat. And all the while, his mother would watch in silence, her lips pursed and her eyes dead. She was just as bad as he was.
But Jungkook was worse, always worse.
His fault, his fault, his fault-
The smell of lavender oil permeates the room, making Jungkook’s stomach turn. Namjoon’s eyes fall on Jungkook’s chest. Slowly, as if he were giving Jungkook a chance to stop him, he trails his fingers along the opening of the robe and slips his hand underneath. When his palm grazes against Jungkook’s red, blistered skin, Jungkook can’t help but wince.
“What did they do to you?” Namjoon asks, heartbreak evident in his voice.
“They say lavender oil is supposed to help.” Jungkook tugs his robe back into place. “In a palace this grand, you’d think there would be painkillers stashed somewhere…”
Namjoon’s eyes flash. “I’ll kill them.”
Namjoon turns to leave, but Jungkook grabs him by the arm, pulling him back. “No, you won’t. It was my fault anyway.”
Namjoon brings his hands to settle on either side of Jungkook’s face, a touch so gentle when juxtaposed with the look of fury in his eyes. Fury toward Jungkook’s parents. Toward the rules they were both forced to abide by. Toward himself, for not putting up more of a fight. If anyone deserved to be punished, it was him.
“Look at me,” Namjoon says. “There’s nothing you could have done that would justify the crimes your parents have committed.”
Jungkook feels tears welling up in his eyes. Another weakness. “Hyung…” He rests his hand against Namjoon's cheek, making Namjoon preen at the touch. “And here I thought guards were supposed to be heartless.”
But Namjoon doesn’t laugh. He’s looking at Jungkook with a pronounced frown like he wants to say something he shouldn’t. It’s the same look he gets when he’s forced to watch silently as Jungkook is berated by his parents. When the need to say something nearly claws its way out of his throat before he catches it just in time, burying it down deep.
Jungkook fidgets under his stare. “Why are you-”
And then, Namjoon is kissing him. Jungkook can feel his resolve slipping as Namjoon’s fingers trail down his jaw, tilting his head for easier access. His lips move against Jungkook’s beautifully, coaxing Jungkook’s mouth open with his tongue. He opens up like a flower, drinking Namjoon in like water in the desert. It’s intoxicating, overwhelming. He’s flying above the clouds.
“Come with me.”
Jungkook opens his eyes dizzily. His mind is racing, from the kiss, from Namjoon’s touch, from the paranoia that his parents could walk in any second and kill Namjoon without a second thought. Jungkook blinks his bleary eyes in an attempt to dispel his confusion but comes away no better than he was before. “Come with you… where?”
“Anywhere. Wherever you want to go. As long as it gets you away from this wretched palace and those people ,” Namjoon spits the word with disgust, “who call themselves your parents. We can sneak out through the servants' wing and be gone before the guards return. It’s dark enough that the veil of night should cover us before anyone notices we’re gone.”
Jungkook gulps, his chest grasping uselessly for air. His head throbs, filled to the brim with too much information. “M-My parents… they’ll kill me. They’ll kill you .”
“You think I would let them? I took an oath and I don’t plan on breaking it now.”
Jungkook tears his eyes away. “You took an oath to protect the royal aristocracy. Not just me. I’m… I’m nothing.”
“No, you’re everything.”
When Jungkook doesn’t respond, Namjoon runs his hand through his hair with a sigh. He puts his hands on his hips and paces, first around the bed, the duvet still tucked neatly underneath the mattress, and then back to Jungkook with renewed fervor. “That night. It was not just passion-induced promises. I was not under your mother’s spell nor was I a part of some plan orchestrated by your father to gain your trust. I meant everything I said.”
Jungkook remembers the night like it was yesterday, for it was the only night they were able to spend together under the watchful eye of the palace. Whispers of “I love you ” and kisses that felt all too fleeting. Hot skin and tangled sheets. Shared breaths and sinful utterings of what they would do to each other if they had another chance. If things were different.
They stayed hidden in Namjoon’s quarters until dawn and Namjoon had to report for duty. He left Jungkook still in bed, naked and marked in places that even the most skilled servant had great difficulty covering up, before giving him one last departing kiss. In their four years of courting, if one could even call it that, it had been the closest thing to normalcy they’d experienced.
Jungkook’s face burns at the memory. “I know you did.”
Namjoon takes hold of Jungkook’s hands, a newfound determination in his eyes, in his voice. “Then let me prove it to you. Let me cherish you and worship you as you deserve. Let me show you what real love looks like.” Namjoon takes a shuddering breath and Jungkook notices for the first time that he, too, is nervous. “I know I’m not worthy and that I don’t deserve you, not even in the slightest. But please. If you’ll let me, I can protect you. I can show you things that are much brighter than what you have come to know.”
Jungkook opens his mouth but snaps it shut when nothing comes out, like a fish out of water.
He thinks of his life up until this point. His parents, the king and queen. The duties bestowed upon him as their rightful heir to the throne, should tragedy strike. All the meetings and banquets and forced smiles. And of course, the pain, always lurking beneath his robes. A reminder of who he was. Who he could never be.
Was there anything worth staying for?
“Please, my love. Grant me this wish and I promise you’ll never know pain again.”
Jungkook realizes he’s nodding. “Okay. Yes, okay. Take me with you, hyung.”
Saying the words aloud somehow makes it real and his head suddenly fills with the possibility of a life of happiness with Namjoon. This person who he shouldn’t love, shouldn’t have shared more than two words with, yet he did. He loved him, with every spare inch of his heart.
With a quick kiss, Namjoon transforms from the goofy, gentle giant Jungkook fell in love with into the stern-faced guard the palace trained him to be. “Grab your things. Take as much as you can carry. We don’t have much time.”
“I-” Jungkook clears his throat and gives a cursory glance around the room. “I don’t need anything. J-Just you.”
Namjoon’s eyes soften. “You have me, my love. As long as I get to have you too.”
And if one thing was true in this city of royalty and lies and beauty and viciousness, it was that.
“I’m all yours, hyung.”