ˏ⸉ˋ‿̩͙‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ ♕ ‿̩̥̩‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ˊ⸊ˎ

┗━━ 𝓦𝓸𝓸𝔂𝓸𝓾𝓷𝓰'𝓼 𝓟𝓞𝓥 ━━┛

Days had come and had passed, leaving Wooyoung to tend to a few different matters that required most of his attention. He was busy, albeit sadly, rushing around his own kingdom with a scroll full of things to attend to.

On the other hand, Ji-soo had kept Wooyoung incredibly busy with outfit fittings, all of which would be used for the upcoming events tied to Wooyoung's inevitable marriage. Beyond that, Ji-soo watched Wooyoung with a careful eye, making sure that he ate at least twice a day and took care of himself, even if his attitude protested otherwise.

Wooyoung, truthfully, was feeling a bit intense with his mood swings, feeding into the negativity that settled into his skin. He hadn't seen San in nearly a week, or so, Wooyoung felt it to be. He didn't know what had happened between them, as their last conversation ended up with them holding one another, settled in his bed, sharing in their mutual embrace with passing kisses and warm smiles. Now, it felt to be the opposite.

Cold, alone, quiet; everything that Wooyoung didn't want. The moon was slowly curling closer and closer to its renewed state, leaving Wooyoung with little time left to enjoy the peace that came before his looming marriage. He didn't want to spend the remainder of his time like this, alone and separated, kept away from the person he adored most. But, Wooyoung couldn't do anything to fix this. He could just sit and watch, allowing the world to pass by him, waiting in his chair as he stared at his bedroom door; praying and hoping. His jaw would be tight, his teeth biting into his cheek and tongue, feeling as his chest would tighten the more time that had passed, feeling as the sun's warmth would fade and the chill of the moon would crawl along his skin.

San's absence wasn't just physical, it was emotional. Wooyoung knew where they stood, and for what they shared, he hoped it'd be enough to draw San back from wherever he had gone. Times were becoming more and more difficult, he knew that; he wasn't completely oblivious. Yet, he wanted to remain tangled within his own resolve, muttering words to himself in hopes that someone would hear his thoughts, even if it were only his barren bedroom or Sapphire's ears.

"Your grace, you seem exhausted," Ji-soo dotes, quietly shuffling about the room ahead of Wooyoung, mindlessly folding linens. "Why must you be so stubborn? Take a rest, or at the very least, bathe in warm water. The steam will clear your mind."

Wooyoung shakes his head, his eyes darting downwards. "I cannot, Ji-soo. I am on edge. I cannot help but feel tense."

"But why is that, your grace? What seems to be bothering you?"

Wooyoung glances up, looking at Ji-soo, struggling to try and place his feelings anywhere but against his shoulders. But, how could he? He couldn't sit here and explain everything that was happening with San, let alone the affair that they had been having for the previous weeks. It was all too revealing, too raw, too vulnerable; leaving Wooyoung to settle for silence, choosing wordlessness over the sake of sharing this burden with anyone else.

"Ji-soo, I do not think now is the time to delve into my personal matters," Wooyoung begins, glancing away, trying to plead wordlessly for the topic to be left alone. But, Ji-soo eyes him, if only momentarily, her words quiet between the space left amongst them.

"I may only be your maid, your grace, but I can offer an ear to listen if the world seems to be too heavy to bear on your own," Ji-soo says softly, pausing her movements before setting down the linens in her hands, stacking it on the pre-existing pile nearby. "You have been glued to this chair of yours for the last few days, my Prince. Not only can I see it in the way you behave, but your eyes. . . they tell a tale of someone who is searching for something, or perhaps, someone?"

Wooyoung winces, biting his tongue, shifting his posture around to lean back casually in his chair.

"It is not something to worry yourself with, Ji-soo, please leave it be." Wooyoung tilts his head back towards her, watching as she continues to fold the laundry, unaffected by the subtle firmness laced within the Prince's tone.

"You are just like your father, you know," Ji-soo comments, a sigh bleeding through her lips as she pauses again, placing her hands down against the folded linens, glancing up to meet Wooyoung's gaze. "Stubborn, slightly defiant, isolating; practically the same man if you ask me."

"Was he truly so stubborn? I did not know him to be like that," Wooyoung asks, watching as Ji-soo offers a small smile, nodding her head.

"He was stubborn in his younger years. That is what I was told, at least. The chatter within the maid's quarters never ceases to amaze me, lingering to several moons back, practically to when you were but a babe, toddling around, demanding snacks from anyone who would come to pass."

"I always wanted whatever was within my grasp," Wooyoung says, amusement laced into his tone. "Maybe I have not yet changed."

"Oh, but you have. Subtly, if I may add." Ji-soo straightens out her gown and garments, brushing a strand of her hair aside before she settles into the seat across from Wooyoung, a golden table settled between them, filled with the Prince's laundry.

"I do not mean to be a spitting image of my father," Wooyoung explains. "I want to be myself, someone who shares the blood of my father's lineage, but not quite the same attributes. I do not want the kingdom to think of me as a fake, nor someone who was trying to pretend to be my father."

"I do not think you are, your grace. King Tae was a lot of things, and yes, stubborn being one of them, but you and he are different in some ways, ways that I find to be rather interesting."

Wooyoung raises a brow, his hands resting against the arms of the chair, curling around them, completely intrigued by Ji-soo's comment.

"Care to explain?"

"Certainly," Ji-soo says, smiling. "Your father was humble beyond his years, always seeking to please the people before that of his own seat beneath the crown. That is where you are alike, sharing in the sentiment to take care of your kingdom before lavishing yourself with delicacies the peasant folk could never attain. But, where your father spoke of love, that is where you are to be different."

Wooyoung swallows quietly, his jaw tight, watching as Ji-soo continues to speak, gesturing with her hand and glancing off to somewhere around the room, her voice utterly soft, yet awed with wonder.

"The King never doubted his place within the realm. He knew what was asked of him, what he was to entertain, and for all the prices that he would have to pay. When he chose your mother as his suitor, it was not for the sake of love, but rather strength. He sought out a partner that would fortify him, stabilize the kingdom, and of course, to bring him children."

"I have never once spoke of wanting children," Wooyoung confesses, earning a nod from Ji-soo.

"I could tell just by the way you carry yourself, your grace," Ji-soo comments, her eyes glimmering with subtle amusement as she continues. "It is a first for Etheria to take on two male Kings in marriage, but I have no doubt that you will do it with poise and grace, just in the way your father had when he chose the kingdom over himself."

"What are you saying? Did my father not love my mother?" Wooyoung's brows furrow slightly, watching as Ji-soo's smile fades, her posture straightening, not yet exactly rigid with unease, but Wooyoung could sense the tension.

"I am sure you know of what it is like to seek approval from the council, my Prince. King Tae did that, and even more than just that, really, he sought to gain approval from his people. Seeking a marriage that would lavish the kingdom in fortune, good health, and approval was all he sought to maintain. But I can see it in your eyes, your grace. You want more than just that."

Wooyoung shifts uncomfortably, glancing down at his hands, tracing the lines of his rings and jewels, listening as Ji-soo's voice breaks through his momentary reverie.

"You want love," she says, leaning forward in her seat. "That is the difference between yourself and that of your father. You want to lead this kingdom with someone who sets your heart aflame, who sees you as you are, who seeks to not only make the kingdom happy, but also you. You want to be cherished and loved, but there is nothing wrong with that."

"I–" Wooyoung cuts himself off, tilting his head up, tightening his jaw. He grips the chair tighter, feeling a surge of tears surge forth.

"It is not a terrible wish to seek love, your grace. It is noble, maybe a bit selfish, but that is what makes you just like everyone else, and I would rather think that that is more pleasing than a King who seeks to rule for the sake of peace. Sacrificing your own wishes, letting your desires melt away with the pour of rain, giving up everything you dare to hold close to you, and for what? A crown?"

Wooyoung gazes away, gripping his chair tighter.

"Being in love is not a crime," Ji-soo says quietly. "But pretending not to be is the worst crime one could commit to themselves. Do not be your father."

Wooyoung takes a breath in before he gazes at Ji-soo, tears brimming on the edges of his lashes before he blinks them away, feeling the swell of emotions that he had long since ignored bubble towards the surface.

"I am the Prince, Ji-soo. I seek marriage for the comfort of our kingdom, otherwise I would rather not have it." Wooyoung runs a hand down the line of his embroidered, red coat, messing with one of the golden buttons before his hand stills. "To protect the people, to protect Etheria's walls; that is all I am to be crowned for. Not of love, nor for the sacred upholding of bloodlines. I am the last in my father's lineage; so I must seek to maintain a rule of life and longevity, no matter the cost."

Ji-soo nods, though her disappointment seemed to be awfully evident. "Yes, your grace. I understand."

"Why is it that you speak of love so openly?" Wooyoung questions, watching as Ji-soo rises from her seat, her hands moving to tend to the linens once more. "You act as if you've experienced such a fleeting thing before, especially in the position I am within."

"King Tae was many things before he passed, your grace. A husband, a father, a king; but he was something else, too, once upon a time. A lover, a confidant, a place of solace and an escape to the one who sought to open his heart rather than just use it."

Wooyoung's brows pinch, scanning Ji-soo's demeanor before he settles into the words that she had spoken, realizing that the life his father had led wasn't as just as he believed it to be. He knew his father was rather. . . unloving towards his mother, but that had always been their relationship. They were cordial, amicable even, sparing themselves of the words love towards one another until the remnants of his breath were leaking past his lips. His mother claims to have loved him, but where was that love once upon a time? Where did her love ever get his father? He was dead, buried six feet deep somewhere outside of these walls, gone ill with a sickness that seemed to root itself within his lungs, taking his breath away until his heart stopped.

"What are you saying, Ji-soo?" Wooyoung asks, his gaze steely, tone direct; but Ji-soo didn't waver.

"The walls have eyes, your grace," Ji-soo whispers, keeping her voice low, tending to another piece of clothing. "Do you truly believe that someone from outside of these walls killed your father?"

Wooyoung hesitates, watching as Ji-soo meets his gaze one last time, pausing her ministrations.

"I was once in love, and I withhold that secret like a poisonous vile. The people within this castle are corrupt, laden with lies and words that I cannot express to you openly. Us maids hear everything, staying quiet until the moment is daringly perfect. I urge you, your grace, to be mindful of what words you share within this room. If you truly love someone like I believe you do, they will rip them away from you before you have the chance to protect them."

"Ji-soo–"

"Not another word, your grace. Heed my advice," Ji-soo comments, straightening her posture before grabbing the pile of laundry with her hands. "It is well past noon, your grace. Please eat something. I will be back later to tend to you, if need be."

Wooyoung stays silent as she makes her leave, walking through the doors of his bedroom before he could even emit a reply. What was she claiming to know? What kind of warning was that to even proclaim? Did. . . she have an affair with his father? Was the marriage between his mother and father a fluke? Was there more lingering beneath the surface?

Wooyoung rises from his seat, pressing his palms flat against the arms of his chair, allowing himself to walk away from his lounging space and back towards his window, folding his arms and leaning against the sill. He looks out to his kingdom, taking in the scenery for everything that it was, chewing on his lip as he swallows and absorbs Ji-soo's every word. Being in love is not a crime. But pretending not to be is the worst crime one could commit to themselves.

"By the God's–" Wooyoung expresses quietly, letting the wind hear his words. "What have I done?"

He felt hopeless, standing there, letting his hair curl with the flow of the warm breeze, rustling against his coat and twirling against his skin. The kingdom itself seemed peaceful, running without worry, stockpiling resources and enacting in trade, bustling about beneath the flutter of Wooyoung's eyelashes, leaving him to gaze off further, tilting his focus towards the horizon line.

He knew what waited beyond the mountains and the thicket of forest, laden behind a tall barrier, detailed in gold and stone, lavished with well-bred horses and an arrogant Prince.

Wooyoung didn't fear Sunghoon, nor his army. He just hoped, prayed rather, that Sunghoon would keep his focus elsewhere, worrying about the details about his own kingdom rather than seeking to grasp even more power than he could likely manage. How Wooyoung's father had gotten away with minimal wars and rough trading, he didn't know. He just hoped that for whatever lay waiting far past the cusp of the new moon, wasn't the entire tide of a war he wasn't sure that they'd win.

ˏ⸉ˋ‿̩͙‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ ♕ ‿̩̥̩‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ˊ⸊ˎ

Hours pass, leaving the kingdom now lavished in moonlight. Wooyoung was still within his chambers, looking down at a plate full of food that he should've eaten, yet refuses to. He was unraveling at the seams, stuck with a growing pit of unease mingling where his stomach should've been, making him feel more and more ill as the night drew long.

The flame from his nearby candle warmed the room in an elegant glow, but Wooyoung couldn't help but feel rather cold. Sapphire was nestled on her pillow to his right, curled up into a comfortable ball, her sides rising and falling back down, breathing deeply as she allowed sleep to carry her through the evening. Wooyoung looked at her, his elbow resting against his thigh, his palm holding his jaw as he watched her breaths, counting each one, trying to calm the storm from within in whatever way he could manage. He didn't want to break apart, not now, not again; there were bigger problems to face. San's disappearance, his lack of attention to his post, all became overly concerning to Wooyoung as he sat by and simply watched, too afraid to make a fuss over it before he drew unwanted attention towards their relationship.

He had asked Mingyu where San had been just hours ago, but Mingyu waved off his worry, stating that he was training the younger men, preparing them for the possibility of war that might come after the crowning of a new King. It was a palpable threat, but it wasn't one Wooyoung fully acknowledged. Mingyu assured Wooyoung that San was fine, just tired. Wooyoung just didn't believe him.

Now, as he looked back down to his plate, looking at his food, his stomach began to churn uneasily. He rolled his eyes, pushing it aside, leaning back into his seat as he huffed, allowing the flicker of candlelight to ease his stress. He slowed his breathing, eyes flicking about his space, trying to lull himself into some sort of peace, though he felt unable to relax. His chest was tight, his heart aching, mind rushing around with conscious thoughts that seemed to pull him further and further away from whatever bliss he chased after.

He looks at the portraits within his room, framed in gold and brass, painted with an intricate detail that made his room feel less like the self-isolating prison that he transformed it into. The furniture, velvet and accented with golds and reds, laid out on the far left of his room, settled atop a patterned red rug, met in the middle with a golden table. Wooyoung's eyes move, settling over his bed, taking in the thick of his comforter and white of his pillows, the heaviness of his dark headboard and large dresser; all elements of a life he felt himself floating away from.

Now, after listening to Ji-soo's words and properly digesting them, Wooyoung felt hollow inside. He let himself grow weak, to try and part away from every single inch of this life, to truly imagine a world where he could exist with a husband of his choosing while still loving San. He couldn't sit there and lie to himself; he wanted San. He didn't want anyone else. He didn't want Yeosang, Jisung or Yeonjun. He wanted the one person who had always seen him, the one male who could unravel him and then properly put him back together, to see beyond the throes of a crown and a title. San did all of that and more, time and time again, regardless of what the universe had thrown at them.

He just wished he could marry him.

A sudden knock at his door stirred his attention away, bringing his focus towards his double doors as they opened, held there by the figures of Mingi and Minho.

"My Prince," San breathes out, his usual armor gone, replaced by a thickly knit white long sleeve and his belt, carrying his sword on his hip. "Sorry to disturb, but Mingyu has sent me."

Wooyoung rises out of his seat, listening as the doors close behind San with a divisive click, but Wooyoung can't stand idly. He moves between his furniture, steps leading him quickly towards San as he closes the distance, throwing his arms around his neck and sinking his face against San's shoulder, holding him tightly against his body with a shuddering breath of relief.

"Wooyoung–?" San questions, but Wooyoung shakes his head, his hand moving to cup San's jaw, head tilting away to purely look him in the eyes, swallowing the thicket of tears trying to breach through his shaky composure.

"I have been so worried, San," Wooyoung breathes out, watching as San's brow creases in confusion. "You disappeared on me. I did not know of what to expect, and I– I–"

"Wooyoung," San interrupts, wrapping an arm around the younger's waist. "My Wooyoung, I am so sorry. I had no idea my lack of presence would cause such concern for you."

"I know that we both maintain duties that bring us apart, but by the God's San, I thought– I do not even wish to entertain what I had thought of. You are here, with me, and that is all that matters to me now."

San leans closer, pressing a gentle kiss to Wooyoung's forehead, his other hand moving upwards to cup the back of Wooyoung's neck.

"I will not do that again. I promise," he dotes, leaning away, catching Wooyoung's gaze once more. "The training got out of hand, I will admit. The days blurred together and I. . . got lost in it."

Wooyoung leans into San's hold on him, swallowing his tears as he truly looks up and studies the male before him, catching sight of the bruises against his cheek, along with new scars settled near his collarbone.

"San–?"

"It is but a small wound, my Prince. I am unharmed."

"I told you to stop calling me that," Wooyoung mutters, watching as San smiles warmly, nodding his head in acceptance.

"Of course, how could I forget? You are my heart, after all."

"Smooth talker," Wooyoung says with a lilt, rolling his eyes. "Why did Mingyu send you, by the way?"

"He said that you have seemed like a lost puppy without me, so I took it upon myself to end training early and to come by your chambers, hopefully to make up for lost time."

Wooyoung's expression softens, a smile pulling at his lips. "A lost puppy, huh? Do you take your Prince to be such a thing?"

"Maybe," San teases, leaning closer. "But I am here, Wooyoung. You have me for the entire night, and I promise, I will not leave."

"Really?" Wooyoung asks, soft disbelief covering his tone. "You will stay with me until sunrise?"

"Really," San replies, tightening the grip his arm had around the younger's waist. "Mingyu. . . he informed Minho, Mingi and Hyunjin about what was going on. I wanted to ask you first, for permission, of course, but Mingyu insisted."

Wooyoung's eyes widened, but San continued.

"They just think of us as close friends, nothing more. They know not of our intimacy nor the words we've shared. Mingyu still remains as the one who knows most, but not all."

Wooyoung nods, pinching his brows together as he thinks through the claim of San's words, trying to understand every facet of it.

"I suppose. . . that is for the best, is it not? They are my King's guard after all, and I suppose I need to trust them more."

"Do not think too much into the details of it. They know, they understand, and their opinions of you have not changed. What we have is still very much protected, and I refuse to let anyone get in the way of that."

Wooyoung smiles, threading his fingers through San's slightly unkempt hair, pulling him closer until their lips were nearly brushing up against one another. He could feel the warmth of San's lips heating up the space between them, their breaths mingling, eyes lidded with mutual affection as they linger there, hearts beating in tandem.

"Let me take care of you," Wooyoung mutters, brushing his thumb against San's cheek, taking care to not press too hard as he moves over San's fresh bruise, trying to further his point in any way he was able. "You can be the strong, impressive, brooding knight any other time. But for tonight, just be with me. Be mine."

San rolls his eyes, but he relents, squeezing Wooyoung's hips before he kisses the male's forehead again, smiling as he speaks. "Alright, jagiya, take care of me."

Wooyoung feels his heart tumble around in his chest, beating rapidly and seizing all in the same notion, all because of a damn pet name. He wasn't used to being called such a thing, though, he didn't entirely hate it. He didn't care much for formalities anymore, especially with San, wanting to rather hear other words fall from his tongue. San could call him anything, truly anything, and Wooyoung would simply just adore him for it.

Maybe it was the way San spoke, lacing his words with a specific tone and fondness, wrapping his words in a swirl of warmth. Or, maybe it was his expressions, his teasing smile and the slight glimmer to his eyes, the faint blush that would creep onto his cheeks followed by the redness on the tips of his ears; Wooyoung just loved him for all of it. His tone, his words, his mannerisms and his gestures. Wooyoung loved San, wholly and completely.

Wooyoung reaches down, lacing his fingers with San's, slowly beginning to walk backwards, watching as San follows his every step without a single word of hesitation. Wooyoung turns, his hand dangling behind him, entrapped within San's gentle hold, pulling the male along and through the small living space and towards the back corner, where a wooden door lay ajar, revealing a large, quiet bathing space.

The room was dazzled in moonlight, yet in the middle of the room lay a large bathtub with a wooden stool nearby. A large rug fronted the tub, met with other delicate linens like towels and cloths.

"Let me call for some things from Ji-soo. Just stay here, relax; I will handle it all." Wooyoung lets go of San's hand, leaving the male standing in the center of his bathing room before he makes way towards his bedroom doors. His steps carry him quickly, hand finding the door handle as he pulls it open, watching as both Mingi and Minho turn to glance at him.

"Please call for Ji-soo and the maids, please. I am to run a bath, but I need warm water."

"At once, your grace," Minho says politely, bowing his head down. Wooyoung offers a smile before he turns to look at Mingi, issuing another plea.

"Can you fetch something for me from the maester?"

"Of course, my Prince. What is it that you need?" Mingi asks just as Minho turns away, heading down the hall in search of the maid's quarters.

"Salt, a bit of it. Anything the maester would give for relaxation in the bath. He will know."

"At once," Mingi says, offering a small smile before he bows his head, trekking off in search of the maester. Wooyoung waits at his door, leaning against it rather, listening as he eventually hears the familiar sound of footsteps drawing near once more. Minho had returned, padding back towards his post without any further expression.

"The maids are gathering your warm water, your grace. They should be but a moment."

"Thank you, Sir Minho," Wooyoung replies, adjusting his coat before decidedly taking it off, moving further into his room to lay the garment over the back of his chair with a subtle thud.

"Sannie?" Wooyoung murmurs quietly, moving back to pace towards the bathing room door. San turns, looking at him, standing near the open window with his shoulders slightly relaxed. "The maids will arrive in just a moment with the water. Hide behind the partition, they will not notice you there without light."

San smiles, offering a curt nod as he pushes himself away from the window, moving towards the opposite side of the room where a dressing partition lay, thick and opaque, not quite see-through without a source of light. Wooyoung takes a breath as he turns, listening as a myriad of steps loom closer before trekking into his room.

"Ji-soo," Wooyoung says, smiling small. "Thank you for coming at such an hour. I know it is late."

"Anything for you, my dear Prince," Ji-soo replies, stepping into the bathroom, pausing for a moment with a bucket within her hands. "Do you wish to bathe in the dark, your grace?"

"A moment of peace before the duties of tomorrow," Wooyoung begins, watching as Ji-soo nods as she moves closer to the tub, slowly tilting the bucket. "I thought it to be best in order to relax."

"Do you wish for us to tend to you?" Ji-soo asks, the water tilting over, splashing down into the tub.

"No, I will be alright on my own for one night, Ji-soo," Wooyoung explains, earning a smile from Ji-soo in turn as she steps to the side, allowing the other maids to pour their own buckets. Wooyoung stood by watching, clasping his hands together in front of him, listening to each pour of water being emptied into his tub.

After a few moments, the last bucket of water was tilted into the tub, filling it just over halfway. Wooyoung offers a nod and a smile to the ladies, assuring them that he'd be okay for the remainder of the evening. Ji-soo led the ladies out afterwards, leaving Wooyoung to move back into his space, reaching for as many candles as he was able before trekking back into the bathing room after retrieving salt from Mingi. San helped him space out the candles, using the shared flame from the candle he had lit earlier to spread the warmth and light into the room, casting the space into a warmer glow, which was more subtle than anything else, but elegant and intimate, nonetheless.

Wooyoung stood by the tub, tracing his fingertips over the surface of the water in a motion to test it before he felt San come up behind him, wrapping his arms around Wooyoung's middle. A soft hum leaves Wooyoung's lips as he leans backwards into San, resting his head back against San's shoulder before turning, letting his lips press a delicate kiss against the male's jaw.

"I mean it," Wooyoung mutters. "Let me take care of you."

San nods, giving Wooyoung a subtle squeeze before he lets go. "Okay."

Wooyoung turns around, placing his hands on San's hips before they trail towards the hem of his shirt, glancing up to see San nod, almost in wordless affirmation. Gently, Wooyoung lifts San's shirt, pulling upwards before tossing it away, leaving the male bare-chested before him, laden in scars that he had seen numerous times before, but hadn't fully grasped. He was too lost in the moment, too swept up in their intimacy to realize all of his marks, causing his eyes to linger for a moment too long.

Blinking down, Wooyoung unfastens his belt, carefully threading the leather through the loops of his trousers before setting it aside, carefully resting it down on the floor, taking care to not damage the sword or any facet of his gear. His hands continue, unlooping the button to San's trousers before letting them fall away, averting his eyes as he glances up, watching as San leans closer, his lips lingering against the skin of his jaw, moving in slow, teasing kisses that trail longer down to the vein of his neck.

San's hands, slowly and gently, unfasten all of Wooyoung's blouse buttons, revealing his bare chest and abdomen, letting the fabric fall away onto their ever-growing pile of clothing. Wooyoung feels a chill wander up his spine, suddenly warmed by the feeling of San's hands roaming against his back, pulling him closer before moving to the hem of his bottoms, slowly beginning to discard them before letting the fabric pool at his ankles. Wooyoung tilts his head back, threading his fingers through San's hair, meshing their lips together in a kiss that was languid and passionate, whispering every word that still seemed too fruitful to express.

Wooyoung feels as San pulls him closer once more, deepening the kiss, making all of the emotions within Wooyoung's core swell to an impossible threshold. He wanted to confess, to be honest, to express the truth. San deserved to know, in every single possible way that he could, but Wooyoung couldn't do it. He bit his tongue as he parted away, pressing his forehead to San's, allowing their breaths to mingle and dance in the delicate space left between them.

"Get in," Wooyoung mutters, allowing his eyes to flutter open, pleading silently and verbally.

San follows Wooyoung's will, stepping into the tub before lowering himself inside, leaning against the back of it while his arms remained draped open, giving Wooyoung all the room he needed to follow him inside, the water rising and slightly spilling over the top, dampening the rug and remnants of clothing as the water shifted around before settling around them. Wooyoung straddled his lap, his hands resting against San's chest before falling away, his head turning to glance at the stool beside them that now held their towels and small cloths. He grabs the cloth with his left hand, dipping it into the warm water before leaning close, allowing the fabric to press against San's chest in a gentle motion.

His gaze travels down, scaling over San's skin, his free hand moving upwards, fingertips tracing over the largest scar that went down the center of San's chest. He watched as San's skin twitched, likely having unlocked some memories that the male would rather ignore. He glances up, watching as San meets his gaze, his hand stilling, almost as if he was waiting for confirmation.

"It was a long time ago," San says, breaking the silence as gently as he could. "Ambushed, out in the open. It was before I became your guard."

Wooyoung listens devotedly, allowing the cloth to move over the scar, almost in a physical way to discard the memories, pushing them away, but he could still feel San's body tensing beneath him with every subtle movement. He glances up again, watching as San's eyes closed, brows pinching, jaw tight with a memory that Wooyoung hadn't heard of before.

Slowly, Wooyoung moves the cloth away, leaning forward, hesitantly pressing a kiss to the middle of the scar, resting his free hand on the back of San's neck, holding him steady, almost in a physical reassurance of his presence against wounds that still hadn't mentally healed.

"Wooyoung–"

He continues, brushing his thumb against San's skin as it rests against his neck, allowing his lips to hover over each scar, each wound, each reminder, kissing away the sins of his past with delicate intimacy. San's breath hitches with each one, but he makes no move to push away or ask for space, but he rather pulls Wooyoung closer.

"You do not ever have to tell me what has happened to you, in the past, present, or even for what is to come in the future. But just know that I am here, always willing to listen. Always, San."

Wooyoung allows his words to warm the space between them before he leans back, catching a sight of something he never thought he'd see. San had tears in his eyes, a subtle redness that hadn't quite yet spilled over, but was threatening to. Wooyoung feels an empathetic frown meld over his lips, dropping the cloth and moving his hands up, cradling both sides of San's face in his hands.

"Did I push too far–?" Wooyoung asks. "I did not mean to bring up something you have not yet healed from, San. I apologize–"

San cuts him off, stealing the words from his lips and the breath from his lungs, fusing them together in a kiss that seemed to convey everything Wooyoung needed answers for. The water shifts around them as they sit there, mingling around with the sound of their lips gliding together, breaths meshing into one, bodies pressing irresistably close.

Wooyoung can feel it. Every single nerve was alight in this moment, the voices internally screaming to just be honest, to just trust that what he had with San would weather every storm, and to know that not only did he feel deeply for San, but that he loved him, just as deeply. But, he was scared. Even as he clung to him, lathering him in kisses and swallowing his breaths, encaptured by the warmth of candlelight, he couldn't say it. He was too afraid, too aware of the consequences in bearing such a sentiment. He was heeding Ji-soo's warning, remaining silent, trying to keep his words attuned to that of his mind only, fearful that whoever may be listening wouldn't yet destroy this. But, even then, Ji-soo's statement only confused him further.

The walls have eyes, your grace, she warned. Being in love is not a crime. But pretending not to be is the worst crime one could commit to themselves.

Wooyoung was confused. He was sitting on San's lap, lingering into kiss after kiss, pretending that the weight he was carrying felt to be rather nothing in this moment, even if the guilt of not being honest with San was bleeding him dry. He thought he was protecting him from diving any deeper, to guard his heart from the onslaught of what was to come at the cusp of the new moon, looming with marriage and another man, but even still; the words ached to be free, sitting on the back of his tongue.

He parts away, seeking a breath, feeling as San's arms wrap around his waist steadily.

"You have no idea what you do to me, Wooyoung," San confesses, his eyes closed, their foreheads resting together.

Wooyoung shakes his head, biting down on his bottom lip, shutting his eyes tightly as the words tear and scream, but before he could even process a reply, San speaks again, breathing out the very words that Wooyoung himself remained too scared to simply speak.

"I love you."

Wooyoung's eyes flutter open, his head leaning away, arms moving down to wrap around San's neck. The water moves around them, the candles flicker, the breeze from outside wafting inwards; but Wooyoung can't hear or see anything else but the man in front of him speaking words that they danced around, avoiding the crushing feeling that would come after.

Wooyoung feels himself crumble, tears trickling past his defenses and sinking down his cheeks, curling around his jaw and down into the tub. He couldn't believe it, left nearly wordless and in a flurry of emotions as San sat there, waiting; listening.

"I love you," Wooyoung whispers back amidst his tears, shaking his head once more, but not in a negative connotation, rather disbelief. "So much, Sannie. I love you so much that it kills me."

San presses a finger beneath Wooyoung's chin as he raises his gaze, melting the younger with a smile that seemed to express it all.

"I meant it when I said it, Wooyoung," he begins. "You are my entire heart, and I will love you until the day I die."