Arranged | Jinkook ✓

Chapter 10.0

There were flowers.

The sight of them was the first thing he saw upon waking. A bright, beautiful blooming boqoent, so fresh and fragrent that he could smell it all the way from where he lay.

Someone had been in his room. Again. And he could only hope that he had been on his right side when it occured. That his good cheek had been outward facing instead of the injured one.

Part of him wanted to ignore it. To continue to give into the massive cloud of doubt that hung heavy over him. To halt the affections that had already set in so deep for a prince he never should have known. Never should have gotten a chance to love.

But he had. And so it was already too late.

...

'Angel -

Please know that it was never my intention to neglect you. But I'm afraid I don't know the right balance yet - between being a future husband and a prince.

I hope that you will find it within your heart to forgive me. If you can, please meet me tonight in the baths. I will be there late, so I understand if you won't be.

Love,

Your Prince'

...

His prince.

He could feel the ice that had formulated around his heart slowly beginning to melt away at the words. Could feel the confusion beginning to ease away. The tension that had settled in deep begin to fall like it had never been there at all.

His prince was so gentle and kind. So soft and wonderful. How could all of those emotions that had welled up inside of him be wrong? How could loving his prince be wrong? How could wanting to be in love with his future husband be wrong?

He didn't know. Didn't understand. And his hand went to the bruised, torn flesh of his cheek, turning slightly to glance at himself in the small mirror that had been hung above the dresser. It looked terrible. Half healed and yellowing, the tear having already scabbed over. Surely he could come up with something to explain it away. Could say that he had fallen and banged it against the stone walls.

Which was totally unbelievable. A sigh fell from his lips as he tried to come up with some reason for the healing bruises that littered his skin.

A love that was already being built on lies. Something inside of him twisted at the thought. But he couldn't tell the truth. He couldn't. Because if he did, that place would be taken from him.

And he couldn't allow that to happen either.

Because he needed to go back there. Had been waiting for the right moment to slip away. Had spent countless moments curled up in the library simply staring at what he knew lie beyond the walls. Wanted, almost desperately, to feel the warmth of the sun upon his skin, even if it left him with burns.

He couldn't lose that place. Because he thought he might lose even more of himself if he did.

...

It was late when he finally closed the large book that had been spread out across his lap, notations of family history swirling around within his mind. The fire cracked in the distance, and he knew that it was time to add more wood - the technical third time of the night, his only way of keeping track of time. Yet he allowed it to flicker downwards into nothing more than embers, standing up carefully and feeling the stiffness that had settled into his bones begin to seep out.

He knew the way now. Had the journey between the two points mapped out perfectly within his mind. Counted the steps and only hesitated for a second as the turn off for his room came up instead. Only he kept going, following the hallway until it twisted and veered off.