Arranged | Jinkook ✓

Chapter 12.0

History seemed to repeat it's self endlessly. An unbreakable cycle that no one could find their way out of.

And that was the one thing he wanted more than anything. To be free. To somehow be released from this madness.

But that was never going to happen.

...

In reality, it had taken far longer than the five minutes he had first proposed within his own mind. The journey back took longer, in fact, and he had spent enough time counting his own steps to be aware of that.

It was said that the road to hell was paved with good intentions.

He could say that's all he'd ever had. That there had never been any ulterior motive behind any of his actions. That everything had always been done out the pure kindness of his own missing heart.

But that was a lie. All of it had a purpose. A reason. Every action had something lurking unseen behind it.

Seokjin was everything.

Warm and kind. Sweet and generous. Loving and open.

He was drawn to him in a way that he couldn't explain. The pull was indescribable, a constant tugging that he could barely even ignore. Yet his attention was constantly being kept aware from the object he wanted to lavish it on most.

There was something there. Something that spoke to his soul. Something that made him feel as if they had known each other forever. As if both of them were old - not one that had been forced to endure decades while the other was newly born. No, it was as if they were meant to be twisted, theirs paths always crossing.

Seokjin was meant to be his.

In this life there were a defined amount of certainties. He was meant to be king. And Seokjin was meant to be his.

So it always been. And so it would always be.

...

It shouldn't have been shocking to return and find the space that should have been occupied empty.

But it was. A sharp sensation that spiked down into his ribs and left them clenching. It had been foolish to leave Seokjin there alone. A decision made more of his own desire to look good than any actual care for his future mate.

Because if he had spared a single thought for Seokjin, he would have realized that waking up within the princes arms would have been much better than some arbitrary idea of breakfast served in bed.

Or on a giant cushion, as the case had been.

But Seokjin was gone. And he knew how he must look, racing through the halls of the castle, tearing through the stone passageways, not caring who or what was unfortunate to accidentally step in his way.

His room was empty. Neat and tidy, but obviously it hadn't been touched since the previous day. The stack of clothing that was delivered at the start of each day hadn't been moved, which meant Seokjin hadn't even bothered to retrieve a change of clothing, a strange occurrence considering how much he generally liked to be clean.

Someone called out for him - a servant, most likely, concerned by his behavior. Or perhaps some adviser, wondering why their prince wasn't where he was meant to be either - in the space of time it took to reach the library. He ignored it, choosing instead of focus on his task.

Only there was no Seokjin there either. Sure, all of his things were still there. Scattered papers filled with notes. Giant tomes filled with family history and rules and laws and regulations that he would have to be familiar with. Everything that a queen would need to know. And he could only imagine how much glee his mother had felt in sentencing his future husband to this fate. Of being locked away for weeks, suffering as she once had.