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Prince charming doesn't exist.
Jeongin's thoughts raced,
None of it holds truth. It's all a product of my own expectations, expectations formed by the person who saved me. It's his doing, making me trust him. And now...all I want is the warmth of his embrace, his strong arms around me. I'm crying, and I trembling with fear. Too wounded, too vulnerable, just...too much.
Chan was far from the prince charming Jeongin had hoped for; instead, he was the exact opposite. He was more like... a villain.
How did the boy find solace in the arms of this so-called villain? How did he muster the trust to reveal his tears? Jeongin's emotions were a tangled web, a confusing mess, but predominantly, anger coursed through him.
Lost in his thoughts, Jeongin didn't hear the knock on his door. By the time he opened his eyes, it was already night. He rose from the bed, his tear-stained cheeks drying as he made his way to the window, craving a breath of fresh air.
Pushing the window open, a rush of cold air kissed his face, and he took a deep, refreshing breath. The winter air felt soothing.
His gaze drifted downward, past the mansion's fence, over the lush garden, and finally, to the waterfall. There, at the edge of the fountain, stood two people.
One of them appeared to be a stranger, possibly a servant, and the other was... Chris. Even from a distance, Jeongin could discern the distress etched on Chris' face.
Chris nodded, and then his gaze shifted upward in the direction of Jeongin's room. Their eyes locked, Jeongin standing by the window, and Chris down by the fountain.
Jeongin's breath caught in his throat, and his legs felt weak. He quickly stepped away from the window and sat down on the edge of the bed. Oh goodness...
A soft knock echoed through the room, and then came Chris's voice, whispering, "Jeongin...?" His heart raced in response.
Jeongin's lips parted, but words seemed to stick in his dry throat. His stomach churned, and his breaths grew shallow. Paralyzed, he couldn't even muster the strength to move a limb.
Jeongin's trembling hands rendered him immobile. He felt like a helpless spectator to his own life. Suddenly, the door creaked open, and there stood Chris.
"Petal..." Chris's eyes widened as he laid eyes on Jeongin. He couldn't help himself; he hurried to Jeongin, despite the knowledge that he might not be the best for him. "Are you alright?" he asked.
Jeongin's breathing grew even shallower than he'd anticipated. Chris furrowed his brows, fully aware that he was likely the source of Jeongin's distress, yet the desire to comfort the boy filled him. "It's alright," he assured, "nothing will harm you."
Jeongin found himself speechless. He couldn't talk, he couldn't think, his mind an empty canvas painted with nothing but fear.
Chris could even feel panic welling up within himself as he knelt in front of Jeongin. He gently took the trembling boy's hand, pleading, "Jeongin, please, just breathe..."
