Take me home | Seongjoong

Cruel Curiosity

The flames behind him roared, casting long shadows that danced wildly across the courtyard as Seonghwa stood still, watching his own destruction. The heat of the fire was at his back, but inside, all he felt was cold. The palace—the place where every chain that had bound him had been forged—was burning. And as it burned, Seonghwa felt the last remnants of his old self falling away, consumed by the fire.

But there was one thing he still needed to do, something he had almost forgotten in the midst of his madness. Something painful. Something that would tear open the wounds he had tried to cauterize with flames.

Hongjoong's hat.

Seonghwa's breath caught in his throat at the thought. The hat that Hongjoong had worn every day, the tricorn that had always rested atop his head with such effortless confidence. The hat Seonghwa had given him, a symbol of the bond between them—now lost, along with everything else.

But Seonghwa knew where to find it.

Just across the courtyard, hidden in the shadows by the far wall, was the place where the executed bodies were kept. It was a grim storage, a temporary resting place before the nameless dead were buried in unmarked graves. Seonghwa knew the path well enough. He had learned about it during his time in the palace, a place he had once avoided, not wanting to face the reality of the King's cruelty.

Now, he had no choice.

His legs felt like they were made of lead as he moved across the courtyard, his heart pounding in his chest. He wasn't sure if it was the exhaustion from the fire, the weight of everything he had done, or the fear of what he was about to face. But with every step, the dread grew stronger, until it felt like his body was trembling beneath the crushing weight of it.

The small building that housed the bodies came into view, its stone walls dark and silent, almost peaceful in comparison to the chaos burning behind him. Seonghwa's hands shook as he approached the entrance, his breath catching in his throat as he stepped inside.

It didn't take long to find it.

There, on a wooden table, lay the body. Seonghwa's heart shattered all over again as his eyes fell on the familiar black coat, the one Hongjoong had worn like a second skin. His mind recoiled from the sight of it, his vision already blurring with tears as he took another step forward, his legs barely able to hold him up.

The body was limp, lifeless, crumpled in a way that seemed unnatural. And just beside it, a few feet away, lay the head, the tricorn hat still perched on top.

Seonghwa's knees buckled as he fell to the floor, his hands shaking violently as he reached out for the hat. His fingers brushed against the brim, the rough texture of the fabric sending a jolt of pain through his chest. His vision swam as fresh tears filled his eyes, blinding him to the world around him.

It was too much. The fire, the grief, the loss—it was all too much.

He picked up the hat, his fingers curling around it tightly, as though holding onto it could somehow bring Hongjoong back. His breath hitched as the sobs came, wracking his body with a violence that felt almost like physical pain. He clutched the hat to his chest, his heart breaking all over again.

"I'm sorry," Seonghwa whispered, his voice choked with tears. "I'm so sorry. I never told you. I never... I never had the chance..."

For a long moment, he stayed there, curled on the ground, the hat pressed to his chest, sobbing as though his soul were being torn apart. He had thought he had no more tears to cry, no more grief to give. But he had been wrong. There was always more pain to be found in the loss of someone you loved.