Almost Killing the Prince | Minsung ✓

-XI-

"I'm sorry..."

Minho turns from his spot on the other side of the prison, eyeing Jisung past the thick wooden bars. The older leaned against the wall, legs apart with shoulders slumped and a sigh on his lips. In his rough hands were strands of hay that littered the jail floor, pulling them apart and throwing them across the cell only to glide down in front of him.

Jisung tried to avoid the older's hard, far-away gaze. Instead, following the route the hay took on their brief journey to the ground, some landing on the bandit's thighs, others returning to the dirt.

"I'm really sorry."

Minho said nothing, turning his head, facing away from the younger, and returning to his usual state moments prior. His face wasn't as beaten up as Jisung thought- which he was grateful for. He didn't think he would hurt Minho so much, and the guilt was already gnawing at his consciousness. Even so, the older flinched in pain when he gave Jisung a fake bitter smile, scoffing and spitting at the hay in his cell.

"It doesn't hurt too much though, right?" Jisung questions, Minho arching an eyebrow at the younger's attempt to relieve his anxiety. He had a busted lip and a dark mark under his eye. The blood from his nose was cleaned up- though there were some dried remnants.

"You know, I'm surprised you actually had something in you," Minho scoffs, shaking his head. "For a moment, I thought the guy I tried to steal from and fought with weeks ago was different from the one who asked me to watch for guards while he stole some alcohol."

"But you're okay right?" Jisung sits up, his bandaged hands on the bars and staring at Minho. The older tilts his head to glance at him, meeting his dark eyes from behind the wooden bars.

"Yes, I'm fine. I'm sure the king would pay you extra for keeping me alive."

"It's not the king- It's your brother, Yongbok."

"Hm, really?" Minho questions, showing no interest in whatever Jisung had to say as he glances away, staring at the wall instead.

"When we get out of here, we can go back to Baekje and you can return to being the prince of-"

"Aish, can you quit it already?" Minho exclaims, a hand scratching his head, musing his dark hair. "I'm not a prince or a king. At least not anymore. That was long ago and I need to move on. What's the hope of returning, anyway?"

Jisung shut his mouth, swallowing hard and staring straight at the older.

"My life's in the forest- pillaging helpless merchants with the only person that hid me and taught me more than my own father did. Not in the palace." Minho mumbles, shutting his eyes. "I'm guessing you too."

Jisung knew what Minho was trying to get at. He said that criminals like them had their own sense of honor- that finding a way to survive was honorable in its own way. But criminals like them also never had a real home to go to. Maybe once, before- when Jisung...

"But your brother-"

"Will be fine," Minho huffs, his fingers pinching at the nearby straw that fell on his hanbok, flicking it away. "He's lived for a long time without me. He doesn't need me. My father doesn't need me. The royal family name will be carried through Yongbok. Baekje will strive without me like it's done for more than a decade now. So, I think it's better for both of us if we just... go our separate ways. You're not even a soldier- you won't face serious consequences for abandoning Baekje."

Jisung frowns, lowering his gaze. He sits in his cage, not another word from either him or Minho.

Minho was stern- he wasn't saying much In any guilt or remorse. It was more of a "matter-of-fact," that whatever he said was the decree of a king.