“If you are going to choose to love me, then do it now.”

Victoria stares into his eyes; there are waves of emotion that crash in his dark orbs, so many words he hasn’t spoken, so many things he’s too afraid to do. She has no reply.

A single step—one step is all he takes forward. The distance between them is barely closed, but Victoria is already aching to feel his skin against her own. Junsu… Junsu is different.

“I can’t.” Victoria finally sighs, and the tips of her fingers long to reach out for him.

Junsu remains still, eyes searching deep into hers. There’s a ticking in the back of his head, ticks that sound like footsteps. One, two, one, two; click, clack, click, clack.

In Victoria’s eyes, Junsu has always been a man much like a flower. He’s only a few months older than her, but she has always felt like the more mature of the two. Having grown up together for more than half of their life, she understood him like no one else has; like no one else will.

“You can’t choose to love me, or you can’t do it now?” Junsu wants to know.

She’s aware; Victoria knows very well that Junsu could live without her love—he inquires because he’s giving her a chance, but he wouldn’t hurt if she didn’t take the opportunity. That’s the type of person Junsu is; this is the type of person Junsu has always been.

Footsteps, the footsteps grow louder over time.

(Perhaps it’s his conscience reminding himself that it’s time to leave.)

“I can’t wait forever.” He says.

She bites down on her bottom lip. “What if I wanted you to wait a little longer?”

“I don’t have forever.” Junsu repeats; there is no irritation in his tone, his nature has always been that of peacefulness and tranquility.

Victoria feels a little queasy in the stomach. She’s the one that loves him more, yet, he’s the one that’s trying to make their relationship real. “None of us do,” Victoria mutters, “it’s a matter of actually being willing to wait that long, and not how long there actually is.”

“You don’t think I love you enough,” he deadpans. Junsu knows Victoria just as well as she knows him; they are opposites, two opposites that are bound together tightly by a thin thread of hope amidst their wildly thrashing wills to be pushed apart.

They have that kind of a relationship, the kind that no one understands.

And then he takes another step closer, watching as every muscle in Victoria tenses. Junsu has that kind of effect on her; every glance, every move, every change in his expression—anything Junsu does can set Victoria’s heart in a flurry of anxiety.

It’s elegant, the way he lifts his arm and runs his fingers down her silky, long hair. She tilts her cheek into his palm as he holds it there, his eyes gentle as he gazes into hers. The footsteps ring louder in his ears.

Fragile, that’s what Junsu is.

“The footsteps are coming closer.”

Victoria closes her eyes as Junsu gradually rests his forehead against hers. His breath against her lips, the warmth of his hands against her ears. Junsu muffles her ears with both of his hands, wanting her to hear the very same sounds that he hears in his own. She nods.

A headache overwhelms him and his eyes shut tightly, jaw clenched together. The footsteps, they’re just outside the door.

If there was one moment in her life that Victoria could choose for herself, it would be now. She knows, in all given honesty, that now was the time that she should push Junsu away, but she doesn’t. Instead, with much difficulty, Victoria locks her hands around his waist and does not resist in the least when he lifts her chin to kiss her lips.

“They’re here,” Junsu whispers against her skin.

Just as their lips touch, their bodies frozen at the surface but burning underneath, the door swing open violently. Victoria’s hands clutch together, but Junsu does not waver.

“This is nonsense!” The man at the door curses.

Neither of them makes to move.

“She’s a witch, Junsu! A witch! They’ll burn her at the stakes tomorrow; only one more day and you still had to make a fool out of yourself! How could you?!”

Junsu doesn’t try to explain. After all, what left was there to say?

The man becomes furious, cheeks red and hands balled into fists. He angrily stomps towards Victoria, but Junsu stands in front of her in a defensive stance. Their eyes meet and hold, long enough to make both men question their positions.

“Leave Victoria out of this, Sungmin.” Junsu demands.

Sungmin grits his teeth together, taking a deep breath through his nostrils. “Do you know what you’re doing?” He asks.

All eyes stare as Junsu takes Victoria’s hand into his own. In a world where Junsu could never do wrong, Victoria has always been the problematic one every time an issue arises. To the public eye, Junsu is the prince and Victoria is a peasant—simply because he’s a man, and she a woman.

Women are the cause of all evil.

“Victoria is mine; if anyone were to be blamed for her existence, it would be me. I have allowed her to live all these years, it is only right that she die with me in hand.”

His words prick at the organ in Sungmin’s chest; they have been friends, comrades, brothers their entire life. Now, for a woman—for a witch-- Junsu is turning his back on them. “You’ve really been caught too deep in her spells.”

“No spells have been cast, Sungmin,” Junsu insists. “You’ve known Tori for as long as I have; she has never done any harm to anyone.”

Sungmin turns a blind eye to Junsu’s words.

“You may be afraid of him, but I’m not,” Junsu adds. “I won’t let him take what belongs to me.”

At that, Sungmin turns on his heels and storms out of the prison room, his men following in tow. Victoria attempts to slide out of Junsu’s grasp, but the man does not relent.

“You planned this,” Victoria accuses.

Junsu turns to her with a weak smile. “So what if I did?”

“He’ll kill us both,” she tells him. “What good have you done for any of us?”

Chuckling, Junsu wraps his arms around Victoria’s shoulders and lures her into his chest. Junsu is warm; much like Victoria remembers him to be. “Everyone in town will know that you’re mine, and mine alone,” he answers, “that’s all the good I can do in the world; for you, at least.”

Because, Junsu knows, he owes each and every passing moment of his life to Victoria. A witch Victoria may be, but she has always been a witch that has lived to protect him with her gentle hands.

Victoria was Junsu’s guardian angel, disguised in the mask of a horribly bewitched body. Wicked she was not, but full of passion and regard for his well-being. The moment that man had approached her and tried to steal her away, Junsu knew with every fiber of his body that he needed to stop it.

He didn’t have to, because Victoria would never leave him for another.

So, Junsu would rather die with her in honor of her loyalty than to watch her be killed by a man with no such quality to his name.

“Do you not want me anymore?” Junsu asks.

Victoria shifts her gaze aside. They both know very well that Junsu has been aware of her feelings for the longest, but never have they addressed the issue so straightforwardly.

“You don’t?”

“I do,” she replies. “There’s no one else that could replace you, Junsu.”

His heart beats a little faster when she raises her hands to clutch his back, her small face buried into his collar. “Good,” he says, with much affection, “because now you’re stuck with me, for forever and a little more.”

The footsteps fade, as does the light of the day. The only sounds they hear during their last moments are that of each other’s breath and the cluttering footsteps of people gathering around the grounds of their sentencing.

Glorious may not have been their death, but nothing more did either of them need. The fire burns tall, some people grimace and others cheer. Sungmin stands beneath a tree, heart aching for his best friend who is to leave him.

Junsu and Victoria hold each other’s hand tight, no matter how hard the guards try to pry them apart. That man is watching, with rage that
combusts in every inch of his body, but what is he to do? Even after their death, he receives no comfort for the fury that still frenzies within him.

Yet, they die with smiles on their faces for they have no more regrets in life.

Footsteps, the sound of footsteps, never recedes; neither do the hearts of the two youths who were in love, stubbornly, until the end.

-----

A/N: Just some person feelings, but... I think the main issue with f(x)'s fandom is that 75% of their fans don't actually stan them-- it seems as though most f(x) "fans" actually prioritize another group but happen to like f(x), which is totally fine. 10% of the 25% that actually stan and love f(x) with all their heart are too financially inept to actually sufficiently support the girls. Then you have fans like me, the other 15%, that stan and support the girls as much as we can through sales and streams, to the best of our financial capabilities, but it just isn't enough to give the results that would make f(x) more proud. Long story short, like Krystal once said, f(x) fans are neither big in number, nor are they powerful. It kind of really makes me sad... but what can I do? It's f(x)'s 4th anniversary and I really wish there was more I could give them. /sigh. Happy 4th to my beautiful and endlessly talented ladies!