Chanyeol thinks that he might actually suffocate in this room. The thought of what's going on outside of the walls he's trapped between will overwhelm him eventually, sooner rather than later, he's positive. Ever since the incident, the king has been in the palace more and more frequently, keeping the windows and the doors closed at all times, making sure that there is no chance for the tallest prince to slip out of his sight.

Of course, the monarch hadn't allowed Chanyeol to keep any technology with him, citing that it will only hurt his mentality more to read the articles circulating. Chanyeol isn't sure that there's anything that could hurt more than having no way to talk to Baekhyun, no way to explain the situation, no way to comfort the smaller against the winds of worry floating his way.

Even as he stares at the blank ceiling from his perch on the end of his bed, contemplating how he'll sleep tonight, and whether Baekhyun misses the gentle way their hands found each other's under the covers, he can't find a reason to care about much going on in the palace at the moment. The damage control, the cover ups, the fake meetings -- it only leaves his peace of mind withering, a semblance of panic attempting to claw its way out of his chest, the prince devoid of any emotion besides emptiness.

The last two days, he'd been reeling from the sudden departure, from the all-too-quick isolation imposed on him. When he'd been forced to relinquish his ring and attend a very public, very uncomfortable meeting with a woman he'd never even seen before, he'd lost his grip on the last shred of hope. The king tries to justify his actions with some mangled logic, with an explanation that only corrodes Chanyeol's heart more, but the insincerity of it all leads to him sitting alone in his room, hands sweaty and throat thick. 

The sudden rules and utter lack of information stifles him both physically and mentally, leaving the prince in a state of distress, of boiling panic, waiting for any chance to breathe, to hear an update about the one he loves. 

Normally, being shunned to stay in his room would have been an uneventful, even welcomed, punishment. There's nothing he likes more than laying in bed as chilled wind floats through the open window, avoiding the prying eyes of palace guards and officials while sleep makes his eyelids turn heavy. But when the room is shut up, when he's forced to listen only to the silence of his breathing, when there's no one laying next to him and filling the silence with mumbled words and giggles, the appeal of his bedroom has vanished completely. Each corner of this room holds pieces of Baekhyun, both figuratively and literally, and Chanyeol becomes nauseous when he looks at anything for too long.

The bed lacks the warmth that the shorter provided, but it's still alive with his scent, with the imprint on his pillow, with the words that they'd whispered against each other's hair. He refuses to move any of Baekhyun's belongings, to touch the clothes still hanging in the closet. There's a voice in his head whispering that Baekhyun will be back for them, even as he watches the sun set on another day without any contact with the outside world, without any word from the person whom he cherishes with every fiber of his being.

It's his fault -- his brain has made this abundantly clear the last few nights -- for letting himself be separated from Baekhyun, even if it was for the briefest of moments in that meeting room, in a time of confusion and fear and Chanyeol blanking on anything besides Baekhyun is bleeding. But, mostly, he blames himself for falling under the control of the king, though he's not sure what else he can do, not when, until now, his entire life has always been contained inside these palace walls. 

The sky is darker now, a moody gray, and he sits up to look out of the window, eyes searching for the last bit of light to drift across the sea, to cast a faint shadow of orange along the horizon. He spots the dying light, warm and shimmering, and he pictures Baekhyun's smile, Baekhyun's fingers dancing across his arm, Baekhyun's voice lulling him to sleep. 

He hums to himself, the image of Baekhyun's languid lips, dainty fingertips, and silky hair flitting behind his eyelids. It's an effective lullaby, he realizes numbly, wondering just how soft the smaller would feel under his grip right now, how hushed his voice would come out against their sheets, how lightly their lips would melt together as they let warmth and exhaustion overcome them both.

He wonders if Baekhyun is picturing this same thing right now, if the smaller's thoughts are embroiled in the wonder of how well they fit together, like puzzle pieces from separate boxes, together, yet still molding, adapting, interlocking. 

"Chanyeol."

The voice wakes up him abruptly, startles him to the very core. His eyes open as fast as a bullet, searching for familiar, sharp ones looking back at him. He finds them at the entrance to his room, and Joohyun grimaces in response, her face an apology for the surprise she'd induced.

"Are you allowed to be here?" he lowers his voice, worried. "No one has visited for two days. I didn't think I was allowed visitors." 

Joohyun's lips purse in resentment, a dark aura shifting over her as she softly shuts the door behind her, edging into the room and seating herself at one of the couches tentatively. She seems too nervous, too constricted, and Chanyeol tries not to let it fester in the pit of his stomach with the rest of his fear.

"Are you okay?" 

Chanyeol doesn't have to think about his response, not really, not when he sees the knowing look in her eyes, not when his brain floods with images of Baekhyun and he feels his breathing pick up involuntarily.

 "Not really, no," she sighs at his response. "Have you heard anything about Baekhyun? Where is he?" 

The room stills completely, and Chanyeol is sure that only his quickened breathing and erratic heart are filling the silence. Ever since Baekhyun had been absent, the entire palace had shifted from warm hues to cool, gray filling up the spaces that were once so occupied with bright smiles -- and Joohyun's look of anxiety confirms that this won't change any time soon, that Baekhyun is gone. 

"He's in Seoul," she says it like she's devastated, too, and Chanyeol feels a part of him crumple. "They sent him back the same day he collapsed. King's orders. Without him, they could absolve Sehun of blame and make it seem as if Baekhyun had ran away from you. They made it his fault, and they sent him back." 

The prince sees red, heart sinking quicker than even his pulse is beating. He doesn't comprehend, doesn't want to comprehend, not when he pictures Baekhyun waking up alone, in pain, an ocean away. He hates the thought of their distance, but he hates even more that it has been forced on them, that there's no way for him to close the gap immediately.

"Has he seen the pictures?" Chanyeol thinks he might be sick. "They're not real. They can't report it like that -- I'd never met her before, and they didn't even tell me about the rings, just put one on me and sent me out for a business meeting. She's damage control." 

Chanyeol realizes now that he's shaking with anger and panic, a mix of emotions pooling in the bottom of his stomach. He doesn't want Baekhyun to misunderstand, though he fears that most of the news outlets already have, that he was doomed from the moment they'd ripped Baekhyun out of his grip in that room, insisting on taking him to a hospital, forcing Chanyeol back to his knees in the middle of the crowd. 

Something about what Chanyeol had said rubs Joohyun the wrong way, and she stiffens, mouth opening in defiance. 

“Making you look like a cheater is a ty way to control damage,” Joohyun points out, nose upturned and eyes sharp. "That won't cover up what they've done."

Chanyeol jolts -- she never curses. But now she looks lethal, even with her soft pink lips and curled hair, even with her dainty necklace and royal airs. When it comes to justice, Chanyeol knows how strongly her emotions control her. It terrifies him, the electric shock that she sends his way with only an icy glance.

He knows what she’s saying is true, understands completely that this isn’t an attempt to make him look better — it’s a sad shot at making Baekhyun look worse, at making the royal family seem righteous for allowing their divorce. Of course, this cover-up plot was hair brained and awful, but, when he thinks about Baekhyun's droopy eyes and trembling lips, he feels bitter resentment broiling deep under his skin.

“When have they ever cared about my image? They shipped me to Paris the second they could,” Chanyeol sighs at the way Joohyun recoils, feels guilty for bringing it up so suddenly, so violently. “They just want to distract from Baekhyun’s outburst. They want me to be the bad guy, just like always. “

"You're the bad guy, and Baekhyun's the bad guy," Joohyun slams a tiny, balled fist down on the couch. "And Sehun is off scotch-free. Yes, he didn't plan it, but he didn't stop it when he heard of the plot, Chanyeol. They're acting as though he's angelic, and that the two of you are out to destroy the palace." 

"I know. But I'm locked in this room. I can barely breathe for myself, much less weasel my way to the king. I want to be free. I want to see Baekhyun."

 Joohyun stills again, her face tinted pink at the words. At first, Chanyeol thinks it's because she's embarrassed at his blatant devotion for the smaller, but, no, she is holding something back. She is obviously avoiding speaking her mind, and it makes Chanyeol's brain go into overdrive. 

"What?" his voice rises into panicked territory. 

"I don't think you should see Baekhyun." 

Chanyeol’s eyes are glossy, and they meet his cousin's with rushed fear rising in them. He can't understand what she's saying, but he knows that it tears away at his chest to hear those words, knows that he won't ever stop craving Baekhyun's smile and voice and body.

"Baekhyun has no way of contacting you," she gestures to his room, the prison cell it's started to resemble. "He's home. He's in Seoul, with all of those city lights he used to talk about, with his parents. It's where he wanted to be, Chanyeol." 

The taller is shaking his head fervently, trying his very best to not believe what he's hearing, even as some of her words seep into his chest and hammer away at his lungs and heart. 

"I don't want to hurt you or Baekhyun, but I also know that he's far away from the palace, from the memories that hurt him," she drops her voice at the last part, as if she's too scared to say it much louder, but her meaning is explicitly clear. Chanyeol can read the tone of her voice and the implication of her words as fluently as if it was written in front of him.

The palace reminds him of the kidnapping, she seems to whisper, the palace reminds him of arranged marriages, of pain and jealousy and tears. 

“He didn’t like the palace, but he liked me.”

Chanyeol's hands are fidgeting uncontrollably, dark hair falling into his eyes as he tries to avoid looking at his cousin. He's too scared to see the seriousness in her gaze, to acknowledge the veracity in her words.

Deep down, he's aware that it's true -- even in the most sacred, beloved moments, Baekhyun had felt distant in his arms, an illusion, never a fixed constellation for him to study. He'd taken him from the palace to the cottage in the mountains, had felt the way their limbs melded together in the light of a fire and the cold breeze of the ocean, but he'd never felt Baekhyun the way he'd so desired, the crowded way, rushing cars and sloppy kisses and dark nights that glittered with excitement.

There had always been a piece of Baekhyun that longed to go home, and even if Chanyeol was sometimes allowed a place in it, he knows that a marriage built off business obligations and misunderstood was never built to stand, at least not the way Baekhyun deserved. Still, he wants to convince himself, even as the thought of Baekhyun being happier without him overwhelms his senses and drowns out his reasoning. 

"Joohyun, he liked me, I know it. You didn't see how he was when we were alone. The palace wasn't for him, but I -- I wanted to be for him." 

Chanyeol regrets saying that they were only friends, regrets letting Baekhyun laugh off the way their hands brushed together naturally, the way their eyes would meet as if magnetically drawn to the other. He wanted to be so much more; he still wants it.

“Chanyeol, we are part of the palace. There is no us without the palace. There is no palace without us. It’s sad, but it’s the truth -- there is nothing for us outside of these walls.” 

"Baekhyun is outside those walls," Chanyeol's voice is strained and faint, eyes burning despite his best efforts to calm down. Suddenly, he wants to claw at the furniture around him, wants to scream at Joohyun, even if she means well. He knows she does, but she doesn't know, she can't understand the feeling that Baekhyun gives him, the adrenaline rush that fills his mind every time he earns a smile from the smaller. 

"He's back home," she repeats, voice tiny and apologetic now. "And I think you should leave him be. There was never a place for him here, not when the king so dislikes you, not when he isn't of noble birth, not when his only value for this family is money." 

This strikes a match that engulfs Chanyeol's heart and mind in flames. 

"He has value to me -- he's everything to me. You don't know how it is to be sent abroad and ignored for simply existing, do you?" his tone is angry, bordering hostile, but he can't find it in himself to care much if he hurts her feelings. "He looks at me like I mean something to him and he fills this hellhole with warmth. He makes everything okay." 

"I know he had value to you," Joohyun sighs, cheeks and eyes turning pink. "But to the king, he has run his course. Even if Baekhyun comes back, it's all for naught, Chanyeol -- I'm trying to tell you that --" 

She chokes on the words, and Chanyeol feels like he might really be sick. If she can't force herself to say these words, after everything she's told him, he can only imagine what they are, too horrid and devoid of truth to merit being spoken. 

"I'm trying to tell you," Joohyun sniffles, and Chanyeol's heart drums. "That it's over. The king has declared your marriage annulled. Baekhyun has no palace to come back to -- you're newly engaged to the woman you met earlier this week." 

Chanyeol is positive that he will be sick now. With that information spinning in the back of his mind, he makes his way back to the bed, fully curling up on Baekhyun's side. 

Her last words ring clearly, stinging his heart with each syllable, even if she's across the room. "You aren't fated anymore. We follow decrees, not our hearts, Chanyeol. You need to learn that." 

The blood rushing to his cheeks and ears overwhelms his senses, tears blurring his vision, and he almost doesn't hear Joohyun shuffling out, door closing and locking behind her.

Alone, he closes his eyes and ignores the tempest brewing inside, hoping that sleeping on this side of the bed won't affect how it still smells of the smaller, hoping that Baekhyun will come back soon to fill that empty space, hoping that the earth will swallow him whole by the time this news breaks. 

--

Baekhyun is infinitely grateful that, despite his running away from the hospital and avoidance of his parents in the subsequent day, none of his cards or accounts had been cut. Without it, he wouldn't have been able to get on the next flight, wouldn't have been able to be sitting in this shabby taxi, headed toward the center of the city.

It's all very peaceful, shades of blue and orange and pink on the shutters of each house, a quaint familiarity settling into Baekhyun. He likes the flowers that sprawl over each terrace, adores the way the darkness here is so pure, so unblemished, that it lets the natural hues of the night bleed through, stars and all. Even in the most metropolitan area, Chanyeol's city shines with the soft flicker of lights through windows, he taste of city life only on the tip of its tongue. The buildings are tall, imposing, but they're covered in colors of pastel origin, a faint reminder of the ocean surrounding them all, of the flowers that curl around the prince's windowpane.

He's getting nervous, finally. The last hours had been filled with such anger, with violent rushes of adrenaline and bursts of nausea -- Baekhyun had barely had time to process the twist in his gut and the sweat coating his palms. Now, however, he's left alone in his thoughts, throat completely closing in on itself, in the back of this taxi. His arm throbs along with the beat of his heart, too frantic, and he realizes that he needs to breathe some fresh air soon, lest he wants to be sick in the backseat of this car.

"Can I roll down the window?" Baekhyun knows that his voice sounds funny to the driver by the way his eyebrows quirk up.

As much as he'd been in this country, Chanyeol and the other royals had always kept up with his standard Seoul accent, had rarely used their own dialect to converse with him, only among themselves. This leaves Baekhyun at a loss in the linguistics area, cheeks flaming in shame, suddenly wondering just how much he doesn't truly understand about Chanyeol. 

"Sure, young man," he laughs back his answer, eyes crinkling, and returns his focus to the road ahead of them.

Baekhyun lets the air seep into the backseat, taking deep breaths to calm his nerves, to push the bile and tears back down, to bury the fears clawing at the surface of his composure. He's close to losing it, and he knows it's painfully obvious, but his driver doesn't make an attempt to question where he's from, what he's done, what he's planning on doing. 

Which, Baekhyun thinks, is great -- because he doesn't really know the answers either. 

He's still searching for a plan when the car pulls to a stop a fair distance from the palace, and the man turns around, this time asking for payment. Baekhyun smiles, flustered, and hands his card over, ignoring the high-pitched buzz in his ears and the numbness settling in the tips of his fingers. 

Soon, he's on the pavement, finding his way up to the large gates, hoping for a guard who recognizes him, praying for Chanyeol to be inside. He gets none of the above, just a strong arm pushing him down into gravel, a harsh voice asking who he is, a flash of blinding pain spreading through his arm and sending tears into his eyes. 

"I'm Byun Bakehyun," he's gasping out, mouth muffled from the impact of hitting the ground at that speed. "Prince Chanyeol knows me, I promise. I'm his husband, I swear --" 

The guard loosens his grip slightly, moving to make cautious eye contact with the smaller. Baekhyun stares back at his hard eyes, trying desperately to bury his screams in his throat, to appear as non-threatening as possible. 

"Identification?" 

Baekhyun wants to scream that his identification is in his pocket -- the one the guard is currently covering with his strong grip. He wants to cry at the burning sensation finding its way through his arm and cheek and knees, but instead, he shakes his head, yes. 

"My back pocket," his voice is small, defeated, and suddenly Baekhyun wishes for nothing more than Chanyeol's soft touch, than a familiar bed and tender eyes watching him drift off to sleep. He's so sleepy, and he knows that if he closes his eyes, the pain in his arm will stop for a minute, that he'll be back in the taller's arms. Oh, his mind supplies, you're going to pass out again. 

"What are you doing? Let him go." 

The voice is familiar, but not in the right way.

Baekhyun snaps himself awake, eyes searching for the man's face, for the familiar strong eyebrows and thin lips, for the kind eyes that Prince Minseok has always spared for him. In the last minute of pain and flurried actions, a private car for the prince had pulled up to the gate, and now Baekhyun is free -- limp and sprawled on the ground, but free. 

"Are you okay?" the car door opens, and he's being pulled up by the small man, worried eyes searching his face for traces of blood or tears, maybe both.

He wants to respond in a coherent way, longs to thank the older for his kindness, but he's sputtering over his own words, voice choked and head spinning. There's no way for him to feel nervousness now, not even when he's face to face with this prince, not when he feels the ache spreading through his body, the fatigue catching up with him. Desperation has crawled its way into the forefront of his mind, drowning out the pain and the fear and the sadness.

"Chanyeol," Baekhyun means to continue his thought, but he can't, not before he's feeling a new wave of anxiety that paralyzes every muscle in his body. 

But Minseok seems to understand, and soon Baekhyun is sitting in the backseat of the black car, leather seats cold against the burn of his entire being. They're driving slowly but steadily, and Baekhyun's dark eyes catch the rays of light that jump from the many windows dotting the palace, takes notice of the one he thinks used to belong to him. 

"Are you hurt?" Baekhyun shakes his head no, even as his arm blazes in protest. "Does Chanyeol know that you're here?" 

Baekhyun stills, a new fear arising, one that makes his hands tremble with rejection. Had there been a way for Chanyeol to know? Had he the taller truly ignored him? Suddenly, he worries whether he should've come at all, whether he should've stayed with his friends, drank until he forgot the burn in his arm and the ache in his heart, slept away the feeling of Chanyeol's lips against his.

"Of course he doesn't," Minseok sighs. "I should not have asked you that. I apologize." 

"Can I see him?" 

"You shouldn't be able to," he shrugs. "But I'm a high-ranking prince and I would like to see the guards say no to me."

-- 

Baekhyun knows that it's late, that the moon had risen high in the night sky long ago, that his prince will be asleep. But he can't find it in himself to care about the timing, not when Minseok speaks softly to the guards outside of Chanyeol's room, when he hears the lock click. He's right there, and Baekhyun feels his heart leap, fingers twitching to pry open the door. 

"There," Minseok's whispering, like he has been the entire night, past every door, through each corridor. "I hope you are okay." 

It means more than that, Baekhyun is aware, and he suddenly feels tears pricking in the corners of his eyes. He wants to pull the prince in for a hug, wants to worship the ground he walks on, but he refrains, knows that the older will only be uncomfortable with that kind of treatment. 

"Thank you," Baekhyun hopes that he sounds sincere, that the thickness in his voice doesn't cover the true tone. 

Then he's alone, the door looming in front of him, his breathing registering as terrifyingly loud in this silent hallway. He pushes the door open and looks into the darkness, into the familiar setup of the room, until his eyes land on the slumped shoulders on the bed, the messy head of hair, the pile of blankets only a few feet from him. 

The room feels the same, but there's a shift in the tone, a loneliness nestled in the corners, a sadness covering the windows. Something snaps inside him, and Baekhyun taking his shoes off as quickly as he can, eyes focused on the sleeping man, heart pounding. 

His fingers reach out and feel the taller's shoulder, warm and sturdy as ever, and suddenly Baekhyun can't hold any of his tears back, not when he feels Chanyeol's body move up and down softly with the force of his breathing. He's so peaceful, so beautiful, and Baekhyun had convinced himself that he'd never get to see this again. 

"Chanyeol," his voice is strained, full of sentiments that he wants to convey, full of fears that have built up over the months. "Chanyeol, wake up, it's me." 

The taller's eyes flutter open, a gentle smile spreading across his face, serene and shining, before he closes his eyes again, seemingly going back to sleep. The action makes Baekhyun's heart clench, and now he's climbing into their bed, hands reaching to cup Chanyeol's face as tenderly as he can. 

"Chanyeol," he whispers, mouth moving to leave tiny kisses across his face, ignoring the way his voice is quivering and just how violently his hands are shaking against the taller's skin. 

This time, Chanyeol wakes up and registers that he's not dreaming. His eyes are wide, dilated with shock and love, and his hands wrap around Baekhyun's neck, drawing him in. 

Their lips meet, wet and soft, and Baekhyun feels his heart collapse further, feels every ounce of control left in his body dissolve. Chanyeol's lips are moving so fast against his, pulling him closer until their chests are one, until it feels as though there's no oxygen left in the room, only labored breaths and lingering touches. There is nothing else that Baekhyun needs to live, not when these hands are holding him, so strong and comforting. 

"Are you real? I missed you," Chanyeol's voice is rough, and Baekhyun hears the crack in his voice at next words. "Don't leave." 

Baekhyun nods, small hands moving from his husband's face to move down his chest, settling where he can feel the taller's heartbeat fully against his palm, can confirm that this is all real. 

"Why did you do that?" Baekhyun's head drops against the taller's shoulder, gasping for any air he can get. "Why did you let me go? Why did you go out with that girl? Why wouldn't you call me? I was scared." 

"They wouldn't let me leave my room, they lied to me, they forced me out with her," Chanyeol's hands stop roaming, fiery against Baekhyun's shoulders. "I don't want her, Baekhyun, I want you. I've only ever wanted you." 

Baekhyun responds with a kiss, this time rushed, needy. It's overwhelming, all-consuming, and soon the smaller can't feel anything but the way Chanyeol's hands move across his back, the way his tongue traces the inside of his mouth so softly. He pulls away and lets Chanyeol's hungry eyes meet his, allows the taller to trace a large hand up the expanse of his stomach, stopping only when Baekhyun squirms against it, pleasure evident. 

"Please," Baekhyun is too far-gone, eyes fully blown and hair sticking to his forehead. He can't think of anything but the need to feel Chanyeol, the want to be reminded that this is his prince. He wants to Chanyeol's touch to confirm that he captivates the taller's thoughts, that he's the only one he holds this tight, that there is something sizzling between them. "Please, Chanyeol." 

Chanyeol's nodding, body complying immediately, rough fingers moving to slip off Baekhyun's shirt.

"You only want me," Baekhyun whispers, cheeks red, mind reeling from the feeling of Chanyeol rushing to hold him once again.

"I only want you," Chanyeol confirms it, voice hushed and soft. "I wish it was as easy to have only you." 

Baekhyun stills, body stiff. He's still sprawled against Chanyeol, but suddenly, the feeling of the taller's lips against his shoulder makes him feel as though he's being suffocated, seconds away from toppling over the edge of a cliff he won't be able to scale again. 

"Do you not have only me?" his voice comes out as a choked sob, and the smaller realizes that he's crying, that the taller has stopped moving against him, that there's a heaviness filling the walls and threatening to crush them both.

"Baekhyun --"

"Why can't you just tell them that you only want me? It's not hard, Chanyeol, please. Don't make it hard. You can just tell them that you only want me." 

Chanyeol sits them both up, eyes frantic, and opens his mouth to explain his words, to calm the hysterical boy in front of him. 

"That's not how it works," his hands try to wipe the tears from the smaller's cheeks, but he's pushed away by shaky hands. "Baekhyun, I only want you, but it's been declared. I --" 

Baekhyun stands, hands pushing the taller away from stopping him, a sick feeling rushing through him. He doesn't think he can stay here, even if his entire body is yearning for the touch of the taller, even when his mind craves the comfort that the prince so easily brings.

But he can't be Chanyeol's, even when he's the only one the taller wants, and the thought makes his legs quake as he stumbles his way out of the room, heaving. 

-- 

omg....... sorry guys.......... love you all 

I WILL make this less depressing. next chapter ok? lsdkjfdlsjf 

anyways,,,, dmumt SLAPS and I have been crying for three days straight now. hope you're all doing well and that you don't want to murder me after this update. bye bye <3

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