The taller's arms are strong when they wrap around him, pulling him closer again, leading his shaking figure back toward the dimly lit room. He can feel his panicked breathing mingling with Chanyeol's, can feel electricity crackling between them. He wants to lean into the touch, wants to close his eyes and wait for sunlight to make everything okay, but he can't. He can't stop the creeping fear of those hands being on someone else, of Chanyeol choosing this palace over him, despite the deep voice that had whispered words of devotion only a minute prior. 

Baekhyun has never wanted anything as badly as he wants Chanyeol. If he were asked to give anything up, he would, and it's acutely painful when he realizes that the taller wouldn't do the same. Baekhyun feels as though several layers of protection he'd built up on the way here have melted away, leaving his heart thrumming out in the open, Chanyeol's words making the melody stutter against its own beat. 

Chanyeol never loved him, really -- he had only wanted him. It had all started with lust, drinks, and silk sheets, with an enchanted Baekhyun letting this man taste his lips and bewitch his thoughts. His mind is jumbled, but one thing is clear: he had been a warm body to hold, a lovely distraction, but when it came down to it, Chanyeol would choose his palace over what they'd shared.

"Baekhyun, breathe," Chanyeol's voice is too close, too familiar, and it only makes him feel sicker. "You need to listen to me." 

They're back in Chanyeol's room, but now a lamp is on, orange lighting shining over the prince's cheekbones and settling into the bags under his eyes. He looks bad -- Baekhyun's stomach clenches with worry, and he hates himself for it. 

"Are you hurt?" Chanyeol's voice is so soft, overly concerned, and Baekhyun feels a sob rack through his body again, shoulders shaking against the grip that the taller has on them. He hates the power his voice holds over him, is disgusted that Chanyeol can wreck him so easily and still be this coherent, this collected. "You're all scratched on your cheek. Who hurt you?" 

He's shaking his head and pulling away from the taller's hands altogether, frantically searching for the couch, for a place to sit down that Chanyeol isn't. His brain is in overdrive at the moment, and he doesn't want to keep his proximity to the prince anymore, not when it sends his brain mixed signals, leaving him crying, wanting the taller near and far away at the same time.

"Who hurt you, Baekhyun?" 

He hates hearing his name said like that, hates that his mind twists it to situations that he longs for, situations that he is positive won't happen again -- he hears his name from the taller's lips and thinks of Chanyeol's sleepy morning voice, of the way he calls out to him when their hands meld together in the moonlight. 

"I'm not even hurt," Baekhyun watches Chanyeol's eyes flicker from the cut on his cheek to his eyes, hands twitching in a way that sparks hope inside his chest. He thinks of Chanyeol's earlier words and promptly extinguishes it. "I'm not hurt. Why can't you understand that you're the one hurting me?" 

Chanyeol sits on the opposite end of the couch, the space between them deafening and awkward in ways they haven't felt in months. He looks seconds away from crumbling, head in hands, and Baekhyun despises himself for wanting to comfort him, to hold him close, to silence his worries with a soft kiss to the forehead. 

"I told you. I only want you," his deep voice is thick, as if it's been stuck in his throat, and Baekhyun registers that he's crying, that he's caused this. His actions, his words, his arrival, it's set off the prince in ways he hasn't seen since he'd been kidnapped, since they'd been wrapped in each other's arms so tightly, terrified to ever let go again. 

Somehow, he feels even worse -- he wants to feel vindicated, wants a sick sense of relief to flood his system, but only despair finds its way into his mind, crushes his chest with its weight. There is no satisfaction in Chanyeol's agony, no refuge from the anger and sadness crashing against the confines of his mind. 

"Then have me," Baekhyun's voice is rushed, hands shaking as if he can't control the feelings rising inside, as if they threaten to rip out of his skin any second. "You want me, so have me. Just tell them no."

"I want to tell them no," he takes a shaky breath, shoulders hunching over, covering himself from Baekhyun's gaze, from the light that dances across the shorter's expression. "It's not a situation that I can refuse that easily. It will take weeks, months to cancel this, to --" 

"It took an afternoon to end us."

Baekhyun balls his fist, focusing on how his nails dig into the palm of his hand instead of the whimpering sounds Chanyeol is making. His mind is a storm and his body is the ocean, rolling and crashing and frothing at the slightest wind, the slightest noise. Out of his control, he thinks, he's out of control. 

"It took an afternoon to exile me, to lock you up. Why should this be any different?" 

"My word is nothing against the king's," Chanyeol's voice is hushed now, as if he can't force it to be any louder. "Baekhyun, I can want you until I die, but unless I am king, we're at his mercy. And I will want you until I die." 

The conviction in his voice sets Baekhyun's mind moving once again, running and tripping over thoughts, scrambling to become coherent. He can't tell if Chanyeol is lying to him and he's falling into a trap, or if the taller is genuine, if all the secrets and memories between them were part of something realer than he'd ever let himself dream of. 

A fresh wave of tears hits him so quickly that he can't respond in time, a sob filling the air between them. Chanyeol looks up, dark eyes meeting his so desperately, fear and something tender present in them. He thinks of the night he'd watched Chanyeol's figure disappear at the bar, the way he'd so confidently approached him, twinkle in his eye and doubt gone. Something inside him had known that if he jumped, Chanyeol would catch. 

Suddenly, he doesn't want to think anymore. There is no energy left in him, not when Chanyeol seems so resolute in avoiding saying no to the king, when all the fire in Chanyeol's eyes is reduced to ash. They're broken -- Chanyeol's eyes are broken, and he needs to try and fix them one last time, needs to bring their flame back to life. He wants to set the distance between them alight, wants to stay in Chanyeol's mind as the only thing that shines brightly against the night sky, the only thing that matters. 

He's crawling across the couch to straddle the taller, sobs echoing between them with each movement. He needs to remind Chanyeol of their first meeting, needs to prove that he's worth fighting for, that he should mean something to the prince, even if it's not what Baekhyun so ardently longs for. If it keeps him in his arms, if it makes the prince look at him like he's hung the stars, meaning anything is okay. 

"You don't have to love me," Baekhyun chokes out, upper lip shaking just as violently as his hands are. He's pressing his lips against Chanyeol's cheek softly, heart aching at the way the taller tenses up. It hurts, but it's okay. He tells himself this is what Chanyeol wants from him, this is all he's ever meant. 

The younger boy is still under him, shock evident, and Baekhyun grabs for his arms, wrapping them around himself, imagining all the times that Chanyeol had done this before, the moments he'd been annoyed at how much affection he insisted on showering him with. Now, he'd give anything for Chanyeol to do it naturally once again, to pull him closer and let their lips move against each other as if they were born to be connected.

"You don't have to love me, Chanyeol, I promise. You just have to want me. I'm okay with that." 

Baekhyun leans further down to capture the taller's lips, but Chanyeol turns away, leaving him kissing at the corner of his mouth. All he tastes is the salt of his tears, the bitter flavor of rejection and fear choking him. 

"Baekhyun, stop. What are you doing?" Chanyeol pulls his head fully away, hands softly moving to hold the hips straddling him. He looks torn, almost scared, and Baekhyun feels regret rising up his throat, panic numbing his limbs.

"I'm doing what you like," Baekhyun's face crumples. "We're friends, right? We have benefits? That's what we said. This is what I am to you. Remember, please, Chanyeol. Remember how you held me. You don't love me, but you want me, right? Don't let me go, please." 

He rests his head in the crook of Chanyeol's neck, soft kisses naturally falling on his collarbones in an attempt to make the taller respond, to make those familiar arms regain their strength and hold Baekhyun against his chest again. Chanyeol's heart is too fast against his ear, and he feels tears pooling around his cheek, stinging the fresh cut so badly that he cries harder, choked wails of please syncing with the taller's heartbeat. 

"Baekhyun, stop. I can't when you're sobbing, please," Chanyeol's voice is harsher now, and it makes Baekhyun hiccup against him, shaking his head vehemently. He can't hear any more of this, not when all he wants is for Chanyeol to want him like he says he does, for Chanyeol's lips to capture his and take his breath and make all of this sadness go away. "I can't hurt you. Please breathe." 

"Chanyeol, you want me, you said it," he's undoing the arms wound around his hips, fighting against himself as he scrambles back to his end of the couch, warding off more tears by biting his lip. "Why won't you kiss me? Why do you hate me? You said you'd want me until you die." 

"I will want you forever," Chanyeol looks frightened to approach him, the tension in the room too thick to wade through. "But you don't have to do that -- I don't want you like that. I don't want to just have , Baekhyun. I want you." 

The room goes silent, completely still. Baekhyun can't breathe, not when Chanyeol is looking at him like that, not when his eyes are watering with every emotion he could possibly process at once. Even the light seems to stop, the orange hues coming to a halt on their march across Chanyeol's face, leaving his eyes completely orange, cheeks an angry red. 

"I love you," he says it like it's a secret, like he's desperate for his next breath of air. "I've loved you for longer than you think. I don't just want to have with you. I don't want to be friends. I love you enough that I was scared of every minute without you that night you went missing. The days when you were in Seoul felt like years. I couldn't breathe." 

Baekhyun starts to say something, begins the first stages of disbelief, but he closes his mouth at the look of determination in Chanyeol's eyes. Nothing feels real right now, the warm colors of the room suddenly closing in on him. It's everything he's ever hoped Chanyeol would tell him, and yet, he still feels so empty, so scared.

"I love you enough that I don't want you to have to be in this palace. Being here is nightmares and faked freedom and tears. I want you to be happy, surrounded by your city lights and friends, not stuck in a marble jail cell with an outcast prince. I will always want you, but that doesn't mean I deserve you, Baekhyun." 

The smaller's mind is crying out in doubt and fear and joy all at once, but his body doesn't register it, hands itching to reach toward the taller instead. He can't think of anything besides Chanyeol's eyes and lips and awful excuses. His entire world has shifted into Chanyeol's smile and laughter, all the touches that Baekhyun had disregarded, all the times he'd buried his thoughts in the sound of the waves outside. He gulps, hard, and his mind replays Chanyeol's words over and over again. 

"That's an awful excuse," he says, voice still fearful, still raw. He can't handle the way Chanyeol's eyes waver at his words. "Nothing is a prison if you're there. You know how I feel; I've been so obvious. You know that I would go anywhere if it was with you. I love you too. Stop lying to yourself and to me. Stop letting me leave."

"I love you," Chanyeol repeats, voice louder, the secret finally out. "I love you."

Baekhyun's crawling back across the couch, but this time Chanyeol is meeting him halfway, his composure snapped completely in half. Their lips are together, warm and needy, and Baekhyun realizes that they're both crouched on their knees, bodies only inches apart. That tiny distance feels like a world, and he gasps when, suddenly, Chanyeol's large hand is at the base of spine, pulling him closer until they're practically one. This kiss is rushed, worried, fearful, and Baekhyun can taste both of their tears and desperation in it, can feel Chanyeol's hands mapping his back with each passing second, as if he's too scared to forget it. He's missed this, missed the way that they fall together in a mesh of teeth and tongue and limbs, missed the way their surroundings fade into nothing.

"If you love me," Baekhyun pants out against his lips, embers glowing in his eyes and lungs, threatening to burn his heart with them. "Fight for me." 

--

Chanyeol is rifling around somewhere by the time Baekhyun wakes up, dazed. He blinks against the sun that streams in through the curtains, stifles a yawn against his arm, suddenly taking in the scenery and his body and the lack of husband next to him. The world is as he'd expected, calm, but everything inside of him is a raging battle, peaceful yet shrinking in fear at the thought of last night being a dream. 

"Chanyeol?" he asks it like a plea, begging the boy to be here, to hold his gaze, to assure him. The boy makes a noise of acknowledgement, and by the time Baekhyun has sat up in bed, he's pacifying him with a tiny kiss to the top of his head, eyes excited. 

"I slipped a note outside," he explains. Baekhyun studies his three-piece suit, the way he's so dressed up, dashing and glowing in this light. His fingers glide through his hair in excitement, head shaking as he smiles. "I asked to go down to breakfast and meet my fiancé. The guards slipped me one back -- I am permitted." 

Baekhyun stills, eyes still focused on the glittering gold of Chanyeol's rings and watch, their wedding band absent. He needs some more explanation, needs to be coddled through this game plan -- so far, he's not understanding, and, truthfully, he's hating the idea of Chanyeol finally being free to go and eat breakfast with this woman, dressed up and charming. 

"You're eating breakfast with her?" Baekhyun's eyes meet Chanyeol's, and he's relieved to see the bit of spark reflected back at him. 

Chanyeol must've sensed the confusion in his voice, the paranoia seeping through his gaze, and he shakes his head immediately, hands coming up to deter Baekhyun from getting any wrong ideas. He sits down next to Baekhyun on the bed, face getting closer until their noses almost brush. 

"I am going to breakfast with her because the king will be there," Chanyeol's voice is hushed, secretive, and it makes Baekhyun's insides flutter. "I can appeal to him. And where I go, my guards go. You will be able to leave this room if you need to. You can go find Minseok, if you want -- just don't get caught." 

Baekhyun's heart is drumming away at their proximity, at the thought of Chanyeol standing up to the king for him, at the prospect of a secret mission. He had gotten used to the palace and its many halls, but he can't be certain of his ability to abstain from getting caught. It's thrilling, though, and Baekhyun nods, his forehead bumping with Chanyeol's ever so lightly. 

"You should get dressed so that you can leave after I'm gone," Chanyeol advises before swooping in for a small kiss on his lips, tender and holding more meaning than Baekhyun could've anticipated. He's still on the edge of the bed, staring at him, and now Baekhyun is very aware of how he is, of how haggard he must look compared to the taller. 

"Are you really doing this?" 

He must sound extremely doubtful -- Chanyeol's eyebrows furrow and his lips purse. It sends a rush of familiarity through the smaller and suddenly he feels like crying again at the thought of being here, of their shared sentiments and rushed kisses. Even if it was blurred by fatigue and stress and the last traces of alcohol from his clubbing, Baekhyun had been convinced in the moment that there would never be another moment that gripped his heart quite like that. 

"I was foolish," Chanyeol's head drops, and his hands move to circle around Baekhyun's good wrist, playing with his fingers gently. "I thought running away would solve things. But last night -- you said you loved me. I can't be stupid, not when your heart is on the line too." 

"What if something happens?" Baekhyun whispers, suddenly regretting all the aggressive hope he'd instilled in the taller, all the words that had illuminated their chests in the night. There's so much that could go wrong, so much for Chanyeol to lose, for Baekhyun to regret. "What if he kicks you out? What if he threatens you? What if they find me?"

"Joohyun told me there's nothing outside of those palace walls for me, and I believed her," his voice drops quietly, whispering once again, though this time it's hushed solemnity. "But then you broke into the palace for me, and I realized that there was -- you were always there for me, waiting. I shouldn't be afraid of anything when it's for you, for us. I'm sorry." 

Baekhyun shakes his head to ward against the sadness and fear that's creeping up and plaguing them. He squeezes Chanyeol's hand gently, watching the light reflect against the prince's radiant gold skin one last time. "Don't apologize. I'll get dressed, okay?" 

Baekhyun tries to look inconspicuous by wearing black slacks and one of Chanyeol's smallest white dress shirts, hoping to blend into some of the staff despite the cut on his cheek and well-known face. He's tucking in the shirt, hands sweaty, when Chanyeol puts a warm hand on his shoulder and pushes him back toward their bathroom, out of view from the doorway. 

"I love you," he whispers, lips ghosting over Baekhyun's. He shivers and nods in response, heart picking up its pace at the thought of what Chanyeol will do, of what the king will say in return. 

Baekhyun tries not to breathe while Chanyeol greets his guards (which are not the same as the night guards, the ones who'd been confronted by Minseok hours before, Baekhyun realizes with a breath of relief) and sidesteps out the door. Then Baekhyun is alone, chest heaving, hands shaking. It's over -- he hadn't been noticed and he's fully dressed. He can leave in a few minutes, can search for Minseok and his guidance, can relax his mind for a brief moment. 

-- 

Chanyeol's eyes shift to the woman next to him, to her wide eyes and long hair and pouty lips. He'd met her before, of course, but he hadn't really looked at her, too distressed with all that was happening around him, with the disappearance of his husband. She's pretty, he muses, but he can tell that she is not interested in this marriage either, that her mind is wandering, blank expression taking over her face. She's not angry or embarrassed or worried like Baekhyun had been, but instead, emotionless. It's almost as if she'd expected this to happen and was just dealing with the consequences pitifully. He feels guilty for her situation, even if there was no fault on his part. 

"It's good to see you've decided to join us for breakfast," his voice is deep and condescending. Chanyeol wonders if the king takes pleasure in mocking him, in saying such things when he's been locked up for days. "You have barely seen your fiancé at all. For a soon to be princess, that cannot be very fun to endure. Right, Chaeyoung?" 

She nods, eyes downcast, and Chanyeol watches her drag a strawberry across her entire plate, eyes transfixed, like a cat chasing a mouse. She's bored and unhappy, and he's terrified and jittery -- a good combination, his mind jokes, even as he chides himself for getting distracted in this uncomfortable situation.

Chanyeol decides that he needs to end this quickly -- he can't drag it out, not when he knows Baekhyun is desperately trying to find Minseok in the walls of the palace, when he's aware of just how little time he'll have to speak once the king realizes what exactly he's on about. 

"Actually, about that matter," Chanyeol coughs, setting down his chopsticks down quietly. Chaeyoung's glitter-lidded eyes follow it, and he can actually feel her noticing that he hadn't actually touched his food yet. "I need to speak you to about this engagement, your highness." 

"What of it?" his voice has already turned gruff, and Chanyeol pictures Baekhyun's radiant smile and soft lips, pictures Chaeyoung leaving happily, relieved of her duties as an obligated daughter. He needs to do this, for more than just himself. 

"I do not want it, your highness," Chanyeol feels his voice quivering, but he swallows before continuing. "I would like it to be called off. I only love Byun Baekhyun, and, to me, our marriage is not annulled. There is no reason for me to have anyone other than him as my partner." 

Chaeyoung's eyes are burning into him, almost looking through him. He can picture them going wide and hopeful, can see her put down her chopsticks from his peripheral vision. Baekhyun's voice is in the back of his mind, crying and pleading, voice so broken at the thought of being torn apart, lips chapped and salty and desperate. It spurs him on. 

"I know you disapprove because he did not adhere to the conduct you expected and he hit someone in front of multiple officials," at this, Chaeyoung startles, obviously unaware of the history of Chanyeol's previous engagement. "But framing me as a cheater and abuser, sending him home with no warning, seperating us for no reason other than your own pride -- no good will come of it. It will not win you my favor or gratefulness. It will not make me give her my heart." 

Chaeyoung is so silent, so still next to him, but her breathing is heavy. He can feel her anxiety rolling off in waves, colliding with him and clouding his mind with doubt and fear. 

"This insolent speech means nothing to me," the king stands, voice deeper than Chanyeol's ever heard it, clearly offended, clearly angered by each syllable he'd uttered. "I will not address it. You will learn to keep your mouth shut." 

Chanyeol's heart leaps, and he swallows the lump forming in his throat, wills away the nerves that have engulfed him so quickly. He's almost too scared to continue on with his speech, but then he sees familiar eyes peeking in from a window behind the king, soft brown hair and white shirt so electrifying that Chanyeol stands up as if on cue. Seeing Baekhyun there, fearful eyes watching everything, gives him a burst of energy, of confidence, and suddenly he's ignoring the blood rushing to his ears and twenty-three years of fear instilled in him. 

"If you will give me no other option," Chanyeol straightens up, hoping that all the adrenaline streaming through his veins will make up for the weight of what he is about to say. "I hereby renounce my royal title." 

 -- 

CHANYEOL???? CHANYEOL!!!!!!! ldjklfsjlfjfkjldlkjfsldfs

hope you guys like the update??? feedback is ALWAYS appreciated! sorry for breaking your hearts these last few chapters. hopefully this one revived you! (p.s. i lov chaeyoung aka rosé from bp. don't misunderstand dskfjdskf she's an angel and her and pcy did a collab thing so....here she is!)

love you all! goodnight angels <3

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