He is roused by someone gently shaking his shoulder. For a blessed few moments, he forgets the last few days and hums sleepily, opening his eyes expecting to be met with the familiar surroundings of his room.

Instead his breath hitches and fight or flight instincts kick in as he sees the amused face of his father’s murderer. His subsequent fist is caught by Yixing’s hand. 

Yixing chuckles and refuses to release Junmyeon’s hand when he struggles. “Ah,” he says, “violent straight from bed. Good to know.”

Junmyeon’s hackles rise and he sneers. “Release me.”

Yixing arches an eyebrow, his gaze roving down Junmyeon’s body. Junmyeon clenches his remaining hand and prepares to throw another fist; he is coming to expect nothing but bull out of Yixing’s mouth. “Hmm. I could. I could also get into the bed with you.”

Junmyeon aims at his face, and is disappointed but not surprised when Yixing catches it, too. In hindsight, Junmyeon should not have been so quick to let Yixing provoke him into a vulnerable position. 

“Well,” Yixing drawls. “Fancy that.”

Junmyeon spits in his face.

Yixing looks less amused.

“Stellar behaviour, as expected from the kingdom’s crown prince,” he mutters and wipes the saliva off his face with his sleeve. It did not have the desired effect, but at least Junmyeon feels smugly gratified to have ruined some of Yixing’s apparent mirth. “I should have had the foresight to see it coming, I suppose.”

“I expected nothing less from a murderer,” Junmyeon snipes. 

Yixing huffs. He pulls Junmyeon closer, seems to enjoy toying with him, and smiles. “I will say, I was rather delighted to find you in bed when I returned. I thought you would have run off the moment I left.”

“When did you return?” Junmyeon demands, straining against Yixing’s grip to maintain a semblance of distance between their bodies. 

Yixing’s smile widens, and his gaze drops from Junmyeon’s face. “A while ago. You were sleeping so sweetly, so I decided not to disturb you. Your face scrunches up a lot when you sleep, did you know? I find it rather endearing.”

Junmyeon glares at him and laments their current position; Yixing will have ample time to back away or stop him if he moves to kick him where it hurts. “Release me.”

“Not yet,” Yixing says. “I got a message to my friend in the capital for you. I would expect some form of gratitude from you.”

“Release me.”

Yixing continues undeterred, “I did not get you a horse. I really thought you would have been halfway to your beloved brother by now. We can look for one before we leave, if you wish, but you will buy it with your own coins.” He winks. “I went and… sold some of your brother’s generous gifts, which fetched me a small fortune. Perhaps I should reconsider my profession and start offering distressed kings my services to protect their naïve brothers instead.”

“You are a despicable excuse for a human being and I hope you rot.”

Yixing’s eyes shimmer with amusement. “You would, wouldn’t you. Well? Will you be coming with me so your brother can rest peacefully knowing you're safe with me, or will you continue to be a child about it?”

Junmyeon desperately wants to say no, but first he needs to find out if Yixing's friend will accept his request to protect Minseok or not. He does not know how he himself can help Minseok when he cannot physically be by his side, but he will figure something out if he must. 

“When will I know if your friend agrees to my terms? Shall I wait here for his reply?”

“My friend would make sure his answer comes straight to me.” Yixing's grin shows teeth. “You are out of luck, prince. If you wish to know his answer, you will have to stay with me.” His grin widens. “It will be an adventure.”

“It is extortion and kidnapping with my brother’s life at stake.”

“It is not kidnapping when you come willingly.” 

“I need to know what your friend’s answer is.”

“Well,” Yixing hums, “then I am afraid you don’t have much of a choice.” He releases Junmyeon’s hands and watches him bemusedly as Junmyeon promptly leaves the bed and walks around him to get the satchel he left by the door. “It is curious, is it not. You beg me to send a letter to one of my friends, as you put it, to request of them that they protect your brother – and yet you seem to hold a grudge against him for doing the very same. Would you not say that is flawed logic?”

Junmyeon scowls. “None of them infiltrated the castle and murdered our father. You did.”

Yixing goes to sit on the bed, leans forwards with his elbows on his knees and, with his chin resting atop his knuckles, pins Junmyeon with eyes that penetrate. “So, prince, you are telling me you care naught for the faceless men and women my friend has assassinated – the families he has torn apart?” His eyes narrow. “Had I not been the one to slay your father, perhaps you would have welcomed my protection? You would have given the blood on my hands no thought?”

Junmyeon bristles. “That’s not –” He draws in a sharp breath and glares at Yixing. “I would have never welcomed your protection. But Minseok is in danger and I –”

Yixing scoffs noisily and shakes his head. “See, I think you are so blinded by your hatred of me because of my hand in your father’s death that you cannot imagine ever accepting my protection. I think, if your brother had come to you in distress and asked you to leave the castle with me – you wouldn’t have put up a fight. Am I wrong, Your Highness?”

“You – have killed people,” Junmyeon nearly shouts. He reins himself in for fear of anyone overhearing them, and continues in a lower voice, “It changes nothing. You would have still been an assassin.”

Yixing shakes his head again and even laughs quietly. “You are infuriating, prince, and so stuck in your naïvity. Say my friend accepts your request – how will your brother react? Will he welcome my friend’s protection and be grateful to you for thinking of him and wanting to help him? Will he throw a hissy fit and refuse your help?” He tilts his head. “How will you feel if he refuses? Your love for your brother, your loyalty, means you want to protect him – that I understand. Will you be upset? Angry? Relieved?”

Junmyeon feels out of his depths, struggling to remain afloat. This is different – “Of course I will be upset, but – I would understand. He is allowed to decide for himself. He has a choice.” He scowls. “Unlike him, I will give him a choice.”

Yixing spreads his hands and throws out his arms. “You say you have no choice, and yet you have told me no several times. Is that not a choice?”

“Minseok expects me to –” Junmyeon cuts himself off, furious that Yixing has no trouble stringing him along like this. “He should have asked me first before taking the choice away. I am not scheming with your friend to betray his trust!”

“Perhaps not,” Yixing allows, “but your brother acted in your best interest.” He purses his lips and lifts one shoulder in a nonchalant shrug. “I perhaps also took advantage of his desperation to have a little fun.”

“Fun,” Junmyeon spits. “I was terrified. I thought I was going to die. I thought you would kill him.”

“I said I wouldn’t,” Yixing sniffs. 

“You are an assassin,” Junmyeon says, and he does not know why he needs to stress this. “Your word means nothing to me. Not now, not then. You were toying with me the entire time. Minseok should have known better than to let you. There were other ways.”

“Perhaps,” Yixing says, “but time was of the essence. He had to come up with a plan, and he had to do it fast.” His smile this time is sharp. “After all, my execution was rather imminent.”

“He is the king now. He had the authority to postpone your execution.” Junmyeon sneers. “Not that he should have. You should have atoned for your crimes with your life on the very night you killed my father.”

Yixing sighs. “I see there is no reasoning with you. Every conversation with you somehow leads to this argument you cling to. Your father was a brute.”

“So everyone keeps telling me!” Junmyeon snaps. “But no one bothered to tell me while he was still alive!”

“Would you have listened?” Yixing prompts. “Would you, truly?”

“If Minseok had told me, I would have.” Junmyeon sighs heavily. “Eventually, I would have.”

“You could have asked anyone,” Yixing says coolly. “Anytime, you could have asked. You have had years to relinquish your ideal notions and actually look at the world and the people around you. You had every chance to figure it out if you had bothered to care, but you never did. You were perfectly content in your dreams, weren’t you.”

“I had no way of knowing –”

“You must have known something,” Yixing says, and he is ruthless. Junmyeon dislikes it a lot and would rather not be forced to listen to a murderer admonishing him. “There is no way you never caught wind of any rumours or wondered about your brother’s arguments with your father. I was at the castle for less than two weeks and although I already knew about your father, it honestly surprised me when I realised he was beating his sons. Well.” Yixing smiles cruelly. “One of them. He beat the only son who bothered to stand up to him.”

Junmyeon chokes a little. “How do you know?”

“Please.” Yixing rolls his eyes. “I infiltrated the medical wing. I never treated your brother myself, but once or twice, always after they fought, your brother would send a servant for healing ointments and pain relief.”

“It could have been a coincidence,” Junmyeon says. He is grasping at straws, he knows it, and he hates it. “You are lying.”

Yixing laughs; it is slightly breathless, short, and not particularly amused. “You are still refusing to accept the truth. I cannot believe it.” He shakes his head. “No, I can believe it. I would not expect much more from the prince who locked himself away and lived his life in books.”

Abruptly, he gets to his feet and glances at Junmyeon, as though he really could not care less. “I am leaving. Are you coming, or not?”

Junmyeon averts his gaze. “I need your friend’s answer.”

“Come, then.” Yixing crosses the room and makes for the door. He holds it open and turns to Junmyeon, the slightest shadow of impatience seeping through. “Well?”

Junmyeon is already holding the satchel, so he wordlessly passes through the threshold and follows Yixing downstairs to the hall. The young man from breakfast is still there. He looks up from a chat with two patrons and smiles brightly at Yixing as he comes towards the counter.

“Yixing! Father told me you were here. Leaving so soon?” He pouts. Pouts. Junmyeon is dumbfounded. “We haven’t had a chance to catch up.” His gaze strays to Junmyeon, and they light up in understanding. “I see. Our curious passersby is with you, isn’t he?”

“Indeed,” Yixing says dryly and glances past his shoulder at Junmyeon. He smirks and puts the key on the counter. “Don’t be fooled. He is a delight, really. Very different from you, Jongdae, you understand.”

“I believe you,” Jongdae says and snickers. “I wouldn’t have thought he was your type, but…” He shrugs. “I suppose everyone can be your type, hm? If they interest you, you want them. But if he bores you, come find me, yeah? You know I’m a great time.” 

Yixing chuckles and winks. He leans across the counter to pat Jongdae’s cheek. “I’ll remember, darling. Thank your father for helping us out.”

“Pleasure,” Jongdae says and grins. “Safe travels, wherever you’re going this time.”

“Wherever the path takes me,” Yixing says with a shrug. “You be safe, too. I’ll see you around.”

“Bye!” Jongdae calls as Yixing offers a wave and returns to Junmyeon, who has been watching the entire exchange with mounting disbelief. 

Yixing is an assassin, and he is obnoxious and quite frankly horrible, but this young man, this Jongdae, seems genuinely delighted by his presence. Junmyeon is astounded. Jongdae must not know of Yixing’s profession. Jongdae is a handsome man with sharp features and mischievous eyes. He could probably charm anyone he set his eyes on, but he wants Yixing?

“He doesn’t know, does he?” he asks as Yixing walks past him. He follows, unable to do much else as Yixing makes no move to stop. “He doesn’t know what you’ve done.”

“Jongdae is a good friend,” Yixing says. “Whenever I’m in the area, I try to make time for him.” He looks back to leer. “He is also rather vocal in bed and relishes it when I him.”

Junmyeon wishes Yixing hadn’t given him those thoughts. “You are vile.”

“You asked.”

Junmyeon needs to think of something else. “Where are we going?”

“Away,” Yixing answers. They have reached the horse and Yixing makes quick work of saddling it as he elaborates. “As far away from the capital as possible. Someone is bound to recognise you eventually if we dally like this, and I am a wanted criminal. We need to disappear.”

“How will your friend’s answer reach us if he won’t know where we are?” Junmyeon demands. 

“I asked him to meet me for the details two days’ ride from here. If your request intrigues him, you can try to convince him to risk his life for your brother.”

“You don’t sound optimistic,” Junmyeon says.

“I’m not. Just as I would probably reject an unreasonable request or one that pointlessly risks my life, so would most others.”

“I hate you,” Junmyeon says.

Yixing just smiles and motions for him to follow. “I know.”

~

Seated on his newly-purchased horse, Junmyeon feels much more at ease. He can, if he wishes, coax the horse into a gallop at a moment’s notice and get away from Yixing’s unsettling smirks and ruthless observations. He stays a significant distance behind the assassin as they ride through the landscape and night begins to fall. 

Junmyeon just needs to stick around for a few days to see if Yixing’s friend will meet them. For Minseok's protection, he can do this. He can get through two days as Yixing's reluctant companion. Once he has met Yixing's friend, if at all, he will decide what to do next. 

Minseok's gift is cool against his skin. 

They ride until Junmyeon's bum hurts, although he refuses to request a break because he suspects Yixing will see right through him and make some remark that is either ual of nature or mocks his upbringing. He wants to be reminded of Yixing's presence as little as possible, and, blessedly, Yixing is mostly silent throughout their ride. 

Until he isn't.

“This seems like a suitable spot to camp for the night,” he says and slows the horse down to a lazy trod as he assesses their surroundings. 

“Here?” Junmyeon asks incredulously. “In the middle of nowhere?”

“Indeed,” Yixing says. “With the news of your death still fresh in people's memory and our close proximity to the capital, we would be fools to spend the nights at inns.”

Junmyeon his bottom lip between his teeth to stop himself from spewing stupid words that will doubtlessly make Yixing call him a child again. He has never slept on the ground and loathes the thought, but Yixing has already shredded enough of him for today. 

Two days. He just has to get through two days. 

“All right,” he agrees, and tries to sound casual about it. He longs for a bath and clean clothes, but he refuses to change into the set in his satchel before getting a chance to clean up, which he suspects won't happen until he is on his own. 

They secure the horses to a pair of trees, and while Junmyeon feeds them some of the apples and carrots Yixing purchased in the town, Yixing gets a campfire going for them. 

It is slowly dawning on Junmyeon that he is going to sleep in close proximity to Yixing tonight. He is not sure he will be able to fall asleep. Perhaps he ought to just resign himself to a couple of sleepless nights until he is able to close his eyes and feel calm.

“Tomorrow we will be riding for most of the day,” Yixing says. Junmyeon glances towards him. “You might want to put aside your stubbornness and speak up when you need a break.” He looks up from the crackling fire to leer. “Unless you like being so sore you can’t move without regretting it, but then all you had to do was ask.”

Apparently Junmyeon need not have worried: Yixing sees through him even when he says nothing. So he just scowls, now acutely aware of the soreness in his legs and .

Yixing is still leering. “Sitting for long stretches of time in a saddle might even result in chafing, so I humbly extend my services should His Highness need someone to rub soothing balms onto his buttocks.” 

“I will break your wrists,” Junmyeon swears.

Yixing hums, grinning. “I suppose we shall see. Tomorrow at this time you might change your mind and beg me for it.”

“The day I beg you for anything will be the day I die.”

“Is that a promise?”

Junmyeon tears his eyes away from Yixing and focuses his attention on the horses. They are good animals. They do not taunt him or threaten him or deceive him or admonish him. They nicker impatiently at him for not feeding them the last carrots and allow his palms to their mules. They do not judge him or fault him for being who he is, for having been raised the way he was, or for not wanting any responsibilities. They do not expect anything of him aside from food and perhaps the odd grooming. 

Perhaps he can sleep near the horses. If they sense his panic during the night, they might kick Yixing in the face. Yixing cannot predict or stop them the same way he seems to be able to with Junmyeon. 

Fatigue, sore muscles, and constant vigilance; his body will hate him for a long time after this.

~

They have a late supper. Junmyeon filled his satchel with dried meats, fruits, cheese, and bread that he bought in the town for himself. He refuses to accept anything Yixing offers him; his throat constricts and the residue of panic reminds him what it feels like when poison spreads through his body.

Yixing knows. He offers Junmyeon slices of apricot and bits of meat pie just to laugh when Junmyeon scowls.

“Poisoning you now would be in conflict with your brother’s request, you realise,” Yixing muses while nibbling one of the pies. Mirth dances in his eyes; Junmyeon wishes he could for once be the one with all the cards and have Yixing be the one cautious of him. He fights the impulse to fiddle with the pendant from Minseok and instead tears into the jerky.

“Come now,” Yixing goads when Junmyeon keeps silent. “Do you really think I would not have killed you by now if I truly intended to? You were sleeping so peacefully back at the inn. It would have been so easy to draw the dagger I used to kill your father to take down another of his bloodline.”

Junmyeon will not be able to rest tonight. He knows he will lie awake for hours now listening for any movement from Yixing, guards up and eyes wide open. Why Jongdae would want to be around someone who so obviously delights in tormenting others is beyond him. 

Yixing is doing this to him on purpose. Perhaps he is bored and wants Junmyeon to retaliate, so Junmyeon will not give him the satisfaction of playing into his hand: All that has gotten him so far is unwarranted criticism and vulnerable positions and threats.

The jerky is too salty, but he takes another bite and stays mum. Yixing can talk himself hoarse if that is what he wants. The best way to deal with the assassin, he suspects, is to give him nothing to work with. It is probably his safest bet to make it through today and tomorrow without them coming to blows, which he knows will end up in Yixing’s favour. 

Yixing is the murderer, the one with all the dirty tricks. Junmyeon just learned the basics of hand-to-hand combat and sword fighting when he was younger. All he can draw on in a scuffle with Yixing is instinct and adrenaline, and that won’t work against a competent killer who seems to keep him alive only to have someone to toy with.

He has seen Yixing irritated and impatient, but not angry. It terrifies him.

“Does the thought of sleeping next to me tonight upset you so deeply that you bit off your tongue?” Yixing is asking. Junmyeon scowls at the jerky in reply. “I know of a way to ease your nerves, prince. It usually works for me. I can soothe your muscles and make you feel better. I can exhaust you so the fear no longer keeps you from sweet oblivion.” From the corner of his eyes, Junmyeon sees Yixing inch closer. “I can –” 

“Stay away,” he growls. 

Yixing perks up and leers at him. “Ah, good to hear you did not swallow your tongue.”

“You will not touch me,” Junmyeon says coolly. “I will break the bones in your hands if you try.”

Yixing sighs forlornly and stares into the campfire. “Your brother was easier to fluster. I could have had him, you know. He offered himself to me.”

Junmyeon chokes on a bite of jerky. Yixing does not move to help him; he just observes in silent amusement as tears gather in Junmyeon’s eyes as he struggles to swallow. 

“What,” he wheezes when he can finally breathe.

Yixing shrugs nonchalantly and uses a stick to poke at the embers. “He was so desperate to ensure your safety that he said yes immediately when he asked what I wanted in return and my answer was him.”

“You did not –” Junmyeon cannot even finish that sentence. He prays to every deity he knows of, even the ones he has never prayed to before, that Minseok did not.

“I did not,” Yixing says. “Fret not, prince. I do not want an unwilling lover, and while your brother would have readily given himself to me for you, he would have still been rigid.” He glances up from the flames to leer at Junmyeon. “And not just his .”

“Please, stop talking,” Junmyeon groans and buries his face in his hands. He does not want to think of Minseok in such a way.

“You, however,” Yixing continues undeterred, “are unfazed by my advances. Do you prefer women?” He looks up again when Junmyeon does not answer. “Have you never ed a man, Your Highness?”

“That is none of your concern,” Junmyeon sneers.

Yixing tuts. “We will be companions for a while, prince. We should get to know each other, so answer the question: Has no man ever had the luxury of pleasuring you?” Yixing tilts his head thoughtfully, entirely ignoring Junmyeon’s sputtering, and tacks on, “Has no man ever had the luxury of being pleasured by you? You may not care for my propositions now, but perhaps… Perhaps it is because it never occurred to you that a man could touch you and make you feel good, or that you could touch him and make him feel good. I, for one, would take my time with you, prince. I would tease you open and you lovingly, if you wish. Perhaps you would hate me less after.”

Junmyeon is mortified. “Shut up.”

“I have always wanted to a royal,” Yixing says, sighing longingly. “Once or twice since rescinding my offer to your brother, I have found myself wondering why I did that when I could have had him on his knees. Though I do not think I could have coaxed his body into feeling pleasure with me. Yours, however…”

Yixing catches Junmyeon’s eyes over the fire, the flames dancing within Yixing’s own. “I think I could change your world. And I know you could please me. All I must do is make you want me.”

Junmyeon has never slept with a man. He has scarcely given it any thought. He has invited a handful of women into his bed and followed one or two into theirs, but with them was always just pleasant. He thought that was all there was to it, so he stopped seeking out their company.

Yixing’s promise, his threat, chills him. He needs to change the topic.

“Fine,” he snaps. “Let’s get to know each other better. When you are not out murdering people for coins, how do you make a living?”

“I am a healer,” Yixing replies easily, which is nowhere near any answer Junmyeon might have expected. Yixing notices Junmyeon’s surprise and grins. “It is easier to poison someone if they think I’m saving them, you see. So few people think me capable of murder when they know me as a healer.”

Rage boils Junmyeon's blood. “They come to you in need! Are you truly so indifferent to others’ suffering that you would still take their lives for a few coins when they are already in pain? Are you without a shred of empathy? You deserve that which will come for you in the end.”

The phial. His conscience cannot bear parting ways with Yixing without an attempt to rid the world of him. He has the poison; he has an opportunity to save those who will die at Yixing's hand if he fails to stop him. He has to think of a way to feed Yixing the poison.

After Junmyeon has, if the gods will it, secured a capable guard for Minseok, even one that is shrouded in darkness.

“I charge less for those whose remedies will ultimately be their demise,” Yixing says, smiling at Junmyeon as though they are sharing an inside joke. Junmyeon wants no part in it. “The families they leave behind may use the coins I spared them for whatever will aid them best in the ensuing time.”

Junmyeon has to get away from Yixing, if only for a few minutes, to cool his head and not give Yixing an excuse to murder him. He shoots to his feet and stomps off, tuning out Yixing’s calls of your highness amidst laughter. 

Quiet. He needs quiet.

~

He spends the night, as predicted, awake and alert. His eyes burn and his head throbs, but he cannot let down his guards. Once or twice he startles awake after closing his eyes for just a few minutes, and he immediately looks towards Yixing’s sleeping form to see if he has moved at all.

Yixing sleeps like a log, but it does nothing to soothe Junmyeon’s nerves. 

By the time dawn rolls around, he is worn out, stiff, and feeling altogether miserable. Yixing seems amused, but chooses to remain silent. They pack the horses, and within an hour of waking, they are back on the road.

Yixing calls for a break a couple of hours later, at which point Junmyeon’s sore body is already starting to ache again, which does not bode well for an entire day on horseback. He has no objections and relishes the chance to lie in the grass on his front and give his back a rest. 

All too soon they are back in the saddle, and this time it is past noon before Junmyeon relents and requests another break. He is nearly too tired to feel anything about Yixing’s apparent humour as he brings his horse to a halt by the roadside. 

Perhaps he should just ask Yixing to kill him. He thinks Yixing might even be merciful about it compared to the saddle. 

Exhaustion drags at his limbs and he catches himself about to nod off despite the pain several times. When supper time comes, he requests a fourth break.

“I brought a soothing balm,” Yixing drawls, one eyebrow arched in taunt.

Junmyeon ignores him in favour of asking, “When will we reach the rendezvous point tomorrow?”

“At the pace we are going, I would say around noon,” Yixing says. “If you wish to spend the night here rather than ride for another few hours, it will be slightly later than that.”

“Please,” Junmyeon sighs. “I cannot get back in the saddle.”

“I could carry you,” Yixing says.

Junmyeon does not deign that with an answer and instead goes to forage for herbs he can use to make tea.

Supper is a quiet affair, and after it Junmyeon swallows his pride and offers Yixing tea. Yixing readily hands him his mug and watches in bemused amusement as Junmyeon scampers off to fill it and his own with water from the stream down the valley, which he then brings to a boil with a small handful of herbs at the edges of the campfire. 

He wordlessly offers Yixing the mug back once steam rises from it. Yixing reaches for it, and Junmyeon endures the way Yixing’s fingers brush the back of his hand as he takes the mug from him. 

“Thank you,” Yixing hums and settles in front of the fire with the mug cradled between his hands.

By the time night has settled entirely, Junmyeon is struggling to stay awake and keeps stealing glances at Yixing’s peaceful form. The campfire crackles comfortingly and offers a semblance of safety, but it isn’t enough. 

The moon is high on the sky before he dares approach Yixing. He holds his breath as he kneels by his side and eyes him warily. Yixing sleeps with most of his weapons – a bow and several daggers and knives of eclectic variety – either hidden somewhere beneath the folds of his clothes and boots or within range. Junmyeon’s gaze strays to one of the knives Yixing has carelessly left in the grass, sheathed in its holster. 

He imagines it would be easy. He could have it unsheathed and the blade embedded in Yixing’s chest within moments. Yixing would awaken from the agony and look at him with hatred, and he would fight, and he might kill Junmyeon – but even Yixing could not survive having his heart pierced or his lungs punctured with a knife. Junmyeon is convinced he wouldn’t miss.

“Do you intend to admire me all night?” Yixing asks quietly. Junmyeon startles horribly, a gasp escaping his lips before he can seize it and shove it back down his throat. He looks down and finds Yixing watching him with one eye.

“Or perhaps,” he murmurs, “you are considering my vulnerable position with the vague notion of killing me. I do not suppose you were simply looking and imagining the ways my body could satisfy your needs.”

“I –” Junmyeon chokes and makes to draw away, but Yixing seizes his collar and pulls him forward. Junmyeon follows with all the grace of a newborn calf and a stifled yelp. Yixing’s torso arches to meet Junmyeon halfway, lips stretched into a mysterious smile. “No –”

“Are you certain?” Yixing purrs, releasing Junmyeon’s collar to instead wrap his hand around the back of his neck. His other arm snakes around Junmyeon’s back, his weight keeping Junmyeon half-bent over his body. “Perhaps our talk yesterday has made you imagine how it would feel. Would you like a taste?”

“No,” Junmyeon snaps and shoves at him; Yixing merely clings to him. “I was – I just –”

Yixing hums, a puff of warm air against Junmyeon’s ear. “You were just looking, hm? Wondering where to bury the knife? If you wish me a painful death, I recommend stabbing me enough to bleed, but not to kill. Steer clear of the heart and other vital organs. Bleeding to death, I have been told, is rather unpleasant.”

Yixing allows himself to be pushed back down, releasing Junmyeon as he goes. Junmyeon scrambles to get away from him. 

“I appreciate the advice,” he spits. “I will keep it in mind.”

“Good,” Yixing trills. He waves Junmyeon off. “Sleep, prince. You will collapse if you keep this up. I will not be held responsible if you fall asleep in the saddle and hurt yourself when you fall, nor will it be my fault if your foolhardy stubbornness costs you your life. Your good health will drop significantly if you continue to ignore your body’s needs like a fool.”

“I can’t –”

“You can,” Yixing cuts him off. “You can, but you refuse to. I cannot protect you from yourself, prince, so either you grow up or you are on your own. This is getting rather tedious and I am no saint, nor was I told to protect a child.”

He turns his back to Junmyeon, as though to further stress just how negligible a threat he considers Junmyeon to be. “Goodnight, Your Highness. In the morning, I expect you to no longer be a risk to yourself.”

Junmyeon stares at Yixing’s back in the ensuing silence. He has once again been admonished by the assassin, and it feels no better a second time. 

The opportunity to kill Yixing with one of his own daggers has long since passed, which is all the same: Junmyeon never truly intended to do it. He needs Yixing around for just another day so he can negotiate Minseok’s protection with his friend, and then… 

And then time will tell whether he takes Yixing’s advice or chooses the poison.