Work Text:
Yoongi’s face flushes with red, his skin dewy looking under the warm candlelight as he slowly lays back onto the thin mattress. Moonlight softly caresses his bare torso which lays sprawled, wrapped in white silken sheets which cling to his skin, messy and crumpled as a result of their passion.
Yoongi panted, trying to catch his breath but it comes out in short puffs. Yoongi willed his thundering heartbeat to slow but to no avail, its pounding still ringing in his ears. Next to him, Jungkook lay slumped among the sheets, glistening with sweat under the lanterns. His torso is too bathed in the candle light, his skin practically glowing in soft hues of orange and pink. Yoongi was entranced.
Jungkook had never looked so perfect.
“Are you alright?” Jungkook’s soft lilting voice is enough to send shivers down Yoongi’s spine, not dissimilar from the previous spasms that had wracked his body. Jungkook lay back and stared curiously up at Yoongi, his eyes like warm soft orbs of light as they look searchingly at him. Yoongi can feel his guards melting and swallows harshly, his Adam’s apple bobbing as Jungkook’s gaze trailed the action. Oh how Jungkook affected him. Even with a simple word and simple phrase Yoongi was practically putty in his hands. He savoured the sweet lilt of his voice and tones that honeyed his ears, which highly contrasted the false simpers and praises he was fed day and night back at in his court.
“Jeonha, Jungkook repeated urgently at Yoongi’s lack of reply. The simple word snapped him out of the pleasant haze that he had previously succumbed to, instantly causing him to crash back to earth, back to reality.
A wave of despair washed over Yoongi, as he felt the heaviness of the crown settle on his head with Jungkook’s simple words.
“Kook-ah,” Yoongi says lightly, letting the nickname roll of his tongue in the raspy manner he knows Jungkook likes, delighted in Jungkook attempts to suppress a shiver. He does not want to be reminded of his duty in such a happy moment. “how many times have I told you not to call me that.” Yoongi whispered back, his eyes drooping slightly, not wanting to break the soft atmosphere between them.
Jungkook pouts defiantly, the corners of his lips downturned. God how can someone who could be so shameless also be so cute. Yoongi didn’t know whether he wanted to plant a soft kiss on his nose that was oh so adorably scrunched up, or plant another deeper one on his lips.
Jungkook’s next words derailed Yoongi’s thoughts, “But Jeonha, you are the King of this country.” Despite the cuteness of Jungkook’s delivery the sentiment still rung true. Yoongi felt the shackles of responsibility, like thorny vines, that he had forgotten for a mere hour in the favour of chasing pleasure, once again fasten on his wrists.
They weighed him down.
He felt more like a puppet than a king. One that had been pierced by countless thorns and pins and needles and was dripping with pain. Yet no one could hear his desperate cries.
Yoongi hated the status that he had been given. He knew that others would give up anything for a shot for the throne but Yoongi was not the same. It would be incorrect to say that he did not feel thankful to be brought up with such riches and living such a comfortable lifestyle, after all he had not needed to starve due to lack of food, he had not needed to beg for money or jobs like he had seen so many others have.
However, Yoongi wanted a simple life. One where he did not need to be a perfect doll for any mistake he made was instantly preyed on by others who were all too happy to overthrow him and demand that he be replaced. He did not enjoy the political games or the constant threat of danger that left him wary of everyone’s intentions and constantly watching his back. Yoongi was often referred to as a kind king, as he had always done his best for the people unlike the tyrannical rulers that came before him. He visited the public markets, played with the villagers children, hired jobless men and women to work for the castle.
However none could see the layer of frost that covered his heart.
After all, it was lonely to be so high up. No one knew how lonely and how cold being a King really was.
Everyone treated him formally, either with extreme politeness or exaggerated fakeness in hopes of winning his favour. Yoongi just longed to be treated normally, to be loved. Especially by the one in his heart.
“Please Jungkook.” Yoongi placed a hand on Jungkook’s cheek, a pale contrast against the other’s unusually golden skin. His hand softly caressing the kisaeng’s soft supple skin in a loving manner. Jungkook shivered and let out a soft gasp which quickly turned into a shake exhale. Tiny goosebumps erupted across this body as Yoongi’s hand continued to gently stroke his cheek. Oh how adorable Jungkook was, this was one of the millions of reasons why Yoongi adored him. “I’m just Yoongi to you.”
Jungkook doe like eyes intently stared at Yoongi’s own foxlike ones, his searching gaze seemingly brushing over his soul. Silence and tension stretched between the two, not dissimilar to the tension that had occupied the room in the hours before. Not even the drawing of breath disrupted the terse silence that permeated the room. Seconds ticked by, but to Yoongi it felt like eons.
After what seems like an eternity of intense gazes Jungkook dropped his gaze and Yoongi once again relaxed, the tension in his body leaving him.
“Fine!” Jungkook exclaimed with mock annoyance, but the inflections in his voice betrayed his inner emotions. Yoongi laughed inwardly, he loved Jungkook’s playful nature. Jungkook parted his lips as Yoongi stared on mesmerised, “Yoongi.”
A small smile threatened to burst on Yoongi’s face as Jungkook uttered the simple, yet so forbidden word. It was one he rarely heard, especially not in the soft and caring manner in which Jungkook had let it leave his lips. Yoongi had longed to hear the words from his lips which was what drove him to seek Jungkook earlier in the day. It was not often that his name was spoken without fear or falsehood.
“My Love.” Yoongi starts, watching with delight as a soft red flush creeps up Jungkook’s cheeks, staining it a dark red, rivalling that of a rosebud. He loved to see Jungkook’s flustered reaction to the pet name that never seemed to change despite having heard the terms of endearment fall from Yoongi’s lips dozens of times. Yoongi drew closer, committing each of Jungkook’s features to his memory. It had been quite a while since he had left the cold palace to visit Jungkook.
If he could chose, Jungkook would stay by his side and accompany him in the palace day and night. But instead, Jungkook preferred to stay at the brothel house where he grew up after he was taken in by one of the female kisaengs many years ago after being abandoned as a child.
Called the Crimson Castle, it had a reputation of having high class and dignified kisaengs whom served only the elite of the nation. Jungkook had worked as a kisaeng for many years before he had met Yoongi. But after Yoongi had become such a frequent patreon, Jungkook had stopped taking in other clients.
After all, his heart too lay with the lonely king.
Yoongi hadn’t ever planned to have nor taken in a concubine, a unprecedented move in the history of the throne. Neither was he one to frequent brothel houses or entertain kisaengs. He had been fine without one, after all who could he even trust with his heart?
All everyone seemed to care about was money. Looking at Yoongi, they only saw dollar signs and the crown atop his head.
It was a lonely existence, but one that Yoongi was used to.
However on one drunken night, his brothers had dragged him to the brothel and had shoved him into a room with a female kisaeng.
He remembered the terrifying sense of panic once the door had shut. Yoongi had basically ran to the door, albeit with little grace given his intoxicated state, shoving it open and throwing himself into the hallway before attempting to flee. However upon the sight of his brothers waiting in the main room he had panicked, not wanting to go out and face them and be judged, but unwilling to return to the room where the girl awaited.
Luckily in that moment, Jungkook had passed by. Seeing Yoongi’s distraught state, he had guided him carefully into his own room and proceeded to talk to him for the remainder of the night. When Yoongi had woken up the next morning, all he heard was Jungkook’s honey voice singing softly.
Perhaps Yoongi had fallen in love with Jungkook even before he had open his eyes.
Ever since, then the two remained close. Every time Yoongi needed help he knew he could turn to Jungkook. Soon, he was sneaking out of the place once- twice- thrice a week into Jungkook’s waiting arms.
Yoongi hated the predicament that the two were trapped in. He longed to walk the moonlit shores with Jungkook, bathe in his imperial bathhouse and have him sitting by him on the throne.
But he knew it was impossible.
All he was and could be was the King’s secret. A lowly kisaeng but one who owned his heart.
At Yoongi’s sudden silence, Jungkook drew closer. “Yoongi, what is troubling your mind?” Yoongi felt his stomach swoop at Jungkook’s soft tone, overwhelmed by the care and love Jungkook expressed. He gazed at Yoongi lovingly as Yoongi’s own traitorous heart spluttered and butterflies trembled in his stomach.
“I love you.” Yoongi said slowly, pronouncing each word carefully, making sure each word was filled with sincerity, meaning and purpose so he could communicate even a fraction of how he felt. For these small three words contained his soul, and he knew that he had never meant something more in his life. Yoongi had stripped off the layers of armour that guarded his heart and was baring it rawly to Jungkook.
He looked deep into Jungkook’s warm orbs as the two stared softly at each other. Jungkook smiled sadly at Yoongi’s confession.
“I know.”
Sadness and melancholy filled Jungkook’s gaze which felt like piercing knives to Yoongi’s heart. A pang of sadness.
He lunged forward feverishly, desperately clinging hold of Jungkook as if he slip away like sand, as if he would disappear between Yoongi’s fingers and wrapped him into a tight embrace. He felt the racing, anchoring beat of Jungkook’s heart against his own, the steady thumps seemed to echo in his ears. J ungkook’s head hooked softly on Yoongi’s shoulder, his smooth skin rubbing against Yoongi’s bare shoulder. The two lay wrapped in each other, embracing amidst the flickering candlelight as the moon shone fondly upon them, the moonlight the sole silent witness to the lover’s passion and pain.
“Come back with me.” Yoongi whispered into the darkness as he felt Jungkook stiffen in his arms.
“You could be my empress, my consort…” Yoongi weakly suggested despite already knowing Jungkook’s answer, his voice thick with unshed tears and sorrow.
It was a discussion that the two had had before, but dammit Yoongi would not give up. He would try and try and keep trying until he could no longer speak, but then he would just beg on his knees and pray because Jungkook was worth it. He was worth it.
He felt Jungkook shake his head lightly, a silent refusal to Yoongi’s desperate plea. “My love, please….” Jungkook’s voice cracked, a sign of his internal struggle “you know that I cannot.”
“Even as an advisor, a concubine, a servant. You are so much more than that to me, but all I know is that I need you by my side. No matter what the cost.” Yoongi said frantically, a feverish light in his eyes. His heart ached at the thought of leaving Jungkook later that day, something he knew he had to do every time he visited, but it was still something that brought him immense pain every time it happened.
He felt his mouth stretch into a pained smile, but it resembled a sad grimace more than a smile.
“Yoongi, I cannot.” Jungkook said firmly despite his wavering tone. Jungkook was headstrong and stubborn, once he had made up his mind he seldom changed it. He was like a torch blazing through a rainstorm, still burning with a fiery passion despite the battering rain that did everything to snuff it out. It was something that Yoongi had always loved and admired, something that even gave him motivation and resolve in his own courts.
But in this very moment, his stubborn resolve was the cause of Yoongi’s sorrow.
Despite anticipating Jungkook’s response, Yoongi still felt his heart crack. A heart of glass, easily broken.
Jungkook withdrew from Yoongi’s embrace, instead stretching his hands and reaching out to cup the kings delicate face between his hands. He pressed a kiss on Yoongi’s parted lips, desperate to communicate his own loving feelings to Yoongi. It was not that he did not love him, he would do almost everything for Yoongi. But it was this almost that broke their hearts. Because the one thing that Yoongi asked of him was the one thing, the only thing, in the universe that he could not do for Yoongi.
Yoongi knew this, of course he knew this. He respected Jungkook’s wishes, and would never force him to do anything. He knew Jungkook would refuse, he knew it the same way he knew the sky was blue and that ice was cold but yet the stinging pain of rejection never faltered and nor did it every become easier to bear. Though he knew Jungkook wouldn’t stay, Yoongi could never stop trying to convince him.
He could never let Jungkook slip through his fingers like that.
After all Jungkook was the other half life of his tattered soul. The breath of fresh air that rattled in Yoongi’s lungs and kept him alive amidst the scorching dry desert that made up the toxic courts.
“I love you Yoongi.” Jungkook whispered, his voice laced with sadness as he said the words like a final prayer, a final statement. The desperation of his tone didn’t match the loving words that left his lips, yet the sentiment still rung true.
“Come with me then,” Yoongi broke down, tears dripping down his face as he rubbed his eyes furiously, as if to hide his tears from the world. Jungkook’s heart ached as he watched Yoongi double over in sadness in pain. Jungkook drew Yoongi’s sobbing figure in, embracing him and caging him in his strong safe embrace. “I need you by my side.”
“I can't” Jungkook replied softly with heartbreaking certainty.
Both confessions weighing heavy on their minds, settling into the space between them as if its was a physical tangible object. Silence, as thick as a blanket, settled into the space, the tension thick in the air. Only Yoongi’s sniffles as he tried to hold back tears echoed through the empty night.
“I’ll renounce the throne.” Yoongi declared bravely. His mind spun with endless possibilities, the thought of leaving Jungkook almost driving him to insanity.
Jungkook’s jaw hit the floor at Yoongi’s unexpected outburst, his expression filled with surprise but also horror. Yoongi did not pay attention to Jungkook’s reaction, as the crazed almost feverish light once again took over his gaze. His eyes A shiver went down Jungkook’s spine at the sight of Yoongi’s madness, he was captivated, unable to look away from Yoongi’s figure.
Yet that was the same reason he could not leave with him.
“Yoongi.” Jungkook terse and heavy voice snapped Yoongi out of his madness driven daze,
“Stop.”
Yoongi’s mind, which at that point had been running on overdrive on possibilities and thoughts, screeched to a sudden halt at Jungkook’s words. His already fragile heart seemed to shatter away as he slipped slowly away from the thrones of madness that he had trapped himself in, instead focusing back on reality. A overwhelming sense of emptiness festered in his chest, growing and growing till it
stopped.
“But-“ Yoongi started but Jungkook cut him off, shaking his head firmly despite the welling of tears in his eyes.
“I won’t let you.”
“Why,” Yoongi whispered, his voice terse, seconds away from snapping, as if he was about to yell. He loved Jungkook, why was it not enough, why did he want him to stay in the court stay as a king as a simple puppet and figurehead? Couldn’t he tell Yoongi was suffering, that he was dying? Couldn’t he see that everyday he spent at the court was like having a grim reaper breathing down his neck, a soul sucking draining process that seemed to suck the humanity out of his life? Couldn’t Jungkook see his pain? Couldn’t he tell that when Yoongi sat on the throne, it was like being on a spinning wheel of doom, his soul being stretched and woven into flimsy threads?
“You are a good man,” Jungkook starts. Yoongi watches as shiny tears spill and cascade down Jungkook’s face like glowing pearls, but he feels as if his soul has detached from his body. He wants to reach out and hold Jungkook, to stop him from crying, to stop the pearly tears from leaving shinning tracks in their wake. But he is powerless, unable to move.
“and,” Jungkook continues, sniffles breaking up his simple sentence that echoes, and will continue to echo in Yoongi’s mind, in his heart for the rest of his life, “the country needs a good king like you.”
Yoongi’s heart seemed to freeze in his chest, a stark contrast to it’s racing heartbeat just moments before. The emptiness in his heart continued to fester, yet he knew Jungkook was right. He knew that this was Jungkook’s final answer to his plea.
Yoongi bowed his head, defeated.
The king stood broken in front of his lover. Their shadows stretching across the hardwood floor, avoiding the delicate silken sheets and drifting off into the dark night outside, separated by a distance no longer than an arms reach, yet blocked off by a wall. The two lovers stared at each other in silence, with only the moon witnessing their twinning breaking hearts.
“Are you sure?” Yoongi whispered, his devastated tone only serving to draw more tears as Jungkook’s vision blurred.
Yoongi loved him. Jungkook was his fire, his torch in the dark night, his light at the end of the tunnel. Yet it seemed that the his desperation was all for nought, for his life slipped back into darkness.
“Yes.”
A flame snuffed out, only smoke billowing in it’s wake.
“Then your decision it shall be.” Yoongi said, his tone stiff even to his own ears. He withdrew from Jungkook, drawing back until he was more than an arms reach away. He stood up and reached for his Hanbok messily crumpled at the edge of the mat, the only sign of their previous passionate tryst.
As he adjusted and wrapped the thick silk layers around his torso, Yoongi felt the familiar guards similarly wrap around his heart.
When the hanbok was properly adjusted and wrapped around his body Yoongi walked slowly to the door, his footsteps like echoing heartbeats. At his feet lay pieces of both their shattered hearts.
As he reached the door and laid his hand against it’s strong wooden frame, Yoongi paused. He seemed to grapple with some internal conflict before turning and facing Jungkook who had not moved from his crumpled position on the floor.
He let his gaze travel over Jungkook’s smooth torso once more, as if trying to commit the way his lashes softly framed his glittering brown orbs, the way the soft curve of his cheek flushed pink and illuminated by the soft moonlight sloped into a sharp jawline, the way his slightly larger teeth dug into the plump softness of his pink lips. A mental image that would be forever immortalised in Yoongi’s memory until the next time they met and fell into the same passion.
Their love was an all consuming fire that burst into fireworks, only to leave them both charred and broken by the end of every night.
But he had always loved playing with fire, even if it burned him.
“I love you.”
The door gently closed behind Yoongi, leaving Jungkook alone crumpled on the ground.
“I love you too.”
He knew that Yoongi would return a few nights later and that the cycle would continue over. They could never leave each other for long.
Yoongi walked away, the soft wooden floorboards creaking under his step.