westwhere | sa-hareth | arrival (mingle log)

Something to live for.

There was something indescribably tight in Mingyu's chest at that, though he couldn't (or perhaps more accurately, refused to) identify it. Instead he swallowed hard, gave Lee Chang's shoulder a hard shove, and then wrapped both arms around the man's middle to pull him in tight.

"It's not what you are. It's just what you know. You can learn new things. I did." Mingyu lifted his arm, the one with the lotus tattoo. "You can be different. For better or worse. Don't let it be worse."

'Don't be like me.'

The shove pushed him off balance enough to have no recourse when Mingyu pulled him in, other than to half catch himself with one arm planted on Mingyu’s knee.

“I don’t think protecting people is letting it be worse,” he murmured quietly. “Haven’t you wondered why I was brought here? I have no magic, no power. All I have is what I know. And that happens to be how to fight the thing here that hurts the people the most. Don’t you think that means something?”

Meaning. Mingyu wanted to laugh. He was so far past looking to anything for meaning. If life had taught him anything, it was that there was no meaning to anything, no rhyme or reason to the tragedies that befell some while others lived unfettered and free.

There was only human nature. Human heartlessness. Human greed.

"Things don't happen for a reason, they just do. They just happen, Highness," Mingyu whispered low, face half hidden in Lee Chang's shoulder. "I heard once, read somewhere—"

Mingyu swallowed hard against a too-tight throat, forcing the rest of his words out.

"...that life is just a series of rooms. And who you end up in those rooms with determines the entire course of your life. I think about that more and more lately. It's just... where you are and who you meet. That's all. There's no greater meaning. If it wasn't for me—"

He knew, somehow, in that moment, that they were no longer talking about him anymore. They were talking about a ghost - a man Lee Chang had only met through Mingyu’s memories.

“We are the ones who forge our legacies, Mingyu.” A pause, and then quietly: “As he forged his.”

It was a gamble, talking about Mingyu’s paramour that way. But he didn’t believe that it was Mingyu’s fault.

“Your existence is not a curse you give to others.”

"Some legacy," Mingyu replied bitterly, sounding hoarse. People didn't even realize he was gone, speculation of his absence tapering to disinterest. Fox had been a ghost long before he disappeared, and now...

"If anyone was meant for more, it was him, but I—" he choked out, then shook his head, clutching to Lee Chang painfully tight. "...this isn't about me, anyway. It's about you."

“Maybe he still is,” Lee Chang replied, quiet but firm. There was still a chance that Mingyu would find the man. Regardless of the mixed feelings it gave him.

“You’re the one who decided that me wanting to do something about the problem I caused meant that I was abandoning you,” he remained quietly, threading fingers into Mingyu’s hair and then tugging him up to force the man to look at him.

“Who told me it didn’t matter, because you always ended up alone. This has been about you from the start.”

Edited 2021-04-22 04:18 (UTC)

"You're not just trying to do something about it," Mingyu insisted, meeting Lee Chang's gaze with a frantic glimmer of… something in the dark brown of his eyes, not the cold steel that normally lived there but not quite warmth either.

"You're still acting like a royal, like a crown prince waiting for the burden of king. This group, the others like us— Half of them are incurable busybodies, helpful and nosy to their own detriment. I don't care about that. But you— You act as though you are responsible for all of it, for all of them, for every single ounce of suffering to be found. And that will get you killed or worse every time."

He let out a hard breath, tilting his head as he frowned at Mingyu, rubbing a thumb over the man’s cheek.

He wanted to ask And what would you care if I do?, but he couldn’t quite bring himself to voice it. Instead, he murmured:

“I have seen too many many fail to take any responsibility, or to shun difficulty when it was presented to them. I watched the nobles of a city take the only ship and flee to leave the rest of the people to suffer and die by the plague. I know what it looks like when I don’t do anything, Mingyu. My fault or not. And if I survive, I have to live both with what I’ve done, and what I haven’t done.” A pause, and a sigh, finally leaning back just a little, though he was still touching Mingyu’s face, as if he couldn’t quite get himself to let go.

“I’ve met my death before, Mingyu. I know what will matter most to me, when I meet it again.”

Edited 2021-04-22 23:10 (UTC)

When.

The thought tore through Mingyu clean, like a bullet wound, in and then out again. He felt the pain and let it go in the same breath, refusing to acknowledge the injury.

He pulled the rest of the way back, turning his head away once more. More than anything else, he felt like a fool. He wasn't sure what else he could've possibly expected from this man, from this place. He wasn't even sure why he let it get this far. He knew better. He knew so much better.

"Then meet it alone," he spat dismissively, gesturing Lee Chang towards the door, "and stop pretending I'm anything more than a pretty distraction. At least the others are honest with themselves and pay me for my time."

Lee Chang’s lips thinned, but he didn’t rise, or blink.

“And what have I been dishonest about, Mingyu?” He asked, evenly, cooly. “Does your world somehow have magic for immortality? Why are you so convinced that I am trying to meet it?”

"How many times will you make me say that those who chase what is right at the expense of all else pay with all they have, sooner rather than later?" Mingyu replied, voice tight, starting to sound a little hoarse. "You've made it clear your character cannot be compromised, and I don't know how to protect you—"

“Mingyu.”

The voice came out firm, not the breathy uncertainty that sometimes he spoke to Mingyu in, letting his own thoughts stream from his mind aloud. Not the quiet, careful rumbling as they spoke in the dark. This voice belonged to the Crown Prince, rather than Lee Chang himself.

But then he reached up, taking Mingyu’s face in both his hands to keep the man’s gaze steady on his own.

“We are all in danger here, Mingyu,” He continued, but the regal tone had subsided, quieted, replaced by that low rumble once more. “The infected do not care if I am the most noble or the most villainous among us. We are surrounded, on all sides, by monsters. You can’t protect me. The only way we survive is working together. I could be meek, and quiet, and cower, and it would not matter in the end. This is not my palace, nor your home. There is no safety here, for us. We know this. We have comfort for a moment, but only because we hide. Sooner or later we will have to face the worst of this world, and I will be prepared for it. All of us will. I have no intention of leaving anyone behind, least of all you.”

That Lee Chang did not finish withdrawing in return startled Mingyu, but did not startle him near as much as having his fears isolated, identified, put into words. He could barely make heads or tails of them himself. He was meant to be focused on Fox, but so much else demanded his attention he found himself less fixated than he'd been at home when Fox's disappearance was all he knew.

It was all he breathed, all he ate, all he drank. Everything he did had been steeped in that loss, but here there was a wall. Beyond it was a more immediate and yet more distant promise of finding Fox again, and so much less he could do about it beyond gather information and try to survive.

And through it all, there was Lee Chang's image staring back at him, a mirror reflection of his better self.

He shuddered, placed his hands over Lee Chang's to hold them there, and bit back his tears.

"Least of all…" he repeated, wondering if he read too much into the turn of phrase. He locked gazes with Lee Chang once more, taking in a sharp, tense breath.

"Promise, then. Promise me. Not to leave me behind, whatever the cost."

It wasn’t really a promise he could make. Both of them knew it. Death was not something one could fully avoid, fully prepare for. Even the most prepared, most dedicated and most thoughtful warriors could still be surprised, could still fall sick, could still lose. But he was fairly sure that Mingyu knew this, too.

Whatever the cost. Would he risk Mingyu’s own life for a vow?

Did Fox face the same question?

He let out a breath, and then nodded.

“I will not leave you behind. No matter the cost. You have my word.”

However much a traitorous, unfilial, mutinous Crown Prince’s word was worth.

For Mingyu, the intent was all that mattered. The willingness to promise, to try. Swallowing hard, Mingyu nodded in acceptance. The vow was made, and Mingyu would hold Lee Chang to it to both their deaths if need be. The tension in Mingyu's body ebbed, slowly at first, then all at once as he fell into the prince's arms.

"...then neither will I let you go," he answered, more threat than promise.

He could feel the tension in Mingyu releasing, giving him just enough time to actually catch the man.

He didn’t reply - didn’t feel it was necessary. He wondered if he would have been like this, had he ever loved anyone the way Mingyu had loved his Fox. If anyone had ever loved him as much. To be so terrified to lose anything ever again.

He wasn’t sure he would. He had lost the thing he loved most in the world - his country - but all it had really done was instill a strange sort of calm in him. And whatever Mingyu’s feelings now, if they could find the man Mingyu yearned for above everything, he was fairly certain Mingyu’s world would right itself, and Lee Chang’s vow would matter less and less until it was forgotten.

That was the best he could hope for.

He breathed out, ducking his head a little to rest his face against Mingyu’s hair, closing his eyes.

“You would have been a legend of a kisaeng,” he murmured thoughtfully, quietly.

He wondered if now he understood how his father had risked his crown and his legacy so badly just to have him.

"'Kisaeng?'" Mingyu repeated in question, though he had a strong suspicion from the context. He took it as a compliment regardless, could imagine nothing else from Lee Chang's lips after the promise that was made.

Settling comfortably against Lee Chang now, he stroked the other man's back in slow, soothing movements, luring and coaxing him down to lay with him. Much of Mingyu's work was to help clients relax, almost as important if not more so than the sex. He'd learned a few tricks and employed them on Lee Chang now, to steal some of all that exhaustion, that sorrow.

“Courtesans. Singers. Dancers. Entertainers.” He really should have been getting up - he was supposed to go meet Wangji, bring him incense and salt - but the soothing touch of Mingyu’s hands lured him down as they were meant to, and he came down to rest next to Mingyu with a sigh.

“Talented, beautiful women who lived in the palace. There are many wistful stories about them.”

"Mm, if I remember my history correctly, the girls made legend for their beauty often led short, brutal lives at the hands of those who wished to possess them," Mingyu commented softly, though the compliment still warmed him. He could feel Lee Chang's longing for him in it, expressing that want and attraction in a way that was familiar to the prince.

"...I suppose that would be fitting enough," he went on, brushing stray hair from Lee Chang's eyes, caressing a hand over the man's chest to rest his palm there, feeling the beat of his heart.

"I don't think I'd have minded, being yours," he added, then paused, glancing around the room with a quiet, humorless laugh. "...you know I'm not— I wasn't always like this, right?"

“... Even Kings can lead short and brutal lives,” he murmured in response, though the thought did sadden him. He let Mingyu brush hair from his face, let himself linger in the touch, just for a moment, as if—

His heart skipped a painful beat, then thumped all the harder as he stuttered back to life. Such a simple thing to say. A passive thing. I don’t think I’d have minded, the man said, and it was both too sweet and too bitter a thing to reply to.

“You already are someone’s,” he murmured carefully, trying to ignore his traitorous heart. Not ‘were’, not past tense. Mingyu was someone’s forever.

His eyes stayed on Mingyu’s instead of moving around the room. “And I wasn’t always like this,” he agreed quietly. “But this is what we are now.”

"I'm just saying you're a good man," Mingyu sighed, feeling a sharp, sudden ache at being forced to feel Fox's loss in that moment. He shook his head as though to physically dislodge the memories, then settled down himself to rest his head against Lee Chang's chest, eyes slowly drifting shut

"Noble and just. A kisaeng like me could do worse than to die for your love."

He didn’t reply, instead threading his fingers into Mingyu’s hair and stroking his head slowly, his own eyes rising to the ceiling, where a slight crack in the plaster betrayed the House’s glamorous appearance.

Just a good man. Could do worse. It made his chest tighten, his throat constrict. He couldn’t help but speak about Fox because he couldn’t help thinking about him. About a ghost of a man who still lay curled and clutched around Mingyu’s heart. He would never be able to wipe Mingyu’s memories from his mind, nor the emotions that had come with them as if he had lived them himself.

So he didn’t say anything. Didn’t protest, didn’t daydream. Just allowed himself a still moment, running his fingers through Mingyu’s hair, as if there was nothing that existed outside them.

After a long silence, he murmured: “Wangji will be waiting for me.”

Distantly, Mingyu wondered if his words had scared Lee Chang off. Barely two…? Three weeks acquainted? And Mingyu was claiming to be willing to die for the man's affections. Seemed improper, far too soon. But he'd shared far more of his darkness with Lee Chang than that, had pushed him away intentionally (or tried to) to much less avail.

So what was it, then? What was it that made Lee Chang pull away from him time and time again, if not in body then in spirit? Mingyu considered the possible options to those words, the reminder that Lee Chang should go.

He sat up, climbed astride Lee Chang's hips in a single, fluid motion. He grasped Lee Chang's wrists, pinned him down with one wrist on each side of his head, leaning in, gravity readily parting his loose robes.

"I said I wouldn't let you go."

He could have fought it. He’d been fighting for his life in quite the literal sense for long enough that he could push at Mingyu with his knees, his feet - grip him around the middle between his legs and flip him off the bed. He didn’t. Instead he let Mingyu manhandle him, let him pin his arms and straddle his hips. He sucked in a breath, aroused despite himself, and met Mingyu’s eyes rather than let his gaze trail down those opening robes.

“Did I say you should?” He asked quietly.

He didn’t pull at his wrists, just kept solid and still as the man sat poised above him.

“You could come with me.”

"I'm not dressed for the cold," Mingyu dismissed, not wanting to get into how much he did not wish to investigate dismembered corpses. Instead, he kissed Lee Chang softly on the lips, then trailed kisses down the line of his jaw, over his throat.

"Tell him something came up." Mingyu smirked, briefly pausing in his work to look up at Lee Chang's face. "You."

sa-hareth | arrival (mingle log)

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