Why? You could only wonder as you stood there, under the cruel sun, surrounded by a savage crowd, pointing your sword at the male in front of you. You hated it. You hated this. Why?
You wanted to glare at him like you did when you first met. You wanted to curse his name and the land he was born in. You wanted to run your sword through his heart mindlessly.
But you couldn't.
Not when all you found in your heart was kindness and love for him. How did you let this happen? How did you allow yourself to fall for your mortal enemy? How did Minho manage to trespass into your heavily guarded heart?
You were supposed to hate him, yet all you wanted to do was drop your sword and run into his arms. Why?
You searched Minho's eyes for something. A sign. Some reassurance. Anything to tell you that he felt the same. Just as conflicted. That the past weeks meant something to him, just as they did to you.
The crowd roared in disapproval when you remained unmoving, as if to remind you that you came to fight. You could sense the strange looks your family must be sending your way. They must be wondering what happened to their perfectly honed, unbreakable fighter.
You wanted to tell them how, in such a short time, your so-called enemy became the closest person to your heart. How Minho sauntered into your life and flipped it upside down. He showed you the world, in all its glory, in all its misery. He showed you that there was much more to life than the trivial clan rivalry. He brought his walls down for you, and yours came crashing down in turn.
Minho showed you love in all its flavors, happiness in all its shades, yearning, peace, beauty. He colored your dull days with his cheeky grins and gentle touches. You don't know when did his harsh glares turn into looks of endearment, but they soon became all what you found in his eyes.
Under the blanket of the night, in the heart of the forest, you'd meet. Hidden from the rest. Free in your own little bubble. Did Minho feel the same? You looked at his face, taking in that kind gaze. He didn't want to do this.
Minho didn't want to fight. He didn't want to continue this act. But as much as his heart screamed at him to drop his sword, he knew he couldn't do just that. His eyes glinted in mischief as his lips lifted into that sly, confident grin you knew too well.
Despite the ear-splitting shouts around you, you caught his words and your heart started beating wildly in your chest. "Let's give them the show they want, love."
It was all a play, you knew, but the onlookers filling the amphitheater wouldn't. It was as if you were dancing, with glinting swords and light steps. Like two black swans, gracefully twirling around each other. Gravitating towards each other, as if one orbit held the two of you. You felt as if you were on fire, your skin was scorching and your insides were boiling. It was an aimless game of tug of war, your calculated offense and his swift defense. The last time you've fought Minho, your only thought was to win. You were both reckless in your moves, stone-hearted. Now, as your swords clashed, you could see the pleading look in his eyes. You were close enough to understand it. He was trying to push you back, maintaining the act for the audience, but it was as if his eyes were speaking to you. Bear with me a little longer.
But how long will you keep this up? This was the final match, one of you had to survive to claim victory for their clan. The more you kept at this deathly waltz, the more nauseous you became. This will not end well.
You set a foot back, steadying your stance as you tightened your hold on your sword, fighting off the force Minho's weapon was applying on yours. Then you saw it. The flicker of something unreadable in his eyes as he weakened his attack until it was barely pushing against your weapon. You stood there, swords crossed, eyes locked, and mutual understanding shared between you.
Minho dropped his sword, letting it tumble across the hard ground. You lowered the weapon between your hands, making it hang limply at your side. Uselessly. The crowd fell silent, confused and perturbed. Murmurs rose amongst the people as they eyed the two of you, standing face to face motionlessly. Exclamations of annoyance followed, but they didn't bother you. You held your breath, waiting for Minho's next move. You've lowered your defenses. It was either now, or never.
Softly, he placed a hand on your cheek, warm with the heat of the duel, and he closed the distance between you. Your clans watched in horror as you let your sword clatter on the ground and wrapped your arms around his neck, closing your eyes and melting into his touch. The sun, the fight, the struggle, the love, all the words that never left his lips, you tasted them all. Your clans could fall into ruins, you gave little scruple. All what mattered at that moment was Minho, and your hearts that seemed to sing the same song.
Their uproar was muffled by the loud, lively beating of your heart and you couldn't care less. They could shout at you all they wanted; you weren't going to pick your sword back up. Not anymore. Not against him. You were dazed when Minho broke away from you, but you could see the loving smile he gave you, brighter than the eye of heaven above. "Good fight, love."
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