Cursed Hearts | ATEEZ

018

"Listen here, you little shit," I began only to once again be cut off by the copper-haired male as he grabbed my finger and pushed my hand down, "No, you listen, Yuna. What I need is for you to live, what I need is for you to either go back home and live out your life or train as if your life depends on it, because it does, and then win these trials. I don't need you to die for me, I need you to live for me," he snarled, storming out of the room and leaving the king and me behind.

I wanted to cry, and as Wooyoung took a step forward, opening his mouth as if to say something, all I could do was shake my head, putting out a silent request which he obeyed, taking a step back from my bed as I whispered, "You knew," the silence only growing heavier as the words slipped past my lips, heavier and more suffocating. "You knew that night and you didn't tell me."

"I wasn't allowed-" the king tried but his words faltered as I let out a weak scoff, "Oh, to hell with that, Wooyoung. You knew how scared I was, how deeply afraid, how sad- You know, withholding information is the same as lying, the same as deceit."

"Yuna I- I'm-" Wooyoung breathed but I simply closed my eyes and laid back down, letting out a heavy breath at the constant burning of pain in my knee, "Don't," I whispered, tired of the apologies, of the lies, tired of being let down by him when I had finally decided to stop fighting and build on something else instead, "I don't want to hear it."

〄

The contestants and champions were supposed to eat dinner together that night, dressed up in handsome suits and billowing gowns and dresses, acting as if nothing had happened, as if no one had died or gotten hurt, all while the cameras ate up the lies and the smiles, broadcasting them to every single tv and home in the country.

But I had no appetite and the very thought of squeezing myself into a dress after what I had been through, the thought of my bandaged leg contrasting with layers of silk and color, the thought of me limping into the luxurious dining room with my crutches, had been enough to make me stay in my room.

And so, here I was, lounging in one of the many sofas underneath the curved window on the first floor, mountains of pillows and oceans of blankets and rugs littering the space around me as I sat in silence and stared down at the glowing city below me, the nightlife of Martell continuing as it always had, unbothered, unscathed, lively and carefree and joyous. It was disturbing how, during the span a single day, I had managed to become so ruined, both physically and mentally, I thought to myself, turning around as the soft sound of a knock shook me from my inner monologue.

"I thought you might want company," Yeosang said, soft steps padding across the wooden floor as he made his way over to me, carrying a tray full of food in his hands which he placed on the couch between us, once again wearing his golden crown of intertwining leaves and royal robes of perfectly white silk and gold, looking so much like the first time I had laid my eyes upon him.

I bit my lip, nodding a little, still feeling on the verge of crying, my feelings a mess of sadness, guilt, anger, and confusion, as the King of the East sat down next to me, the silence between us quickly broken by the sound of my stomach rumbling which sent a wave of heat to my cheeks.

"Dig in," Yeosang said, gesturing for the food. I didn't. He turned to me, about to ask a question before I beat him to it, my voice raspy as I said, "Who died?" the king obviously taken aback by the words, hesitating for a moment before answering, "Jeon Wonwoo," my heart aching as I reminded myself of the handsome male, his sharp features, the determination in his eyes as he had danced around the white guards during the duel, how effortless he had wielded the bow and arrow.

I swallowed thickly, "He was from Sector 2, Budapest. That means-" I paused, finally turning to face Yeosang, vision blurry as I whispered, "That means he didn't even get the chance to see his home one last time."