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Words were muffled in his ears, figures blur out of focus as he stares ahead. He can’t bring himself to even listen to his leader’s speech, clenching his fists to try and ground himself. But, he can’t, he really can’t. He feels numb, in the ways he did when he was known as a demon. The only thing that he was fully conscious of was his absence and the coldness that was freezing over his heart.
He hates this feeling. It makes him feel like he hasn’t improved at all. It makes him feel like he’d be disappointed in him.
He reaches up and touches the pendant. It doesn’t ground him. It sends him further away from himself, eyes catching on light hair and blue eyes from the corner of his vision— he forces himself to blink. They were brown eyes. Warm like honey, looking at him with a moment’s concern before returning to looking at something else. He lets out a steady breath through his nose to ground himself again.
He’s gone. He’s dead. He’s not here and he’ll never be here. Stop looking for him. You saw him die. Stop being childish. Stop being stupid. Focus.
He notes that Sungho’s speech is over. He hears Soo— Felix sigh in relief, unaware that there is at least one more speech to sit through. He reaches and pats Felix’s knee, muttering “it’s almost done” to ease the jittery prince. He gathered enough about Felix to figure he wasn’t one for stuffy speeches and formalities. It’s something the two of them have in common. He has half the mind to offer the prince an escape and get drunk in his room instead. But Chan needs him here, so he takes his wine and sips.
He looks at the old guard. They look incomplete without Yugyeom, Jinyoung, and Jaebeom. Before himself and the others, the old guard was the right hand of Miroh. It’s protectors. But Yugyeom’s death caused some sort of disbandment. They said they had urgent matters. He guesses they were hunting down the assassins. It’s strange to see them again after so long. Like he’s seeing an incomplete memory.
“Minho?” He didn’t realize how tightly his lips were pressed until the whisper from Jisung. He finds it weird how alien his own name sounds at that moment. “Scale of one to ten?”
Jisung’s gift was a godsend and a curse for Minho. He could tell how he felt, without words. But he couldn’t tell how Minho was coping with it. It varies so often, just like the weather.
“Three.” If he were honest he’d say six, but Minho has never been so virtuous. It’s a shame Jisung can tell he’s lying.
“... keep me posted if it changes,” Jisung whispers after a heavy pause. Thankfully he drops it, and even better the speeches come to an end. Judging from the rapid movement.
He turns and catches a glimpse of him again, but again his eyes are playing tricks on him. Minho feels frustration creep into his blood. The fog was gone, he should be fine, why isn’t he fine?!
He chugs down his remaining wine. The warm buzz of alcohol spreads to cover the numbing cold, and Minho decides to drink as much as possible as soon as possible. Swiftly he glides past blurred faces, snatching up the tall bottle of alcohol, claiming it for himself. Minho drifts to the walls and perches himself down to face the dance floor. He takes a long swig and watches the motions.
His eyes gravitate towards him. Watching Felix dance with Changbin. His chest tightens at memories of teaching him how to dance.
Minho’s toes ached dully with the number of times they’ve been stepped on. Hands holding onto tiny hands, they fit just right together. The giggles he got when he stumbled them into a spin were music to Minho’s ears. — Stop it, stop it, stop it, stop remembering.
His heart is freezing, and as he watches Jisung and Soo— Felix dance together. They look good together, even with Jisung teasing the other. Probably something about Chan, seeing that the leader is clearly eye fucking the prince from across the floor.
Minho doesn’t entirely get why the two haven’t gone all the way yet.
Probably the same reason he didn’t go all the way with Soo— Stop it.
He takes a few heavy swigs, as Jackson sits beside him. Minho finds he doesn’t mind the warmth of the old guard against him at the moment. But that could just be Jackson, whose golden charms have even bewitched Minho. Hardworking to a fault, genuine, warm, strong, friendly, he might as well be made of gold and diamonds. Minho looked up to him a lot, and the old guard acted as a mentor for him briefly.
“Minho, my most handsome friend—“
“I call bullshit.” He jokingly cuts Jackson off, who pouts at him. The golden man throws an arm around Minho, pulling him closer.
“Minho, one of my most handsome friends…” he waits for Minho’s approval and carries on. “ this new prince that Chan snatched up, how is he? Give me the insider info.”
“I’m not your informant,” Minho states and takes another long swig. Jackson watches him carefully, almost knowingly. He doesn’t press it. Minho is grateful.
“You aren’t, but you are my dear friend, and are willing to tell me what you know.” He says, batting his eyes. It manages a snort out of Minho.
“He’s… scared.” Jackson stiffens but waits for Minho to continue. “But under that he’s sweet. Too sweet. Thoughtful. Wild.”
“Wild?”
“Oh, you didn’t realize?” Minho smiles but it feels hollow, like he isn’t present in the conversion, just watching it play out with a front seat view. “He's wild, normally he’s only wearing ripped pants and a cloak. Usually Chan’s. He runs with the wolves like he’s one, and he’s got a storm spirit at his call.”
“Oh… wow that’s… unexpected of Levator.”
“Unexpected of any royal if you ask me.”
“So, do they get along?” Jackson presses.
Minho snorts, cocking an eyebrow at the older man. “Aside from how they’re moments ‘way from fuckin’ on the dance floor in front of all these people? Yeah, Jisung says he can feel it. The more they talk the more they like each other. But Felix is fuckin’ with the other guys right now, not Channie.”
“Really?” Jackson whispers, acting overly scandalized. “With who? You??”
Minho chuckles and takes a long swig of the bottle, shaking his head. “Nah, Baby bread is his fav’rite to mess with. And Binnie. Heard he kissed Seungmin, and I know Sungie is plannin’ to make a move. Pretty sure I scared ‘im off too much. Oh! ‘Nd he and his spirit are fuckin’ like bunnies.”
“So you’re saying he’s really, uh, physically affectionate?”
“‘Ith a sex drive of Eros for ones he likes a little,” Minho says with a sluggish nod. Jackson pressed his lips together and furrowed his brows, his concerned-older-brother face. The man might try to talk to Felix or Chan later if he’s worried about them.
“And let me try and clear something up: why isn’t dearest Chan taking his husband to their room to spare us from watching our leader undress the prince with his eyes?“
Minho hums and swirls the bottle as he thinks. It’s past halfway empty. He takes another drink from the bottle.
“Probably laid out bound’ries when Soo— Lixie first got here. But they haven’t talked ‘bout ‘em since. An’ now they both gonna just dance around it.” Minho looks dazed at the prince. The face blurs as the alcohol courses through his blood rapidly. He feels so separated from it all. “‘Stead of talking. Probably thinkin’ there’s no need t’ talk about it. M’bye they’re goin’ slow and steady. Don’t wanna mess it up. ‘Cause they love each other…”
He senses the weight of a hand on his shoulder. “ Minho, you alright?” He distantly hears Jackson asks him, as he watches Soonie dance with Jisung. They’re so happy. Minho would have loved for them to meet. The people he loves meeting his first love. He shakes his head.
That’s never going to happen. He’s dead. He can’t meet them. He can’t dance with them and step on their toes. He can’t laugh and hide his face in their neck. He can’t squeeze their hands or pet their heads or kiss their foreheads. Because he died. Because—
He takes a gasping breath like he just came up to the surface after plunging deep underwater. He needs to get out of here. He needs air. He needs Jisung. But Jisung is with Soo— Felix. And Jisung deserves the time off, deserves to be overwhelmed by the happy drunk company. Hiding away from him is the least Minho could do for the night.
Everything reminds Minho of him, it’s suffocating. His heart feels frostbitten.
Minho stumbles to his feet, cursing, brushing off Jackson’s attempts to steady him.
“‘M fine, gonna get air.” He slurs out, heading off before Jackson can try and grab him. He’s barely aware of the steps coming behind him, and when his name is called, he turns to see Felix. He swallows his heart that’s making its way up to his throat, covering it with a smile that feels dangerously close to soft. He waves his fingers at the prince in greeting.
“Lixie,” He draws out his name, reminding himself. "Why aren't you dancing? You dance pretty. Look good with Sungie."
"Th-thanks," Felix stutters. "I—I needed a break. Why aren't you..." He trails off when Minho answers him with a half-hearted shrug and sweeps a hand through his hair.
"Needed one too. Break I mean." What he needs is to get either drunker and be alone, or get his shit together, and the last one doesn’t seem likely to happen tonight.
Felix nods bites his lip. "Mind if I come with you?"
"Sure," Minho half-lies, because his traitorous heart aches warmly at the idea, despite his mind’s protests. "Sure you can Lixie. You're not s'posed t'be alone."
Just like he wasn’t supposed to be. And yet—
Minho steps into the frigid air and barely feels it biting against his skin. He hadn’t noticed they reached the balcony already. His fingers curl and uncurl at the muted sensation. He takes in his surroundings, leaning over the railing and he feels a tug on the back of his shirt.
"Careful," Soonie says.
Minho tilts his head, looking over the other. He tries to take in Felix’s appearance as much as he can, so he can cement that it’s Felix. Still, he can’t unsee the traces of Soonie. “Always looking after me," he murmurs. His heart aches painful and heavy in his chest. Minho pulls the bottle to his lips, taking a long swig from it. Felix’s eyes are locked in on the bottle.
At the look, Minho cocks his eyebrow. "Want some?"
When Felix nods he hands it over, careful not to let their hands touch. And he stares off into the distance.
He’s not safe here with you. Lix isn’t safe with you. No one is safe with you. Just like how he wasn’t safe with you.
Minho clenches his hands, pushes away from the railing, and opting to sprawl his legs out on the floor and look up at the night sky. The view is familiar and helps ground him for a split moment. Stars litter the sky, with the crescent moon nestled among them. Minho feels like it’s frowning at him. Minho shuts his eyes, but the mere presence of Felix is tightening his chest, a stabbing pain eats away at his heart.
It’s been so long since Minho talked about him . But it feels like his soul is bleeding too. Desperate.
"You remind me of him so much, you know." He can feel his body instinctively fight him. His jaw suddenly aches and his throat burns with every slurred syllable. But now that he’s started, he doesn’t want to stop.
"Who?" Felix asks, and Minho greedily leans into him, craving a familiar touch he knows he can’t get.
"Soonie."
The name hasn’t left his lips in a while, and it feels like it had to be forced out, a throbbing in his chest grows, yet it doesn’t ache.
Felix blinks. "Your cat?"
Minho barks a laugh that rings hollow, his hand coming up to feel the pendant holding the last of Soonie around his throat. "Nah, 's Soonie the second. 'M talking 'bout Soonie the first." His fragile smile crumbles apart and he forces open his eyes, and looks to his company and can only see blue doe eyes and light fluffy soft hair.
"Minjae," he’s barely able to say. "My Minjae. But not really, 'cause I never—I didn't even know I loved him."
His heart feels like it cracks in a million places saying that out loud. He didn’t understand what it meant to love someone, not truly. He meant the few I love yous he mumbled to Soonie, but he didn’t say them with meaning, he never said them to confess to Soonie that his world bloomed and spun for him, that Soonie held his entire being in those tiny kind hands.
He feels an arm around him, and he allows himself a moment of comfort he doesn’t deserve before ripping himself away. Turning towards his more acceptable means of comfort.
“Where’s the fuckin’ bottle,” he grumbles to himself before swiping it, flinging off the cap, and downing the rest as quickly as he could. It hits him hard and he has to slump against the railing, bringing his knees up and dangling the bottle by its neck between his legs.
It feels like an eternity before he can muster the will to speak again. "Not all the time," he says, "Just—sometimes. It's the hair, maybe. An' air of gen'ral like. Helplessness. Baby birds," he tries to clumsily explain, flapping a hand in front of the other’s face. "Cheep cheep, needing mama all the time."
Needing someone to protect them. Needing me.
"He was scared all th' time too. Didn't let it stop him, same's you. Brave," his voice struggles to escape and cracks, like a dam, bursting he feels his eyes sting and burn. A lump in his throat stops him from swallowing back his sorrow this time. He looks at Soonie, tears blurring his already hazy vision. "So brave. I never told you that. 'M sorry I didn't."
"Minho—" he begins, but Minho lets the bottle fall with a clatter and crawls over to the other, spurred on by the storm of his emotions to say what he can while he can. He takes Soonie’s face in his hands. "Brave Soonie," he says in a cherishing and painful whisper. His voice wobbles with each word he struggles through. "'M sorry I lost you. Sorry I got—lost. Couldn't find you. Couldn't protect you. 'M sorry."
"It's ok," Soonie— no, it’s Felix. Soonie would be holding Minho by now, running his fingers through his hair, making him feel whole, but he still feels so broken apart. Curling his hands gently around Minho's wrists, Felix is pulling him away. "It's ok. I'm sure you—you did your best."
You tried your best and you failed him. You killed him. You loved him and you killed him.
Minho's heart shatters in his chest at the same time it swells with emotion. They really are alike and that’s so unfair to him. It’s sweet torture to see so much of lost love in someone. He knows if he looks at Felix a moment longer he’ll fall apart and never come back together. Minho ducks his head, dropping it against Felix's chest, breathing harshly. He can’t stop the tremors running through him. He just needs a moment of weakness. Just one before he’ll muster up his strength again. He won’t cry. He promised Soonie he wouldn’t cry over him.
"It's ok," Felix repeats and slowly puts his arms around him. Minho feels guilt creep in his chest for being like this. He doesn’t deserve Felix’s warm comforting touch. Not after everything.
He pulls away after shakingly collecting the pieces of himself he dropped. He can’t bring himself to put on a persona. He feels so heavy like the balcony stone floor will cave under his weight any moment. He doesn’t want to be here anymore. "Want 'Sungie," he says, "Wanna go sleep."
"Ok," Felix says, "Come on, let's go find him."
The prince raises him, and Minho can barely move his legs. They felt like they were weighed down by stones. The two of them make their way inside, bumping into someones, and Minho’s eyes search for Jisung.
He’s not there.
Minho hopes he’s already in bed. But he has a feeling he’s wrong. It’s okay. He can handle being on his own. He’s always managed on his own. He’s fine, he’ll be fine. He has to be, that’s what they need him to be.
The general barely notices when he’s suddenly in Youngjae’s hold, hands holding him with care. And the action causes a pathetic whine of “please” to push past Minho’s lips. He doesn’t even know what he’s asking for, but Youngjae is half-carrying him somewhere— probably his room— and gently set him down on a bed.
It’s empty, and Minho suddenly feels weak again.
“Hey Minho,” Youngjae says softly, cupping his cheek. “What do you need?”
Jisung. Or Changbin. Or Chan. Or any of them. He doesn’t want to be alone. But he’s too weak to see any of them. However, moments later, Jeongin stumbles in, a disheveled Seungmin in hand. Minho thinks they must be here to find an empty room to fuck in since they’ve clearly been making out. Youngjae smiles at them, running his hand through Minho’s hair.
“Hyung, I…” Jeongin starts, but Minho lifts a hang sluggishly to cut him off.
“‘S fine. ‘Ll go s’mewhere else.” He slurs as he moves to get up. But Seungmin knocks him back into the bed, flat on his back, staring up at the ceiling. He feels weight dip the bed on either side of him.
“We’re not letting you be alone right now,” Seungmin says firmly, head resting in Minho’s neck. Jeongin on his chest, finger tracing imaginary circles. It eases the ache in his heart ever so slightly.
After a heavy silence Minho whispers to them both, “‘m sorry.”
For not being better. For embarrassing them by acting this way. For being a mess when he’s supposed to be the most put-together one out of all of them.
“Don’t be.” Jeongin whispers and Seungmin’s hand finds Minho’s. “You don’t need to be sorry. It wasn’t your fault.”
But it was.