Vivid | Lee Minho

•Scene 11•

It was nearly time.

The plan that you had spent your childhood perfecting, with the accumulation of many lifetimes' lessons as your guide, was finally reaching its climax. Tomorrow, the curtains would rise, and all your players would come together for the final act.

This was what you had waited for so patiently.

The end to your endless woes.

Why was it, then, that your heart felt heavy?

Everything had been going smoothly. You had all your pieces where you needed them to be. You thought that you had treated every prospect with the utmost fairness. You had been a dutiful daughter to your parents, and an honest heir to Lurmuse. Kind to your allies and acquaintances and helpers. Helpful to your partner and his people. You were sure that you had done enough to pass easily and pleasantly through their lives without letting them into yours.

Because that was not where they belonged—characters from a world that you had long been estranged from.

There had been times when you were confused by their kindness, but your mind was soon cleared of the fog. This was how things ought to be. How they were always going to end. You understood that. You internalized that truth.

You had done your best.

Right?

Right?

So lost in your own thoughts, you did not think to knock on the shut door of your bedchambers before barging in. The same grim thoughts that distracted you so blinked out of existence at the sight that greeted your eyes.

Minho stood near his side of the bed, mild surprise drawn over his handsome features. It seemed that he was dressing for the night, and you had interrupted him. A billowing silk shirt was half draped over his shoulders, revealing smooth skin defined by muscle, an old scar that ran messily across one shoulder blade, and—oh no.

You were staring.

A gasp.

"Pardon me!" you spun away so quickly, shutting the door behind you with an awkward cough. "Please clothe yourself."

There was a sudden and overwhelming desire in you to simply evaporate and evade the situation you had placed yourself in. You strode away from the door, aimlessly pacing around the empty sitting room as you tried and failed to regain your composure.

How embarrassing, you could only chastise yourself. How could you forget to knock before entering?

You did not bother to gauge the time that had passed before the door opened with a soft click, followed by Minho's seemingly amused voice, "You may come in, Y/n."

"Ah— R-Right," you sputtered, your embarrassment worsening infinitely when stepped into the room. You had forgotten your initial purpose of going there in the first place.

Minho seemed unbothered, fixing his cuffs as he sat on the edge of the bed. Nevertheless, your conscience did not allow you to overlook the mishap.

"That was improper of me. I'm sorry." you cleared your throat, to which Minho raised a brow, surprised. "Oh? It's quite all right."

You could not bring yourself to say more, turning toward your dresser and busying yourself with searching your drawers. That was right. You had wanted to grab your hairbrush and essential oils to prepare for the night.

"You know... I don't mind."

Minho's unexpected words cut through the awkwardness of your silence, and you stilled, looking back at him.

"What?"

With his back to you, Minho titled his head enough to meet your curious gaze, elaborating, "You looking at me. I don't find any cause for apology there, Y/n."

"Don't be foolish," you quickly retorted. Somehow, your hands refused to resume their movement. "Of course there is."

There was a sigh, not the frustrated kind, and a whisper of silk.

"That's not what I mean."

A chill settled into your heart like a buried seedling, ready to sprout its dreadful leaves at any moment. The atmosphere in your bedchambers was suddenly tense and oddly familiar.

A feeling that was reminiscent of past lifetimes.

"I mean to say that I wouldn't mind it if were you," Minho confessed softly, and you refused to turn and face him. That ominous chill stretched its thorny branches down your spine and through your body, all the way to the tips of your toes.

Though you stood still, your heart was beating as if it were physically strained. Your mind was blanking out.

This could not be happening.

"I admit, there is much about you that I am yet to understand, but..." you knew the tone he was speaking with like an ancient adversary. Vulnerable and unsure yet gentle and determined. You could never defeat it.

No. This could not be happening.

Everything had been just fine. You did not need this, nor did he. You did not want to hear another word of confession fall from his lips.

"Despite that, Y/n, I think that I—"

"Stop this."

So coldly, so cruelly, you cut him off, each word you uttered like the hurling of a dagger. "I will hear none of it."

"What—"

"Lord Minho," you snapped, trying to maintain your panic. You did not want to see the hurt that had surely soured his expression, though, you could easily envision it in your mind. It was an expression familiar to you, after all. So familiar.

He could not go on spewing those senseless, imagined feelings of his and if hurting him was the solution, then you would do it. Whatever the means—you had to stop this.

In the suffocating silence, you twisted your metaphorical knife one last time. "I don't wish to see you right now. Leave."

It was unbearable. A cord of tension that only wounded tighter and tighter as the seconds passed yet refused to snap. Even when Minho finally muttered, "I see. Goodnight."

You heard him move around the room, and then you heard the door's quiet click as it shut behind him. No more words were spoken. No more mistaken confessions.

You did not notice the trembling of your hands until he left, and you found yourself crumbling to the floor.

How could this have happened? After everything you had done. All of your planning and care. Everything had been going well, and now it seemed like your world was falling apart before your very eyes.

As though the heaviness in your heart was not enough, now you had dread to accompany it.

How could this have happened, and only a day away from the fated night?