Seventeen Preferences & Scenarios

Imagine 18 (part 2)

Jihoon laughs when you snap at him, glad to have this fool kingdom for once — it's provided him with the opportunity to meet you, after all.

On your right, Minghao chuckles lightly. Lavender sparks of amusement flicker in his large eyes, dancing to the melody of his laugh. You, of course, shoot an angry look at Minghao as though daring him to laugh again.

"Eat," Jihoon says softly, touching your hand. "I would be a bad host if I allowed you to go hungry."

He sees the hesitance in your eyes, even without long ears and dancing lights to tell him of your emotions. Humans are so unevolved as compared to the Fae.

"It's not poisoned," he says with a laugh. "I swear on my crown."

You eat, and a smile curls Jihoon's lips. A few seats away, Seungcheol is cautiously nibbling on his own food, and you're both bound to the Fae kingdoms.

"If you're so upset about us trespassing on your kingdom, why haven't you thrown us into a dungeon?" you ask suddenly. Jihoon freezes briefly, his composure slipping for a split second.

"Because I'm not some kind of cruel gremlin, believe it or not," he says calmly as he regains his composure. "And besides, I don't know the way out of the kingdom, so you're more or less stuck regardless."

"How come you don't know the way out of your own kingdom?" you say bitingly.

Jihoon musters a smirk. "Why should I? It's not like I plan to leave, after all."

You scoff disbelievingly — more of a snort, to be honest. How crass.

Jihoon can't help but laugh anyway. You're certainly amusing, at least.

He continues this banter throughout the dinner — you're more than willing to verbally joust with him, and Seungcheol, glowering from a few seats away, seems to realize that he can't do anything about it.

By the end of the dinner, Jihoon's nearly convinced that you don't hate him quite as much as you're pretending to.

When Jihoon retires for the night, it's in a much better mood than he had been all day.

His bed, like everything else in this forsaken palace, is too elaborate, too rich. It's round, piled sky-high with pillows and blankets — although those were his own additions.

Idly, he wonders if you and Seungcheol  have ever even seen beds like this. Probably not, given your rough and dirty state.

As he rolls around in his mess of pillows, cocooning himself thoroughly in blankets, he wonders how you are sleeping.

Jihoon dreams of music and light, and someone in a white dress laughing as she helps him up from a bed of flowers. He can't see her face clearly — it's obscured by bright light and her hair that flows over her face in the gentle breeze.

He wakes up in a cold sweat. The sky is still dark, save for the half-moon that shines in through his windows.

Jihoon worms out of his blankets and stumbles over to one of his packed bookcases, yanking a battered leather volume from the shelves. How could he have been so foolish as to forget? He curses himself silently as he flips through the pages, halting at one that he's read a hundred times.

Prophecies are tricky businesses, but he wonders if he's begun to unravel this one.

As he stands there, the door opens almost silently — but Jihoon's sharp Fae ears pick up on the sound easily.

He turns, despite already knowing who's there.

"Not one word," you croak through the sleep still clinging to you like a blanket. "Seungcheol wouldn't wake up, and I am not going to go crawling to Jisoo."