Todo está Bien
Title: Todo está Bien
Pairing: Kris/D.O., Kris/Luhan
Rating: R
Word Count: 6,137
Warning: genderswitsh (female!D.O., female!Luhan), infidelity, mild sex scene
Summary: "This house is yours. Ours. I had it built for us."
A/N: My exorelieffund fic written for lessvocals. I am sorry if this is really late. I hope you’ll like it! Slightly based off of an episode from Scandal Season 3. Tweaked it a little because the setting is Spanish era Philippines (so you’ll see bits of Spanish words in the fic). Thank you beoutiful for the guidance (lol), to all my friends I always word war with (you guys know who you are), and to #TeamMod, mara_ciro and onyu. I love you all.
“Before we belonged to anyone else, we were each other's.”
― Elizabeth Noble, The Way We Were
Kyungsoo expects her Sunday morning to be leisurely spent around downtown, perhaps at the plaza central or at the market, to check out new silk, porcelain, and spices. The merchant ships just arrived a few days ago so the stalls are freshly replenished and she doesn't want to miss the good ones sold out in a flash. She deserves a treat for last week's job well done after struggling with mutilated bodies and loopholes in ecclesiastical immunities-something as stressful as her other cases, which isn't really new in crisis management. Protecting the principalias is what she’s doing for a living anyway. So, as soon as the case is finally over, a weekend for herself alone is what she first wanted.
But personal plans seem to be always a little close to impossible, at least for her. Just seconds after she steps out of her casa, her sandals isn't landing on cobblestone roads but on smooth, wooden floor. Her eyes pass by the new silks from China as she desperately peeks through spaces occasionally appearing between the windows and the blood red curtains. She misses the warm sunlight of a Sunday morning on her skin as she finds herself seated in the middle of a black, regal, closed and roofed calesa, its seemingly light doors on the outside concealing heavy complicated locks of the inside. There isn’t really any use of force on her but when she sees four guardias civiles approaching her, she freezes, which is kind of weird since she’s been in and out of the Palacio for years and the sight of guardias shouldn’t scare her anymore. But then she’s too intimidated, surprised at the very least, to resist. The next thing she knows, she’s already inside the carriage.
Kyungsoo should be throwing tantrums for a ruined day-off but she finds herself in no place to be such because the carriage is spacious enough to have two guardias on both her sides. And their presence leads her to an assumption that her “abduction” is an order, whether discreet or not it doesn’t really matter, from the Palacio.
“The Gobernador General, did he tell you to... do this?” Kyungsoo asks, hands clenched on her lap. She raises a brow, trailing off a bit as she falters on accusing them of kidnapping when his unwillingness to come isn’t really absolute. Both of the guardias do not budge, lips kept shut, leaving Kyungsoo’s question hanging in the air unanswered. Not that Kyungsoo expects she’ll get one since she’s already half-convinced it’s the Gobernador General’s fault. She just wanted confirmation.
“Where are we going?” she follows up.
“Rest first, señorita,” the guardia on her left speaks, startling her a little with his low voice. “We’ll reach our destination in two hours.”
The shock on Kyungsoo’s face is so clear with her already wide eyes growing wider. She has her lips parted in disbelief and frustration, fists clenched tighter so it creates more creases on her saya. The fact that she’s being dragged away from Intramuros, the capital city, to somewhere requiring two hours of travel doesn’t sink in quickly. The desire to throw a fit is huge but that would be futile. Knowing there’s nothing else to do but to go with this undesirable flow, she heaves a sigh and closes her eyes.
“Wake me up when we’re there,” she says, sounding as imperative as possible. Both guardias promptly nod at her.
It is really a long travel and Kyungsoo feels uneasy. She’s been told to rest but she hardly does, at least her mind. The fact that she has two guardias on both sides makes it a lot less comfortable. She’s anxious about what is waiting for her when they reach their destination. The clock ticks closer to the second hour and she grows a lot more nervous, curious. She wonders more about the why’s than on the who’s and what’s. Will there be another client? A new principalia under fire? She thinks of reasons and forgets about scenarios.
The sound of galloping horses slows down until Kyungsoo feels the wheels on her sides decelerate to a halt. They arrived already and she heaves a sigh, still admittedly unprepared and edgy. The guardia on her right rises and his fingers do tricks on the complicated door locks until there is a loud final pop. The hinges of the door creak and it opens, the bright sunlight’s sudden intrusion inside the dim carriage slightly dazzling her.
“Señorita Do,” somebody from the outside calls her. The guardia repeats, adding a por favor before she decides to rise. She holds onto the side of the doors, one hand clasped on a portion of her saya so she can rest a foot on the first folded step. As she takes the open hand of the guardia for support until her feet touch the ground, she raises her head and the view astonishes her.
She’s standing by the entrance, an ornate door in between white stone columns, probably painted limestones. The main building extends at a grand length before curving to short wings on both ends. It’s relatively simple, painted dominantly in white and beige contrasting against the bright maroons of the Spanish curved tile roofs. It doesn’t differ much from the colonial houses of Intramuros except that this is generously spacious and larger, perhaps not as striking as the Palacio but still splendid and impressive.
Awestruck, Kyungsoo wanders his eyes more. There’s a lush of trees behind the mansion. She knows, given the amount of green peeking above the top lines of the roof. She can see a lake meters away from where she stood, too, which probably explains the cool scent of freshwater she’s been sensing since stepping out of the calesa.
She doesn’t really have any firm idea where she is right now except that she is pretty sure she’s miles away from the Manila, the capital city. The place feels too rural, like it’s some outskirt of an adjacent provincia, yet it amuses her, the grandeur of the mansion right before her, erected majestically in its isolation. It’s a little lonely, she somehow thinks, standing in the middle of a place hardly known, but it’s peaceful, quiet and just perfect for a break from stress and tension of politics of the Intramuros.
Kyungsoo is too busy amusing herself with the impressive manor that she forgets she’s not alone. A little embarrassed, she slightly bows down when one of the guardias appears in front of her, an arm extended to guide her inside. She takes the hand, nodding once to acknowledge the gesture before walking alongside him. As they near the entrance, the doors fling open and the foyer that welcomes her is just as grand as the exteriors. It’s a wide hall, bright with five chandeliers, four on all corners, the largest in the middle. The ceiling is painted, an intricate mural of the creation and downfall of Adam and Eve. The wall columns are heavily adorned with floral architectural designs, art works hanging in between them. At the far left there is a staircase, a little narrow and winding but as beautifully elaborate as the rest of the hall.
Kyungsoo absorbs herself in adoring the whole place, walking towards the closest painting to her, that one of Jesus standing on waters, a hand extended to hold a drowning Peter-a portrait of the miracle of the Sea of Galilee.
“San Pedro Tentando Caminar Sobre Agua,” somebody speaks, sending Kyungsoo to a small gasp of surprise. It’s Spanish and it should be easy for her to understand, but she barely catches them because she knows that voice: Wu Yifan, the Gobernador General.
“Saint Peter attempting to walk on water,” Yifan repeats. “It’s a replica. But still as wonderful as the real one.” He’s walking slowly down the staircase, staring at the same painting from his distance before shifting to the guardias by the entrance. He raises his hand and Kyungsoo sees them bow quickly before scuttling out of the foyer.
“I… I am sorry, Señor. I am leaving,” Kyungsoo mumble, her words drowning and shaking, rolling almost incomprehensibly when the last of the guardias holds the knob and closes the door. She has foreseen this, the Gobernador General appearing all of a sudden, but she still finds herself surprised. It’s definitely out of her desires, at least as of now, to see him again and she’s growing a lot more anxious and nervous than how she was during the travel earlier.
“No. Don’t leave,” Yifan says quickly, alarmed, afraid, and slightly disappointed. “Please.”
Kyungsoo stops only because she discerns the plea in Yifan’s words. He doesn’t chase her when she runs for the door. He opts for words, feet stuck on the last step of the staircase, a hand holding the railings tightly. Kyungsoo, who already has her hands around the knob, looks back and sees a mixture of hope and hurt in Yifan’s eyes. An appeal to pity, she thinks but when she realizes the doors aren’t locked, a subtle message that Yifan is actually giving him a seemingly easy but difficult choice, she gives it a chance. She releases the grip and turns around, facing Yifan but she keeps her eyes away his.
“Thank you,” Yifan mumbles, his lips slowly curling to a smile. He moves, carefully walking towards Kyungsoo who remains in her place. Soon they’re only a feet apart, silent as Yifan keeps a sincere look at Kyungsoo while the latter still averting her gaze away. “I’m sorry if I have to bring-”
“Drag,” Kyungsoo interrupts. “Don’t laugh. Nothing’s funny,” she continues with furrowed brows when she sees Yifan sigh and chuckle. She may be annoyed but she can’t stop feel a funny yet familiar churn at the pit of her stomach. The grin on Yifan’s face doesn’t go away.
“Drag. Yes. I am sorry,” Yifan says, slightly raising his hand as if mocking a surrender. “But I’m glad you didn’t leave.”
“Can you get to the point now?” She asks irately. There is an exasparated sigh unintentionally coming out of Kyungsoo’s mouth, her arms across her chest in a very intimidating posture, except that it doesn’t do it’s supposed effect on Yifan.
Yifan nods. “I want to talk to you,” he says a little seriously. Kyungsoo hates those words, especially if they’re coming from Yifan. She remains silent.
“Somewhere not here,” Yifan continues then walks closer to Kyungsoo, holding her on both shoulders and leaning so his lips are on Kyungsoo’s ear. She tenses; the grip of the other’s hands on her is so strong she hardly moves. Too close.
“I don’t want the guards to hear. Somewhere private,” Yifan whispers before letting go, smiling before turning around heading for the staircase. Kyungsoo can feel the rush of blood on her face but she tries his best to calm herself down, a hand clenched on her chest, feeling her heartbeat race.
“After me?” Yifan looks at her when he reaches the newel. Kyungsoo doesn’t say anything and simply goes behind him.
The foyer is as magnificent as the one at the second storey except that it’s a lot brighter. The floors are made of mahogany, so as the window and door frames, creating a perfect contrast against the dominantly pure and ivory whites of the walls. The sound of wood against wood caused by the soles of their shoes sound peculiarly nice to her ears, both of them silently walking towards the far end of the hall.
Kyungsoo sees three rooms. The one on the left is open and brightly lit, the remaining two on their right are closed. Kyungsoo assumes the open one shall be the host to whatever is to happen next. She is right.
Yifan stops in front of the door, pushed to the walls so that it’s widely open. “Here, señorita,” he says, facing Kyungsoo and extending an arm to his side.
“And how do you assure me that nothing wrong is going to happen to me when I enter your room?” Kyungsoo asks, skepticism indubitable from her tone.
“Please trust me. At least this time,” Yifan requests. He makes sure he sounds as honest as he really is. When he sees Kyungsoo’s eyes soften, he smiles.
Kyungsoo enters the room first albeit slowly, locking his gaze on Yifan as she walks. “Don’t lock the door,” she says when she’s finally inside. Yifan nods, closing the door but giving way to his company’s request.
Kyungsoo is silent as she roams her eyes around the room. She’s been amused at the grandeur of the exteriors, the foyer, and the intricacy of the styles of the walls. She initially thought it shall end there, especially when she learns about Yifan bringing her here, but the room is so beautiful it sends her to another round of awe.
It’s spacious, classy, and highly stylish. The wall and floor designs aren’t much different from the hallways but the furnitures give the room a lot more elegance to it, not that the structure itself isn’t elegant yet. She’s stepping on a huge carpet, an alternation of peach yellow and mint green which serves like a cushion to a four-poster bed. The bed looks simple, too, but is undeniably expensive. She walks toward it, her hand carefully touching the mattress until her fingers glide softly, skin flowing on the softness of the cloth. Silk, she recognizes.
“You seem to like it,” Yifan comments, lips curled to a satisfied smile. He’s taken a seat from a side table, arms on his chest, legs crossed, looking as smug as he normally is and Kyungsoo can’t help but to chuckle.
“What’s wrong?” Yifan asks, his smile suddenly disappearing.
Kyungsoo simply shakes her head, dismissing Yifan’s unnecessary worry, before turning around toward a smaller door at the other end of the room. Her lips part when she sees two bathtubs, both filled with scented water, rose petals sprinkled on top of it. The fragrance fills her nostrils and they’re soothing, not too strong to her senses.
The whole time Kyungsoo is adoring the mansion, there is a weird, unsettling feeling on her chest. It’s an uncomfortable, creepy thought and she can’t help but be bothered by it. Everything is made, placed, and designed to her perfect liking-the white exteriors, the lavish, intricate interiors, a lobby filled with paintings from Europe, the silk beddings, even the simple rose petals sprinkled on water. She doesn’t realize it at first as she was overwhelmed by the beauty, the idea only hitting her hard when she goes back to the room proper and sees Yifan again, still comfortably seated in his place.
“You haven’t answered my question yet, señori-”
“Why did you bring me here?” Kyungsoo cuts him off again. She sees his eyes twitch, a sign that he’s starting to get annoyed, probably with all the interruptions she’s been doing. She knows Yifan’s patience at least in normal circumstances and it really amuses her that his good-nature play has lasted this long.
“I was hoping you would like it. I’m sorry if you didn’t,” Yifan mumbles dejectedly. Although it hardly sounds sincere, an apparent false display of emotions, Kyungsoo can’t help but feel a little guilty, even to herself.
“I… like it,” Kyungsoo says with a smile. “Actually,” she continues. She wanders her eyes again as if she’s having a last glance of her surroundings. Yifan smiles back, contentment sweeping his face. He stands up from his seat and slowly walks toward Kyungsoo. She stands still, this time letting herself stay calm, successfully loosening her once stiff shoulders when Yifan holds them again.
“That’s good to hear,” Yifan begins, his voice low but calm. “I am happy.”
Kyungsoo is confused, opening her lips to speak, to interrupt, but she decides not to be too insistent so she remains quiet. There is a silent gratitude with the way Yifan’s eyes curl when he smiles. Kyungsoo feels a sudden roll of her stomach and she stiffens. This is a little dangerous.
Yifan is staring at her, at her eyes as if he bores a hole, exposing her, reading her open. She can feel it no matter how hard she tries to avert her gaze, a familiar, overwhelming sensation, something she’s felt when she saw Yifan again for the first time years ago since she left the Palacio. She’s always drawn back to those soft eyes, meaningful, reflective, always soothed by the small curled lips smiling gently at her.
“Yifan,” Kyungsoo says, breaking the uncomfortable silence. It’s the first time she’s calling him by his name, not by his title and it surprises the both of them. “Why are we here?” She asks before Yifan can even react.
Yifan lets loose of his hold on her shoulders, sighing as he puts his hands inside his pockets. He walks toward the huge painting of the Garden of Eden on the middle of the wall, a foot away, his neck craned up, examining it. He extends his arm, the tip of his fingers touching the rough canvas.
“Remember when you said you wanted a garden as beautiful as Eden?” Yifan asks, his hand resting on the image of the Tree of Life. He keeps it there and he doesn’t move, waiting for an answer. The first wave of nostalgia comes rushing on Kyungsoo.
It was in Barcelona, years before Yifan took the Palacio and Kyungsoo worked for the principalias. They were in front of where Sagrada Familia is to be built, Yifan talking about the beautiful basilica to be erected. He kept on saying things which Kyungsoo hardly understood but she listened anyway, knowing that Yifan had no one to speak to about his new found interest-architecture.
“It’s too… complicated. It’ll take years,” Kyungsoo commented, grasping bits of Yifan’s stories. “They should’ve just put a garden sort of,” she continues. Yifan reacted too enthusiastically that it startled the other. Then it grew into a light argument on whether building Sagrada Familia is necessary or not.
“I just wanted a garden,” Kyungsoo said, as if concluding her arguments which hardly won against Yifan’s. “Maybe something as beautiful as Eden.”
“That’s difficult, like Sagrada,” Yifan said.
“At least there’ll be flowers, trees, fruits. Birds and then maybe a fresh spring. Imagine a huge tree in the middle, where we could spend a cool afternoon together,” Kyungsoo began and she didn’t stop until the whole image is complete in both their heads. Yifan would butt in with scenarios, silly ones that they’d end up laughing.
Kyungsoo remains silent, as if listening to her past tell their own story in her head. She comes back to earth with Yifan still in his place but facing her, back against the wall. “It’s not a real one but at least it’s the Garden of Eden?” He smiles, that one which Kyungsoo hardly reads. It may be because of amusement, or fun, or sarcasm, she doesn’t know.
He walks past Kyungsoo until he reaches the bed, carefully plopping on it and he bounces. He slides his palms on both of his sides, tidying the creases of the mattress when he sits.
“You liked silk right?” Yifan asks, still feeling the smoothness of the cloth.
“I still do,” Kyungsoo reacts, suddenly reminded of the plaza market she missed early this morning all thanks to her Gobernador General who decided to be still vague with his intentions.
Yifan keeps his smile, this time induced by amusement. He then points at the drawers next to the bed, the first one. “There’s something there.”
“No spiders?” Kyungsoo quickly asks and it earns a chuckle from Yifan. He once pulled a prank on Kyungsoo, putting his pet tarantula in one of Kyungsoo’s drawers, and they didn’t speak to each other for a week. He shakes his head, still laughing. “I trust you,” she says, pointing a finger at the other. And she simply does as she is told. She wraps her fingers around the handle slowly, still wary and skeptical, before pulling it steadily. Thankfully there are no hairy legs springing out from the small opening, no flying brown creatures, or shiny and bony feet crawling on its sides. She pulls it more until she sees what is really inside.
It’s almost empty except for a neatly folded purple cloth in the middle. It’s shiny, soft on her palms as she takes it from the drawer. There are small lilac swirls peppering the whole of it and it looks a lot more intricate than it looked earlier.
“This…” Kyungsoo whispers, rubbing the hem of the cloth with her fingers.
“The one from Peking,” Yifan says, continuing what seems to be hanging words from Kyungsoo’s mouth. She remains at a loss, eyes stuck on the silk she holds. It’s that silk, the one from the first batch of Chinese vessels that year. She remembers when she first saw it, fresh from the crates, and she had to drag Yifan back to the merchants they just passed by because “It’s beautiful, Yifan.” But Yifan regretfully mumbled “No money, dear,” pulling Kyungsoo away from the growing crowd. Maybe it was her selfishness acting up again when Kyungsoo admitted she was disappointed. She saw the silk two days after at the hands of the a provincia’s gobernadorcillo’s wife from the other barrio and she almost cried in frustration the next time she saw Yifan.
“When did you…?” Kyungsoo asks softly, her face brightening up in delight as she continues to feel the cloth in her hands. “Thank you,” she mumbles, remembering how dumb she might have looked like getting quashed over a piece of cloth.
“I’m sorry if it took me so long,” Yifan says, his smile growing wider, mentally fist pumping at an apparent success in pleasing Kyungsoo. “Can you join me here?” Yifan taps the empty side to his right.
Kyungsoo hesitates but it is late when she realizes her feet are moving on its own, soon finding herself seated on the bed next to Yifan. She feels her heartbeat race, hands clutching the silk she’s holding, both rested on her bosom. She’s now at a loss for words, suddenly uncomfortable. She keeps her head down, peeping on her side because Yifan is as silent as she is.
“This casa,” Yifan begins all of a sudden, voice low but with a tinge of excitement. Kyungsoo jerks awkwardly but Yifan doesn’t seem to notice. When she looks at him, he’s staring at his shaky hands. Kyungsoo doesn’t quickly realize that Yifan is probably as nervous as her. It’s been months since they last met, that is not counting official ones with no actual talk happening, and getting jumpy in this situation, she supposes, is a normal reaction.
“Yes, this casa,” Kyungsoo repeats, noticing how Yifan stops midway his thoughts, as if he’s at a total loss for words. Yifan smiles awkwardly and nods, shifting to his left so that he’s facing Kyungsoo.
“This is our home,” he continues. Kyungsoo doesn’t seem to catch the words when her face doesn’t show any reaction. “Or rather, was supposed to be our home.”
Kyungsoo doesn’t want to assume despite all obvious clues presented right under her nose. “Are you guilt tripping me?”
There is a soft chuckle from Yifan before shaking his head. “Remember when I said I wanted to be an architect and build you a house. I’ve always wanted to build one for you, for us. It took me years, although I didn’t tell anyone how far I’ve gone.”
“This is unfair,” is all what Kyungsoo manages to say. It’s a little hard for her to be frank but her surprise and disbelief mixing with shame and guilt is bubbling inside her. But she’s denying one more thing: she’s falling for his trap. It may not be one but it seems like it is, or at least what she thinks it should be. She’s trying to not fall deeper until it’s inescapable. But it's difficult. Whenever it’s about Yifan, it’s always never easy.
Her heart recoils, a feeling which she last had god knows when, yet as much as she doesn’t want this to happen, it still happens. She can feel her cheeks burn, her eyes painful until she can feel tears welling up.
“Luhan,” she mumbles. “It’s unfair. For me. For your wife-”
“This is about us, Kyungsoo,” Yifan says. He reaches for Kyungsoo’s hands but she pulls them away, avoiding his grasps. There is resistance from her, shifting away, almost raising her hands on shoulder level so Yifan would stop but he insists. His movements are fast, almost no time for Kyungsoo to react because in a snap she finds herself wrapped around strong arms and she uses her own, squeezed arms to push away.
“Let go, please,” she begs but Yifan ignores her. He buries his face on the crook of her neck, hugging her more tightly until Kyungsoo gives up struggling.
“It’s not about Luhan,” he says, a cross between a mumble and a whisper.
“You promised to stay with her,” Kyungsoo says. “This is not right, Yifan. This is not right...”
The words seem to come out a lot half-heartedly and her voice falters. Her heart is pounding against her chest, feeling the beat on her arms still pressed between their bodies. Her hands open, fingers finding his clothes and clutching on it. She rests her head on his chest, loosening up a bit because it’s basically useless to budge anyway. And though she doesn’t want to accept it, she’s, in truth, missing the feeling of his arms.
She’s falling for him, this time at an extremely quicker pace. She has to turn back, her morals dictating how disgraceful they probably seem like right now, but she’s being sucked into a bliss she’s never felt for a long time, one that she used to have but has to stop because it’s for the better. Now that it’s happening again, it’s a lot more difficult to say no. She thinks she has successfully suppressed the hurt and the longing but they are all nothing but pent-up emotions bursting right from her heart.
“Don’t cry. Please,” Yifan whispers and Kyungsoo realizes she isn’t holding back her tears anymore. It makes her feel a lot worse when she can sense Yifan’s hurt, too.
“Why do you have to do this?” It’s rhetorical. Or maybe Kyungsoo simply doesn’t know what to say. She's confused because she remembers coming to an agreement, for Yifan to make things work well with his wife, Luhan, and for Kyungsoo to keep out of their matters as much as possible. They said yes, knowing it’s for the good, or the better, or perhaps the best.
But on a supposedly fine Sunday morning, Yifan decides to ignore it, to break it.
“Te quiero. Te amo.”
Four words Kyungsoo never wanted for Yifan to say. They’re horrible words. Painful. Inconsiderate. Selfish. Unfair. Yet she can’t decide whether she’s loathing them or not because the more she thinks they should never be spoken, the more she yearns to hear them again. She feels them heavy at first but it melts away so fast, to her surprise, and she’s suddenly filled with a great desire to reciprocate, the same four words ready to spill out. She is silent, speechless, her heart against her mind in a total mess of conflicting rationality and emotions.
Yifan lets loose of the hug, moving his hands to slide from her shoulders down to her arms. Kyungsoo shivers, whether in a good or bad way she is too confused to know. She has her lips parted but there’s nothing coming out, not a single sound and Yifan shakes his head, hushing as he places a finger on her lips gently.
“Can we…” Yifan says, locking his eyes on Kyungsoo’s. “Can we listen to our hearts, just for today?”
She nods as logical thoughts betray her. Listen to our hearts, she repeats and she’s helplessly overcome by emotion. When Yifan cups her face, leaning for a kiss, she moves her head away, his lips touching her cheeks instead. Yifan tries once more, holding her head tight until he successfully catches her lips. He keeps it shut, not moving, as if waiting for Kyungsoo to be at ease.
“Don’t do this to yourself,” is what Yifan mumbles when he moves an inch away for a second before kissing her again. Kyungsoo’s heartbeat is racing, her hands shaking, turning cold in seconds. She closes her eyes, the touch of Yifan’s lips on hers quickly sinking in.
That’s when she opens her lips and kisses back, soft and slow until there is rhythm. She forgets about the wrong, recognizing only what is right-what feels right. Listen to your heart, she tells herself.
She’s giving in.
Yifan is gentle. He’s always been gentle when it comes to Kyungsoo. His first kisses are always slow and patient, not too dominating and not too aggressive. He always waits for her to be at ease, to relax. When Yifan slightly pulls away, Kyungsoo follows, chasing his lips until the kisses are open mouthed, urgent. Yet, he remains light with his movements. He lays her down on the bed like she’s a fragile doll, careful when he takes her clothes off, unresisting when Kyungsoo does the same to him. They never speak, looking only into each other’s eyes when they break apart, as if the once lost passion speak for themselves, a language mutually understood in their silence.
Kyungsoo knows what is coming next when Yifan lowers his head, sliding his mouth to her side down to her chest. She arches her upper body. Yifan still knows her pleasure spots, how to make her spill the lewdest of sounds she can possibly make. When he dips his nose on her cleavage, she feels a very fast and funny sensation roll inside her. She’s excited, probably in lust, too, holding him tighter on the shoulders. She cards her fingers through his hair, pushing him slowly, lips trailing a kiss down to her torso until she can feel his warm breath on her core.
It’s a nostalgic yet totally electrifying sensation, a jolt of pleasure quickly running through her chest down to her center. She squirms when she slightly feels foreign about this but Yifan keeps her open, light hands on her thighs. When he slides his tongue, she throws her head back. When he pushes it inside, she screams until she keeps on pleading, her fingers now tangled on his hair.
The teasing doesn’t last long. Yifan pulls away, earning a whine from Kyungsoo only to be cut when he catches her lips for another round of deep kiss, her taste lingering in both of their mouths. When they break apart for air, Yifan smiles at her, looking straight into her eyes, a hand touching Kyungsoo’s forehead to fix her hair sticking to it.
Te quiero.
I want you.
It keeps on playing in Kyungsoo’s head and it’s only until now that she realizes the amount of truth in them. When she calls his name, even if their heated bodies are pressed together, even if his eyes are locked on hers, even if his lips are just an inch away, she says it with a certain deep longing for someone she lost and found. She should feel ashamed at the very least for herself, for betraying her own trust, Luhan’s trust, and for showing how fragile her heart is for Yifan. But it hardly occupies her, not even totally bothered by it. There is nothing in her heart but what it tells her. When Yifan kisses her again, she can feel her chest burst, swelling at the bliss of a union with the person she thought she’s long forgotten but has never left her heart at all.
Yifan parts her legs, spreading them before settling himself in between. For a moment Kyungsoo is scared and a little embarrassed for she’s never been touched there for a long time. But when Yifan reminds her that he’ll be gentle, and that there’s nothing to worry about, she puts her whole trust in him. Just like the way they do it before.
She sucks in deep breath, tightening the wrap of her arms around his body as he guides himself into her. There are winces, little groans of pain and pleasure, and Yifan patiently lets her get used to him inside.
“Please,” is what Kyungsoo begs and Yifan begins to move. She locks her legs around his waist, eager for more friction when he starts at a painfully slow pace. He catches it and does as she wants, thrusting into her erratically until she is screaming his name. He moves, shifting angles, and he hits spots that send Kyungsoo to a mess, shooting jolts of pleasure to her body. Lust clouds their heads and soon they reach climax, Kyungsoo coming first, shaking uncontrollably on the bed, followed by Yifan, covering her inside as he rides on his completion.
It’s silent but the sound of their heavy breathing once they’ve finally come down from the climax. Yifan has his arms wrapped around her, keeping her in place, peppering her forehead with light kisses, stroking Kyungsoo’s hair gently, soothing her down. When his hands slide down her back, she shivers and this time she’s pretty sure it’s in a good way. Kyungsoo’s elation is slowly coming to a low yet her heart is still full. When she thinks it’s too much to hold in, she buries her face on Yifan’s bare chest.
They never speak, as if trapped in the euphoria. The more they remain silent the more the reality that this may or may not happen again sinks in. It’s a harsh truth but it has never left to begin with. It’s been there since the day they took separate ways. Hours later, she’ll be back in her own casa, discussing with troubled principalias, and Yifan will busy himself with the papers of the Palacio. Hours later, they will be living lives again as if nothing happened today. This may be a conclusion, or a start of a new story, either of which has its own consequences.
Still, If there is at least one thing Kyungsoo shall never forget, it’s the realization which she may now recognize as a fact.
Te amo, también.
She’ll forever be weak for Yifan.
A lady in exquisite dress comes running inside the Palacio, holding her skirt to her front so she can dart down the stairs easier. She reaches a room with the sign Secretaria de Gobierno above it. She knocks on its door fast, never stopping until it opens. A young man in a barong welcomes her.
“Señora Luhan,” the lad says, surprised at the sudden appearance of the Gobernador’s wife. “What brings your presence to our humble office?”
“Junmyeon,” Luhan mumbles, a hand on her chest as she catches for regular breathing. “Where is the Gobernador General?”
Junmyeon, the Palacio’s chief staff, raises a brow, slightly surprised with what he thinks is alarm in Luhan’s voice. He shakes his head as he opens the door wider, letting her inside the office. “He’s not here yet, Señora. I was thinking he’s still in the southern wing with you,” Junmyeon answers. Luhan doesn’t seem to listen though when she runs straight to Yifan’s room, stopping only when he sees nothing but a vacant chair. She turns around, facing Junmyeon.
“Do you know where he is?” She asks.
“Lo siento,Señora, but the Gobernador General has never been here,” Junmyeon answers promptly. “And the last time I checked, he has no schedule for today.”
Luhan stares at him in silence, raising a brow in a bit of skepticism. Junmyeon doesn’t say anything, not even anything to defend himself from the apparent doubt on Luhan’s face. “Alright. I believe you,” Luhan finally says.
“Is there something wrong?” Junmyeon asks as he closes the door.
“Yifan is missing. He’s not in our casa. When I woke up, he’s already gone. I have no idea where he is right now,” Luhan explains quickly. “Also, one of the guardias told me…” she trails off and her voice seems to hesitate to continue. She sighs, closing her eyes before looking at Junmyeon in the eye. “Kyungsoo is not in her casa.”
Junmyeon walks toward her and gently holds Luhan’s shoulders. “Don’t worry, Señora,” he says slowly, calmly. “I’ll dispatch guardias to look for the Gobernador. I know your assumptions but let us give them the benefit of the doubt.”
Luhan nods, although still restless, hardly calming down despite Junmyeon’s words. “Everything’s going to be fine, right, Junmyeon?”
She sounds extremely worried, also desperate to an extent. Junmyeon simply smiles. “Everything is fine. Everything is going to be fine.”
Pairing: Kris/D.O., Kris/Luhan
Rating: R
Word Count: 6,137
Warning: genderswitsh (female!D.O., female!Luhan), infidelity, mild sex scene
Summary: "This house is yours. Ours. I had it built for us."
A/N: My exorelieffund fic written for lessvocals. I am sorry if this is really late. I hope you’ll like it! Slightly based off of an episode from Scandal Season 3. Tweaked it a little because the setting is Spanish era Philippines (so you’ll see bits of Spanish words in the fic). Thank you beoutiful for the guidance (lol), to all my friends I always word war with (you guys know who you are), and to #TeamMod, mara_ciro and onyu. I love you all.
“Before we belonged to anyone else, we were each other's.”
― Elizabeth Noble, The Way We Were
Kyungsoo expects her Sunday morning to be leisurely spent around downtown, perhaps at the plaza central or at the market, to check out new silk, porcelain, and spices. The merchant ships just arrived a few days ago so the stalls are freshly replenished and she doesn't want to miss the good ones sold out in a flash. She deserves a treat for last week's job well done after struggling with mutilated bodies and loopholes in ecclesiastical immunities-something as stressful as her other cases, which isn't really new in crisis management. Protecting the principalias is what she’s doing for a living anyway. So, as soon as the case is finally over, a weekend for herself alone is what she first wanted.
But personal plans seem to be always a little close to impossible, at least for her. Just seconds after she steps out of her casa, her sandals isn't landing on cobblestone roads but on smooth, wooden floor. Her eyes pass by the new silks from China as she desperately peeks through spaces occasionally appearing between the windows and the blood red curtains. She misses the warm sunlight of a Sunday morning on her skin as she finds herself seated in the middle of a black, regal, closed and roofed calesa, its seemingly light doors on the outside concealing heavy complicated locks of the inside. There isn’t really any use of force on her but when she sees four guardias civiles approaching her, she freezes, which is kind of weird since she’s been in and out of the Palacio for years and the sight of guardias shouldn’t scare her anymore. But then she’s too intimidated, surprised at the very least, to resist. The next thing she knows, she’s already inside the carriage.
Kyungsoo should be throwing tantrums for a ruined day-off but she finds herself in no place to be such because the carriage is spacious enough to have two guardias on both her sides. And their presence leads her to an assumption that her “abduction” is an order, whether discreet or not it doesn’t really matter, from the Palacio.
“The Gobernador General, did he tell you to... do this?” Kyungsoo asks, hands clenched on her lap. She raises a brow, trailing off a bit as she falters on accusing them of kidnapping when his unwillingness to come isn’t really absolute. Both of the guardias do not budge, lips kept shut, leaving Kyungsoo’s question hanging in the air unanswered. Not that Kyungsoo expects she’ll get one since she’s already half-convinced it’s the Gobernador General’s fault. She just wanted confirmation.
“Where are we going?” she follows up.
“Rest first, señorita,” the guardia on her left speaks, startling her a little with his low voice. “We’ll reach our destination in two hours.”
The shock on Kyungsoo’s face is so clear with her already wide eyes growing wider. She has her lips parted in disbelief and frustration, fists clenched tighter so it creates more creases on her saya. The fact that she’s being dragged away from Intramuros, the capital city, to somewhere requiring two hours of travel doesn’t sink in quickly. The desire to throw a fit is huge but that would be futile. Knowing there’s nothing else to do but to go with this undesirable flow, she heaves a sigh and closes her eyes.
“Wake me up when we’re there,” she says, sounding as imperative as possible. Both guardias promptly nod at her.
It is really a long travel and Kyungsoo feels uneasy. She’s been told to rest but she hardly does, at least her mind. The fact that she has two guardias on both sides makes it a lot less comfortable. She’s anxious about what is waiting for her when they reach their destination. The clock ticks closer to the second hour and she grows a lot more nervous, curious. She wonders more about the why’s than on the who’s and what’s. Will there be another client? A new principalia under fire? She thinks of reasons and forgets about scenarios.
The sound of galloping horses slows down until Kyungsoo feels the wheels on her sides decelerate to a halt. They arrived already and she heaves a sigh, still admittedly unprepared and edgy. The guardia on her right rises and his fingers do tricks on the complicated door locks until there is a loud final pop. The hinges of the door creak and it opens, the bright sunlight’s sudden intrusion inside the dim carriage slightly dazzling her.
“Señorita Do,” somebody from the outside calls her. The guardia repeats, adding a por favor before she decides to rise. She holds onto the side of the doors, one hand clasped on a portion of her saya so she can rest a foot on the first folded step. As she takes the open hand of the guardia for support until her feet touch the ground, she raises her head and the view astonishes her.
She’s standing by the entrance, an ornate door in between white stone columns, probably painted limestones. The main building extends at a grand length before curving to short wings on both ends. It’s relatively simple, painted dominantly in white and beige contrasting against the bright maroons of the Spanish curved tile roofs. It doesn’t differ much from the colonial houses of Intramuros except that this is generously spacious and larger, perhaps not as striking as the Palacio but still splendid and impressive.
Awestruck, Kyungsoo wanders his eyes more. There’s a lush of trees behind the mansion. She knows, given the amount of green peeking above the top lines of the roof. She can see a lake meters away from where she stood, too, which probably explains the cool scent of freshwater she’s been sensing since stepping out of the calesa.
She doesn’t really have any firm idea where she is right now except that she is pretty sure she’s miles away from the Manila, the capital city. The place feels too rural, like it’s some outskirt of an adjacent provincia, yet it amuses her, the grandeur of the mansion right before her, erected majestically in its isolation. It’s a little lonely, she somehow thinks, standing in the middle of a place hardly known, but it’s peaceful, quiet and just perfect for a break from stress and tension of politics of the Intramuros.
Kyungsoo is too busy amusing herself with the impressive manor that she forgets she’s not alone. A little embarrassed, she slightly bows down when one of the guardias appears in front of her, an arm extended to guide her inside. She takes the hand, nodding once to acknowledge the gesture before walking alongside him. As they near the entrance, the doors fling open and the foyer that welcomes her is just as grand as the exteriors. It’s a wide hall, bright with five chandeliers, four on all corners, the largest in the middle. The ceiling is painted, an intricate mural of the creation and downfall of Adam and Eve. The wall columns are heavily adorned with floral architectural designs, art works hanging in between them. At the far left there is a staircase, a little narrow and winding but as beautifully elaborate as the rest of the hall.
Kyungsoo absorbs herself in adoring the whole place, walking towards the closest painting to her, that one of Jesus standing on waters, a hand extended to hold a drowning Peter-a portrait of the miracle of the Sea of Galilee.
“San Pedro Tentando Caminar Sobre Agua,” somebody speaks, sending Kyungsoo to a small gasp of surprise. It’s Spanish and it should be easy for her to understand, but she barely catches them because she knows that voice: Wu Yifan, the Gobernador General.
“Saint Peter attempting to walk on water,” Yifan repeats. “It’s a replica. But still as wonderful as the real one.” He’s walking slowly down the staircase, staring at the same painting from his distance before shifting to the guardias by the entrance. He raises his hand and Kyungsoo sees them bow quickly before scuttling out of the foyer.
“I… I am sorry, Señor. I am leaving,” Kyungsoo mumble, her words drowning and shaking, rolling almost incomprehensibly when the last of the guardias holds the knob and closes the door. She has foreseen this, the Gobernador General appearing all of a sudden, but she still finds herself surprised. It’s definitely out of her desires, at least as of now, to see him again and she’s growing a lot more anxious and nervous than how she was during the travel earlier.
“No. Don’t leave,” Yifan says quickly, alarmed, afraid, and slightly disappointed. “Please.”
Kyungsoo stops only because she discerns the plea in Yifan’s words. He doesn’t chase her when she runs for the door. He opts for words, feet stuck on the last step of the staircase, a hand holding the railings tightly. Kyungsoo, who already has her hands around the knob, looks back and sees a mixture of hope and hurt in Yifan’s eyes. An appeal to pity, she thinks but when she realizes the doors aren’t locked, a subtle message that Yifan is actually giving him a seemingly easy but difficult choice, she gives it a chance. She releases the grip and turns around, facing Yifan but she keeps her eyes away his.
“Thank you,” Yifan mumbles, his lips slowly curling to a smile. He moves, carefully walking towards Kyungsoo who remains in her place. Soon they’re only a feet apart, silent as Yifan keeps a sincere look at Kyungsoo while the latter still averting her gaze away. “I’m sorry if I have to bring-”
“Drag,” Kyungsoo interrupts. “Don’t laugh. Nothing’s funny,” she continues with furrowed brows when she sees Yifan sigh and chuckle. She may be annoyed but she can’t stop feel a funny yet familiar churn at the pit of her stomach. The grin on Yifan’s face doesn’t go away.
“Drag. Yes. I am sorry,” Yifan says, slightly raising his hand as if mocking a surrender. “But I’m glad you didn’t leave.”
“Can you get to the point now?” She asks irately. There is an exasparated sigh unintentionally coming out of Kyungsoo’s mouth, her arms across her chest in a very intimidating posture, except that it doesn’t do it’s supposed effect on Yifan.
Yifan nods. “I want to talk to you,” he says a little seriously. Kyungsoo hates those words, especially if they’re coming from Yifan. She remains silent.
“Somewhere not here,” Yifan continues then walks closer to Kyungsoo, holding her on both shoulders and leaning so his lips are on Kyungsoo’s ear. She tenses; the grip of the other’s hands on her is so strong she hardly moves. Too close.
“I don’t want the guards to hear. Somewhere private,” Yifan whispers before letting go, smiling before turning around heading for the staircase. Kyungsoo can feel the rush of blood on her face but she tries his best to calm herself down, a hand clenched on her chest, feeling her heartbeat race.
“After me?” Yifan looks at her when he reaches the newel. Kyungsoo doesn’t say anything and simply goes behind him.
The foyer is as magnificent as the one at the second storey except that it’s a lot brighter. The floors are made of mahogany, so as the window and door frames, creating a perfect contrast against the dominantly pure and ivory whites of the walls. The sound of wood against wood caused by the soles of their shoes sound peculiarly nice to her ears, both of them silently walking towards the far end of the hall.
Kyungsoo sees three rooms. The one on the left is open and brightly lit, the remaining two on their right are closed. Kyungsoo assumes the open one shall be the host to whatever is to happen next. She is right.
Yifan stops in front of the door, pushed to the walls so that it’s widely open. “Here, señorita,” he says, facing Kyungsoo and extending an arm to his side.
“And how do you assure me that nothing wrong is going to happen to me when I enter your room?” Kyungsoo asks, skepticism indubitable from her tone.
“Please trust me. At least this time,” Yifan requests. He makes sure he sounds as honest as he really is. When he sees Kyungsoo’s eyes soften, he smiles.
Kyungsoo enters the room first albeit slowly, locking his gaze on Yifan as she walks. “Don’t lock the door,” she says when she’s finally inside. Yifan nods, closing the door but giving way to his company’s request.
Kyungsoo is silent as she roams her eyes around the room. She’s been amused at the grandeur of the exteriors, the foyer, and the intricacy of the styles of the walls. She initially thought it shall end there, especially when she learns about Yifan bringing her here, but the room is so beautiful it sends her to another round of awe.
It’s spacious, classy, and highly stylish. The wall and floor designs aren’t much different from the hallways but the furnitures give the room a lot more elegance to it, not that the structure itself isn’t elegant yet. She’s stepping on a huge carpet, an alternation of peach yellow and mint green which serves like a cushion to a four-poster bed. The bed looks simple, too, but is undeniably expensive. She walks toward it, her hand carefully touching the mattress until her fingers glide softly, skin flowing on the softness of the cloth. Silk, she recognizes.
“You seem to like it,” Yifan comments, lips curled to a satisfied smile. He’s taken a seat from a side table, arms on his chest, legs crossed, looking as smug as he normally is and Kyungsoo can’t help but to chuckle.
“What’s wrong?” Yifan asks, his smile suddenly disappearing.
Kyungsoo simply shakes her head, dismissing Yifan’s unnecessary worry, before turning around toward a smaller door at the other end of the room. Her lips part when she sees two bathtubs, both filled with scented water, rose petals sprinkled on top of it. The fragrance fills her nostrils and they’re soothing, not too strong to her senses.
The whole time Kyungsoo is adoring the mansion, there is a weird, unsettling feeling on her chest. It’s an uncomfortable, creepy thought and she can’t help but be bothered by it. Everything is made, placed, and designed to her perfect liking-the white exteriors, the lavish, intricate interiors, a lobby filled with paintings from Europe, the silk beddings, even the simple rose petals sprinkled on water. She doesn’t realize it at first as she was overwhelmed by the beauty, the idea only hitting her hard when she goes back to the room proper and sees Yifan again, still comfortably seated in his place.
“You haven’t answered my question yet, señori-”
“Why did you bring me here?” Kyungsoo cuts him off again. She sees his eyes twitch, a sign that he’s starting to get annoyed, probably with all the interruptions she’s been doing. She knows Yifan’s patience at least in normal circumstances and it really amuses her that his good-nature play has lasted this long.
“I was hoping you would like it. I’m sorry if you didn’t,” Yifan mumbles dejectedly. Although it hardly sounds sincere, an apparent false display of emotions, Kyungsoo can’t help but feel a little guilty, even to herself.
“I… like it,” Kyungsoo says with a smile. “Actually,” she continues. She wanders her eyes again as if she’s having a last glance of her surroundings. Yifan smiles back, contentment sweeping his face. He stands up from his seat and slowly walks toward Kyungsoo. She stands still, this time letting herself stay calm, successfully loosening her once stiff shoulders when Yifan holds them again.
“That’s good to hear,” Yifan begins, his voice low but calm. “I am happy.”
Kyungsoo is confused, opening her lips to speak, to interrupt, but she decides not to be too insistent so she remains quiet. There is a silent gratitude with the way Yifan’s eyes curl when he smiles. Kyungsoo feels a sudden roll of her stomach and she stiffens. This is a little dangerous.
Yifan is staring at her, at her eyes as if he bores a hole, exposing her, reading her open. She can feel it no matter how hard she tries to avert her gaze, a familiar, overwhelming sensation, something she’s felt when she saw Yifan again for the first time years ago since she left the Palacio. She’s always drawn back to those soft eyes, meaningful, reflective, always soothed by the small curled lips smiling gently at her.
“Yifan,” Kyungsoo says, breaking the uncomfortable silence. It’s the first time she’s calling him by his name, not by his title and it surprises the both of them. “Why are we here?” She asks before Yifan can even react.
Yifan lets loose of his hold on her shoulders, sighing as he puts his hands inside his pockets. He walks toward the huge painting of the Garden of Eden on the middle of the wall, a foot away, his neck craned up, examining it. He extends his arm, the tip of his fingers touching the rough canvas.
“Remember when you said you wanted a garden as beautiful as Eden?” Yifan asks, his hand resting on the image of the Tree of Life. He keeps it there and he doesn’t move, waiting for an answer. The first wave of nostalgia comes rushing on Kyungsoo.
It was in Barcelona, years before Yifan took the Palacio and Kyungsoo worked for the principalias. They were in front of where Sagrada Familia is to be built, Yifan talking about the beautiful basilica to be erected. He kept on saying things which Kyungsoo hardly understood but she listened anyway, knowing that Yifan had no one to speak to about his new found interest-architecture.
“It’s too… complicated. It’ll take years,” Kyungsoo commented, grasping bits of Yifan’s stories. “They should’ve just put a garden sort of,” she continues. Yifan reacted too enthusiastically that it startled the other. Then it grew into a light argument on whether building Sagrada Familia is necessary or not.
“I just wanted a garden,” Kyungsoo said, as if concluding her arguments which hardly won against Yifan’s. “Maybe something as beautiful as Eden.”
“That’s difficult, like Sagrada,” Yifan said.
“At least there’ll be flowers, trees, fruits. Birds and then maybe a fresh spring. Imagine a huge tree in the middle, where we could spend a cool afternoon together,” Kyungsoo began and she didn’t stop until the whole image is complete in both their heads. Yifan would butt in with scenarios, silly ones that they’d end up laughing.
Kyungsoo remains silent, as if listening to her past tell their own story in her head. She comes back to earth with Yifan still in his place but facing her, back against the wall. “It’s not a real one but at least it’s the Garden of Eden?” He smiles, that one which Kyungsoo hardly reads. It may be because of amusement, or fun, or sarcasm, she doesn’t know.
He walks past Kyungsoo until he reaches the bed, carefully plopping on it and he bounces. He slides his palms on both of his sides, tidying the creases of the mattress when he sits.
“You liked silk right?” Yifan asks, still feeling the smoothness of the cloth.
“I still do,” Kyungsoo reacts, suddenly reminded of the plaza market she missed early this morning all thanks to her Gobernador General who decided to be still vague with his intentions.
Yifan keeps his smile, this time induced by amusement. He then points at the drawers next to the bed, the first one. “There’s something there.”
“No spiders?” Kyungsoo quickly asks and it earns a chuckle from Yifan. He once pulled a prank on Kyungsoo, putting his pet tarantula in one of Kyungsoo’s drawers, and they didn’t speak to each other for a week. He shakes his head, still laughing. “I trust you,” she says, pointing a finger at the other. And she simply does as she is told. She wraps her fingers around the handle slowly, still wary and skeptical, before pulling it steadily. Thankfully there are no hairy legs springing out from the small opening, no flying brown creatures, or shiny and bony feet crawling on its sides. She pulls it more until she sees what is really inside.
It’s almost empty except for a neatly folded purple cloth in the middle. It’s shiny, soft on her palms as she takes it from the drawer. There are small lilac swirls peppering the whole of it and it looks a lot more intricate than it looked earlier.
“This…” Kyungsoo whispers, rubbing the hem of the cloth with her fingers.
“The one from Peking,” Yifan says, continuing what seems to be hanging words from Kyungsoo’s mouth. She remains at a loss, eyes stuck on the silk she holds. It’s that silk, the one from the first batch of Chinese vessels that year. She remembers when she first saw it, fresh from the crates, and she had to drag Yifan back to the merchants they just passed by because “It’s beautiful, Yifan.” But Yifan regretfully mumbled “No money, dear,” pulling Kyungsoo away from the growing crowd. Maybe it was her selfishness acting up again when Kyungsoo admitted she was disappointed. She saw the silk two days after at the hands of the a provincia’s gobernadorcillo’s wife from the other barrio and she almost cried in frustration the next time she saw Yifan.
“When did you…?” Kyungsoo asks softly, her face brightening up in delight as she continues to feel the cloth in her hands. “Thank you,” she mumbles, remembering how dumb she might have looked like getting quashed over a piece of cloth.
“I’m sorry if it took me so long,” Yifan says, his smile growing wider, mentally fist pumping at an apparent success in pleasing Kyungsoo. “Can you join me here?” Yifan taps the empty side to his right.
Kyungsoo hesitates but it is late when she realizes her feet are moving on its own, soon finding herself seated on the bed next to Yifan. She feels her heartbeat race, hands clutching the silk she’s holding, both rested on her bosom. She’s now at a loss for words, suddenly uncomfortable. She keeps her head down, peeping on her side because Yifan is as silent as she is.
“This casa,” Yifan begins all of a sudden, voice low but with a tinge of excitement. Kyungsoo jerks awkwardly but Yifan doesn’t seem to notice. When she looks at him, he’s staring at his shaky hands. Kyungsoo doesn’t quickly realize that Yifan is probably as nervous as her. It’s been months since they last met, that is not counting official ones with no actual talk happening, and getting jumpy in this situation, she supposes, is a normal reaction.
“Yes, this casa,” Kyungsoo repeats, noticing how Yifan stops midway his thoughts, as if he’s at a total loss for words. Yifan smiles awkwardly and nods, shifting to his left so that he’s facing Kyungsoo.
“This is our home,” he continues. Kyungsoo doesn’t seem to catch the words when her face doesn’t show any reaction. “Or rather, was supposed to be our home.”
Kyungsoo doesn’t want to assume despite all obvious clues presented right under her nose. “Are you guilt tripping me?”
There is a soft chuckle from Yifan before shaking his head. “Remember when I said I wanted to be an architect and build you a house. I’ve always wanted to build one for you, for us. It took me years, although I didn’t tell anyone how far I’ve gone.”
“This is unfair,” is all what Kyungsoo manages to say. It’s a little hard for her to be frank but her surprise and disbelief mixing with shame and guilt is bubbling inside her. But she’s denying one more thing: she’s falling for his trap. It may not be one but it seems like it is, or at least what she thinks it should be. She’s trying to not fall deeper until it’s inescapable. But it's difficult. Whenever it’s about Yifan, it’s always never easy.
Her heart recoils, a feeling which she last had god knows when, yet as much as she doesn’t want this to happen, it still happens. She can feel her cheeks burn, her eyes painful until she can feel tears welling up.
“Luhan,” she mumbles. “It’s unfair. For me. For your wife-”
“This is about us, Kyungsoo,” Yifan says. He reaches for Kyungsoo’s hands but she pulls them away, avoiding his grasps. There is resistance from her, shifting away, almost raising her hands on shoulder level so Yifan would stop but he insists. His movements are fast, almost no time for Kyungsoo to react because in a snap she finds herself wrapped around strong arms and she uses her own, squeezed arms to push away.
“Let go, please,” she begs but Yifan ignores her. He buries his face on the crook of her neck, hugging her more tightly until Kyungsoo gives up struggling.
“It’s not about Luhan,” he says, a cross between a mumble and a whisper.
“You promised to stay with her,” Kyungsoo says. “This is not right, Yifan. This is not right...”
The words seem to come out a lot half-heartedly and her voice falters. Her heart is pounding against her chest, feeling the beat on her arms still pressed between their bodies. Her hands open, fingers finding his clothes and clutching on it. She rests her head on his chest, loosening up a bit because it’s basically useless to budge anyway. And though she doesn’t want to accept it, she’s, in truth, missing the feeling of his arms.
She’s falling for him, this time at an extremely quicker pace. She has to turn back, her morals dictating how disgraceful they probably seem like right now, but she’s being sucked into a bliss she’s never felt for a long time, one that she used to have but has to stop because it’s for the better. Now that it’s happening again, it’s a lot more difficult to say no. She thinks she has successfully suppressed the hurt and the longing but they are all nothing but pent-up emotions bursting right from her heart.
“Don’t cry. Please,” Yifan whispers and Kyungsoo realizes she isn’t holding back her tears anymore. It makes her feel a lot worse when she can sense Yifan’s hurt, too.
“Why do you have to do this?” It’s rhetorical. Or maybe Kyungsoo simply doesn’t know what to say. She's confused because she remembers coming to an agreement, for Yifan to make things work well with his wife, Luhan, and for Kyungsoo to keep out of their matters as much as possible. They said yes, knowing it’s for the good, or the better, or perhaps the best.
But on a supposedly fine Sunday morning, Yifan decides to ignore it, to break it.
“Te quiero. Te amo.”
Four words Kyungsoo never wanted for Yifan to say. They’re horrible words. Painful. Inconsiderate. Selfish. Unfair. Yet she can’t decide whether she’s loathing them or not because the more she thinks they should never be spoken, the more she yearns to hear them again. She feels them heavy at first but it melts away so fast, to her surprise, and she’s suddenly filled with a great desire to reciprocate, the same four words ready to spill out. She is silent, speechless, her heart against her mind in a total mess of conflicting rationality and emotions.
Yifan lets loose of the hug, moving his hands to slide from her shoulders down to her arms. Kyungsoo shivers, whether in a good or bad way she is too confused to know. She has her lips parted but there’s nothing coming out, not a single sound and Yifan shakes his head, hushing as he places a finger on her lips gently.
“Can we…” Yifan says, locking his eyes on Kyungsoo’s. “Can we listen to our hearts, just for today?”
She nods as logical thoughts betray her. Listen to our hearts, she repeats and she’s helplessly overcome by emotion. When Yifan cups her face, leaning for a kiss, she moves her head away, his lips touching her cheeks instead. Yifan tries once more, holding her head tight until he successfully catches her lips. He keeps it shut, not moving, as if waiting for Kyungsoo to be at ease.
“Don’t do this to yourself,” is what Yifan mumbles when he moves an inch away for a second before kissing her again. Kyungsoo’s heartbeat is racing, her hands shaking, turning cold in seconds. She closes her eyes, the touch of Yifan’s lips on hers quickly sinking in.
That’s when she opens her lips and kisses back, soft and slow until there is rhythm. She forgets about the wrong, recognizing only what is right-what feels right. Listen to your heart, she tells herself.
She’s giving in.
Yifan is gentle. He’s always been gentle when it comes to Kyungsoo. His first kisses are always slow and patient, not too dominating and not too aggressive. He always waits for her to be at ease, to relax. When Yifan slightly pulls away, Kyungsoo follows, chasing his lips until the kisses are open mouthed, urgent. Yet, he remains light with his movements. He lays her down on the bed like she’s a fragile doll, careful when he takes her clothes off, unresisting when Kyungsoo does the same to him. They never speak, looking only into each other’s eyes when they break apart, as if the once lost passion speak for themselves, a language mutually understood in their silence.
Kyungsoo knows what is coming next when Yifan lowers his head, sliding his mouth to her side down to her chest. She arches her upper body. Yifan still knows her pleasure spots, how to make her spill the lewdest of sounds she can possibly make. When he dips his nose on her cleavage, she feels a very fast and funny sensation roll inside her. She’s excited, probably in lust, too, holding him tighter on the shoulders. She cards her fingers through his hair, pushing him slowly, lips trailing a kiss down to her torso until she can feel his warm breath on her core.
It’s a nostalgic yet totally electrifying sensation, a jolt of pleasure quickly running through her chest down to her center. She squirms when she slightly feels foreign about this but Yifan keeps her open, light hands on her thighs. When he slides his tongue, she throws her head back. When he pushes it inside, she screams until she keeps on pleading, her fingers now tangled on his hair.
The teasing doesn’t last long. Yifan pulls away, earning a whine from Kyungsoo only to be cut when he catches her lips for another round of deep kiss, her taste lingering in both of their mouths. When they break apart for air, Yifan smiles at her, looking straight into her eyes, a hand touching Kyungsoo’s forehead to fix her hair sticking to it.
Te quiero.
I want you.
It keeps on playing in Kyungsoo’s head and it’s only until now that she realizes the amount of truth in them. When she calls his name, even if their heated bodies are pressed together, even if his eyes are locked on hers, even if his lips are just an inch away, she says it with a certain deep longing for someone she lost and found. She should feel ashamed at the very least for herself, for betraying her own trust, Luhan’s trust, and for showing how fragile her heart is for Yifan. But it hardly occupies her, not even totally bothered by it. There is nothing in her heart but what it tells her. When Yifan kisses her again, she can feel her chest burst, swelling at the bliss of a union with the person she thought she’s long forgotten but has never left her heart at all.
Yifan parts her legs, spreading them before settling himself in between. For a moment Kyungsoo is scared and a little embarrassed for she’s never been touched there for a long time. But when Yifan reminds her that he’ll be gentle, and that there’s nothing to worry about, she puts her whole trust in him. Just like the way they do it before.
She sucks in deep breath, tightening the wrap of her arms around his body as he guides himself into her. There are winces, little groans of pain and pleasure, and Yifan patiently lets her get used to him inside.
“Please,” is what Kyungsoo begs and Yifan begins to move. She locks her legs around his waist, eager for more friction when he starts at a painfully slow pace. He catches it and does as she wants, thrusting into her erratically until she is screaming his name. He moves, shifting angles, and he hits spots that send Kyungsoo to a mess, shooting jolts of pleasure to her body. Lust clouds their heads and soon they reach climax, Kyungsoo coming first, shaking uncontrollably on the bed, followed by Yifan, covering her inside as he rides on his completion.
It’s silent but the sound of their heavy breathing once they’ve finally come down from the climax. Yifan has his arms wrapped around her, keeping her in place, peppering her forehead with light kisses, stroking Kyungsoo’s hair gently, soothing her down. When his hands slide down her back, she shivers and this time she’s pretty sure it’s in a good way. Kyungsoo’s elation is slowly coming to a low yet her heart is still full. When she thinks it’s too much to hold in, she buries her face on Yifan’s bare chest.
They never speak, as if trapped in the euphoria. The more they remain silent the more the reality that this may or may not happen again sinks in. It’s a harsh truth but it has never left to begin with. It’s been there since the day they took separate ways. Hours later, she’ll be back in her own casa, discussing with troubled principalias, and Yifan will busy himself with the papers of the Palacio. Hours later, they will be living lives again as if nothing happened today. This may be a conclusion, or a start of a new story, either of which has its own consequences.
Still, If there is at least one thing Kyungsoo shall never forget, it’s the realization which she may now recognize as a fact.
Te amo, también.
She’ll forever be weak for Yifan.
A lady in exquisite dress comes running inside the Palacio, holding her skirt to her front so she can dart down the stairs easier. She reaches a room with the sign Secretaria de Gobierno above it. She knocks on its door fast, never stopping until it opens. A young man in a barong welcomes her.
“Señora Luhan,” the lad says, surprised at the sudden appearance of the Gobernador’s wife. “What brings your presence to our humble office?”
“Junmyeon,” Luhan mumbles, a hand on her chest as she catches for regular breathing. “Where is the Gobernador General?”
Junmyeon, the Palacio’s chief staff, raises a brow, slightly surprised with what he thinks is alarm in Luhan’s voice. He shakes his head as he opens the door wider, letting her inside the office. “He’s not here yet, Señora. I was thinking he’s still in the southern wing with you,” Junmyeon answers. Luhan doesn’t seem to listen though when she runs straight to Yifan’s room, stopping only when he sees nothing but a vacant chair. She turns around, facing Junmyeon.
“Do you know where he is?” She asks.
“Lo siento,Señora, but the Gobernador General has never been here,” Junmyeon answers promptly. “And the last time I checked, he has no schedule for today.”
Luhan stares at him in silence, raising a brow in a bit of skepticism. Junmyeon doesn’t say anything, not even anything to defend himself from the apparent doubt on Luhan’s face. “Alright. I believe you,” Luhan finally says.
“Is there something wrong?” Junmyeon asks as he closes the door.
“Yifan is missing. He’s not in our casa. When I woke up, he’s already gone. I have no idea where he is right now,” Luhan explains quickly. “Also, one of the guardias told me…” she trails off and her voice seems to hesitate to continue. She sighs, closing her eyes before looking at Junmyeon in the eye. “Kyungsoo is not in her casa.”
Junmyeon walks toward her and gently holds Luhan’s shoulders. “Don’t worry, Señora,” he says slowly, calmly. “I’ll dispatch guardias to look for the Gobernador. I know your assumptions but let us give them the benefit of the doubt.”
Luhan nods, although still restless, hardly calming down despite Junmyeon’s words. “Everything’s going to be fine, right, Junmyeon?”
She sounds extremely worried, also desperate to an extent. Junmyeon simply smiles. “Everything is fine. Everything is going to be fine.”