#ship: multi

Yeosang learning the truth was inevitable, though things tumbled out of Wooyoung's control when they finally woke San, his memories still half-intact unlike the rest.

The Six Lords of Halazia had used the last ounces of power to seal away a vengeful spirit, demon, creature that had threatened humanity's very existence. The creature had fought them tooth and nail and summoned great storms of agony and shrapnel. The razor winds tore their armies apart and poisoned the minds of their people, turning them against one another until only barren homes remained in their wake.

Stupid, overeager Yeosang had picked up what he had thought was nothing more than an enchanted artifact, a focus of some kind, something he could surely use to his advantage as he began his journey to wake the them.

What a delusion of grandeur.

Yeosang stared into the brilliant gold light, the warmth of Wooyoung's transformation tinging his cheeks the slightest pink. He didn't flinch in the face of his own power, siphoned by the parasite he hadn't known he'd harbored. He felt the strength of his magic flag and knew the outcome of this fight would change the course of his life forever. He would either lose his life or his magic, either way it was just one more thing Wooyoung would take from him. Wasn't the warm, gooey inside of his heart enough?

As the golden figure settled into a faceless form of a man, wings of fractured gold emphasizing the already impressive visage, Yeosang hated that even now he thought Wooyoung was beautiful. He stared into the empty gaze of an ancient terror and where fear should have rent his insides he felt only an immense sadness.

The land still bore scars from his rampage and Yeosang knew he would bare his own by the end of everything. He was so glad his lovers (of which Wooyoung would now never become) were far away from here. He feared for what Wooyoung would do to them in his desire for revenge.

He worried for what they would do to Wooyoung.

"What? Nothing to say? Hmph. I thought you'd at least be a little impressed." The twisted golden angel spoke, Wooyoung's voice reverberating from every direction of the strange, liminal space around them.

"Hey, you still with me? I want this to be more fun, c'mon, I need a warm up before I go after your little lovers."

There was so much venom in his voice, a tone Yeosang had never heard before and hoped to never hear again. It drew hot moisture to his eyes that he quickly hid by turning his face away. It may be a cliche, but he didn't want to give Wooyoung the satisfaction of seeing him break.

"Was any of it real? Because it was for me." He choked out instead of the likely expected rage. He didn't feel angry. He was just sad - so unfathomably sad.

Somehow, he'd gone from a foolhardy hero to a foolish martyr. He was never supposed to make it out of this alive, was he?

"Some of it was." Yeosang was shocked at the earnest echo that rang from Wooyoung's new visage, his voice now a comforting blanket instead of sharp glass. "You have a way of enchanting people, Sangie. Even old terrors that never asked for any of this."

He whispered the latter part so quietly Yeosang almost didn't hear him.

"What do you mean by that?" He tried to step forward, to close the awkward gap of space between them.

The space was liminal, somehow pitch black at the edges while Wooyoung shone like a beacon. The golden glow that emanated from him felt like a warm hearth. It was impossible to tell how far apart they really were - he felt so close and so far in more ways than Yeosang could fathom.

"What did you mean by that, Wooyoung?" He demanded, taking another step and watching as the golden light shuddered, a shiver rippling through Wooyoung's reclaimed body.

"I never wanted to hurt them. I never wanted to hurt anyone." His voice sounded as fragile as the armlet had been.

Yeosang gasped as Wooyoung's face formed where previously there had been none. Tears of molten gold trailed down his cheeks and his brow was pinched as if he was in pain, as if it was taking every ounce of his control to keep from lashing out now that his body was surging with ancient power.

Yeosang increased his steps to a jog, then a run, but the space never grew smaller.

"Wooyoung, stop! Why?" He knew he had to be the one maintaining the physical distance and he felt that rejection like a physical knife in his gut.

"There's so much you don't know, Sangie. I wish I'd had time to tell you properly." Wooyoung answered cryptically, chest shuddering with a barely contained sob, or perhaps it was a growl. "I want to live and they want nothing more than to prevent that. Is it so horrible that I want to live too?"

Yeosang wanted so badly to punch something, anything. He settled instead for swatting at the fractals of gold that had begun to hang in the air, Wooyoung's wings shattered to create a dome of glittering gold around them. They glittered against the vast blackness beyond, like little twinkling stars pinned to the night sky.

"I don't understand! Why did you do it, then? Why did you kill all those people? Why bring the storms? Why play God like this?" Yeosang demanded, voice growing louder with each question.

"Because humans made me! They created me out of their own malice, they shaped me into a weapon, and the power they fed into me forced me!"

Wooyoung sank to the shiny obsidian floor, his bright glow almost entirely tucked away. The floating slivers appearing sharper now but still shining with what Yeosang felt was a hope reflected in his own chest. Wooyoung wasn't lost to him, not entirely. Not yet.

"You were my last chance. I was going to die and I will anyway if I don't take the others out of the equation. I'm just sorry you fell in love with them."

The space between them was suddenly so small and Yeosang didn't waste a second, kneeling beside Wooyoung but not yet touching him. He didn't miss the way the sharp golden needles had all shifted to point in his direction.

"What did you mean by that?"

"Your lovers," spoken with so much bitterness, "never once stopped to consider I was nothing more than a tool, a puppet with chains for strings. They were every bit as eager for destruction and yet they are celebrated while I'm condemned!" The needles trembled and Yeosang had to consciously force them into his peripheral as he focused on Wooyoung and the anguish on his face.

What was he supposed to say to that? He knew nothing of their time, nothing of what had transpired long before he was born. The weight of it sat heavy behind his ribs and all Yeosang wanted was to untangle the complicated web of tragedy.

"But why did you have to kill?" He wondered, ignoring his own blatant naivety. He refused to feel shame in wanting to fully understand.

Wooyoung was silent again but his wings fell away, falling into a beautiful, glittering pile of gold fractals that almost resembled a heap of sand in the center of an hourglass.

Yeosang didn't know if it was trust or exhaustion that had Wooyoung dropping his guard but Yeosang was grateful for it. He closed the gap quickly, fingers gently cradling Wooyoung's jaw to tilt his head. His thumbs faintly burned as he wiped away the golden tears but it was such a distant sensation in the face of Wooyoung's obvious pain.

"I was made to be a weapon. It was all I was allowed to be, and then it was all I was capable of. Even now, I want to hurt you. I want to pierce your body, bring you pain, and win for nothing more than the thrill.

I'm a monster, and I can't even truly blame them for hating me. But I still want to live."

Yeosang's mind was working at a mile a minute, more silence echoing between them as he really absorbed what he was learning. Everything they'd ever been told was wrong. Had the others known Wooyoung's origins? He had to believe they hadn't - likely still didn't.

Unable to continue that line of thought, Yeosang voiced the next fear that plagued him.

"And the way you spoke to me? The way you made me l-love you?" He could blame Wooyoung for that much, at least. Couldn't he?

Wooyoung winced as if Yeosang had struck him, turning against his hands to avoid his gaze. "I got too greedy."

He shifted to his knees, hands folded in his lap and seemed to silently mourn the warmth of Yeosang's hands as they fell away.