#cwcsummerfair

Standing alone on the balcony, the wind blows past and sends a chill down your spine. Moving your hands to the rail, you glance down at the social below, your eyes instantly falling on Jihoon making small talk with another prince. Instead of sitting here with you, he drones on and on, chattering about nothing with leaders of other kingdoms, powerful allies in the court. 

You get it. It’s not like he has a choice. His parents are insistent that he stick to his responsibilities before he can let loose (as much as a future king can) for the night. But that doesn’t mean you aren’t a little disheartened or annoyed that he isn’t laughing with you over the stupidity of the event, a supposed “half birthday party” for the prince. 

So you simply plop down on one of the seats on the balcony, your fingers and toes tapping to pass time until he’s freed from his duties for the time being. It’s the life you both live, hating everything about the gilded cage but still unable to escape it. 

But when the French doors open, the curtains in front of them parting to reveal the man of the hour, the month, the year, the century, you can’t help but think maybe it’s worth it, only if it’s him.

“Sorry,” he sighs, falling down next to you and letting his head rest on the back of the bench’s cushions. He rubs his eyes before he turns his face towards you with a shake of his head. “The Hong family was really insistent on talking about trade policy.”

“It’s okay,” you murmur, taking his hand. He lets you play with his fingers as you let your own little breath. “I understand.”

Sitting in silence allows the chatter below to rise and find your ears, but it never truly roots in your mind. Rather, everything you need is right here, right next to you. Squeezing his hand, you bring your fingers to his hair, twirling the strands around your digits before you pat and smooth them down. 

The quiet motions bring a hum from his throat, almost like that of a purring cat laying in a sunny window. 

But the moment quickly dies down when loud orders are barked from within the palace, Jihoon jolting up and staring at the door. Following his movement, you rise and loop your arm through his, glancing to his face. 

As expected, the curtains covering the glass quickly are overcome by guards and workers, but they blink at the sight before them. 

“Well, I guess that’s where the prince went,” one of the knights mumbles. 

One of the butlers then bows, taking the handle in his grasp. “My apologies, Your Highness. I didn’t realize you were occupied.”

They’re gone as quickly as they came, and you know any moment truly alone with Jihoon, one where nobody else knows where you both are, is fleeting. Everyone wants to know.

But, now left to your own devices on the balcony, you let your eyes wander back to the prince’s reddening face. 

He shakes his head, meeting your eyes. “Let’s get out of here,” Jihoon whispers into your ear. 

Taking your hand, Jihoon pulling you towards the exit, you both break into a sprint, speeding down the halls past distinguished nobles and uptight royalty. 

Yes, Jihoon is a prince. Yes, he has a world of responsibility and reputation he must keep. Yes, Jihoon will be a king one day. But, with you, Jihoon is simply a man hopelessly in love, and that’s his most treasured title he will ever have.

taglist: @noniemylove @adi--writes​

But Joshua has been busy lately. After he finishes planning other people’s weddings, he returns home, only to plan another one, his wedding. And Adi is super cool. You’ve met all together before, and you can’t blame Joshua in the slightest for falling for them and proposing. 

Maybe you let your resentment towards the situation itself (never either individual of the couple) fester a little too much, impacting your job and relationship with your co-founder. It was just easier to pretend you didn’t get along to protect your cracking heart. Now that you think about it, maybe the hypothetical chalkboard that would display the “Days Without Arguing in the Office” countdown would show something resembling a large 90, a number similar to the amount of time that has passed since a couple weeks after Joshua told you about his engagement a few months ago.

Shaking his head, your co-owner stands, carefully glancing in your direction as he stands before placing his hands on the back of the chair. “Let’s just go home, y/n. We can talk about this tomorrow when we aren’t so angry.”

He doesn’t wait for you to respond before he makes his way towards the door, grabbing his coat from the hook and sliding his arms through the sleeves. 

“Maybe we should just go our separate ways after this,” he murmurs. “Seeing as we can’t get along anymore.”

“Joshua—”

“Just think about it.”

Finishing off the conversation, he turns his back towards you without another word, watching the cars pass on the street outside your small shop slash office. 

You swallow as you stare at his frame, his shoulders tense and curved inward as he crosses his arms. The tapping of his foot against the wood planks joins the ensemble not long after. When was the last time you even finished work happily?  

And all too soon yet all too quickly, it’s over. Joshua will be leaving. He’ll definitely be leaving the store for the night. Maybe, he’ll even leave your life…for good.

Adi comes in. The bells above the door chime as they embrace, Joshua’s body instantly relaxing and softening at the presence, the touch, of the one he loves. 

He presses a kiss to their cheek before they cross arms behind the other’s back, shy smiles and hushed whispers exchanged as Joshua pushes open the door. But before they can step out, and maybe him from your life forever, Adi stops and turns around.

They smile at you, giving a small wave with the free hand that isn’t wrapped around their fiancé. “Have a nice night, y/n.”

With that, they step into the chilly winter evening, huddled together as they go about their daily walk home. And you know Adi was being genuine. They have been and still are nothing but kind to you whenever you see each other at the end of the workday. It makes you wonder if Joshua has said anything about your squabbles at home. 

Because, you can admit it, you have been absolutely stubborn and pissy. The two of them would and do have every right to be ticked off with you. But it doesn’t matter how this wedding turns out. It doesn’t matter what happens to the business you’ve built together. It doesn’t matter if you piss Joshua off or are perfectly best friends with him. Because, at the end of the day, you aren’t the one he’ll be going home with.  

A single tear drops from your eyes, at last. You have never cried over Joshua Hong, but there’s always a first for everything. They continue to fall as you stare out the window, seemingly unable to move before a loud gust of wind outside jumpstarts your brain again.

Finally making your way to the door, you flip the sign to display the large “Closed” with tomorrow’s hours to face the front of the glass. 

If you really love someone, you let them go. If there’s anyone you want to be happy, it’s him. And you know he is. 

“Coming!”

After you place the dishes together with their brethren, you make your way to the bedroom. Most of your things are packed neatly into the cardboard boxes littering the floor, some taped shut and some still open and halfway filled with your decorations and personal belongings. But Wonwoo sits on the bed, a book in his hands.

“What’s that?” you ask, coming over to sit next to him.

“Photo album,” he replies, his gaze still on the faded pictures from years ago. His lips quirk as he turns the page. “I didn’t know you kept these.”

Letting your eyes wander to the book, you chuckle softly. “We look so young.”

With the images in front of you, you remember those days well. You and Wonwoo were wide eyed college students when you started dating. And maybe (definitely) you were too naive and immature, as the honeymoon phase quickly wore off and you quickly decided you were better off as friends before drifting to your separate friend groups.

“You’re still just as beautiful,” he murmurs. “Actually, even more so.”

You sling an arm around his shoulder, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “I think you’re the most beautiful though.”

A shy grin comes over his face, his cheeks turning a warmish pink that matches the sunset outside. After a moment of quiet, his gaze returns back down to the pictures on his lap.

“Do you regret dating then?” he murmurs, his fingers glossing over your bright, teenage smile. 

You pause, meeting eyes with the adolescent Wonwoo below. His face is sharper now, and you know he’s more mature, a little wiser. “No,” you decide. “We had a good time overall, right? And we’re together now; no harm done.” Glancing to your boyfriend, you cock your head. “Do you?”

“No,” he replies quickly, shaking his head. “I think knowing you like that then, I think that helped me learn about you. I think it taught me how to love you better now.” 

He flips the page, finding some slightly more recent pictures, around the time you met again at work a couple years ago. Smiling, he brushes the cheek of your past self with his thumb. 

“Y’know, you still flick your pen when you’re thinking.”

“You-you remember that?” You turn to face him, his eyes now on you with his warm, steady gaze.

“Shit,” you mutter, holding your back a little straighter as you shuffle over to the bathrooms. 

Kim Mingyu knows you’re here. Kim Mingyu knows you’re on to him. And if there’s anything the two of you have learned over the years, it’s that you do not leave witnesses. 

Fidgeting with the watch on your wrist, you press the knob that normally is supposed to adjust the time, hoping that Seokmin can answer. 

But you never have to worry with him. He comes seconds after you, joining your pacing in front of the restroom doors.

“What’s wrong?” he murmurs, trying to keep his voice low and calm, but, even still, the words fall quickly.

“The rat is Mingyu. He knows that I know.”

“What?”

You nod frantically, your head bouncing up and down. “I saw him. It’s just supposed to be us and the double agent here. It has to be him.”

Sighing, Seokmin runs a hand through his hair. “You’re sure it was him?”

“It couldn’t have been anyone else. I’m sure.”

“Did you see where he went?”

“No, when I looked back he was gone. We have to—”

The bang rings out, wet warmth growing around the palm splayed over your abdomen. The footsteps behind you grow fainter and fainter, but Seokmin is still here, frozen in front of you.

“Go,” you grit out. “You’re our only chance.”

“I can’t go,” he croaks. A tear falls down his cheek, one he quickly shakes off. “Not like this. You need help.”

Your gaze flickers to his, and you swallow when you find his eyes, no longer guarded by the years of training as he presses his hand over yours. You know this shot won’t kill you. But, even if it’s selfish, having Seokmin with you here, it makes your heart swell and, maybe just a little, hope that he doesn’t leave. Maybe, just for a second, after all you’ve done to make the world safer, the world can grant you this moment, just this once. 

“Just stay with me, y/n.”

“W-wha—would that be okay?” He scratches the back of his neck, his eyes trained on the other self care products you have out on the counter. “I don’t wanna intrude…”

“You could never, Cheol,” you tease, coming over to push his shoulder lightly and hand him the lip exfoliator. 

He follows you back to the spot at the sink, staring at his reflection in front of him. With you now resuming your routine, he glances at you. How did you do it? Do you just—

He starts swiping it across his mouth, the sugar crystals stuck in the wax. Even if he’s not quite sure on what he’s supposed to be doing, he knows this doesn’t feel right. Squinting at the tube, he turns it around in his hands, trying to find some instructions.

But before he can come up empty handed and sigh, you take it from his fingers. Your hands land on his shoulders and spin him around to face you, his face wide eyed and a faint pink blush starting to color his cheeks.

“Y/n—”

“Uh uh uh,” you coo, gently pushing his jaw closed. “Pout for me?”

He does as you say before you start applying the scrub in the same way you’d done a couple minutes ago. With the sweet crumbs now sitting pretty on his lips and the soft cherry scent of the wax now wafting into his nose, he closes his eyes. Is this what you taste like? Is this what it would be like to kiss you? 

He darts his tongue out to taste the balm, instantly met with the saccharine flavor of artificial cherry. But, even though you still haven’t finished, he doesn’t think his mouth has ever felt this soft before. That knowledge certainly doesn’t help his fantasies about kissing you. 

“All done!” you exclaim, pulling away to admire your handiwork as his eyes spring open. “You can rinse off the sugar. Whaddya think?”

He turns on the faucet, running water under his fingers and rubbing it against his lips. 

“S-soft,” he murmurs. 

“Right! Isn’t it nice? I can’t believe I got this for like five dollars. Such a steal.”

But before you can return to the counter and finish your self care regimen, Seungcheol tugs on your hand, turning you to face him. Opening his mouth, he quickly closes it when surprise flashes behind your eyes.

“Oh I forgot!” You rummage through the cabinet before you pull out another balm product. “You can put this on after too.” Taking off the cap, you quickly run it on your lips and hold it out to him. “Just like that. Do you wanna try?”

However his lips are on yours before you can even blink, your body frozen from his warmth being so close to you. 

“It’s good,” he whispers, pulling away to rest his forehead against you all too soon.

Well, a lot more people than you realized had…questionable taste, to say the least. You remember a little too well the time the person in front of you ordered a coffee that was so rancid you swore off all caffeinated beverages for the next week. 

Despite your efforts to branch out, that beverage was just so disgusting that you’ve been avoiding ordering a new drink and have simply been sticking to your usual coffee. But there’s just something in the air today that urges you to try again.

The bells tinkle above the door as you push it open, letting the warm scent fill your nose. The line is a little longer than you’d like, but at least your favorite cafe is finally getting the business it deserves.

Pulling out your phone, you scroll aimlessly through your emails as you wait. It’s all the usual, unremarkable: requests from coworkers and bosses for files and help, advertisements, whatever other tasks that you had been assigned to do.

With a sigh, you place it back in your pocket, watching the shrinking line from the corner of your eye.

You’ve definitely seen the guy in front of you before. Perhaps it was here, since the barista at the counter recognizes him and gives him friendly small talk before he orders.

“I’ll take a hot chocolate with maple, please,” he finally says, his boyish and casual tone ringing a bell. 

The employee puts in the order and takes his cash as he moves to the side.

Then you’re hit with the “Hi, how can I help you?”

“I’ll get what he got,” you reply, pointing at the previous customer.

“Maple syrup hot chocolate?” he repeats, to which you nod before he rings you up. 

As the barista prepares your order, you step to the side, finding yourself right next to the mystery man. Side-eyeing him, you swear you’ve seen him here before, maybe jamming out to something on the headphones that sit around his neck. Something about him is just so…familiar, even if you haven’t spoken yet. 

“I usually find the chocolate here a little bitter,” he pipes up, catching your eyes and sliding his headset to his neck. “So I always get something sweet like maple syrup or whipped cream with it.”

“Oh?” You turn to him, blinking. He’s…really talking to you right now? About your random copycat drink order? “I’ve never had the hot chocolate here,” you admit.

“Well you’ll have to let me know how it tastes,” he quips. 

“Vernon and y/n,” the barista calls, placing your steaming cups on the counter. 

“Nice to meet you, Vernon,” you say, smiling as you watch him pull his sweatshirt sleeves over his hands to hold the hot drink.

He grins in return, standing patiently and staring at you, as if to beckon you to try the chocolate. 

Rolling your eyes playfully, you bring the lid to your lips, deep, creamy chocolate meeting your tongue topped off by the rich maple syrup mixed in.

“It’s…delicious…” you gasp, wiping the small mustache it left above your mouth with a napkin. 

  “But still, on purpose or not,” you emphasize the word not, “we can’t keep putting off decorating the apartment any longer; Christmas Eve is two days away.” “But that’s still enough time-” “Hansol Vernon Chwe,” you cut him off. “On it, boss,” he smiles sheepishly, looking at you through his long eyelashes before opening the box in front of you. You feel a flush creep across your cheeks. The warmth in your face scorched your skin to the core you couldn’t help but look away shyly.

Vernon always made you blush as of late - not that he noticed anyways; he was always living in his own world, at his own pace. And you liked that about him. You liked him. You liked him from the moment you met him, but you’d die before admitting to it.

“Y/N?” 

You hummed in response. You felt Vernon’s familiar presence shake you lightly. “Y/N, you okay?” 

“Huh?” you ask in a daze. You weren’t sure when you’d dozed off in your thoughts, and quite frankly, it was embarrassing. “Sorry…” you reply sheepishly.

“It’s okay. I was asking you where I should put this,” he asks, looking at the floor, a light red adorning his face as you recognize the object he is holding up. Mistletoe.

“Oh, that.” you chuckle before plucking it out of his hands- your fingers lightly grazing each other. “I’ll put it up. You’ve done most of the decorating anyway.” You stared in awe as the living room and entryway had already decked out in arrays of tinsel and  Christmas lights. You stood up, mistletoe in hand, as you held one of the many impromptu hanging Christmas ornaments Vernon set up like streamers hung in front of you. “I mean, I am the one hosting Christmas. So it’s only fair I do the decorating.” He hadn’t looked at you since he shook you out of your thoughts, god he was so cute. It hurt. “But this is our apartment,” you murmur as you set up the mistletoe under the archway that leads to your kitchen.

Vernon clears his throat before wiping his nose. “Can we possibly..maybe do a last-minute supply run. We ran out of Christmas tree ornaments when I started hanging them up on the ceiling.” he fiddled with his fingers, waiting for you to respond.

You sigh, grabbing your car keys off the kitchen counter. “What else do you need, hm?”

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Christmas had gone off without a hitch, Christmas Eve, to be more exact- the guys had vacated the apartment by the time Christmas afternoon rolled in. But, of course, watching 12 men leave in different states of drunken disarray was rewarding, in itself, for the chaotic night they provided you with. You sighed, taking in the chaos your apartment was left in. The living room was in shambles, and the kitchen was an endless sea of red cups, alcohol bottles, and dishes. Vernon emerged from the supply closet, trash bag in hand, zoned out, lost in thought as he approached the kitchen entryway.

Vernon wasn’t a man of many words, this you knew. But his face was the most expressive thing in the world - and it usually gave you an idea of his train of thought. I’m never hosting Christmas again, you could picture him thinking. How the fuck am I cleaning all of this up? You could practically hear him shout. Imagining his internal conflict at the moment brought a soft smile to your face. Then, as he turned the corner, your eyes crashed against each other. And everything seemed to slow down for a minute.

From his long eyelashes batting against each other to the light tint that started pooling along the apple of his cheeks. The only normal-paced thing was the sound of your heart beating loudly in your chest. It beat wildly as you maintained eye contact with Vernon. He stared at you intently, determined to say something to you, mouth agape, but no words managed to come out. You saw his gaze flicker upward before clearing his throat.

“Uh, sorry…coming through,” he stuttered as he sidestepped you. The proximity between the two of you made you burn up inside. You felt the blood pooling in your ears, neck, and face- it radiated off you, and the same heat radiating off Vernon only made it worse. “I’m sorry,” you squeaked, leaning against the door frame, the warmth of Vernon’s proximity diminishing as the space between you widened. “You’re all good,” he smiled at you, patting your shoulder as he walked into the kitchen, getting the bag ready to start throwing things away.

You sigh, looking up at the beam over the entryway and finding the mistletoe hanging over the spot you were standing in previously. Was Vernon nervous about the mistletoe? You thought. Is that why he was acting weird? You chuckled.

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“Mistletoe! Nice!” Jeonghan cheered, noticing the bouquet hanging from the beam. “Is it real?”

“Considering it was stored in a decoration box, I suppose it’s not.” You roll your eyes.

“Fresh bouquets are always better. Just saying,” he pursed his lips.

“Why so?” Vernon inquired, holding his red solo cup and taking small sips of his beverage.

“Well,” Jeonghan stood up and sauntered over to the bouquet, touching the fake berry that dangled off the end of the decoration. “You already know the basic mistletoe kissing rule - anyone standing under the mistletoe is allowed to kiss whoever else is under the mistletoe at the same time. But, traditionally, back in the olden days, when you kissed someone, you had to remove a berry from the bush, and once all the berries were picked, kisses were no longer allowed.”

As if on cue, Seungcheol stopped under the entryway next to Jeonghan. “YOU HAVE TO KISS NOW!” Seokmin shrieked, aggressively clapping his hands at the prospect of the two locking lips.

“Bro, as if!” Seungcheol shouted.

“Actually, you can deny a kiss, so I don’t have to kiss Cheol if I don’t want to.” Jeonghan deadpanned before flicking Seungcheol’s neck. “You can also hug, high five, tap each other’s shoulders, etcetera. So you don’t have to limit yourself to kissing while under the mistletoe, and if you don’t want to kiss, you don’t have to feel forced to.”

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The lingering tingles from where Vernon patted your shoulder made you smile lightly as you stared at the mistletoe.

‘You don’t have to limit yourself to kissing while under the mistletoe.’

Stupid Jeonghan, you roll your eyes as the male’s words echo in your mind.

You can hear Vernon scuffling around the kitchen, picking up the mess your friends left. The sound of plastic sliding across the ground and a tap on the side of your shoes catch your attention. 

A candy cane.

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“I wanted to try something new this year,” Vernon piped up amongst the noisy apartment. 

Everyone ceased the conversations they were in, and Mingyu turned down the music as everyone focused on your roommate.

Vernon pulled out the candy cane box he begged you to buy him at the store a few days ago, holding it shyly. “I have this tradition I used to do with my family growing up, and I wanted to do it with you guys.” 

The room erupted in a bunch of coos at his cuteness and request. 

You were each handed a candy cane.

“It’s a simple concept, actually,” Vernon surmised. “You receive a candy cane and make a wish upon it. Then, after making your wish, you place the candy cane on the Christmas tree. Pretty simple, right? Oh, and you can’t share your wish with anyone; it’s like a secret. If you can’t keep it a secret, then it won’t come true.”

One by one, candy canes began adorning your small Christmas tree. It was a cute tradition, and you wouldn’t mind continuing it. 

What should I wish for? Better yet, what do I want? You asked yourself. You held the candy cane to your lips while pondering what to wish for. You stared at Vernon. He was trying to figure out where to place his candy cane, pouting as Seungkwan pinched his cheeks, his Santa hat hanging cutely on his head. 

I wish I’d stop being a coward and act on my slight crush on Vernon. 

It was a fool's wish, honestly. You’d probably never act on your feelings, always destined to like your roommate but never wanting to cross the threshold. What in the sitcom is this? You joked. 

Seriously, this time. I wish I could act on my feelings without regret.

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You leaned down and picked up the candy cane, inspecting it to see if the wrapper was broken before standing up. 

As soon as you were upright again, you felt your heart stop beating. Two arms engulfed you in a back hug. A kiss was placed on your cheek. The sensation of lips on your skin vanished as quickly as it appeared. And an all too familiar cologne filled your lungs.

You didn’t know how it happened or when he came up behind you, but he just kissed you. Vernon just kissed you.

You raised your hand, touching the cheek he just kissed, as you made eye contact. Vernon gave you a cheesy smile, his Santa hat still on his head as he scratched the back of his head. 

He kissed you. Your heartbeat started pounding violently as you kept thinking about his actions. 

“Mistletoe,” he chuckled, pointing up at the stem as he slowly tried to retreat into the kitchen.

You don’t know what came over you in that instant, but you reached out and grabbed Vernon’s hand. He stared at you in contemplation, a soft smile slowly adorning his face.

That stupid face.

You loved his face, especially when he smiled at you. He made you feel weightless.

‘I wish I could act on my feelings without regret.’

You smiled back at him, and a light chuckle left your mouth as you pulled him back to you. You grabbed onto the collar of his sweater, leaning in and kissing his lips slowly, but your lips held all the passion and courage you had. Your other hand held his ever so gently as your fingers clasped each other.

You pulled away, slightly embarrassed at your boldness. If you’d told yourself two days ago you’d be kissing your roommate under the mistletoe on Christmas; you would’ve thought you were crazy. “I’m so sorry,” you murmur, too ashamed to look at Vernon after your little stunt.

“I don’t mind…but shouldn’t our first kiss be more memorable?”

You stared at him with wide eyes. Your face can’t keep up with the amount of blood rushing into it today. But all you can do is bite your lip as Vernon leans in, cupping your face as he lightly brushes his lips against yours, and you melt into the kiss. You place your hands on his sides as you deepen your kiss. Your shared giggles and chuckles blended with the Christmas music in the background.

“Can we have a mistletoe in every room now?” 

“Vernon shut up,” you laugh.

“Oh, so you’ve come to kill me?” he quips, matching your haughty demeanor. 

And then you let it all go, laughing until you sink to your knees and your stomach aches. “You’re ridiculous,” you manage to squeeze out as you clutch your center. 

As your laughter subsides, he strides over to you, holding his hand out for you to grab. His grip is gentle yet steady as he helps you to your feet. 

“Hi, my love,” he whispers, wrapping his arms around you in a slow embrace. 

“I missed you,” you murmur back, letting yourself relax under his touch.

You’ve just come back from a mission across the kingdom, hunting down a notorious criminal for arrest. That may seem dangerous in itself, but you’ve come from chasing after and murdering corrupt officials and royalty. You’ve definitely noticed that your assignments have become lower stakes since well…

He simply kisses your head and pulls you closer before slipping his hand under your chin to tilt your head to meet his lips.

And it hurts. The kingdom would never approve of such a marriage. Sure, the assassins help make the kingdom safer, but to them, you’re just a lowly peasant who murders for hire. Someone of your status with their beloved crown prince? Imagine that. 

It’s not hard to imagine for the two of you. In his locked office, you have shared countless breathless kisses, boisterous laughs and reluctant partings. 

“Have I told you…” he starts before sighing dreamily. 

“Told me what?” you ask.

“How much I love you today?”

“No, you haven’t. But why so sentimental?”

He exhales, this time a heavy weight dragging the breath out from between his lips. “Every time you leave, I wonder if that’ll be the last time I see you…”

“There’s no way that’ll happen.” You cup his cheeks in your hands. “I have too much to live for.” And you meet his lips before coyly teasing, “Besides, I know what you’ve been doing.” 

“Hm?”

“The easy assignments? You know I can take something more than finding a jewel thief.”

He chuckles sadly. “I didn’t think you’d notice.”

“You knew I would.”

You are one of the most clever people he knows. It has gotten you out of countless pickles in your work. Besides, he can never bear lying to you anyway.

Sighing once more he admits, “Okay. It was me,” before he meets your eyes with a glazed gaze. “What if I lost you?”

It’s your turn to let out a breath as you tuck your head into him. “I know it’s dangerous, but you won’t lose me.”

His lips curl in a bitter smile. “You know you can’t promise that. I know that too.”

And so you pull away, your hand lingering in his before you finally hop up on the windowsill again and look back at him. He has gone back to sit at his desk, his eyebrows instantly furrowing as he looks over the kingdom’s budget for the next month.

He glances up just in time to watch you slip out of the castle, scaling the stone tower back down to the grass to run back to your quarters. 

Just like that, you’re out of his grasps. 

You live on the same grounds as him, but he never sees you unless you come to his office, always by sneaking in through his window. He leaves it open just for you. You’re a part of the court, but you can never be his. He always finds your eyes in the balls that dance through the elaborate halls. 

You will always be a dream at the tips of his fingers, but never one in his palms. 

Maybe when his father steps down and Jun becomes king, he will finally make you his. Will the kingdom turn on him for it? Maybe, but he doesn’t want to think about that. And he definitely doesn’t want to think about the day you may disappear and never return back to this room again.

Perhaps it’s selfish of him, but whenever he is asked to make a wish or blessing for the kingdom, he wishes instead that you will make it back, and make it back into his arms.

Jun may be a prince, but that doesn’t mean he always gets what he wants.

Jun, ever the polite and mild-mannered prince, storming through the palace is a sight to behold. There’s a newfound fury in his eyes, the usual docility that has long accepted his role in this golden cage all gone, that startles the staff who’ve watched him grow from a small boy into the young man he is now. 

The guards at his father’s office can’t even make a move to stop him or warn him that maybe barging in now is a bad idea, his ferocity and determination even causing them to pause and step back, swallowing the lumps in their throats.

“Father,” Jun growls. 

The king looks up from his reports of conflict at the border, meeting his son’s eyes without so much as an eyelash out of place. “Jun, how can I help you?” he asks, raising his chin and folding his hands on the desk.

“You know exactly what you did.”

“Do I?” he quips, his brows lifting in challenge. “Enlighten me. I do a lot of things, Jun.”

“You sent y/n on a death mission!” he cries, marching up to the desk and ripping the pages out from under his father’s grasp. “Why on earth would you do that!?”

He tilts his head. “Oh? Have I struck a nerve? That was never my intention, Jun, however, you know how it is. We need to eliminate—”

“No.”

“No?”

“You are not sending them there.”

His father finally stands, his large chair squeaking against the tile. “I am, end of discussion. They already left.”

“They—”

“Don’t think I didn’t see what you were doing with their assignments either, Jun. Really? Minor criminals? We should be using an asset like them much more wisely!” 

He swallows. That’s all you are to him, huh? An asset, a pawn he can throw away? 

With a final exhale, a feeble attempt to calm his erratic heart, he bows his head, stepping back towards the door. “Very well, father.” Another moment passes before he manages to murmur, “My apologies,” and exits the room, the door barely clicking shut. 

The trek back to his own office is impossibly long. Part of him wants to believe that when he returns, you will be sitting on his desk, cocking your head with that silly smirk when he opens the door that’ll turn to a smile when he stands in front of you and meets your lips. But he knows it’s wishful thinking. If his father said you left, you must’ve at least several days ago. He just thought you were trying to keep low. 

Did you know your fate when you came last time? The thought causes bile to rise in his throat. Did you think he was the one who gave you such a near impossible task? Please no, his mind begs to any holy being that will listen. He would never hurt you like that. If he knew, he would’ve done whatever it took to stop your departure. 

Plopping down at his chair, he turns to watch the stars. Are you looking at the same ones right now? Or have you already—

No. You will be back. You have to be. He read the mission summary. You’re supposed to come back, successfully, at the end of the month. You will return at the end of the month, safely to his arms. Jun doesn’t know what he’ll do if you don’t. 

And yet, when a month and a day have passed, he sits alone. The stained glass window has been open every day since you left. Squinting at the mosaic, he stands and holds the edge in his hand, his knuckles growing tighter and whiter for every second. When it slams shut, books fall from the shelf, the pens rattle on his desk. 

Sitting down once more, he sighs, turning to face the clear windows behind him. Tonight is cloudy, the moon and stars all covered by a thick, white blanket. And he lowers his head, burying his face in his palms, streams of salt collecting on his skin.