#jenoxreader

Maybe it was your very confident manner, or your different style, maybe it was the way you gestured when you spoke... Jeno doesn't know what it was, but he knows he hates you. And if he could do everything he wants, surely, "spill a bucket of paint when you pass him in the hallway" would be the first thing. Oh, he longed for the moment when he could tear the confident, self-centered expression off your face, removing all the happy sparkle from your eyes was his biggest dream.

You hated it too. So maybe the enmity was reciprocated, but you knew it wasn't. You didn't hate Jeno, not in the same way he hated you, but you sure hated the way he treated you.

He never bothered to be even a little polite to you and there were many times when he bumped into you on purpose just to annoy you. He succeeded every time, by the way. You were never a very patient girl and that only made the hostile atmosphere between the two of you even worse.

One day you went to see the new cafeteria that opened on the university campus.

At first the whole group would go, until everyone, one by one, canceled. Leaving only you, Jaemin and Jeno to go alone. Of course, none of the three bothered to check the group chat conversations, so the reaction of disgust you and Jeno had when meeting each other was too dramatic and annoying even for Jaemin – who has always been very patient and playful with your mutual hatred.

That day, however, he didn't want to hear about the bullshits between you, feeling too tired to deal with it. Jeno didn't take the hint and made sure to hit the bottom of your glass when you went to drink your juice, consequently dirtying you on purpose. You also didn't act as polite as you should’ve and on impulse threw all the rest of your cold drink in his face in retaliation.

— I told you, man — Jeno commented when you shot back. The boy wiped his face with his hands and then twisted his wet shirt with an arrogant look and proud of the reaction he managed to get out of you. He was talking exclusively to Jaemin, his best friend, as if you weren't by their side. — She hides behind this sweet girl façade, but she's stupid.

— YOU are stupid, stupid asshole.

— You don't even know how to curse —  Jeno crossed his arms, being the arrogant bastard he's always been with you. He had a sneer gracing his thin lips and an eyebrow raised in defiance.

You wanted to rip that evil smile off his face in the most violent way, but you prioritized your friendship with Jaemin and only for that reason you made an effort to have a greater tolerance for the boy's teasing, unfortunately you lost control this time and already felt the guilt because of the disappointed look Jaemin gave you.

— Jaem… — you called in a restrained voice, pouting your lips when your eyes filled with tears of anger and frustration, you tried to hold back the tears, refusing to cry in front of Jeno.

The blond let out a heavy sigh and rubbed his temples hard, looking at you with the most tired and annoyed expression. — That's it, let's go.

— Oh, what's up!? — Jeno complained nervously. — Are you going to stay by her side even when she does shit?

— You're the one who started it — Jaemin warned.

— It was just a joke — Jeno said.

— A joke, my ass — you grumbled and Jeno gave you an angry look, silently yelling at you to keep your mouth shut.

— I'm tired of you two — Jaemin complained. The blond chattered endlessly, complaining about you at such a fast speed that the two of you missed half of the scrambled words. — Act like an adult at least once in your life and stop messing it up for everyone.

This happened a few weeks ago. About the same number of weeks you don't see Jaemin, or the other boys in the group. It's not that they're purposely excluding you. You're just too ashamed of your lack of control to face any of them, especially your best friend.

Even remembering it makes you angry. Because of the damn Lee Jeno you don't even have the courage to look at Jaemin and what makes it worse, is the knowledge that he's only like that with you.

You see how Jeno is so kind to everyone else, always offering to help anyone who needs it, even the ones he doesn't know, always promoting group study sessions for friends who are struggling, and you've been actively excluded from all the sessions by him. Jeno has even driven his car over a puddle of water just to get you wet, when earlier that same day he handed over the umbrella to a pair of freshmen to get home without getting wet.

Tired of feeling lonely and miserable, you decided that you would go after Jaemin today. You felt the need to apologize for your behavior before, even after the boy asked you incessantly to have a little more patience.

The walk to Jaemin's dorm was very quick, taking no more than 15 minutes at a slow pace, and the cool spring weather was an incentive for his apology. Without realizing it, you arrived in front of the small and old dull yellow apartment, the doorman didn't even bother to announce your presence, already used to you wandering around the building. Tired of feeling lonely and miserable, you decided that you would go after Jaemin today. I felt the need to apologize for your behavior before, even after the blond asked you incessantly to have a little more patience.

— I haven't seen you in a while! — he greeted.

— Hi, Mr. Choi — you replied with a sympathetic smile. — Is Jaem home?

— Oh, yes. He arrived a few minutes ago, you were lucky. 

With a restrained thank you you took the stairs up to the third floor, where he shared an apartment with Renjun, a design student, and Jisung, a freshman in the dance course.

You give three rhythmic knocks on the door, his trademark and after a few minutes of waiting, Jaemin appears disheveled and with swollen eyes. 

— Thank God, I thought you were going to run away from me forever — he complained, but he wasn't mad, and pulled you into a tight hug. 

— I was embarrassed — muttered. — I know I promised I wouldn't do anything stupid, but…

— But Jeno won't give you a break — Renjun shouted from the couch.

— You didn't have an internship today? — you asked. 

— I traded my time off with Soohee — he replied simply.

— That's weird, you know? — Jisung, who was coming back from the kitchen, eating another one of his many packages of ramen, asked rhetorically. — Jeno hyung is usually very nice and kind, I don't understand why you guys are like that... 

— Because he hates me!

— That's the problem, Jeno hyung doesn't hate anyone.

— Well, there's a first time for everything, I guess.

Jaemin remained silent during the conversation and sat down next to Renjun on the couch, going back to paying attention to the movie they were watching before you arrived.

— I’m really really sorry, Jaem

— Don’t be. He had it coming — Jaemin comforted you, pulling you to sit with them and watch the movie. Suddenly, everything was fine again.

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— Dude, I think you're crossing the line with her — Chenle complained about the drama between Jeno and Jaemin's best friend.

The Chinese didn't understand what his friend had against you, in fact, Chenle liked you. To him, you were a nice, funny, decisive girl, you knew very well what you wanted and you didn't give much confidence to anyone who wasn't your friend. This, of course, gave you a bad name in the halls of college during integration week, some upperclassmen didn't like being continually let go by you, so they made up a rumor or two out there, but you never cared. Chenle admired that. 

— Fuck, even you, dude? — Jeno was unhappy. No one was on his side, and he began to question whether he was really overreacting to you. This made him hate you even more, again for no reason.

— At this point it just seems like you can't control that you're like SUPER into her — Haechan proves.

— Not everyone is a weirdo like you who likes to make girls cry, Haechan — Jeno pinched the tip of his nose.

— Not everyone — the brunette agreed — but you sure do.

Chenle let out a loud laugh, amused by Jeno's irritation, but he couldn't help but think about how Haechan's theory made a bit of sense, so the Chinese asked incredulously. — Dude, are you seriously into her?

— Of course not, idiot. 

— So you're intimidated by her? — Chenle insisted once more, and that only made Jeno even angrier. Jeno rolled his eyes hard and crossed his arms uncomfortably and replied with an arrogant voice.

— Intimidated by what?

— Well, she has a reputation.

— So? 

— SO you are afraid to get dumped by her? 

— Ugh! As if!

The two boys continued arguing heatedly as Jeno grew more and more annoyed, which only amused Chenle more and more and made the Chinese man laugh loudly. Eventually, Jeno got up and locked himself in his room, slamming the door hard to make his anger clear.

Haechan smirks and Chenle realized right away that their older friend was planning something bad – or good, if seen from the right point of view. 

— What are you planning?

— Only good things — Haechan replied. Then the two exchanged complicit glances and smiled mischievously at each other, already knowing where they wanted to go and immediately agreeing to the plan.

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haechan created the "genius idea" group haechan added renjunnie haechan added Jaemin

jisung: I don’t think this is a good idea, hyung

haechan: Don’t be a pussy, jisung

Jaemin: no, he is right, haechan-ah that’s a terrible idea

haechan: Jaemin, trust me a little, ok? I know what I'm doing, man!

Jaemin: i don't think so… rejunnie: maybe he’s right

haechan: I’m always right, man.

chenle: My thought exactly

Jaemin: i should know you’ll be involved on this you little brat

chenle: You know what they say: great minds think alike

haechan: Come on, he’s so into her. It’s getting stupid!

renjunnie: what could go wrong? they already hate each other…

jisung: So… what do you think, hyung?

Jaemin let out a tired, thoughtful sigh. He knew that this was definitely not a good idea, but maybe it was a necessary move.

If Haechan's theory was right and in fact Jeno was into you and just didn't know how to react, then maybe it would change things for all of you and for the whole group to be honest. But if Haechan was wrong...

Jaemin doesn't even like to think about that possibility.

In the end, he decided to give his - almost always - well-meaning friend's crazy ideas a chance. Without giving it much thought, Jaemin typed his reply:

Jaemin: fine let’s do it

Now he just needed to talk to the two of you, especially you. 

It would be easy to convince Jeno to go out with the group, all he needed to say was that it would be a date with the boys and the brunette would be there in a flash. But it was different with you. 

You two hung out a lot, Renjun and Jisung joining you often, but when Haechan and Chenle got together, it meant that Jeno would join in too. And you'd been avoiding him like the plague ever since the incident in the cafeteria, wanting to ignore him at all costs. So it would be hard to convince you to go out with the whole group again and Jaemin was the one responsible for thinking of something to change that.

He called you earlier that evening, biting his nails anxiously at having to lie to you when one of his promises was never to lie. Guilt was already coursing through him, so he hoped it would pay off.

— Jaem? Did something happen? — your sleepy, soft voice rang out on the other end of the line when you picked up after the fifth ring. — Are you all right? Do you need help?

He only realized he'd been too long without answering when you started firing off questions in a hurried and worried manner. Jaemin let out a nervous, breathy laugh before answering. - I'm fine. A bit anxious, actually.

— What do you want now, Na Jaemin? — you asked from the other side, this time in an impatient and accusatory voice.

— The boys are going to have a meeting at the usual arcade, to celebrate Haechan's scientific initiation…

— No — you cut him off, knowing full well that he was going to ask you to go along and, normally, you would have accepted, because you liked going out with the boys, but now you were avoiding Jeno like the plague.

— Please, I need you there! — Jaemin hurried. — Yuki's going and she hasn't left my side for months, I kind of need...

— That I help you get her off your back? — you cut him off once again. — Why don't you just tell him you're not interested? 

— I've already tried!

— Jaem, I don't know if...

— Please, for me? — Jaemin knew it was a low blow, but if he wanted you to go he'd have to appeal to the emotional. Anyway, it's your fault for being a butter heart.

He heard her heavy sigh on the other end of the line along with annoyed grumbles, cursing herself for being so soft.

— Okay...

— Yes! I love you, you know that, right? — he thanked you, and imitated various kissing noises. You laughed tiredly and hung up on him, not wanting to put up with any more of your best friend's mushiness.

Okay, you've gone, now all that's left is Jeno.

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You entered the arcade alone after waiting for Jaemin for long minutes outside. You also flooded his number with messages and calls that he deliberately decided to ignore. 

— Na Jaemin, I swear to God... — you grumbled, entering the vintage arcade that no one knows how it has managed to hold together over the decades and looking for the boys at the tables in the integrated cafeteria, but finding no one.

You picked up your cell phone again and checked the time: it was just after 6 p.m. "Maybe I'm too early," you thought to yourself, calculating the possibilities and deciding that this was what had happened.

To pass the time, you ordered a strawberry milkshake. You were happily savoring the sweetness of your frozen dessert, feeling minimally happy at the start of the evening, but your happiness didn't last long because it was at that moment that you noticed Jeno entering the arcade, also alone and angry.

— Of all people… — you grumbled, rolling your eyes.

If the boy saw you here, he made a point of not showing it and walked straight past you. Jeno sat at the last table, sprawled on the brown leather sofa and typing furiously on his cell phone, his thick eyebrows furrowed in concentration until he raised his face in confusion, feeling that he was being watched.

So your eyes met and he made a sneer that was promptly reciprocated by you. When Jeno raised an eyebrow, as if to silently say "what are you looking at?", you responded with an exaggerated roll of the eyes and turned away from him.

The arcade was still partially empty and therefore quieter than usual, so it wasn't hard to hear the sound of heavy boxes falling to the floor in a loud thud, followed by a thin scream that aroused your attention and concern.

— Oh my God! Are you all right? — you asked hurriedly and got up from the bench you were sitting on. Just as you were about to lift the mobile bench to help the attendant, Jeno pushed you, getting in front of you to get to the little accident faster.

— Idiot — you grumbled.

— Are you all right? — he asked, gently lifting the girl off the floor and checking that she had no apparent injuries.

— I'm fine — the girl replied quietly. — I was startled by the boxes falling, but they're all empty, so I'm fine.

She let out an embarrassed laugh, looking at Jeno and then at you with cheeks red with embarrassment. You realized that there was no point in trying to help her, thanks to Jeno who monopolized the girl's attention with his exaggerated worries, so you decided to pick up the boxes that were scattered on the floor and the few packages that fell out of them.

— Thank you, you've been very kind — she thanked you for what seemed like the fifth time in a row. — You can order whatever you like — she suggested, looking hopefully at the two of you as you gathered outside the counter again. Seeing your refusal, she insisted — It's on the house.

— I've already eaten — You pointed to the half-empty glass of milk shake.

— My friends aren't coming anymore, so I'm leaving — Jeno denied it and you turned your face away in confusion, looking at him in shock and denial. 

You took your cell phone out of your pocket, looking for the group chat and frantically reading the messages in search of answers. You refused to believe Jeno, but Jaemin's singular message apologizing was the cruel confirmation you needed.

— Shit! — you both complained together - which surprised both of you - but the reasons were quite different for you.

You were stressed that Jaemin had let you down, you felt angry and disappointed that he had lied to you and used the "for our friendship" card to manipulate you into meeting the tormentor of your nightmares.

For Jeno, the situation was a little worse, as his stalker was walking towards him with a wide, frightening smile that didn't reach his glazed blue eyes. In the same minute he felt his breathing become heavy and his knees give way, he looked around, thinking of the best way to get out of there without the girl catching up with him.

You noticed your enemy's desperate face, trembling hands and ragged breathing after noticing the foreign girl approaching. You looked at him, then at her, then back at him and decided that you could revel in the suffering of the boy who was too nice to everyone but you. So you turned your back on him and picked up your bag, preparing to leave and leave him behind.

Jeno didn't react with anything other than frightened glances and an unsure step backwards when the girl started to come closer and try to touch his face with her pale hands. You wanted to punch yourself in the face for worrying about the boy who had been nothing but cruel and rude to you, but his cowed reactions got to you.

Jaemin was right, you do have a heart of butter.

With an exasperated sigh you moved back closer to the boy, entwining your arms with his and stared at the girl with your typical cold, sharp eyes that you wore as your personal armor against the harassment you suffered from seniors at the beginning of college.

The blonde girl looked at you with the same fury in her eyes as you looked at her, but you didn't let yourself be intimidated. She was no match for you anyway.

— Is something wrong? — you asked with disinterest.

— Yes! — she was impatient and clenched her fists in a firm, furious grip. — You're touching my boyfriend!

— Your boyfriend? Are you sure? - you replied condescendingly. — Because it seems he can't even stand to look at you and neither can I.

— You don't know who you're messing with — said the girl, trying to look intimidating.

You just smiled mischievously in response and took two steps towards her, towering over her who is considerably smaller than you. With your chin held high and a glint of pure evil in your eyes, you replied: — And do you know who you're messing with?

You must have looked really scary because she blinked in shock and staggered backwards, her eyes blinking nervously, trying to understand what had just happened. Jeno was also surprised - and a little scared - by your attitude, suddenly remembering the feeling he had when he first saw you on campus.

Contrary to what he remembered, it wasn't with Jaemin. On the first day, the veterans organized a hazing to welcome the freshmen and you were there, looking all proud and fearless for refusing each of the challenges they proposed until the leader got too angry to deal with you and sent you away with a simple wave of his hand and a tired sigh. 

That day he realized that you were everything he wanted to be and would never be: able to stand up for yourself. That day he also realized that he was jealous and intimidated by you, so when you showed up behind Jaemin, acting completely different from when you were alone, he decided that he didn't trust you and therefore hated you.

Now, Jeno couldn't feel more grateful for your duality. Thanks to you, Ava was gone and he could return home without having to deal with the girl's obsessive and stalkerish attitude.

He sighed with relief. But the feeling only lasted a brief moment, because as soon as he looked at you again, he saw the way your eyes looked worried. Worried about him.

Without understanding what he were feeling, Jeno got angry again and shoved his shoulder into yours as he walked away. You snorted in disbelief and glared at him angrily, watching his broad back move away towards the alley where he had stashed his bike. 

In an impulse of rage, you went after him, stepping heavily as you were equally annoyed, running a little to catch up with him.

— Is that what I get for my thanks? — you shout marching after him and when all he does is walk faster without looking back, taking the bike key out of his jacket to leave, you feel even angrier and run after him, pushing his back hard.

Jeno stumbles, but manages to balance himself and turns to you with a red face and furious eyes. — I didn't ask for your fucking help, okay? — he shouts back and towers over you.

You don't back down, in fact you take another brave step forward, coming face to face with him. — You couldn't do that even if you wanted to. You were acting like a puppy who'd lost its mother — you teased, pushing his chest with your index finger. It wouldn't hurt, but if you were going to annoy him, you'd take your chance. — You missed peeing your pants, scaredy little puppy.

He pushed your shoulders back in retaliation and, after a shocked sigh, you retaliated by doing the same thing to him. The two of you repeated the childish act a few times, never too hard to hurt, but enough to cause a nuisance.

— Dude, what's your problem with me? What the fuck have I ever done to you? — you shouted. Lucky for you, the street was empty, except for a trio of friends who had passed you both earlier without caring. — Apart from getting you rid of that crazy bitch, of course!?

— You get in my way all the fucking time. You've wormed your way into my group of friends, into my life and now I can't even hate you in peace because you can't stop being the Miss heroine who has to save the day, can you?

You laughed out loud, throwing your head back. — Have you heard yourself? — you asked incredulously. — You sound like you're into me and you don't know how to ask me out.

You tried to joke, hoping that sarcasm would be able to get you out of this weird and confusing situation you've gotten yourselves into, but Jeno was serious. Staring at you in shock and realization, expressions that you were quick to copy the next second.

Before you could say anything else, Jeno grabbed your face in his hands and kissed you eagerly. It was quick, strong and desperate, like the first impulse to breathe after drowning for so long. You gave in almost automatically, your body instinctively knowing what to do, accepting him as if he had always been yours. In fact, he was, he just didn't want to admit it.

You melted in Jeno's warm hands. The boy's soft lips tasted like paradise itself. You almost felt your knees give out when he circled his arms around your waist, pulling you closer. 

You encircled the boy's neck with your arms and propelled yourself on tiptoe so that you were at the same height, making the kiss more comfortable for both of you. You pushed back, trying to make space between you so that you could breathe.

Jeno wasted no time and trailed kisses down your cheek, jaw and neck, sending shivers down your spine at the ghostly sensation of his touch. Everything was so new and intense for both of you that all you wanted to do was give yourself to each other right then and there.

He took precise steps forward, pushing your body back until you were leaning slightly against the leather seat of his motorcycle. His right hand went to the back of your neck, gripping your hair to keep you where he wanted you.

Your lungs were burning from lack of air, and although you didn't want to, you pushed back, trying to make space between you so that you could breathe.

But Jeno wasn't satisfied with just that. When you pulled away, he wasted no time in trailing kisses down your cheek, jaw and neck, sending shivers down your spine at the ghostly sensation of his touch. It was all so new and intense for both of you that all you wanted to do was give yourself to each other right then and there.

— I can't fucking believe it, Lee Jeno — you complained, but this time your voice had a tone of amusement, causado by the situation and the playful little bites the boy was leaving at the base of your neck.

— I don't believe it either… — he replied and gently brushed the hair from your face. — I still hate you, just so you know.

— It's mutual — you replied teasingly and they both smiled mischievously.

— Yeah? — he replied before coming closer once more, surrounding you with his scent. His lips brushed against yours so lightly that you leaned in, wanting to kiss him again.

Você acenou com a cabeça em confirmação, o que só fez Jeno sorrir ainda mais.

like a ceiling folding in with the pressure of water leakage, the clouds from down below give off an air of distress. the air itself is heavily encumbered with a clarity found only after the rainiest of days. and if not for the sake of the story, the author could spend hours droning on about Mother Nature's tour de force, she really would, but instead she will insert a few lines from a symphony: 

The autumn mist drifts blue over the lake,

The blades of grass stand covered with frost,

The flowers' sweet scent is gone,

An icy wind bends down their stems,

My heart is weary.

Der Einsame im Herbst (The lonely one in autumn), from Mahler’s Das Lied von der Erde

in the exact opposite sense that Mother Nature loves her leaves, with tender fondness and a forgiving hand, prince jeno's father has never loved his second son more, with an impassioned sneer and a bagful of riches in mind. at least, that is exactly what prince jeno himself thinks as he skims through yet another letter, this time from his father. 

son,

never did i think i would enjoy the prospect of a winter ceremony as much as i would this, perhaps you would also like to see an early coronation. i've made the necessary arrangements, i assure that you will not be suspected in the least but keep caution and wariness by your side, our family name is already a great deal tainted. thought not for long, i'll be sending a carriage to retrieve you for your rounds back home, we've ought to get going on them. the damsel is a sight for sore eyes, i presume, i'd hate for her to foil our ambitions; she is much in your hands to attend to now. i'll see you by the throne soon, my lad. 

king of the southern mines, your father.

the prince's vision narrows upon the words 'coronation, arrangements, suspected, foil, throne,' and he is already a sight of frustration, fingers gripping the paper with such force that his short nails are digging into his palms through it. seething, he tears his eyes from the script before him but instead, they land on the previous letter sat atop the open escritoire. the one from his mother. the stamped edge of the paper lifts with the wind that filters through the window just above it and he has the sudden urge to let it be carried away wholly. jeno crosses the room in four steps. 

with both the pages collected in his hands, jeno crouches by the mantle, the roar of a fire licking up before him. his face is drawn in concentration, jaw stiff and clenched. the lines of his brows are met with a furrow in between, set above the meek lines of his eyelids. his pupils dilate, albeit out of habitual need, in the reflection of the inferno before him. he's ever-so-aware of the distinct scent of burning coals that siphon and sharpen his reminiscence of home. it's sentient, the feelings of familiarity that overcome his senses, halting his movements, his fingers clutching the papers in a way that almost tells of longing. longing of a seemingly different world entirely, one that he has only ever known until a few weeks prior. being washed anew in distant lands and over the course of a single lunation, jeno finds that he's never felt more mismatched from himself, disconnected from the people who raised him in contrast to the people who have brought out the better in him. but the embers are not the only thing he smells, not the only he sees, or heeds to.

the pearly carrara marble of the mantle tells stories in the grayed lines that trail across its posh surface. his eyes rove over the white, the faith and purity of your heraldry binded with the emblem of your family. the white of angels, of untainted relations, sterility in empowerment, the inviolable you. the white tells stories that the black never could.

so jeno finds a warm pleasure in the way the flames overwhelm the papers with eager enthusiasm, the damned words of his parents receding into mere ash. prince jeno thinks he could forever part with the world if it asked him to feast his eyes on this very sight until the end of time. 

despite arousing before the sun, you are disappointed when it starts to chase your wakefulness. there is something edging the growing unease in your mind, as if time is trickling down the drain of the past, too fast and too unforgiving. as if time is berating at your senses, telling you there is much more than what meets the eye but for the life of you, you cannot pinpoint what. for now though, you tend to the pressing matters at hand, jeno has been called home for his rounds, rather abruptly.

"perhaps i should go with you, rounds don't always have to be made by one per-”

jeno cuts you off effectively, "they are very much a one person duty," he assures pointedly. your nose scrunches, the light inconveniences starting to rub off on your exasperation. in a tired voice you mumble, "we could always change it up a bit, i'm sure." jeno chuckles heartily at that, his hand coming up from his side to rub out the lines of stress in your forehead.

"little miss princess, you're saying that as if you do not have rounds to complete of your own. i'm almost certain you host are a far greater amount of people that wish to be invited to the ceremony than i have-"

it's your turn to cut him off now, "why don't you stay with me then?" in attempts to enhance the force of your resolve, you uncover a hand of your own from under the sheets to comb through his locks. the way his eyes instantly close to relish in your touch paired with the little purr he gives is almost telltale of your victory. almost.

jeno pauses, his eyes flicker back open, and a soft knowing smile runs along the features of his face as he shakes his head, in knowledge of your artful tactics to wear him down. "and neglect my kingdom and their desires?"

you've left the feelings of frustration behind, instead deciding to fool around with the boy, to see what you can get out of him for good fun, "but we've yet to decide what flowers to use as centerpieces. and whether we're throwing a private or public ball. wedding preparations are surely more important than handing out personal invites…we can cut corners one some niceties." jeno knows better than to let his guard down. the jeno around y/n isn't to be trusted as easily. he settles for words of comfort instead, "i'll write."

"well, that's of course. silly of you to voice something as unequivocal as that."

a pause and his resolve is slipping, "maybe a few short visits back wouldn't hurt." you lick your lips in good-natured fun, another pause, "i'm sure my father wouldn't half mind if we cut it a week short." your eyes look hazy to him, though in reality they are simply amused, and drawing words from him he isn't even sure he's saying. "or- or maybe i could convince him, or try to at least…," he trails on and on.

your satisfied a certain amount and, suppressing a smile from giving away your plotted schemes, you mutter quietly, mostly for your own pondering, "i'm thinking alliums would make a statement, blue alliums." jeno gives a noise of confusion, unsure of how you've suddenly come to talk of flowers. "the centerpieces, i mean." jeno's silence only urges you on, "alliums, or blue alliums at that, are symbols of unity and good fortune. i think that'd make a nice combination with a base of milkweed, dignity and freedom, if my memory serves me right."

the prince has found his voice, "what of the rounds?" but he's met with a small chortle, "nothing, a month is a month, i'm sure we'll work around it."

"but, i- i'm not sure i understand. you were adamant enough a millisecond ago, and now-"

"and now i'm telling you i was toying with you, dear sir. such fun it is when you let on more than you'd like."

jeno's cheeks flush, the warm color dusting the bridge of his nose, apples of his cheeks, tips of his ears. your warm smile and benign banter bring him the simplest of joys. he's not sure he's ever felt this way before. familiarity. and, not the familiarity that comes from his assigned butler since birth, or the old lady at the apothecary he's been to all his life that's paid to tend to his wounds. not the familiarity that comes with blood and playing house, the type of sickened familiarity he feels with his brother, doyoung, that every second spent with him is forced. the familiarity he feels with you is by choice, by genuine and sincere desire. you want to wake up in the mornings with him by your side. you want to spend breakfast pushing each other's toes away underneath the table. you want to hold his hand when he walks you to your carriage. you want to make love with him in the most ungodly hours of the day. which is exactly what happens that morning.

a day is barely enough to do all the things you've penned in your journal. things to be done before you were to be married, with the one you were to be married to. the list had been written, curated, and refined by nine-year-old you, who you must say, had some very good ideas, though verily a romanticist. 

jeno is departing tomorrow morning, as early as the sun will permit, and suddenly you wish that it would never rise again. whatever the case, you set out first thing this morning, hand tugging along a very tired prince, for the bathing pool. nine-year-old you must have misinterpreted the meaning of 'skinny dipping' for swimming but you thank nine-year-old you because things seem to have worked out in your favor either way. jeno is jolted awake by the gelid water, the seasons now mark three-quarters into fall. 

"go in first," you state simply, hands on your hips and eyes drawn down into the water. the single toe you had dipped in to test the waters is frigid and frozen. jeno, who has yet to finish undressing himself, nodded at your words. if he were looking in your direction he would've noticed the smirk on your face. he stands straight, boxers on the ground behind him as he takes place by your side, "cold?"

"not at all, surprisingly," he's looking at you now and your countenance can't help but decompose in front of him, a small, unsuspecting smile adorning your lips. "oh really, can you attest for that?"

the smile is now blossoming unto your cheeks, "are you telling me to go in first?" the prince nods at that, fully aware of your schematics, "yes, i would like to see you enter the warm water."

"you agreed to go in first just a few seconds ago, don't tell me you've backed out on your word," a feeble matter against the boy but he defends himself by saying, "devious little princess, as if this wasn't your idea."

you're equally defensive when you point out, "not me, directly, but rather me as a child-" he pushes you in. lee jeno, second prince of the esteemed southern kingdom pushes you into the subzero degree bathing pool.

assuredly though, he dives in a few seconds after he's had time to relish in your shocked expression and piercing screams. he's coming up for air, his hands have found your bare hips to make sure that you resurface together. or drown together, you think, because it seems his foot is caught in the crevices between two rocks and since he's writhing like a madman, you're writhing with him too. it's a strange sight, two very beautiful individuals, absolutely in love but absolutely inane, for if jeno had thought to let go of his grip on you, you might've been able to unlodge his foot altogether if he had not been set on wrangling both your bodies about.

it's four minutes later that the two of you are on the leveled bronze rock, now, absolutely loosing it over jeno's lack of common sense. both of you are having trouble breathing, spurts of water still occasionally gushing past his lips. he thinks you're most beautiful in your bare skin, with nothing to define you but yourself. he's running his fingers up and down your torso, lips connecting with the surface of your neck. he appreciates that you kiss him with such avidity, you always do. jeno loves that you make it known to him, that what you say, you mean. and that even if you were never to utter a word again, he would still understand the sheer vehemence with which you love him.

you cross off paragliding, building a snowman, and studying together for a test. not because they've been completed but because there simply is no plausible way to get them done with the deadline closing in fast. the next activity you present to jeno has his eyebrows raised in intrigue. he's quick to reply when you ask him. 

"a moon, a quartered moon." the knowing smile that grows on your face tells him he's chosen correctly.

jeno gives a squeeze to your hand as the needle comes in contact with your clean skin. the first few minutes are highlighted by the sensation of a million bee stings, racking through your brain, but the rest is relatively smooth sailing. yours comes out just as good as jeno's, a small moon, a quartered moon, tattooed into the skin just behind the left ear. there specifically, so that it's known by each other and each other only. 

there will be months passed before the moon becomes a sort of unspoken but affirmative communication instrument. when jeno loves you a little too much, he rubs the inked skin softly. his sleepless nights are cured with the pad of your finger upon the spot. between the many general meetings you're required to oversee in a day, jeno waits outside the conference room for you to exit, his fingers stroking the moon for the duration of the few seconds allotted to him before you're whisked away again. the symbol of night is translated into accounts of bonding, the smallest of things giving way to happiness. 

you would say the uses of the 'lovemark' are amplified as the sun retreats and the mascot of your relationship shines brighter than ever. it's evident in the look on jeno's face, especially, a few feet below you, peering up your skirt with a dumbstruck look on his face. 

"jeno, dear, now is really not the time." the boy clears his throat and looks away, baffled at how you'd caught him anyways. your position is so frightfully awkward, one foot on the top end of your chamber's windowsill, another bent and hoisted onto the flat ledge of your roof. "come on up now, and get those dirty thoughts out of your mind. for heaven's sake, we're here to watch the sunset and stargaze, not to pound into each other."

the prince laughs at your offhanded remarks, arriving himself on the platform. the view is expansive in the way that you can see the forest from here, the ocean if you squint, the hills set in the far distance, and the sky has never felt closer to the earth while the things you've always known to be near appear smaller and more distant than ever. even the gregarious tree stalks of the forest rise to what could be measured as an only inch from this outlook. 

"nine-year-old y/n seems to have known nothing but fun days." jeno muses, leaning his weight back upon his hands. your eyes are glazed in an omniscient mist, "i'd expect so, she was born and raised with everything." the prince picks up on the tone of distaste with which you'd spoken your words. he turns to you and studies the hairs that fall in your eyes, "hardly fair."

you reply not a beat after, "not at all fair. if i were to accomplish one thing during my run as queen, i'd give the children opportunities of a lifetime." the thoughts tumble out of your mind, as if you'd known of this conviction of yours since you were but a child. your drive as a ruler, firm and headstrong to implement your values and beliefs on your subjects has been the sole idea that's grounded you in the castle for your entire time being.

"and what if you cannot?"

your first reply is dealt with in humble humor, "at the very least, i'd like it to be engraved on my tombstone that i tried." the second, is laden with a sorrowful undertone, "housing, schooling, meals and warmth in the winter. we have it the worst here up north. if they are without school, they are left with nothing." jeno's head turns to yours, he sees the slip of a tear and he wipes it away, only to be met with another. your voice cracks in despair, "there are no mining jobs to take up, no farms to harvest, aqueducts to run. i dread that one day i must rule a kingdom of arts."

jeno tries, he really does, to gather you in his arms but your sobs rack your body with such force that he is left to comfort your desolations with words and a hand on your back, "what is there to dread? are the arts so difficult to maintain?"

bitterness forms at the tip of your tongue, "no, jeno. i regress in the face that art is invaluable. but the world seeks to attach a price to every viable thing, to label the passion of others. and now, now the arts are for the rich, only for the rich. have you ever heard of a hungry man paint instead of seeking shelter from the rain? a woman who writes prose instead of feeding her dying children? there is no one who can live solely on art but the heavens have sent me to rule a horde of those very people."

the prince knows you need to voice the thoughts weighing down your mind, so he gives them a platform, a nudge, "a kingdom of arts would be blessed to house a queen with intentions such as yourself, surely there are others who hold the same principles as you." 

"no doubt," your eyes cast on the forming stars, "but as much as i would love to trail a path of meliorism and say that with a tide of willingness, there will be change, i must not forget the real nature of the world we live in."

"and what is this nature that you speak of?"

"the drive of greed and sadism, in exchange for the feeblest of pleasures."

the world comes to a still in this very moment. the moon begins her ascent. the stars unsheath their full luminance. the whites of their gleam reflecting on the rooftop on which the two of you are sat. time and space shrivel in the potency of untainted humanity.

"we will bring change, you and i."

you feel your heart calm as your rambling ceases. jeno looks over at you and smiles.

prince jeno is scheduled to return in twenty seven days time. there is something that feels wrong about him leaving. a feeling that if he leaves, all hell with turn loose and you will be unleashed unto the dogs for ravaging. there is a coated and unspoken thought that splutters in your mind whenever you even dare so much as to begin to think of it. the possibility that with jeno's leave, you'll be left with the realization that it was all a phase of infatuation. that when you see him again, all the feelings that you'd built up over the course of a month and a few days was just a glamourized dream. that he was never real; the real that you needed.

"i'll be forever thinking of those lips on mine, maybe even missing them," you let, comically. jeno eyes you conspicuously, "and i'll be forever thinking of you, as a whole, not just the lips unlike you. a little fixated you sounded there, mind you." his little sniggers are given in response to your hands pushing his chest in frisky response. the prince pulls you closer into a final embrace, the coachman of his black carriage is awaiting his departure. 

he parts from you and you can't help but trail behind him down the paved path. he's over his shoulder now as you let loose a sliver of your deepest worries, meekly, "i hope we never change, jeno."

the prince halts at the bottom steps that curl into the palace. he sees you, feels you, knows you, for he quotes, “i will keep you,” he says softly, as sweet as black tea, “and i will keep you warm.” (Catherynne M. Valente, Deathless)

jeno can hear the light pellets of raindrops hit the roof of his carriage. the gray skies are darkening by the second, it's telling him something that he's sure he doesn't want to hear. his fingers fiddle with the cuffs of his tailored suit jacket, something you'd requested be made for him when his stay was first prolonged. the prince is entirely clad in white and he knows enough to imagine the face his mother will make when she first sees him home. lee jeno doesn't remember a time when he's donned a color other than black, but somehow, the white doesn't feel too far from home. 

with the white, his mind flashes with the events of the past month or so spent in your noble abode. you, on the other hand, rarely ever wore a color other than white, the most differing shade being a cream or beige. but even with all the lights, you never seemed to mind when they were dirtied. almost always, a day in the fields or by the bathing pool would drench a good six inches of your skirts in mud and the unfurled hems of your frocks or crinkled fronts of those sweaters you so often adorned were always beyond your notice. you were free in that way, never stopping to fuss over the little things you deemed unimportant. jeno thinks if he could live that way too and though he isn't sure if he can, he knows he wants to.

jeno can hear the spindles of the carriage gyrating with added resistance against the now watered-down mud of the trodden roads. his eyes are caught in the sky that looks as if it's to detonate at any given second. he predicts the thunder before it rings loud in his ears and he hears the coachman slash a whip to a trepid horse, an echo of the natural phenomenon. he wonders what it would feel like to be the coachman, out in the clamorring downpour, or perhaps the horse, blindlessly running to the crack of a whip, or the trees even, awoken by the threat of a fire. he wonders if he has any desire to be the lightning itself, to jab at the delicate foliage as he'd like, to set fire to that of which he doesn't like, to wield destructive power. he wonders, but he knows he doesn't want to.

lee jeno is in his carriage when he realizes what it means to be free, but not in the hindrance of others. he realizes what it means, not to rule but rather to guide without the oppression of others. lee jeno is also in his carriage when the skies turn black and a deluge of rain is unleashed upon the castle of white. 

a man a few inches brief to the prince, but of higher rank in swordsmanship, is propped on the limestone trellis that holds the awning in place, his two feet hooked between the vertical balusters of stone and fingers clung onto the ridge of the balustrade. he finds it ludicrous that every individual of importance he has ever met, is so caught up in their own belief that they are untouchable, where in reality they are the most vulnerable of all. he thinks this, specifically, as he upturns himself over the railing and onto the landing, only to see that the king's door are left wide open, the only shield of protection being the pristine white curtains glinting a sheen of blue in the moonlight. 

renjun is humored when, upon drawing the curtains back, the king himself is simply laying there on the ground, unconscious as he was informed he'd be. the knight presses two fingers to the inner wrist of the withered man and finds that he still has a job to finish. brandishing a blade from the underside of his calf, he deems the inscription on the handle fit for the deed. he drives it into the gut but makes quick work of it, the sputters of blood that erupt from the now-awakened royal something he wishes the guards just outside not to hear. renjun makes further assurance that the blade is firmly put in place, the stout palladium shaft protruding from the king's abdomen like the ring of a windup toy. 

a black body bag is used to sheath the quickly-paling bag of bones. it is left under the light of the moon, through a skylight rounded in the dead center of the palace. around the malefaction, stairs wind in all directions from the ground up and if there were even one maid to have crossed the landing once in the night, she would have been met with what looked to be an unassuming trash bag. but fate had it so the sun would rise before your dead father was stumbled upon, an inscribed shank planted between his internal organs reading, this star-like solitude (Giuseppe Ungaretti, from Last Choruses for the Promised Land: XVI (tr. by Patrick Creagh)).

the blood that seeps from the measly opening in the bag is not silver, nor is it gold. it is blood red. the red of a brazen senex that perhaps preceded and proceeded his times, entangled in the intricacies of the new age, the new game of politics he simply had no means to play at. akin to the webs of an arachnid, the string of fate hung around his neck, thin and unnoticeable, cinching with each passing second until Mother Nature deemed his time up. the blood that seeps writhes in the rays of the sun, twines like the veins in the marble beneath it. it seeps until the figure in the sack is drained and the clumping skin of human remains is the same shade as the white tiling. red against white, white against black, the black of a crying sky.

read volume three: dearly departed.

copyright © 2020 rouiyan all rights reserved.

haechan appears at the end of the aisle, a neon orange poster board in hand and only catching the last half of jaemin's sentence. "shit jen, when'd you ask her to be your girlfriend?" jaemin's mouth hangs in disgust as he scrutinizes the jarring color of the board. 

jeno flushes, the words girlfriend and boyfriend and other in the same spectrum still very much foreign to him when put in the context of you. he swallows thickly, hand coming up to the locks of hair at the nape of his neck, "i think the whole poster and flowers setup is too cliché for y/n's taste. it just doesn't seem like something she'd love." jeno's mutters are received with chaos from all sides and all at once.

haechan: "for shit's sake, why are we here then?! i’m outta here."

jaemin: "the hell do you know about love?! even if she doesn't like you i guarantee she'll say yes to the mother fucking pink poster!

chenle: "why not, though? if anything, isn't the poster and flower setup like the safe way to go?"

renjun: "i don't understand why you need to buy her something just to ask her to go somewhere with you. seems to me like you're trying to bribe her into saying yes."

jaemin ends up 'winning' the argument and having jeno buy the goods. not because he was right, per se, but rather because all the boys were in over their heads from having to listen to the former's long-winded and nonsensical sales pitch. 

__________

jeno sighs deeply, looking at the crafts materials in front of him. he knows, without even having to look, that the obnoxious pings that are coming from his phone are from jaemin's incessant texts on how to draw this and what color to use for that. he knows this because of the specific ringtone he'd set for the boy since variations of this very scenario happen on a daily. he also has a specific ringtone set for you and it's this that he's subtly waiting to hear, a valid excuse to draw him away from the damned pink poster and towards the girl he loves most.

it's then that he hears it, the one distinct sound that sends his mind into overdrive on just what exactly you wanted to say to him. he makes haste across his bedroom and clicks on your name atop the screen with no hesitation. 

you: in need of a rant buddy + study date, you free?

jeno: pick you up in five.

jeno busies himself in tidying up his appearance with the little amount of time he has. with prom coming to view in just under a week, he's panicking. sent like a gift from the gods, wrapped and delivered right to his front door, he knew this was his golden opportunity. straightening out the straps of his backpack, he gives one last look at the halfway completed poster and the deep red roses beside it before setting off without either. 

__________

"so i was just walking to fifth period when this girl from my econ classs started running down the hall, yelling for me. and when she got to me, she told me that mark needed to see me like right then and there." you would've noticed, had you not been fully submerged in the art of storytelling, that jeno's face had morphed into one of dread. 

continuing, "i was freaking out too because she was going absolutely nuts and i ran with her halfway across the school and at that point i was already heckin' confused because there was a giant crowd outside the gym. and then i saw the hundred or so roses and his friends behind him with the posters that spelled out 'prom?' kind of embarrassing, for me that is." jeno was beginning to think that coming with at least the flowers might've been a better idea than coming empty handed, even if he knew deep down you wouldn't appreciate it all that much. he was also completely unaware of where the story was actually going, his own suspicions lodged in the forefront of his mind. 

"you could've just turned and left, you know." jeno was also beginning to get irritated, upset that he wasn't there to steer you away. whatever cruel god that sent him this 'golden opportunity' must be snickering at this moment, he thought.

"well, i didn't think it'd be very nice to just leave him hanging like that. in front of the whole school too."

"so what'd you do?" jeno was at the edge of his seat. not out of anticipation, but out of readiness to get up and go. he didn't like the thought of you eyeing him in shock and confusion as he bawled instantaneously at your response. 

"well i went up to him, real close so only he could hear. and i said-"

jeno didn't let you finish. there was no way around it, he couldn't keep his mouth shut any longer, "will you go to prom with me?" 

fuck the streamers, the hundred roses, the garish pink poster. cliché was jaemin, all jaemin and none jeno. jeno didn't know for sure if you were to say yes, he didn't have anything guaranteed. hell, none of this was even remotely thought through beforehand but all he knew was that he didn't want to hear the end of that sentence, he didn't want to know if you wanted to go to prom with some prick you weren't all that interested in. all jeno wanted to know was if you wanted to go with him.

such ardently plucky courage from a boy who was so unsure of himself. jeno could sense, in the moment, that he hadn't blinked in a long while, his eyes feeling dry and hardened. try as he might, he couldn't help but notice how your lip twitched into the briefest of smiles before the full-on tsunami of blush hit your cheeks with vivid force. then, he let himself blink, the tensions resting on his shoulders releasing ever so slightly but the pace of his heartbeat pushing supersonic speeds. 

your eyes fell shy and it was like the whole world shrunk to fit just you and jeno for there was nothing, nothing else that you could see. it felt exhilarating as you voiced aloud, "yes, a thousand times yes."

so much for a study date, this might as well just be a date.