#la boy

prince!Joshua; “I wish I met you sooner”

“Tablespoon soupspoon,” you sing-song like you were in the plaza playing hopscotch with coal and bare feet, swinging your dry legs over the ornate mahogany chair. You pluck the smallest spoon on the table, waving it in the air, “Demitasse spoon.” 

“Actually,” Joshua’s voice is reminiscent of silverware clinking against each other, ringing in the empty kitchen. He rests his waist between your legs to steal back the cutlery, his other hand resting warmly along the top of your knee. “This is a grapefruit spoon.”  

“Oh, fancy.” You droll, “Ever had a grapefruit with your bare hands? Tastes better, I promise you that.” 

“Depends,” he hums, fingers tickling along your rough skin, kissed with ash. “Would you feed it to me?” 

“Nice try, oh sweet Prince.” You snicker, flinging yourself forward so far that it catches him off guard, and he has no choice but to stop you from tumbling forward. Your hands card through his silken strands, his dark hair feeling like liquid ebony against the calloused pads of your fingertips. “But my job is far too sully to be feeding you with my lowly servant hands.” 

“Never,” he chastises, almost to himself. “I wish I met you sooner,” he whispers between your lips, reminding you that this is a dream to never come true. Suddenly, the grip between the two of you feels inordinately heavy, because every last second you had together was destined to crumble like ashes. 

Best Friend: Can we get a Christmas tree?

Me: I'll think about it.

Silence.