#288: My first kiss (went a little like this)

[lordchen]

Prompt: #288
Title: My first kiss (went a little like this)
Pairing: SuChen
Rating: R
Warnings: Unprotected sex, dumb teenage drama
Word count: 14,834
Summary: Jongdae is a prince in a land where first kisses bond couples for life. Jongdae is also very, very close with his best friend, Junmyeon.
Author's note: All passages in past tense are flashbacks to childhood, and all present tense sections are current day in linear order! Other than that possible confusion, I hope this pleases my dear prompter~




Jongdae thinks of himself as a romantic.

He has thought so ever since childhood and he still considers it now, at age seventeen. Not the kind of romantic his older sister, Liyin, is, with dreams of brave knights riding in on valiant steeds to save her from roaring dragons and whisk her away into the sunset, but a more realistic kind - he just wants to understand what all that mushy business is about. Being a prince, Jongdae lives a very sheltered life within the sprawling walls of his family’s magnificent castle, leaving him with little real world experience aside from what he is able to view of the surrounding town from high tower windows. He looks at the bustling village below and sees a first encounter, followed by a flower, followed by dinner. He looks at the rows of homes and sees fights and forgiveness and makeups, and he even tries to imagine what the conversations might be about in his head, but he is never in the middle of it all.

This separation has led to Jongdae having an idealized fantasy of what life must be like down there, and over the years he has grown quite fond of his daily people watching. His most recent visual adventure is the growing relationship between a young man performing in one of the main streets of the marketplace and a lovely woman who stops by to watch him every other day. They’ve taken a liking to each other by now, and Jongdae hopes that they start courting soon. He saw them kiss once, after the man’s act was finished one night and no one was around, but they still seem to be in an indecisive middle stage between hopeful and nervous.

That, Jongdae is jealous of. He is not bothered much by the people in town being able to live as they please and waste time watching acrobats in the courtyard – being royalty can be bland and difficult, but he isn’t one to complain much.

What makes his heart heavy is seeing a kiss.


｡⊹ ♡ ⊹｡


Jongdae met Junmyeon at the perfect time. He had recently turned six, meaning he was officially too old to sit filially and let Liyin dress him up for tea parties anymore, thank you very much. However, they were the only children in the castle at the time, and Jongdae soon ran out of ways to entertain himself (plus, he was no longer allowed in the garden without supervision after he’d ridden his horse through the turnips, and everything is much less fun with a servant keeping an eye on you). Just as he was contemplating accepting Liyin’s offer for a round of pretend house, he heard a couple guards talking in a hallway about having to watch over yet another kid soon. After some whining and some leg clinging, he finally found out that a new Librarian was to be appointed, and he’d be moving into the castle with his wife and his eight year old son in one week’s time. Jongdae was overjoyed. He never had a real friend before, and he couldn’t wait to play with a boy for a change, look at a fresh face.

On the day of the Librarian’s arrival, Jongdae hurried into the foyer, too excited to even properly button his trousers. He watched as servants flocked to the large front doors to help the Librarian and his family lug their belongings into the castle, bustling about and blocking Jongdae’s view from the bottom of the grand staircase. He stood on his toes to try and see, but he was too small and ended up sitting on a step in a huff, picking at a loose string hanging from his tunic.

“Hello,” someone said after a minute, and Jongdae looked up into the eyes of a boy not much older than himself and his face broke into a smile.

He and Junmyeon got along right away. Jongdae babbled about interest after interest as soon as they began climbing the stairs, ready to spend days at a time playing with the boy. However, Junmyeon told him that a Librarian’s job was more than just managing the vast jungle of books and scrolls in the castle. He was also in charge of record keeping and pulling up information for the King and Queen at a moment’s notice, often from the top of his head. He was above the historians who tutored Jongdae, and only slightly below the King’s official advisor – in fact, he sometimes advised the advisor on what to advise the King to do. It was a job that not many could accomplish successfully for very long, so those who were accepted as Librarians usually took on apprentices to help them, and in this case, that was Junmyeon, his son.

Jongdae was disappointed that he wouldn’t have as many opportunities to be with his new friend as he had hoped, but he was still grateful to have Junmyeon at all. He enjoyed the rest of that afternoon without any worries, lying on Junmyeon’s bed and listening to him tell tales from their travels as he unpacked – Junmyeon even listed off facts about rocks that would have had bored Jongdae stiff had it come from anyone else. Once the new family was settled in, though, the two boys were called to join the welcoming feast, which meant Jongdae had to be on his best behavior instead of running through the halls with Junmyeon.

Though also nobility himself, Junmyeon was in the lower ranks and his family still had to work to keep their status (Jongdae learned from one of Junmyeon’s many stories that his mother was a talented seamstress who sewed beautiful dresses for wealthy women), so it made him slightly self-conscious that Junmyeon probably seemed much more regal than he did to an unknowing observer. At dinner, though Jongdae had long outgrown his rebellious child phase, Junmyeon somehow gave off such an aura of polite dignity that Jongdae felt as if he was acting like their court jester in comparison. Junmyeon always sat up straight; always kept his mouth clean; always paid attention to conversations no matter how boring the topic. He chimed in briefly at just the right moments; ate slowly and daintily; and he somehow managed not to draw any unnecessary attention to himself even as Jongdae saw him choking on his water at one point.

However, as outshined as he was all throughout the meal, despite all the praises his parents bestowed upon Junmyeon, Jongdae did not feel jealousy or spite towards the boy at all – instead, he found Junmyeon rather mesmerizing. The Junmyeon sitting there at the long, gilded table was different than the Junmyeon who had been chattering away comfortably with Jongdae upstairs for hours. He knew perfectly well how to appeal to the adults, but he never did so in a way that made Jongdae doubt the friendliness he’d been shown earlier. All in all, Junmyeon was just a very nice and very well brought up boy, with a charming smile to boot, and when Jongdae decided at the end of the night that he did indeed still like the new arrival, he announced to the room that they were going to be best friends and Junmyeon laughed and said, “Alright.”


｡⊹ ♡ ⊹｡


“Are you done yet?” Jongdae groans, peeking up at Junmyeon from where his head has been resting on a library table for the past twenty minutes. After a week of hardly any free time, Junmyeon promised to hang out with him that afternoon, but it seems like he hasn’t even made a dent in his pile of work. Junmyeon gets up to put a large stack of books away and Jongdae grows hopeful, sitting up in his seat.

“Shouldn’t a prince have something better to do than bother a palace hand?” Junmyeon asks, glancing at Jongdae through a gap in a bookshelf.

Jongdae shrugs. “Probably.” He stands and grabs a handful of books from Junmyeon’s workspace, beginning to put them back in all the wrong places until Junmyeon notices and squawks at him to sit down and stop touching things. “Come on,” Jongdae whines dramatically, “you promised…”

Junmyeon sighs and places a tattered fabric bookmark in between the pages of an old collection of plant species. “I did,” he says. “Alright, I’ll take a break, then.” He holds up a finger. “But only for ten minutes.”

Jongdae grins and takes Junmyeon by the hand, leading him through the castle and ignoring all the guards who shout at him not to run in the halls. They spend an hour in the fencing room, only managing to follow the rules for a short while before turning the sport into a round of swashbuckling pirate-on-pirate action; they play in the field out back, kicking around a ball made of dried animal skin which morphs into a ruthless game of tag; they even sneak into the kitchen while dinner is being prepared, using the hustle and bustle as a distraction to swipe cookies and other treats from the pantries until the chef’s apprentice, a small boy with owlish eyes, chases them out with a rolling pin in hand. Finally, tired and sweaty, they flop onto the grass under a towering oak tree and lay there in comfortable silence until the sky begins to turn a dusky gray.

“You kept me out too long,” Junmyeon complains, jabbing Jongdae in the ribs, but Jongdae just laughs and turns onto his side, moving closer to Junmyeon as the air starts cooling down.

“I always keep you out too long,” he defends.

Junmyeon snorts and turns as well, facing Jongdae. “You do,” he says simply, toying with blades of grass between them. A ladybug lands on his finger and Jongdae mimics Junmyeon’s gentle smile. After a few moments the ladybug flies away and Junmyeon’s attention is back on Jongdae.

“You do like spending time with me, don’t you?” Jongdae asks. He knows he can sometimes be spoiled – as a kid, he would even demand Junmyeon to play with him on occasion.

“Of course I do,” Junmyeon answers easily, nudging Jongdae’s shoulder enough to make him flop back onto the grass with a small oof. “Even if I want to stay in the library studying, for some reason I can never say no to you. Maybe you vexed me to always feel like staying by your side.”

Jongdae laughs loudly. “If I was a magic user, our days would be much more interesting,” he promises.

“I don’t doubt that,” Junmyeon agrees, lying back down as well. “You’re wild, Jongdae.”

“Thank you.”

Junmyeon rolls his eyes and kicks at Jongdae’s foot. “It’s alright, though,” he says after a moment. Jongdae looks at him. “That you’re not a magic user, I mean. A day with you is never boring.”

Jongdae beams proudly. Junmyeon notices and sits up, giving Jongdae a nice shove and Jongdae begins tumbling down the small grassy mound they had settled on. Junmyeon runs after him, Jongdae’s unmistakable laugh never stopping until he comes to a gentle rolling stop, and he stands over Jongdae with a grin. He extends a hand and Jongdae takes it, yanking Junmyeon down onto the grass instead and bolting upright and towards the palace. Junmyeon shouts and takes off after him and they’re both so exhilarated they can only laugh at the expressions on the servants faces when they see the boys’ disgruntled, dirty clothes.


｡⊹ ♡ ⊹｡


Jongdae wasn’t always able to pull his friend away from his studies for half a day. Aside from his childish annoyance at not being able to play with his friend, Jongdae worried for Junmyeon – he hated passing by the library at night and seeing Junmyeon still sitting there, still working, scrawling his feathered ink pen on a scroll with his kerosene lantern nearly completely burned out. He hated when Junmyeon came downstairs for breakfast with a smile on his face but drowsiness in his eyes, much more worn out than a boy should be. Determined to make Junmyeon’s days more enjoyable, Jongdae began staying with him in the library, at first trying to help out but quickly discovering that he only made more of a mess. Instead, he waited until Junmyeon had some downtime and initiated activities they could play indoors, mostly imagination-based games of pretend.

After a while, Junmyeon’s father took over Jongdae’s studies a few sessions out of the week so at least the young prince would be doing something productive if he wanted to sit in a library all day. Jongdae didn’t mind, because Junmyeon always helped him out.

On a particularly sunny summer day, not a fortnight after Jongdae turned twelve, Junmyeon already fourteen, it quickly became apparent that neither boy had it in him to sit still and learn about migratory patterns of the kingdom’s common birds. Their eyes kept drifting towards the window behind Junmyeon’s father’s head, perfect weather enticing them more than the yellowing parchments.

Junmyeon’s father clapped his hands loudly and the boys jumped in their seats. “How about a more interesting lesson today?” he suggested, and Junmyeon and Jongdae looked at each other before nodding curiously. He got out of his seat and walked to a row of bookshelves significantly lacking in material compared to other sections – magic was still a very elusive subject. He stopped in front of a glass box lined in bronze designs and opened it slowly, gently taking out an aging scroll and carrying it back to the table.

“Do either of you know the term “Love bound to a kiss?”

They shook their heads. Jongdae wrinkled his nose. “So this is a love story?”

Junmyeon’s father held up a finger. “It is not a story,” he corrected. “It is a legend, passed down through generations.”

Jongdae sat forward but tried to look disinterested as Junmyeon’s father began reading.


“Once up a time, not long after humans first began to claim territories in this land, a princess was born to the royal family. Even as a babe she was beautiful and her eyes showed much kindness. As she grew, she discovered that she had abilities which would later become known as “magic.” She trained her powers and soon she was able to use her talents to help the villagers in their times of need. And when her parents bore her a little sister, she doted on her as if she was her own. She was a girl loved by all, and it came as no surprise that as soon as she turned sixteen suiters traveled from far and wide in hopes of taking her hand in marriage.

Unbeknownst to the king and queen, the princess was already in love with a simple man who worked in the stables. They became friends at a young age and she looked at no one else in all her years. Her parents were compassionate rulers and when the princess admitted who she loved to them, they accepted the stable boy as their future son and from then on turned away all suitors. The young couple was overjoyed and preparations were started for their wedding ceremony.

However, there was one man who refused to give up. He was a prince from far away and he was hell-bent on taking this gorgeous maiden as his bride. He pestered the princess, never giving up even after guards chased him from the castle. One night, which happened to be the eve before the princess’s wedding day, he spied on her in the shadows of the palace’s orchard trees. He saw the princess kiss the stable boy while he was tending to her favorite horse. The prince could not believe his eyes. He thought the princess’s husband would be royalty. He could not accept that he, a nobleman, lost to a dirty peasant.

When the stable boy was alone, the jealous suitor lunged at him. They fought, and the stable boy would have emerged victorious had the prince not cheated and set a horse free, who got scared from all the commotion and knocked the stable boy down. The prince stabbed the stable boy in the chest and fled as the he bled out onto the hay.

The body was not found until the next morning mere hours before the wedding, when a servant came looking for the groom. The princess’s happy celebration turned into a day of mourning. She knew the culprit must have been the jealous prince, but instead of seeking revenge on him she came up with another plan. Heartbroken, she used her magic to curse the realm so that everyone in it would be compelled to spend the rest of their lives with the first person they kiss, in hopes that future generations would better respect the gift of love, would give it the proper thought and dedication it deserved. Try as they might, no one could persuade the princess to undo the curse and no other magicians were as powerful as she.

The spell became sealed into the land when she passed quietly in her sleep not long later, killed by grief, and it remains set in place to this day…”


Junmyeon leaned closer to Jongdae as his father’s voice died down when the tale ended – both boys had heavy hearts after hearing the unfortunate life of the ancient princess. Junmyeon spoke first.

“Is the legend true?” he asked, and his father’s eyes twinkled.

“Many say it’s not,” he answered. “It has nearly faded away within the circles of the common folk – by now most merely regard it as an entertaining fable to tell at social gatherings. Magic is powerful, especially magic fueled by something as strong as love, but even the princess’s spell cannot last forever.”

Jongdae nodded – from his perch in his room he had seen many townspeople disobey this supposed spell (he often wondered how shocked his mother would be to know of all the love triangles he’d already witnessed), but Junmyeon’s father was not finished.

“However, many more believe that the princess’s magic continues to linger in her bloodline.”

“Perhaps she intended to protect her family down the line,” Junmyeon suggested, and his father hummed in agreement.

“That is what I think.”

“How noble of her,” Junmyeon said.

“How come you’re telling us this?” Jongdae asked bluntly. Junmyeon gave him a look. “I mean, it was an interesting tale,” he said quickly, “but by now, does her bloodline even exist anymore?”

“I’m glad you ask,” Junmyeon’s father said. He pushed his chair back and strolled to the back of the library. He perused the shelves until he found an old, dusty book bound in dingy white leather with dull gold corners. He came back to their table and set the book down in front of Jongdae.

The book seemed so fragile Jongdae didn’t want to touch it.

“After the princess died, this book was found in her wardrobe,” Junmyeon’s father explained. “Back then, the only names written in it were her own and that of the stable boy, so everyone assumed she was keeping it to be a diary after her marriage. It was left the untouched in a case in their palace library out of respect. However, many years later, when the book was removed so that the case could be cleaned, a palace hand discovered that another set of names had been written underneath the princess and her fiancé – it was of her younger sister and the man currently courting her. The king and queen asked every servant, but all swore that they never touched the book prior to that day. Rumor has it that as soon as a relative of the princess shares their first kiss, their names are magically scribed onto its pages and the two are bound together by a string of fate as strong and bright as the ink.”

Jongdae looked at the book in awe, never having been around a mystic object before.

“Go on, leaf through it.”

Jongdae shrugged and began flipping pages. They were full of names written in truly brilliant red ink with remarkable penmanship, artistic, even, and seemingly unaffected by the years unlike the rest of the book. He skipped ahead to where the list stopped and his eyes went wide at the names of his father and mother sitting there on the same line at the end of a page.

Junmyeon gasped beside him. “Jongdae,” he said, leaning in suddenly, and Jongdae looked at him. “Love bound to a kiss!”

Jongdae felt his cheeks heat up. “Huh?”

“If this book was forged from the spell,” Junmyeon began, “and your parents’ names are in in here… You are a very, very distant descendant of the princess!”

“Huh?” Jongdae repeated, louder. He looked at Junmyeon’s father, who nodded.

Junmyeon took the book and flipped back to the beginning. He ran his finger down the list of names until he found two he recognized. “Jung Yunho and Kwon Boa,” he read. “They’re your family’s earliest direct ancestors that we know of, Jongdae.”

Jongdae looked over Junmyeon’s shoulder. “Wow,” he said, amazed. “There’s a legend about my ancestor.”

Junmyeon laughed and nudged Jongdae’s chest. “There are tales of many of your ancestors,” he reminded. “Yours is the longest reigning family in history.”

“Yeah, but this one’s the coolest,” Jongdae said proudly, as if he had anything to do with the princess personally.

Junmyeon returned to the end of the list and noticed tattered parchment stuck in the binding of the book. “Father, what happened here?” he asked, running his finger along what looked to be a torn out page.

“Ah, there are parts like this throughout the whole book, unfortunately,” his father said. “You two were very young so you may not remember clearly, but there was a nasty storm some years ago. The ground quaked and winds and rain thrashed about harder than I had ever seen. Some windows of the castle gave way, including in those the library, and books tumbled all about. When we recovered this one we noticed many pages had been ripped out by the elements.”

Junmyeon frowned, the thought of a damaged book upsetting him. Jongdae tried to push his mouth back into a smile.

“But,” Junmyeon’s father added, “at least since Jongdae’s parents are still here, we know the end of the list is intact.” He pointed at the top of the next page, fresh and blank. “Your name will be here someday, Jongdae.”

Suddenly Jongdae felt a bit pressured.


｡⊹ ♡ ⊹｡


“Have you decided yet?” Junmyeon asks as he enters Jongdae’s room, flopping down next to him on his large canopy bed. Jongdae’s sheets are currently a velvety purple, contrasting greatly with Junmyeon’s white sleeping robes.

Jongdae sets aside the novel he’d been reading and shrugs, sitting up straighter against his pillow. He looks down at Junmyeon, who has moved his head into Jongdae’s lap. “I told you,” he says, “I don’t need anything. I’m a prince, Junmyeon.”

Junmyeon pouts and it is ridiculous and slightly embarrassing to see on a twenty year old but somehow Jongdae finds it endearing anyway. “But you’ll be eighteen,” he protests. “This is a very important age for a prince. How could I, his royal highness’s only friend, show up to his celebration without a gift?”

Jongdae grabs one of his many extra pillows and pushes it against Junmyeon’s face. Junmyeon laughs and moves the pillow, hugging it to his chest instead. “You’re not my only friend,” Jongdae huffs. “You’re just my best friend.”

“That’s even worse,” Junmyeon says. “How will I look as your best friend if even Lord Sehun shows up with a present and I don’t? The kid still has a curfew.”

Jongdae laughs loudly and slides down over his duvet, forcing Junmyeon to shift until they’re side by side, heads level with each other. “Fine,” he says, “I’ll bite. I will accept a new saddle made of the finest materials on the one condition that you go riding with me. And it better be cool. My horse must be stylish.”

Junmyeon holds out a pinky. “Agreed,” he says. “It’s been too long since we’ve had a chance to ride together.”

“Way too long,” Jongdae says, smiling and locking his pinky with Junmyeon’s. His smile soon fades, though, and Junmyeon notices.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, unhooking their fingers so he can poke at the corner of Jongdae’s mouth.

Jongdae sighs. “I’ll be eighteen,” he mumbles. Junmyeon makes a noise of acknowledgement. “I’ve been preparing for it, but I’m not ready… I feel as if I’ll never be ready. My father could croak the day after my birthday and suddenly I’d be running the kingdom with my mother!”

Junmyeon laughs softly. “Your father is in perfect health,” he says. “Besides, all the celebration over a prince coming of age is really merely for show. People just enjoy milestones, especially in the lives of the royal family.”

Jongdae groans. “I hate attending balls…”

“Yes, you’re quite terrible at dancing,” Junmyeon says solemnly.

“As if you’re any better,” Jongdae retorts, flinging another pillow at Junmyeon.

They are about to start a round of playful fighting when there’s a knock on Jongdae’s door. It is a maid sent to fetch Junmyeon.

“The prince must rest now,” she says, bowing in apology for interrupting. “Preparations for his birthday will begin tomorrow, bright and early.”

“Can’t we break tradition just this one time?” Jongdae whines and the maid tries her best not to look amused.

“I’m afraid not, your highness,” she says. “Your parents want you to be there for all of the planning, as every young royal before you has been. Besides, hosting events will be an important task in your future.”

Junmyeon rolls out of the bed as Jongdae makes more noises. “We probably won’t see much of each other until the ball,” he says. “Take care of yourself, Jongdae.”

“I’m not a child,” Jongdae says, crossing his arms. He glances up at Junmyeon and mutters, “I can entertain myself perfectly fine without you.”

“I’m sure you can,” Junmyeon says airily, giving Jongdae a wave before following the maid back to his own quarters.

Jongdae sighs and climbs under his sheets, pulling them to his chin and curling against the pillow Junmyeon had been hugging.




Arrangements for Jongdae’s birthday party are as tedious and dry as he imagined them to be, but at least Liyin is nice enough to join and stick by Jongdae’s side, whispering to him the whole while of juicy rumors about those on his guest list. Jongdae is so shocked and entertained by the secrets of some noblemen that he lets out a loud cackle in the middle of the florist’s presentation and has to apologize profusely to the confused woman.

Once flowers are decided upon for both the tables and the floor decorations and the menu is planned with careful consideration of the delicacies of the season and Jongdae has chosen between so many nearly-identical color palettes he thinks his mother is playing tricks on him, he’s so mentally exhausted that he skips dinner and heads straight to bed.

The next day is not much different and Jongdae swears if he sees one more ice sculpture he will smash it to bits himself. Liyin offers to be his partner for his dance lessons which he thought would be comforting at first, but it only leaves him embarrassed and red-eared after waltzing closely with his sister for hours, and very clumsily at that. He then sits through a lecture on how to write the perfect coming of age speech from a man with a voice infinitely more dull than Junmyeon’s father’s. He scribbles out draft after draft until his hand is numb and his poor quill pen breaks in half from his frustrations.

The week goes by in one, long, boring blur and Jongdae both misses spending a day with Junmyeon and can’t remember what it feels like to see his friend for even a minute’s time. He doesn’t understand the point of going through all this trouble for a party he doesn’t even want, but the proud looks on his parents’ faces every time he finalizes a decision on his own does makes him smile a bit. When he falls into bed the night before his birthday, preparations finally done, he’s asleep before he even has time to fret over all the socializing soon to come.




On the day of his ball, Jongdae is woken early by a maid and taken to the grandest washroom in the palace to make him up for the party that evening. He’d only ever been in there once before when he’d insisted with tiny stomping feet that he wanted to watch Liyin “get dressed up like a fairy” for her own ceremony years ago on her sixteenth birthday. It seems even grander now that he has more of an attention span to appreciate it. The walls are a calming light blue, the floor spotless white. There is a large bath built into the floor sitting in a barrier of gold that matches the trim of the window and the shimmering sink faucet. Shelves and counters carved out of deep blue granite with flecks of silver hidden in it contrast the airy feeling of the rest of the room.

Jongdae ignores his embarrassment as he is disrobed and obediently sinks into the warm bath. He’s soaked in rose petal water, entire body relaxing as one servant massages his scalp and another shapes his fingernails perfectly. Once he is clean, his hair is tended to carefully and he is even given a little makeup to enhance the sharpness of his eyes (he is told very sternly by the woman doing it not to touch his face until the party ends, to which Jongdae stares at her helplessly).

When he returns to his bedroom a maid is waiting there with three clothing options lying out on his bed. He chooses a cropped red coat lined in gold, buttons and shoulder tassels bright yellow as well. The cut reaches his waist, two coattails trailing down behind him. His white pants are accented at the top by a gold waistband and at the bottom with jet black leather boots, made to shine at every angle. For accessories, the maid tucks a white cravat into his coat, hands him white gloves to put on right before the party to keep them in mint condition, and offers him an array of jewelry. Jongdae forgoes all but a pair of glimmering garnet earrings. He is tempted to take the matching ring, but it would get in the way of his glove.

The maid, one who has been at the castle for a very long time, seems on the verge of tears at seeing Jongdae looking so grown up. Jongdae smiles at her and gives her a tight hug and she allows herself to hug back for a moment before pushing him away and scolding him for trying to wrinkle his outfit. His parents have similar expressions when he enters their chambers, his mother fawning over him and his father clapping a strong hand on his shoulder. Jongdae wants to meet Junmyeon before the party, but he is told there’s no time and is ushered towards the grand staircase. Liyin meets him halfway, looking absolutely radiant in a light pink gown with her hair up in an elegant bun adorned with diamonds, and Jongdae doesn’t even pretend to be disgusted at the kiss she leaves on his cheek.

Guests must have started arriving while Jongdae was still being pampered because the front hall separating the ballroom and other smaller rooms set for socializing are already packed. Though he took part in the event planning, Jongdae is still amazed at how beautiful everything turned out. When partygoers begin to notice Jongdae standing at the top of the stairs with Liyin beside him as his escort of the night, they all turn to face him and Jongdae feels butterflies in his stomach. Liyin takes his hand, guiding him down the stairs and providing enough comfort that Jongdae manages to put on a smile for his guests. He nods and waves, shakes some hands and bows at familiar faces. He looks around but doesn’t see Junmyeon yet.

The evening goes by surprisingly pleasantly and Jongdae finds himself fitting the role of a good host rather well. He can hold conversations with lords and generals and cracks jokes with those closer to his age without a hitch. When the time comes to make his speech, though, his nerves return. Kim Jongdae has no problem speaking when he wants to, everyone knows that, but standing in front of so many powerful people who are all there because of him on a night that everyone regards as important does put a damper on his usually energetic personality. He stands at the front of the ballroom on a raised level, his parents and Liyin sitting in thrones behind him, and blanks. He cannot remember the speech he planned so carefully as he looks out over the large crowd. He tries to wipe his palms on his trousers but his gloves are on and the action doesn’t help much.

Right before the silence stretches on for a little too long, he sees Junmyeon hurrying into the ballroom behind the sea of people. They lock eyes and Junmyeon gives him a nod and two thumbs up, and Jongdae settles down. He begins to speak, the words flowing out of him easily from hours of practice, and when he bows at the end the room erupts in applause and congratulations. He hugs his family before stepping off of the platform and pushing through the crowd, trying to avoid being dragged into conversation as politely as possible. When he makes it to the other side of the room he stumbles over a guest’s foot and feels familiar hands steady him.

“That was a very moving speech,” Junmyeon says as Jongdae straightens back up.

“I tried,” Jongdae laughs slightly, taking all of Junmyeon in. He’s always known that Junmyeon is a good looking boy, but tonight he is a handsome man. His clothes are not as high end as Jongdae’s but that doesn’t matter one bit – everything from his pushed back hair to his deep blue jacket to his gold jewelry practically radiates class. Jongdae opens his mouth to speak but Junmyeon beats him to it.

“You look amazing,” he says, fingers brushing gently at Jongdae’s hair. “Who knew little Jongdae could grow up so nicely?”

“I’m not a kid,” Jongdae protests.

Junmyeon smiles and it is breathtaking. “I didn’t say you were.”

The two spend the rest of the ball side by side until dinner is served, at which Junmyeon goes to sit by his father, still at the main table in the front of the room but on a far end away from Jongdae. Liyin surprises everyone with a toast celebrating her brother and Jongdae only stops himself from crying by recalling the maid’s face when she told him to take care of his eye makeup. The food is wonderful, the desserts even more so, and the palace is filled with a buzz of pleasant chatter as everyone mingles, wine in hand, while they digest their meals.

Soon the music starts up again, louder, and people resume dancing. Jongdae and Junmyeon stand by and watch the festivities for a while, lazily, until Junmyeon nudges Jongdae’s arm.

“We should dance,” he jokes, and Jongdae almost says yes but Junmyeon turns to Liyin and adds, “Though it would be rude of me not to ask the princess first, wouldn’t it?” He extends a hand and Liyin giggles, accepting it as Junmyeon leads her away.

Jongdae can’t quite put a finger on what he feels as he watches Junmyeon twirl his sister around the dancefloor, but he doesn’t like it.




By the time the last guests are escorted away, every bone in Jongdae’s body aches. At least his dancing lessons were put to good use, his teacher will be happy to hear. He lets out a yawn and goes to help clean up, but servants and maids refuse it and urge him to get some sleep. He doesn’t protest much and makes his way slowly up the stairs to his room.

He’s in the middle of undressing, down to his pants and plain white tunic, when someone knocks at his door. He grunts and hopes that’s enough communication.

“Did you have fun tonight?” Junmyeon asks, slipping into Jongdae’s room and shutting the door quietly. He has a slice of cake in one hand and his other his hidden behind his back. He changed out of his stuffy jacket as well, left in a loose tunic and bare feet sticking out of his trousers.

Jongdae nods. “Yeah, I did, actually.” He drapes his coat over the back of a chair and lets out a long sigh when he sits on his bed, finally off of his feet.

Junmyeon sits next to him and holds out the cake. “You didn’t get a piece, right? There was none left by the time people stopped chatting you up. It’s delicious.”

Jongdae smiles widely and takes the plate eagerly. He eats a bite and hums happily. “What else do you have there?” he asks, mouth full.

Junmyeon moves his arm and reveals a bottle of wine. Jongdae doesn’t know much about alcohol yet, but he can at least tell it is a very old and very expensive brand. “Liyin helped me sneak it up from the cellar,” Junmyeon says, and that unknown feeling in Jongdae’s chest comes back for a moment.

“Is that for us?” Jongdae asks, stuffing his face with more cake.

“No, I just carried it all the way up here for the exercise,” Junmyeon says, and Jongdae rolls his eyes.

“Sarcasm doesn’t suit you,” he snorts, gathering cake on his fork and forcing Junmyeon to eat it.

Junmyeon laughs and opens the wine. They don’t have goblets to toast, so they both hold the neck of the bottle while Junmyeon says, “Although sometimes you may doubt yourself, you are very smart and noble. I’ve watched you grow – I’ve grown up with you – and I’m proud of the person you are becoming. You will be a great king someday, but I guess I’ll settle for being the best friend of a prince for now.”

Jongdae flicks Junmyeon’s thigh.

Junmyeon smiles and moves his hand on the bottle so his fingers are resting on top of Jongdae’s. “Happy birthday, Jongdae.” He releases his hold and Jongdae takes a drink first. Junmyeon taps the underside of the bottle, making Jongdae jerk.

“Do you want my maids to kill me for staining my clothes in wine?” Jongdae accuses, swatting at Junmyeon’s hands. He hands the bottle to his cackling friend and eats more cake, smile never leaving his face.

They spend the rest of the night like this, chatting about nothing in particular and taking turns savoring the wine. Jongdae is still particular about what drinks he likes, but Junmyeon managed to pick one that he doesn’t mind. They end up sitting on the floor at the side of Jongdae’s bed, using the fading light of a candle on Jongdae’s nightstand to make shadow puppets against a wall. The window to Jongdae’s balcony is open to the stars, heavy drapes pulled back and sheer white curtains flowing lightly with the breeze. Jongdae doesn’t feel the chill, though. Junmyeon is pressed against his side and the air surrounding them is warm from their laughter and hushed murmurs. The candle is nearly dead when Junmyeon puts the bottle to his lips and only a drop comes out.

“We finished it,” he whispers obviously. “I hope Liyin didn’t want any.”

Jongdae stops attempting to make a shadow puppet with his feet and pouts. “Why do you keep mentioning her?” he asks.

“What do you mean?” Junmyeon asks, words slurring ever so slightly.

Jongdae shrugs. “I dunno,” he says. He feels a pleasant hum in his head, soothing enough that he doesn’t mind letting words spill out. “It’s just, you danced with her earlier and went to the cellar with her, and you mentioned her right now.”

Junmyeon looks like he’s thinking for a moment before shrugging as well. “I don’t know,” he says with a laugh.

“It’s my birthday,” Jongdae says, pointing at himself. “You should talk about me.”

Junmyeon rolls his eyes. “Yes, your highness. Shall I make you breakfast as well?”

“That sounds lovely,” Jongdae says, echoing Junmyeon’s mocking prim and proper voice. They have a giggle fit at that and their laughter doesn’t die down until the candle goes out completely, room now only visible by moonlight.

“Remember when we used to play as kids?” Junmyeon asks after a while, voice quiet even in the silent night.

“Of course,” Jongdae says, slanting closer to Junmyeon.

“I miss it,” Junmyeon admits. “I like how we hang out now too, but there was something about being small… The world felt so big, it was like we could go anywhere.”

Jongdae hums and looks at Junmyeon, watching his illuminated profile as he rambles about nostalgia and the good old days.

“Do you think we’ll be together forever?” Junmyeon asks in the end, looking down and meeting Jongdae’s eyes. “When you’re a king and I’m working in the library all day… Will we still be friends?”

“Yes,” Jongdae says without missing a beat, and he means it. For as long as he can remember, Jongdae has always felt attached to Junmyeon and he knows Junmyeon’s felt the same. “Kings can still sit in libraries and watch their friends work.”

The corners of Junmyeon’s lips turn up in a smile but because he’s facing away from the light of the window, Jongdae must lean in to see him better. “I don’t think kings have time for that,” Junmyeon says. There’s a twinkle in his eyes slightly dulled by shadows, so Jongdae inches in more.

“Kings can do whatever they want,” Jongdae says surely.

Junmyeon laughs and Jongdae can feel the breath on his face. “That’s not how it works.”

Jongdae can see Junmyeon just fine now, but he leans in again anyway. “That’s how I’ll work,” he says.

This time Junmyeon leans towards him and Jongdae thinks Junmyeon must not really be able to see him either. Junmyeon doesn’t say anything else, just sits there with his nose nearly touching Jongdae’s, and Jongdae sits there watching him right back. Like every moment of his life spent with Junmyeon, Jongdae feels comfortable doing something as simple as being in the same room. He wonders if perhaps he gets even closer, would he feel more comfortable then? He moves his hand and places it over Junmyeon’s on the plush carpet, and Junmyeon’s fingers slip in between his. He looks into Junmyeon’s gentle eyes and sees warmth. He tilts his head ever so slightly and Junmyeon does too, almost automatically, as if they are opposite pieces working in tangent. Then lips are touching, lightly, barely there, ghosting against each other. Jongdae feels his heart speed up at the minimal contact and it’s overwhelming – he sits back, moving his hand away and pretends not to notice Junmyeon starting to follow him with his lips for a second.

Now the silence is deafening. Jongdae doesn’t know what to do or say, but as always, Junmyeon is there for him.

“I should head to bed,” Junmyeon says as casually as possible. “Goodnight, Jongdae. Happy birthday.”

They smile at each other and once Junmyeon is gone Jongdae crawls into bed, sleep saving him from a night of questions.




It isn’t until Jongdae wakes the next day that a rush of emotions starts to sink in. He’s slept through breakfast and he can hear the familiar noontime noises of the village nearby. He yawns, sits up in bed, and makes a move to head to the washroom when his foot knocks over the empty wine bottle on the floor. He blinks at it slowly before remembering how it got there, and what had happened next, and then he’s running to the basin of water in the corner, splashing his face and dragging clammy palms over his eyes. He looks at himself in the mirror above the basin. He’d forgotten to take his makeup off and it’s smudged across his cheeks now, and he hopes his linens don’t look the same lest he wants a stern word from his maids. He washes his face diligently, making sure he seems clean and presentable so no one he passes in the halls can guess at how violently his insides are churning because he kissed his best friend. He nods his head at servants and gives Liyin a kiss as she hurries by, late for her dance lesson, and thanks the Gods that his parents allowed him a free day to unwind after last night’s ceremony.

However, he soon comes to realize that not having anything to occupy his mind with gives him plenty of time to think about other things, like gentle fingers brushing against his knuckles and grape-tinted breath lingering between two awkward bodies. By the time a servant brings him his afternoon tea while he sits on a quilt in the courtyard, Jongdae’s sorted out the different feelings that have been running around in his head all day. First, there is the initial shock of the kiss – very straightforward, no epiphany there. Then there is embarrassment as his brain continuously reminds him how soft Junmyeon’s lips were, despite how little he felt them. Fear follows, and it is what corners Jongdae the most – fear that everything has changed, nothing between him and Junmyeon can ever be the same again and he has just lost one of the most important people in his life over what could easily be brushed off as a drunken mistake. The fear leads into shame, gnawing at his insides. There is no concept of hate towards couples of the same sex here – it is simply not something that ever developed, though Jongdae has heard horror stories from distant, less civilized lands. Two kings standing at the foot of a kingdom could even be seen as an advanced power. What Jongdae doesn’t want to admit, is that he could possibly end his beloved family’s long, historic claim to the throne over something he is not sure he has a right to put before his people – a prince too selfish to offer his land an heir. Finally, making itself known in the form of a tiny, dull throbbing at the back of his head that chokes him up when he thinks on it too hard, is the realization that kissing Junmyeon felt like the right thing to do. It’s as if every moment they’ve spent together since childhood was an individual puzzle piece and they all came together on that night to form a picture of Junmyeon sitting in Jongdae’s room, moonlight cascading over him, waiting for Jongdae to meet him halfway. Then, the fear returns.




Jongdae embraces his packed schedule the next day, which is something he never thought he’d admit. After breakfast are his studies, which, today, are fortunately taught by a hired tutor from outside the castle and not by Junmyeon’s father. The lecture on lifecycles of native fish is a welcome distraction. Next come dance lessons, which Jongdae is still horrendous at, and his teacher’s son is quick to poke fun.

“Why are you even worse today?” he laughs, and Jongdae orders Jongin to be escorted into a parlor room until his practice is over. (Sehun makes an unannounced visit while Jongdae is catching his breath and cracks a similar joke, and Jongdae sends him out as well).

Jongdae is passing through the back hallway when two familiar delivery boys are dropping off crates of produce and other kitchen products to a handful of servants. The tall, lanky one is helping to move the groceries inside, so he turns his attention to the shorter, more talkative one.

“We are one bottle short of wine in our cellar,” he says. “I’m not sure what it is called, but one of the servants should be able to see what is missing. I would appreciate if you could replace it and deliver it to me or my sister the next time you come. My parents do not need to be bothered.”

The boy squints for a moment then wiggles his eyebrows. “Secret special occasion?” he guesses rather correctly, and Jongdae turns on his heel before his red ears can give his embarrassment away.

“Deliver it to my sister,” he mumbles.

Jongdae is granted short reprieve during tea time, which he has lately been enjoying in the gardens as the weather grows warmer and warmer. There is a gardener around his age who hails from a distant land and so he doesn’t speak much of Jongdae’s language, but he is pleasant company with a warm smile all the same. If he notices Jongdae’s internal conflict causing him to jab at a finger sandwich with a toothpick, he doesn’t say anything.

The stable boy who tends to Jongdae’s favorite horse is also a pleasant man, but he does speak Jongdae’s language and he is quite observant.

“She can sense when her rider is unhappy, you know,” he says, running a brush through the mare’s mane a few more times.

“That will be all, Minseok, thank you.” Jongdae dismisses him, ignoring the look Minseok shoots his way, and looks forward to preparing his horse himself, something he rarely gets a chance to do.

He makes sure she is watered and gives her an extra carrot for being so beautiful. He makes sure her horseshoes are all set correctly and wipes her down gently until her tan hair shines in the sunlight sprinkling in from cracks in the stable walls. He reaches blindly for his saddle, but when his hands brush the leather he can immediately tell it is not the usual worn material he is used to. He looks at the brand new saddle perched on the hook in front of him in awe. The leather is a deep brown, smooth and cool to the touch. The expert stitching is jet black, standing out against the rest of the saddle just so, as are the stirrups, adding a dab of elegance. When he puts it on his horse, it looks as if it was made for her. She seems to enjoy the feeling, if her nuzzling into Jongdae’s chest is any indication. He laughs and strokes her nose, but his smile fades the longer he stares at the saddle, and he lets out a sigh before mounting her and galloping out into the orchard, alone.

Somehow, Jongdae keeps himself busy for a week.




Junmyeon steals glances at the grand clock high on the wall in the middle of the room, as he has been doing for the past four days, monotonous ticking often soothing but currently grating. All it does is remind him of every second, every minute, every hour that Jongdae hasn’t come into the library. All it does is make him think the worst about the kiss, that it was a catalyst in the destruction of their friendship and whatever they could be. He hadn’t been quite sure that night if Jongdae was really paying attention to what he was doing, and he’d hoped Jongdae would forget the moment all together, but the longer Jongdae avoids him, the harsher reality seems.

“Are you alright, son?” his father asks, rounding a bookshelf with a large stack of scrolls in his arms. Junmyeon hurries out of his seat to help lessen the load.

“Yes,” he lies, laying his scrolls on an empty table. “My mind was just wandering. Apologies, Father, I haven’t gotten nearly enough work done in days.”

His father sets his scrolls down as well, beginning to arrange them on the table in the order he would use them the next day. “A wandering mind is an active mind,” he says. Junmyeon shifts, about to head to the door and get away from that damn taunting clock, when his father continues. “Perhaps you can put that activeness into cleaning up today. And the library is long overdue for an inventory sweep.”

Junmyeon bites back a groan and nods, bowing to his father and slouching against a bookshelf in defeat when he’s gone. He looks around and fortunately the mess doesn’t seem so bad. There are books out of their shelves but those are easy enough to take care of, and servants deal with the tidying so all Junmyeon has to do is put ink bottles and quills back in their places and go down the aisles looking for misplaced books (of which there are hardly any).

He runs his fingers along spine after spine, eyes glancing quickly over titles and authors, nearly memorized by now. He’s only had to rearrange two books so far, most likely put back by a visitor even though it is suggested to leave the sorting to the staff. He has high hopes of retiring to his room early until he reaches the shelves filled with texts on magic. He passes by runes and potions, history and biographies, then his eyes land on a dingy white book with gold trim. It is familiar, but he cannot place why – he rarely ventures this deep into the library, as the subject of magic is often left up to his father, a more experienced man.

With hands that are oddly unsteady, he gently pulls the book from the confines of the shelf and holds it out in front of him. There is no writing on the cover, so Junmyeon opens it and sees the list of names continuing on for pages and pages, decades and decades. He remembers, then, what this book is, remembers the legend his father had told him and Jongdae– Jongdae. He freezes in place, page in mid-turn, and is afraid to flip any farther.

Suddenly the sound of the grand library doors creaking open echoes through the room. Junmyeon gasps in shock, body too tense, and sneaks a peek around the bookshelf. When he sees Jongdae creeping inside, looking as nervous as Junmyeon feels, his heart skips a beat. They’d only been apart for a week, but then again, they’d never separated for more than a couple days in all the years they’ve known each other. He watches Jongdae glance around, notices the hesitation in his step. The light from the lanterns on the walls caress his cheekbones just so, softening sharp edges, and he looks so torn Junmyeon almost wants to run up and… kiss him again.

He wants to kiss Jongdae again. He had spent so long worrying about how the kiss had affected Jongdae that he neglected to consider his own feelings. Voicing it in his head makes Junmyeon blush and he can feel a plethora of emotions in the back of his mind, but right now he is sticking with the butterflies in his stomach. He looks down at the book in his hands and turns to the end of the list, to the fresh new page after Jongdae’s parents had finished off the last—

There is nothing there. He turns another page, and still nothing. He stares at the blank space where their names should be and the only reason he can think of as to why they aren’t written there is that they aren’t supposed to be. The scholarly side of him wants to scoff at the idea of a book controlling his fate, but still, the blatant answer in front of him hurts and it is enough to plant a seed of doubt in his head that maybe they aren’t what’s best for each other, even if he hopes they are.

“Junmyeon?”

The call is soft, but it sounds so loud. Junmyeon shoves the book back into its place as best as he can and rushes out of the aisle, locking eyes with a surprised Jongdae momentarily before rushing past him and out of the library. He tries not to think about the hurt he knows is on Jongdae’s face.

Jongdae stares at Junmyeon, wanting to run after him but legs feeling nailed to the floor. After finally sorting himself out enough that he feels comfortable facing his best friend again, Junmyeon brushes by him without sparing more than a glance. Confused and moving on autopilot, Jongdae retraces Junmyeon’s steps until he’s at the shelves of magical texts. He is drawn to the white book right away – Junmyeon never leaves anything only partly shelved. He recognizes it sooner than Junmyeon had and swallows thickly. He opens it to the same blank page Junmyeon must have seen, and feels his heart drop.

His mental preparation from the last few days proves useless as new unease sets into his stomach.




Jongdae figures Junmyeon’s father must suspect something by now. Jongdae is only ever excited to learn when he can do it in the library with Junmyeon never more than a few feet away, yet it has been three weeks since Jongdae had requested for tutors to be brought in from town to teach him in parlor rooms instead. Liyin definitely knows something, probably everything, honestly, but she hasn’t approached him yet about his obvious departure from his best friend. Perhaps she is trying to treat him like an adult who can deal with his own problems, but he kind of wishes she’d fix everything for him like she usually does. Even the quiet gardener is starting to worry – Jongdae sees his dimple a little less nowadays. Minseok is the one who manages to get through to Jongdae.

“This is about Junmyeon, isn’t it?” he asks, and Jongdae’s shifting feet give Minseok the answer he is looking for. “I knew it. Excuse my bluntness, Sir, but I am sick and tired of having to assure your horses that everything is alright when they come back to the stables jittery and scared. Haven’t I told you they can sense unease? That one over there nearly kicked me the other day, you know.”

Jongdae crosses his arms and pouts. “What am I supposed to do about it? That’s your job, isn’t it?”

“My job is not to get kicked!” Minseok objects. For a small man, his voice is quite strong. “Go talk to Junmyeon, please.”

“It’s not that simple!” Jongdae shoots back automatically, but really, it is.

“And why not?” Minseok asks, fists on his hips.

At a loss for words, Jongdae blurts out, “The magic doesn’t want us to be together.” He regrets speaking instantly when Minseok gives him the dirtiest look.

“What?”

Jongdae starts to tell him about the book of fated names, but Minseok interrupts him.

“Wait, you’re hung up on that nonsense?” he huffs.

“You don’t believe in magic?” Jongdae asks.

“I believe magic exists,” Minseok says, “but only that it exists. I don’t believe a witch’s cauldron and sparkling fairy dust can shape anyone’s lives for more than a material second. Nothing forged by manipulation can outlast sincerity forever. You are your own person. Names inked in or not, if you want to marry Junmyeon then you will, and if you don’t then you won’t.”

Jongdae’s cheeks warm up. “Who said anything about marriage!” he sputters. “I never even said we kissed!”

“I know I am only a stable boy but please don’t insult my intelligence, Sir.”

Jongdae leans against a stall door and absentmindedly strokes the nose of the horse that comes forward to nudge him. “I suppose I expecting something, well… magical,” he admits. “You know, an explosion inside of me to let me know who I should be with.”

“Love isn’t always sudden,” Minseok says quietly.

“Have you been in love before?” Jongdae asks.

Minseok ignores his question. “Love builds up over time. It’s friendship to an infinite level. It’s trust and comfort. Home. The sparks you feel when you’re together are only a confirmation of what you already knew, deep down.”

Jongdae swallows. Minseok hit the nail right on the head, but giving a word to his feelings frightens him.

Minseok puts on a smile. “It’s worth risking everything for, Sir.”

And with that, Jongdae is off, sprinting to the castle.




Liyin looks up when there is a knock on the doorframe of the library. She closes her book when she sees Junmyeon standing there, half hiding behind the ornate doors.

“Hello, Junmyeon,” she says. “Am I in your way?”

“No, not at all!” Junmyeon says quickly. “I was actually searching for you… Do you have a moment?”

Liyin stands and motions for Junmyeon to join her on one of the plush maroon couches tucked into a corner by a window. He sits awkwardly and she puts a gentle hand on his arm.

“Um…” he begins, eyes shifting around the room.

“I don’t bite,” Liyin reminds with a slightly amused smile.

Junmyeon blushes. “Do you know what love feels like?” he asks. Liyin looks caught off guard but other than that she doesn’t seem to judge Junmyeon for his question, and for that he is grateful.

“I can’t say that I have,” she admits. “I dream about it, though,” she adds with a laugh. “I imagine it feels like spending every day on a cloud… Like you wouldn’t be able to stay apart from each other even if you wanted to, but you never, ever dream of that to begin with.”

Realization sinks into Junmyeon’s chest, right alongside the fear and hesitation. “I’m comfortable with a lot of people,” he says, playing his own devil’s advocate.

Liyin takes his hands in hers and holds them tightly, raising them up between their chests. “Does this make your heart flutter,” she asks, “something so small and nearly insignificant?”

No, Junmyeon supposes it doesn’t. But he isn’t sure if he’s ready to confront Jongdae about anything yet. And he doesn’t have to.

A sharp gasp turns his attention to the doors and Jongdae is standing there, out of breath, staring. His eyes are focused on Junmyeon and Liyin’s hands and that makes Junmyeon’s heart flutter – the ability to see even the smallest emotion pass over Jongdae’s face. He drops Liyin’s hands and gets up but Jongdae is already running away, and Junmyeon has a feeling that if he lets Jongdae go now, he’ll never get him back.

He bows to Liyin, who looks worried, but she nods back and Junmyeon knows she is entrusting her beloved brother to him. He chases Jongdae, ignoring shouts from servants, running after him through the halls and even up the grand flight of main stairs. He finally catches Jongdae’s wrist before he can find an empty room and lock himself inside and hide like Junmyeon is a monster. Jongdae tries to tug his arm away but Junmyeon’s grip doesn’t falter.

“Jongdae, please—”

“Am I not enough?” Jongdae asks, voice cracking, and the sound breaks Junmyeon’s heart. “Everything we’ve been through, is it not enough?”

“That’s not—”

Jongdae cuts Junmyeon off with a kiss, a real one this time, lips pressing together hard and rash. Junmyeon grows weak and Jongdae’s able to move his hand away, instead gripping Junmyeon’s shoulders, fingers digging into the fabric of his tunic. Junmyeon lets Jongdae push him against the wall and he barely manages to kiss back through the haze in his head. He should say something, anything to let Jongdae know that he is more than he’d ever need, but he is having a hard time even remembering to breathe.

Junmyeon is at least coherent enough to drag Jongdae down the hall to his bedroom to avoid getting noticed, though that is probably only on instinct and not because his brain is functioning properly. His room is smaller than Jongdae’s but he knows Jongdae is comfortable in it, has been ever since their games as children, and right now he needs a space where they can be together, alone. He doesn’t quite know what being alone entails yet, but he realizes he is more than willing to find out.

“Don’t look at her,” Jongdae mutters against Junmyeon’s lips, this time allowing himself to be pressed against the door behind him. He’s almost pleading and it’s unnecessary, but the desperation in his voice does things to Junmyeon’s insides. “Don’t look at anyone but me, Junmyeon. That’s an order.”

“I don’t think that’s a proper order,” Junmyeon says as Jongdae pushes him back until they’re both falling onto Junmyeon’s bed, Jongdae trapping Junmyeon down almost territorially. Junmyeon’s arms come to wrap around Jongdae’s waist and he meets him halfway, reveling in the feeling of Jongdae’s lips after all the time he’d spent worrying because of them. He moves one hand up to the back of Jongdae’s neck, holding him lightly and urging the sloppy kisses on. He feels Jongdae’s breath hitch more than hears it and it makes him shiver. He turns his body, making Jongdae lose his footing and fall onto the bed. For a moment, all he does is watch Jongdae exist next to him.

Jongdae catches his breath while Junmyeon reaches out to run a thumb along one of his cheeks and it’s too affectionate, too much. He pushes Junmyeon’s hand aside and moves until he’s lying against Junmyeon’s pillows, nudging Junmyeon with a foot and grabbing at him when he follows Jongdae to the head of the bed. They’re kissing some more, and Junmyeon wonders if they’ll ever stop. Jongdae hopes they won’t.

When they part for air again, Junmyeon sees Jongdae looking up at him with hooded eyes and an expression that sends tingles down his entire body. He strokes Jongdae’s cheek a second time and Jongdae doesn’t brush him away – instead, he tilts his head into the touch and holds Junmyeon’s hand to his face, eyes slipping shut. Junmyeon’s throat feels choked up. He leans in and mouths along Jongdae’s jawline, drawing a small gasp from swollen lips, and gently makes his way down Jongdae’s neck, mouth as feather light as their first kiss.

Jongdae tilts his head back to give Junmyeon more room and fumbles with the ties on Junmyeon’s tunic, getting it open and running his hands along Junmyeon’s chest by the time Junmyeon reaches the dip above Jongdae’s collar bones. He licks along them and Jongdae whines and wiggles beneath him.

“Hurry,” Jongdae says, still as impatient as he was as a child. He sits up, causing Junmyeon to move back to give him space, and lifts his own tunic over his head and tosses it to the floor. Junmyeon hardly has time to admire the way Jongdae’s body has developed into that of a young man before Jongdae is forcing Junmyeon’s shirt off and throwing it alongside his.

They kiss, naked chests pressed together, skin burning up. Jongdae is running his fingers through Junmyeon’s hair, loving the feeling of strands slipping through his fingers. Jongdae’s hair is curlier than Junmyeon’s, though, so Junmyeon opts for brushing bangs aside and tucking them behind an ear. Somewhere along the line Jongdae’s usual boldness shines through and he lets himself moan whenever Junmyeon needs a break and chooses to suck and nip at Jongdae’s neck instead. Jongdae bites his lip in embarrassment when Junmyeon kisses along his chest, feels his cheeks heat up at the experimental licks over a nipple, but Junmyeon is urged on by the stutters of Jongdae’s breath and Jongdae grips Junmyeon’s hair appreciatively (something Junmyeon rather likes).

“Jongdae,” Junmyeon says, and it comes out as an unsteady whisper. Jongdae’s hands fall onto the mattress and he looks down at where Junmyeon is hovering over his belly button.

“What?” he asks, sounding just as breathless.

Junmyeon swallows and runs a thumb under the hem of Jongdae’s trousers, tugging lightly. Jongdae nods and Junmyeon can hear his heartbeat in his ears. He undoes the tie and pulls carefully, pants scrunching around Jongdae’s firm thighs. He’s seen Jongdae down to his underwear before, that is nothing new, but the clear outline of Jongdae half hard beneath the fabric is. Jongdae squirms and at first Junmyeon thinks he is uncomfortable, but then he realizes Jongdae’s trying to get his pants completely off. He helps, just so he has something else to focus his attention on for a few seconds, then he’s back to the sight of his best friend lying nearly naked under him with red marks all along his neck and a small wet spot pressing against his underwear. Jongdae really has matured – he’s always been lean, but now there is muscle there too and a faint outline of abs on his stomach. He spends less time playing outdoors now than he did as a child so his skin has become fair, but it contrasts so nicely with his dark hair and hungry eyes.

“You’ve grown,” Junmyeon hears himself mutter, and Jongdae kicks at him, flustered.

“Get undressed.”

Junmyeon’s hands fumble with his clothes and once he’s down to his underwear as well, the feeling in the mood seems to shift – where there was once a possibility for sweet, there is now only hot. Jongdae yanks Junmyeon down and they’re kissing harder than ever before, Junmyeon propping himself up on his elbows as Jongdae holds him down with arms wrapped around his shoulders. They gasp into the kiss when their clothed erections brush against each other, and it’s Jongdae who plants his feet on the bed and pushes up, initiating the friction again and again. He jerks his hips up and Junmyeon can hear him slowly losing it and he wants Jongdae to feel good but not like this. He wants them to work together, two pieces of a puzzle, as close as possible. He holds Jongdae’s waist still when his moans start to grow louder and Jongdae whimpers in frustration, but when Junmyeon leans over to his nightstand and pulls out a small jar from the back of a drawer, Jongdae bites his lip and gives him a small nod.

Junmyeon removes his own underwear first in hopes that Jongdae would get less nervous this way, but he is the one blushing when Jongdae eyes him shamelessly. He pulls Jongdae’s underwear off next and Jongdae tries to close his legs on instinct but Junmyeon is in the way. Junmyeon places kisses along Jongdae’s hip bones, reassurance for them both. He takes a few moments to feel along Jongdae’s body, still admiring it, before cautiously wrapping his fingers around Jongdae’s dick. Jongdae watches as Junmyeon begins to stroke him slowly, the feeling both familiar and foreign. When Junmyeon swipes a thumb over his tip, Jongdae’s head falls back against a pillow and he moans quietly. A little surer of himself now, Junmyeon pumps his hand faster and leans down, sucking at Jongdae’s nipples. Jongdae arches under him and lets out a broken whine, hands coming up to bury in Junmyeon’s hair.

“Junmyeon,” he breathes, and it makes Junmyeon’s cock twitch. Jongdae is jerking his hips again, this time up into Junmyeon’s hand and it feels so good, but he doesn’t want to finish this way either – he needs to be closer too. After a while, Jongdae lifts Junmyeon’s head by his cheeks and one look at Jongdae’s flushed face and Junmyeon’s sitting up, jar in his hands, trying to calm down when Jongdae’s legs fall open. He’s used the lubricant in the jar before, but not in the way they’re about to use it now.

“Tell me if it hurts,” he says, scooping some gel-like substance onto his fingers and touching gingerly at Jongdae’s entrance. They know this much, that preparation must be done, but neither quite knows what to expect from the process. They probably both assume they’ll just do whatever feels right. Jongdae scoots closer to Junmyeon and encourages him with a thigh. Junmyeon slowly starts pressing a finger in and it’s so tight he doesn’t expect this to ever work, but finally, after a couple minutes of easing, it’s inside and Jongdae’s eyes have fallen shut at the strange sensation. When Junmyeon’s finger is knuckle deep, he leans forward and kisses Jongdae slow and steady as he begins to pump in and out. Jongdae breathes heavily through his nose.

“Try another one,” he says, and Junmyeon wants to object but Jongdae is jerking his hips again and he has no choice. He teases Jongdae’s entrance with another finger and eventually that one is in too. With two fingers, it seems Junmyeon is able to get more of a reaction from Jongdae – once the stretch stops bothering him Jongdae is rolling his hips in an attempt to get the weird sensation to feel good.

“Try… Go left… Your other left, Junmyeon. Maybe… a little…”

Junmyeon gets a third finger in and finally Jongdae gasps, three fingers in his ass and pressing against a spot inside him that has his toes curling. His hands drop to Junmyeon’s back, mouth hanging open.

“Oh.”

Junmyeon looks down at Jongdae, wide-eyed, and pumps his fingers again, trying to end at the same spot and Jongdae gasps. When there are no objections in sight, Junmyeon moves his hand faster, starting to test out different angles of his fingers and scissoring them on occasion. Jongdae is moaning now, nails digging into Junmyeon’s skin as he feels more pleasure than strange. Junmyeon hooks his fingers and Jongdae nearly screams.

“W-when can I take you?” Jongdae asks, chest rising and falling rapidly. “Surely I can take you now, right?”

Junmyeon blushes. “That’s for you to decide, isn’t it?”

“I say yes,” Jongdae breathes, pulling Junmyeon down for a kiss, thighs clenching against Junmyeon’s body in anticipation.

Junmyeon removes his fingers and Jongdae shivers. He gets more lubricant and strokes himself languidly as he watches Jongdae catch his breath, pink traveling from his cheeks to his chest and hole twitching slightly. He moves forward and Jongdae holds his own thighs back to give him room. He brushes bangs back from Jongdae’s damp forehead with his clean hand and kisses the corner of his mouth as he pushes in slowly.

The stretch is a little more difficult than with Junmyeon’s fingers, and Jongdae’s mouth falls open in a broken moan. His hands scramble to find purchase on Junmyeon’s back but he’s too sweaty so Jongdae grips his shoulders instead. Junmyeon keeps stopping at increments and letting Jongdae adjust before continuing, and when he’s fully inside the feeling is overwhelming. It takes all of Junmyeon’s willpower not to let his lips snap in and out on instinct as he waits for Jongdae to give him a sign. Jongdae hooks his legs around Junmyeon’s waist and forces him forward, impossibly deeper, and Junmyeon figures that’s good enough. He pulls out halfway and pushes back in and he’s already feeling lightheaded.

“Junmyeon,” Jongdae whines, meeting Junmyeon’s thrusts.

Junmyeon quickens his pace and elongates his thrusts, pulling out nearly completely then pushing in until he’s balls-deep, letting out strangled moans to match Jongdae’s cries for “more”. The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room and he’d be concerned of passersby hearing them if Jongdae didn’t sound so damn good begging for it harder. Jongdae arches up and Junmyeon mouths along his chest, holding him close with a hand on the small of Jongdae’s back. The shift in angle has Jongdae jerking involuntarily and moaning higher.

“There, right there, Junmyeon,” he babbles, one hand falling to grip the sheets beneath them, the other grabbing at Junmyeon’s hair.

Junmyeon thrusts faster until the bedframe creaks and he still doesn’t let up, Jongdae’s cries leading him on. He moves a hand until it finds Jongdae’s on the bed, lacing their fingers together and holding on tight. Their kisses turn heated and messy, moans spilling into each other’s mouths and breath fanning across faces. Jongdae bites gently at Junmyeon’s lower lip and he almost comes right then and there.

“I’m close, Jongdae,” he breathes, and Jongdae whimpers against his lips, nodding. Me too.

With a last burst of strength, Junmyeon fucks into Jongdae fast and steady, untangling their fingers and reaching down to jerk Jongdae in time to his thrusts. Jongdae howls, whole body arching, and grabs at the pillow behind his head with both hands to steady himself. He begins to clench around Junmyeon and the tightness has a familiar feeling building in Junmyeon’s lower body. He rubs calloused fingers against Jongdae’s tip and then Jongdae’s coming with a soundless cry, muscles tensing and abdomen twitching as he comes in spurts against his stomach and chest, the sight going straight to Junmyeon’s cock. Jongdae pants loudly at every convulsion and Junmyeon tries to pull out when he feels himself going over the edge but Jongdae’s legs are locked around his waist and he can’t help but come inside him, hips jerking and moans struggling to escape his throat. Jongdae’s eyes flutter at the feeling.

They take a while to catch their breaths and settle down from the high. Jongdae finally drops his legs and Junmyeon pulls out, mesmerized when his cum starts to trail out of Jongdae in small gushes. Jongdae looks wrecked, and he probably looks the same, though he doesn’t think he’ll ever look quite as good post-sex. As the afterglow wears off and awkwardness starts to set in, Junmyeon hurries from the bed and takes a washcloth from a basin sitting on one of his dressers and dips it in the lukewarm water before gently wiping down Jongdae’s chest. They make eye contact and Jongdae smiles up at him lazily, so Junmyeon pecks his cheek lightly. Junmyeon cleans the rest of Jongdae off as well and hides the cloth in his basket of laundry, hoping the maid washing won’t pay close attention to it.

“You take too long,” Jongdae mumbles tiredly as Junmyeon runs around the room picking up clothes.

Junmyeon laughs and finally joins Jongdae in bed where he’d already crawled under wrinkled covers. For some reason, they don’t kiss. They’re close enough, and now they’re definitely close enough, but there’s still some feeling of uncertainty lingering in the room and neither of them have the energy to try and figure it out. Instead, they move closer, legs tangling beneath sheets, and settle in together as the warmth of the room and quiet breaths lull them to sleep.


｡⊹ ♡ ⊹｡


Clunk.

“Jongdae.”

Thump.

“Jongdae, I know you’re back there.”

“Who is this Jongdae you speak of?” a voice bellowed from behind a bookshelf. “I am the Great Pirate King, Chen!”

Junmyeon’s mouth twitched, threatening to turn into a smile, but he still whined, “Jongdae come on, I have a lot of reading to do.”

Jongdae jumped from behind the bookshelf wearing an eyepatch and waving a wooden sword and knocked Junmyeon’s books off the table.

“Hey!”

“Reading is for boring prisoners.”

Junmyeon crossed his arms. “I don’t want to be a prisoner,” he mumbled.

Jongdae shrugged, lifting his eyepatch so he could look at his friend clearly. “I only have one sword,” he said. “And I called it for life.”

Junmyeon pouted. “I’m not gonna play with you if we don’t do another game.”

“Alright, fine,” Jongdae said, tossing his pirate gear onto the table and pulling Junmyeon from his chair by the hand. “What do you want to play?”

Junmyeon moved his hand so they were linking fingers. “Hmm,” he hummed, looking around as his brain thumbed through all their games of make believe (to which Jongdae always said, “No, Liyin, it is not basically house”). His eyes fell on a book of fables and he said, “What about Royalty?”

“I already am royalty,” Jongdae frowned.

“Well I’m not,” Junmyeon said. “It’ll be fun! We can rescue a princess from a dragon and go on quests and save a village—”

Jongdae knocked his knuckles against Junmyeon’s head. “There are only two of us, dummy. How are we gonna do all that?”

“Use our imaginations,” Junmyeon said, hitting Jongdae’s head in return. “Let’s flip a bronze piece to decide the rolls.”

Jongdae thought about it then nodded. “Okay,” he said.

Jongdae ended up being the brave prince (he was very proud of this) and Junmyeon ended up being both the dragon and the princess. It was quite ridiculous, but they went along with it anyway.

“Hark! I see a tower in the distance!” Jongdae called from his perch on a couch. “…Junmyeon, it’s your turn.”

Junmyeon sighed and stood on top of a table. “Oh no, the ferocious dragon will be back any minute to eat me,” he said in a monotone voice.

“I’ll save you, princess!” Jongdae said, not noticing Junmyeon’s lack of enthusiasm. He jumped from the couch and pretended that the chair pushed in against the table was a mighty vine running along the side of the tower, climbing with all his might. When he reached the top, Junmyeon lunged at him and tackled him against the carpet. “Hey! What are you doing?”

“Roar!” Junmyeon bellowed, and Jongdae snorted at his horrible dragon cry. “This is my princess,” Junmyeon said. “You can’t have her. I shall eat you too.”

They play-fought, tumbling around the floor and knocking a few books down along the way. Junmyeon threw in an occasional “help!” for the princess as he pretended to fly in circles around Jongdae. Finally, Jongdae grabbed his pirate sword and lunged it at Junmyeon, sliding it between Junmyeon’s armpit and his side. Junmyeon made a variety of dying noses as he fell, letting out one last gasp before the dragon was no more.

“I have saved you, princess!” Jongdae called.

Junmyeon scrambled up and kicked the sword away, clinging to Jongdae’s arm. “My hero!” he said, not caring anymore that he was playing the woman’s role. “What would you like as a reward? Land? Gold?”

Jongdae grinned widely. “A kiss,” he said.

Junmyeon wrinkled his nose. “What?” he asked.

“Don’t break character!” Jongdae said in a harsh whisper. “That’s how all these stories go, Junmyeon. That’s what we gotta do.”

Junmyeon still looked uneasy, but it was true that the gallant prince always got a kiss from the fair maiden and he was a stickler for accurate stories. “Okay,” he said, “but just a small one!”

“Duh,” Jongdae said, rolling his eyes.

They faced each other and giggled as soon as they made eye contact. Junmyeon hit Jongdae’s chest to get him to shush and they found their composure before leaning in, hesitating for a few seconds then just going for it. A gust of wind blew through the room when their lips touched and for a moment Jongdae felt lighter than the air around them, then everything went back to normal. He pulled away and saw Junmyeon looking a little dazed as well. There was a strange sensation in his chest that he couldn’t place… All he knew was that it made him want to lean in again, head tilting and lips meeting Junmyeon’s—




Jongdae wakes with a gasp and it takes him a moment to remember where he is and why there’s warmth curled against his back. Junmyeon’s arm is resting loosely against his hip and Jongdae can feel his breath ghosting along his shoulder. Memories of last evening come rushing back, but they are not what are keeping him up now – no, that dream keeps striking him as odd. It had been clearer than any dream Jongdae ever experienced before, and not just the surroundings but the emotions too. Jongdae could feel their childish happiness as much as the texture of the carpet they played on, and the breathlessness from that kiss could have passed as what he’d felt on the night of his birthday, but that’s impossible – they must have been no older than seven and nine in the dream. Something, though, something is familiar. He is on the verge of a discovery, but he can’t quite get it all straight in his head.

He rubs at his eyes and slinks carefully out of bed, not wanting to wake Junmyeon. He winces at the pain in his backside and absently thinks that he needs to cancel his riding lessons later today. He squints around in the dark but can’t find where Junmyeon had put his clothes, so he takes one of Junmyeon’s robes from a hook on the wall, forgoes footwear, and creeps out of the bedroom. He decides to wander around the castle, view from the large windows beautiful when the stars are out. He uses the makeshift moonlight stroll to try and piece together what is starting to feel a bit too real.




Junmyeon wakes not long after Jongdae leaves, loss of body heat unnerving him, even subconsciously. He reaches a hand out and feels Jongdae’s side of the bed already cooling and worries that last night had been too much too soon. The thought had crossed his mind as soon as he led Jongdae to his bedroom, but they’d both been so willing that he couldn’t bring himself to be rational, not when Jongdae kissed him like that, not when Jongdae looked at him like that.

He yawns and sits up in bed, stretching stiff joints and rubbing at his forehead. There is something nagging at the back of his mind right next to possible heartbreak, but he has no idea what it is. Too bothered to go back to sleep now, he decides to go to the one place where he always seems to think best – the library. He pushes himself out of bed and looks for his robe, but he must have misplaced it. He pulls on his trousers and tunic from the day before instead, trying to ignore how they smell slightly like Jongdae, and pads quietly through the castle.

He opens the library doors as softly as possible, some creaking unavoidable, though, and feels around on a small table near the door for a box of matches. When he finds them he strikes one, lighting a nearby lantern and taking it with him as he ventures into the familiar room. Moonlight coming through the windows illuminates the place a good amount, so he sets his lantern on a desk and just stands there for a while, taking in the quiet room with so many stories to tell, so many memories kept securely in these walls.

Memories. That nagging feeling is back again, stronger now. He closes his eyes and tries to think, face scrunching in annoyance, but he can’t seem to grab hold of the fleeting thought.

Suddenly a rush of wind knocks a loosely closed window open, drawing a surprised yelp from Junmyeon. He puts a hand over his chest to calm his heart and faces the glass slowly moving back and forth on its hinges. The brisk night air is too cold for his liking and he is about to go close the window when he hears a fluttering sound that he recognizes as rustling paper. He looks around and sees nothing, then looks up right as a hardened piece of creased parchment lands on his face and causes him to stumble back into the table before drifting calmly to the floor. He picks it up and the first things he notices are the cobwebs.

“Gross,” he mutters, wiping at his face in case any got on him. He turns his head up at the old rickety rafters. “How long have you been up there? Gross.”

He is about to discard the yellowed, cracking paper when he sees writing on it. He cocks his head and places the paper against the table next to his lantern, trying carefully to smooth it out enough to read. The side of it looks torn, from a book perhaps, and it is covered in dust. It unfolds with some effort and Junmyeon nearly knocks over his lantern at the bright red ink beautifully scrawled against the aged page. He can’t stop staring at it and the strand of memory he couldn’t catch before now flies at him at rapid speed, images of make believe and naivety coming back full force. He runs his fingers along the names in front of him. He lets out a breathy laugh and feels so stupid.

“Junmyeon?”

He turns and Jongdae is there, wearing his robe, looking like he just reached an epiphany as well. He sees Jongdae’s eyes fall to the paper on the table, but he is too far away to know what it is. Junmyeon kind of wants to leave it that way. It’s not necessary anymore.

“Jongdae.”

Junmyeon takes the parchment and tears it in half, then in half again, then again until it’s nothing but a hundred flecks of paper. Jongdae looks confused and taken aback, but his expression morphs into a smile when Junmyeon approaches him in confident strides. He pulls Jongdae into a kiss, sweet and gentle, maybe destined, maybe not – now, neither really care.

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