the nightingale {1/2}
Pairings: Luhan/Xiumin
Genre: Prince!AU
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 11, 225
Summary: It creeps up on him. Like the way the spring crawls across the ground, thawing out the winter until pretty pink buds twirl open to peek at the sun. And in that same way, the stable boy fell in love with the Prince.
Minseok becomes a stable boy for the palace when he is just fourteen years old.
The first thing he thinks, is that the Prince is rather short; just a skinny child with soft blond hair and sparkling eyes. His clothes are a little too big, the heavy material of his cloak shifting off his small shoulders, and he wears a gold brooch to clasp the drapes of red together.
Minseok bows low, a jumble of praises rolling off his tongue.
The King berates him for staring too much at the Prince, before sweeping away in an air of regal arrogance. Minseok feels shame burn his cheeks but a cool hand brushes against his face and he looks up, directly into the eyes of the Prince who smiles softly.
“You can call me Lu Han,” the Prince whispers, and Minseok, in a single heartbeat, falls in love with his gentle brown eyes and kind smile.
He doesn’t see much of Lu Han- the Prince spends most of his time indoors, working on perfecting the fine arts of being royalty. Minseok catches him in mere glimpses, a flash of a smile as he walks past, a mop of blond hair scurrying around a corner, small hands dangling over the window ledge of his bedroom.
Minseok works from sunrise to sunset, and it doesn’t take long for him stumble across a secret place of sorts. The small hill is off to the far end of the paddock, with just a single apple tree overlooking the woven roads of villages below. As he sits on the grass, legs tucked up to his chin, he watches the clouds drift on overhead. From so high up, the villages seems lifeless, just a shell of civilisation, and Minseok wonders what it’s like down there; how many thieves are searching for loose coin purses, how many beggars are sprawled across the streets - he wonders if his family is thinking of him.
He is cleaning out the stables one afternoon, raking the stale hay away from the stall. A horse watches him closely before it whinnies and flicks its mane, snorting softly into the air. Minseok chuckles, imitating the noise. The horse huffs and throws him an almost affronted look.
“What are you doing?”
The voice startles Minseok and he glances around to see Lu Han watching him curiously, eyes wide and hands perfectly crossed in front of him.
Minseok looks at his own hands self-consciously, seeing grimy streaks of dirt make their way across the folds of his skin. He curls his fingers against his palms and licks his lips, glancing up nervously.
“I’m cleaning the hay for the horses.”
Lu Han nods, eyes flickering across the pile of neatly bound fresh hay off to the side of the stall.
“You’re very young,” he says, “for a stable boy I mean.”
Minseok nods.
“My father is supposed to work here, but he’s too sick so I took his place.”
A flash of sadness creeps across Lu Han’s eyes.
“Oh, I’m sorry.”
He bites his lip and fiddles with a gold ring on one of his fingers.
“We could be friends you know,” Lu Han says after a beat of silence. Minseok doesn’t even try to hide his snort of disbelief.
“I’m a stable boy,” he says pointedly and Lu Han just smiles.
“So?”
Minseok is a little taken-aback. It’s rather obvious, he thinks, why that could never work. And yet Lu Han seems genuinely curious as to its impossibility. His slender fingers curl around the wood of the stable gate delicately, as though worried it will taint him.
“It’s not allowed,” Minseok finally replies, and Lu Han shrugs. His eyes flash up, holding Minseok’s gaze.
“I was never one to play by the rules anyway,” he says quietly, and Minseok feels the ground tilt beneath him as he falls deeper into those brown irises, losing himself within the depths of mystery that they hold. Lu Han’s hands fall away from the fence to curl at his side.
“I suppose I should get back inside,” he says, “Father will wonder where I’ve run off to.”
He sends Minseok a smile and a small nod of acknowledgement before he disappears in a twirl of velvet and the scent of jasmine, with the promise of his return just a whisper on the breeze.
Lu Han begins to appear every so often. He spends time talking to Minseok as he works, making light conversation, small jokes and teasing him to no end. They fall into an easy friendship, and Minseok realises that beneath it all, beneath the perfect slope of his nose, the porcelain cheeks, the expensive drapes of cloth; Lu Han is just another boy.
When darkness falls, sometimes Minseok looks up at the palace wall, up at the tower of shadowed bricks looming over him in a condescending structure of wealth and power. He can see the candles flickering inside, casting flashes of light across the windows, interrupted by the silhouettes of people walking past. He sees Lu Han sometimes, cheek pressed against the glass of his bedroom as his eyes fall out on the distant lands that surround the palace. Lu Han never notices Minseok, but Minseok can’t help but notice him - he can’t help but notice the sadness that swirls inside his eyes.
In an odd way, he pities Lu Han.
Lu Han is like a captive Nightingale, a beautiful thing which everyone comes to admire and adore. But without the ability to stretch his wings, he sings sadly on the floor of his cage.
Minseok is cleaning up the last of the stalls, murmuring sweet words to his favourite horse as she nuzzles into his neck, exhaling hotly against his skin. Minseok laughs and gently strokes her nose, flicking off a loose bit of chaff that has become caught in her mane.
A shadow falls over him, blocking out the moonlight from behind. Minseok instinctively tenses, arms raising in a defensive response, before he turns to see the sparkling eyes beneath the darkness of the hooded cloak, the slim fingers clasped together and the soft cheeks illuminated by the light of the moon.
He opens his mouth to speak, but Lu Han is too quick, halting his words with the palm of his hand pressed against Minseok’s mouth. When Minseok inhales, he can smell jasmine flowers and the spice of the perfume Lu Han’s mother had bought back from her travels.
“I want to go away somewhere, just for tonight,” Lu Han whispers, excitement rendering him breathless. He leans close and the hood of his cloak slips off a little, revealing more of his features in the light. A strand of his hair is displaced and falls across his eyes.
“I don’t plan on being executed for treason, just because the Prince is restless and can’t sleep,” Minseok replies, although his voice is muffled by Lu Han’s palm and his lips move a little sluggishly, trapped against the skin. Lu Han jerks his hand away as though scalded and wipes it against his tunic, and even in the moonlight, Minseok can make out the pale flush that works its way across his cheeks.
“Minseok please,” he asks, and his voice is infused with desire - need, even - and Minseok feels his resolve crumble immediately.
After a beat, he nods, “I know of a nice place.”
“Show me,” Lu Han replies, before he reaches down and links their fingers together, hands warm against each other, defying the bitter cold of the night air.
And so they end up on the hill with the small apple tree; Minseok, with his legs crossed, and Lu Han lying beside him, arms outstretched and gaze drawn to the stars above. Like this, it’s almost as though the world beneath them doesn’t exist, and for a single blip in time, they are just two boys beneath a star studded sky. Lu Han exhales, and Minseok’s eyes flicker over to him, a smile gracing his lips when he notes Lu Han’s own mouth is curved in contentment.
“Thank you,” Lu Han whispers, and his words are carried by the breeze, whistling through the air in a blissful sigh.
He reaches over and squeezes Minseok’s hand and Minseok thinks that maybe everything will be okay.
It creeps up on him. Like the way the spring crawls across the ground, thawing out the winter until pretty pink buds twirl open to peek at the sun. It’s slow and hides beneath the surface; an occasional leap of the heart, a touch that warms his skin. And Minseok doesn’t realise it until it’s too late and he’s splayed out on the hill one afternoon with Lu Han beside him, their fingers gently touching as blades of grass tickle the backs of their hands. Lu Han looks at him, eyes crinkling in the sunlight, a smile gracing his lips as he laughs, and Minseok feels it. The sounds around them lull into a muted array of noise and all Minseok can hear is the steady thud of his heartbeat and the air he sucks into his lungs with a deep inhale.
Terror strikes him to his very core.
“What’s wrong?” Lu Han asks softly, and he rolls onto his stomach, propped up by bony elbows. His head tilts curiously, and Minseok can see the clouds reflected in the wide eyes before him.
He swallows.
“Nothing,” he replies evenly, as his mind screams in panic and guilt wraps its cold fingers around his throat and silently suffocates him.
(Except I think I love you.)
To name the feeling is to acknowledge its existence. It’s to recognise that something hot and heavy swirls low inside him, sending jolts of nervousness firing through his veins when Lu Han glances at him. And he knows that the cause of the sickness is Lu Han - Lu Han with his harsh laugh and wide smile, Lu Han with his kind words interspersed amidst friendly teasing, Lu Han with his perfect eyes and hair and voice and everything.
Minseok’s dreams are filled with soft hands and gentle lips pressing against his skin, over and over, and the sound of his name murmured against his neck, spoken in a voice he knows only too well.
A year passes, and then two.
He finds it difficult sometimes, to look Lu Han in the eye. To look at him and not to think about any of it, to ignore the painful beat of his heart and the stifling urge to move closer, just move a little closer, just reach out - but no, he knows his boundaries, and this is a sure limit set in cruel barbed fencing.
Lu Han takes his hand one afternoon, flushed with excitement, an exhilarated giggle bubbling from his throat. He presses a finger against Minseok’s lips and pulls him along, ignoring Minseok’s sharp sound of protest when he drags him into the palace walls. They run down the long corridors, footsteps echoing painfully loudly. The servants offer them raised eyebrows, but none seem to want to stop the Prince and whatever game he is playing with the stable boy.
Lu Han drags him into a room and closes the door behind them both, letting out a loud laugh before collapsing against the wall, mirth prickling tears at the corner of his eyes.
Minseok doesn’t make a sound, his eyes round as he takes in what he assumes to be Lu Han’s room - the enormous bed with organza drapes across it, the glass window overlooking the gardens, the overflowing shelves of books. Lu Han’s laughter fades, but it still lingers as a ghost in the smile across his lips.
“This is your room?” Minseok breathes, and Lu Han nods, walking to stand beside him. He nudges Minseok’s arm with an elbow and ducks his head.
“It’s not that amazing,” he says, somewhat shyly. Minseok begs to disagree.
He walks over to the bookshelf and begins to trace the golden characters etched onto the leather spines, fingers following the dips and curves of each word. He never learnt how to read, and it’s something he regrets greatly.
“You can come here whenever you want you know,” Lu Han says, and Minseok looks over at him in surprise, but Lu Han’s eyes are on the floor.
“Really?”
“Of course, I don’t mind. You might have to try and avoid my parents though. I don’t know if they would be happy.” He throws an apologetic glance at Minseok, but Minseok doesn’t really care. He feels his lips quirk into a lopsided smile and he swallows.
“Thanks Lu Han,” he says softly, and Lu Han grins.
“What are friends for?” he replies.
Minseok likes that word - he likes being Lu Han’s friend.
It quickly becomes a habit for Minseok to sneak into Lu Han’s room in the late afternoon, when the rest of the palace is too busy to notice the intrusion. They sit by the window, as the sun droops behind the horizon and casts out its final rays of light. Lu Han curls his legs up beneath him, his pants catching in the quilt to reveal thin, pale, legs. Minseok sits beside him, legs crossed and elbows resting on his knees. Occasionally Lu Han likes to amuse himself by tracing patterns into Minseok’s hand, or playing with his hair, and other times they sit silently, shoulders pressed together and the skin of their arms touching in the kind of intimate way that close friends enjoy. They create their own world on these afternoons, a world that only lasts for a few hours at most; somewhere where social norms fade into oblivion and it’s comfortable, just the two of them.
Their fourth year together brings a whirlwind of activity.
Lu Han is whisked away and there are weeks where Minseok barely even sees him with only the exception of a passing smile. Minseok knows enough, he has heard the palace maids mention Lu Han’s coming of age ceremony at the end of the year. He knows what is expected of such a thing.
But Minseok doesn’t give himself time to think about it - he works twice as hard, filling his free time with extra chores, distracting himself with the horses and his job and besides, he rationalises to himself, that’s what he is there for anyway.
They manage to find a time between Lu Han’s schedules one evening, and Minseok sneaks into Lu Han’s room. It’s just like before, but when he looks at Lu Han now, he sees someone so much older, someone who bears the weight of decisions and expectations. Unhappiness wrinkles in the slight downwards pull of his lips.
“I don’t want to get married,” Lu Han says, feet curled up beneath him as he sits on his bed. His robes are thrown around him, a curve of beautiful silk against his ankles as his fingers occupy themselves with pulling gently at a stray piece of cotton protruding from his sheet.
“You have to,” Minseok says with certainty, and he hopes the strength of his voice is able to persuade Lu Han. It has always been this way; the prince must choose a bride before he comes of age.
Lu Han just looks at him with a frown and Minseok hates the expression on him. Lu Han should always be happy, he thinks silently.
“They’re all ugly!” Lu Han says, and it’s childish, followed immediately by a pout and a slight flush of embarrassment. Minseok laughs and settles down beside him, legs dangling over the edge of the bed.
“Don’t be stupid,” he says quietly, “I’m sure you’ll find a pretty girl to marry.”
Lu Han huffs, a sigh of sound that escapes from between his pursed lips. His eyes flicker over towards Minseok, and he looks almost confused; a dash of uncertainty flashing across his pupils. The wrinkles in his forehead smooth, but his mouth still folds downwards, displeasure evident. He parts his lips as though to say something, and then closes his mouth again, but not before another sigh escapes him.
“What is it?” Minseok asks. Something claws at his heart; fear and unease.
“I don’t want a pretty girl,” Lu Han says almost wistfully, and his words are just a breath in the air, barely audible above the symphony of sound Minseok’s heartbeat is creating.
Lu Han leans forward slowly, and his eyes flutter shut, eyelashes curved against the slight flush of his cheeks. Their noses brush, and Lu Han pulls back a little, as though unsure, before he pushes forward again, still tentative. He exhales and Minseok can feel the warmth of his breath fan across his mouth as their noses touch for a second time, and everything inside Minseok shuts down completely.
Lu Han ducks his head forward to bridge the remaining distance between them, pressing their lips together softly. The pressure is barely there, and Minseok doesn’t move, eyes wide and heartbeat throwing itself painfully against his ribcage.
But then Lu Han’s hand creeps across the bed and reaches up to thumb at Minseok’s cheek and Minseok relaxes immediately into the touch, his eyes falling shut as Lu Han deepens the kiss. It’s not perfect, a little awkward in their position, but Minseok has never felt more elated in his life.
Until he remembers who Lu Han is.
“No!” he says, pushing Lu Han away harshly, seeing the latter fall back in alarm, eyes comically wide. His lips burn, but Minseok ignores the desire to lick them.
Minseok looks to the ground, to the beaded lamp on the table, to the curtain falling across the windowsill; anywhere but Lu Han. Out of the corner of his eye though, he can’t miss the way Lu Han’s figure stiffens, and the fingers that curl tight into the bed sheets.
“Lu Han, you can’t,” Minseok says quietly. Lu Han doesn’t say anything for a few minutes so Minseok chances a glance at him and immediately wishes he hadn’t.
The Prince is staring down, hopeless tears trickling across his pale cheeks.
Minseok takes a shaky breath.
“Lu Han I’m sorry but-“
“Go,” Lu Han says, and his terse voice is interrupted by a sniffle. “Just go.”
Minseok wants to stay. He wants to pull Lu Han into his arms and hug him and kiss him and whisper about how wonderful he is. But he doesn’t.
He slowly slips off the bed and leaves the room, hoping he hasn’t just left a friendship behind him too.
Over the next few weeks, Minseok sees many visitors come to the palace - young girls who move with grace over the marble stairs as they are swept inside, a dazzling smile across pink lips and a spark of desperation in their eyes. Minseok watches them go, counting them, and he feels a piece of his heart shatter with each new pretty face that emerges from a carriage.
He goes to the hill more often now, because he can forget about everything there. All of his worries tumble away with the breeze and he lets his eyes fall shut as the sun beats down on him from above, caressing him in warm rays of light. He pretends Lu Han is lying beside him, their arms pressed together. He hears Lu Han’s laugh, loud in the silence and sees him smile, the sun catching in his eyelashes. Lu Han’s fingers play with his hair and he leans forward, kissing Minseok softly.
And in his dreams, Minseok kisses him back.
Minseok finds Lu Han by the stables one morning, back facing him, and eyes turned out towards the rising sun. There is still dew on the grass and it shines in the dull light, the silent dawn encompassing the landscape.
“I’m getting married in two months,” he says, without turning around.
Minseok swallows.
“That’s good,” he replies quietly. They both know he doesn’t mean it.
Lu Han scoffs a laugh and now he turns, but Minseok almost wishes he hadn’t. Lu Han looks exhausted, dark purple bags creeping beneath his eyes, lines etched into his face. But his eyes are what terrifies Minseok the most - they are completely dull.
“I suppose,” Lu Han says. He walks over until he stands just a breath away, shivering in the crisp air. His arms are bare, and Minseok can see goosebumps dot across his skin. He leans forward slowly, pressing his lips against Minseok’s cheek.
He doesn’t say anything more, he just walks away, crossing his arms over his chest to warm himself, head bowed as he returns to the castle. Minseok watches him go, and the words he wants to say die in his throat, constricted by fear and the unknown.
Love, he thinks, is a cruel thorn masked by a beautiful rose.
The winter frost fades and Spring whispers life into the curled buds around the gardens. The palace hums with activity as everyone prepares for the wedding. Minseok sees her a few times - the girl Lu Han has chosen to be his bride. She is beautiful, a dainty little thing with gorgeous long hair that falls in curls around her shoulders. But Minseok has to look away after a few moments, to inhale deep and blink away the tears that prickle at the corner or his eyes. He needs to learn to tame the jealous beast that unfurls in a rage of fire inside him when he looks at her.
He needs to learn his place.
It’s the night before the wedding and Minseok sits on the grass beside the palace walls. He leans his head back against the bricks, eyes closed, with one leg throw out in front of him and the other bent at the knee. It’s a warm enough night for him to forgo his shoes and he feels the blades of grass tickle his bare toes.
A shadow falls across him and he blinks one eye open, before both fly wide in alarm.
Lu Han drops to his knees before Minseok, face flushed and gaze frenzied.
“I can’t do it Minseok,” he says, and his voice trembles. He reaches a hand out, fingers curling around Minseok’s knee. Minseok just looks at him, unsure of what to say. His own hand moves forward, slipping beneath Lu Han’s and finding the spaces between his knuckles, squeezing gently.
“It’s okay.”
Lu Han shakes his head, and Minseok notices the tears that threaten to spill from his eyes. One manages to escape over the bottom of his eyelid and it trickles down his cheek, but Minseok catches it with a thumb, brushing it away.
Lu Han lets out an uneven breath, moving closer. His eyes find Minseok’s, searching deep.
“I don’t think it will ever be okay,” he says, before he closes the gap between them and kisses Minseok on the mouth. Minseok doesn’t fight it this time, he just lets it be. He kisses Lu Han back, softly, gently, as though terrified the prince will break beneath his touch. Lu Han’s tears fall rapidly now, and Minseok can taste them on his lips, the salt seeping into their mouths and getting lost between their tongues. Lu Han pushes Minseok back against the wall, straddling him in the grass, one arm braced against the brick wall behind him, and the other, trapped by his side, their fingers still curled together.
Lu Han pulls away after placing a few more kisses against Minseok’s lips, and he lets his head fall against Minseok’s shoulder. He is trembling and Minseok pulls him close, arms wrapping tight around his small frame.
“I’m sorry,” he says, because it’s the only thing he can say.
Minseok hears that the wedding is beautiful.
She is described as the most beautiful bride the nation has ever seen, with a train that flowed far behind her and a smile as radiant as the sun. He is described as perfectly handsome, with a red cape that caught around his ankles and a flush of happiness across his cheeks. They are described as a couple that is entirely, and irrevocably, in love.
But Lu Han finds Minseok later that night, and pulls him into the shadow of a tree, trapping him against the rough bark of its trunk. He trails kisses down Minseok’s neck and his fingers map out Minseok’s every inch, slipping beneath his tunic and trailing fire across his skin.
“You shouldn’t,” Minseok whispers, but it is caught in Lu Han’s mouth, trapped between them in a desperate hunger. Lu Han pulls Minseok’s bottom lip between his teeth and bites softly, before kissing him again and again, over and over, until they are both exhausted and out of breath and the only thing keeping Minseok standing is the tree pressed against his back.
He cups Lu Han’s cheek in his palm and kisses him lightly just beside his mouth.
“You need to go to your wife,” he says.
The sentence rings out, far too loud against a backdrop of secrecy and guilt. Lu Han pulls back, although a hand lingers against Minseok’s chest, fingers curling in a little.
“I don’t want to,” Lu Han says, his head bowed. He looks so small and alone like this, illuminated by just the moon in the dark, and Minseok kisses him again, long and slow. He pulls away, just a breath apart, enough to feel the warmth of Lu Han’s exhale against his own lips.
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he says.
The tiniest hint of a smile tweaks Lu Han’s lips before Lu Han disappears into the night, hurrying back to the palace.
Minseok collapses back against the tree, confusion sighing from his lips as he squeezes his eyes shut and prays for a better tomorrow.
>>>
Genre: Prince!AU
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 11, 225
Summary: It creeps up on him. Like the way the spring crawls across the ground, thawing out the winter until pretty pink buds twirl open to peek at the sun. And in that same way, the stable boy fell in love with the Prince.
Minseok becomes a stable boy for the palace when he is just fourteen years old.
The first thing he thinks, is that the Prince is rather short; just a skinny child with soft blond hair and sparkling eyes. His clothes are a little too big, the heavy material of his cloak shifting off his small shoulders, and he wears a gold brooch to clasp the drapes of red together.
Minseok bows low, a jumble of praises rolling off his tongue.
The King berates him for staring too much at the Prince, before sweeping away in an air of regal arrogance. Minseok feels shame burn his cheeks but a cool hand brushes against his face and he looks up, directly into the eyes of the Prince who smiles softly.
“You can call me Lu Han,” the Prince whispers, and Minseok, in a single heartbeat, falls in love with his gentle brown eyes and kind smile.
He doesn’t see much of Lu Han- the Prince spends most of his time indoors, working on perfecting the fine arts of being royalty. Minseok catches him in mere glimpses, a flash of a smile as he walks past, a mop of blond hair scurrying around a corner, small hands dangling over the window ledge of his bedroom.
Minseok works from sunrise to sunset, and it doesn’t take long for him stumble across a secret place of sorts. The small hill is off to the far end of the paddock, with just a single apple tree overlooking the woven roads of villages below. As he sits on the grass, legs tucked up to his chin, he watches the clouds drift on overhead. From so high up, the villages seems lifeless, just a shell of civilisation, and Minseok wonders what it’s like down there; how many thieves are searching for loose coin purses, how many beggars are sprawled across the streets - he wonders if his family is thinking of him.
He is cleaning out the stables one afternoon, raking the stale hay away from the stall. A horse watches him closely before it whinnies and flicks its mane, snorting softly into the air. Minseok chuckles, imitating the noise. The horse huffs and throws him an almost affronted look.
“What are you doing?”
The voice startles Minseok and he glances around to see Lu Han watching him curiously, eyes wide and hands perfectly crossed in front of him.
Minseok looks at his own hands self-consciously, seeing grimy streaks of dirt make their way across the folds of his skin. He curls his fingers against his palms and licks his lips, glancing up nervously.
“I’m cleaning the hay for the horses.”
Lu Han nods, eyes flickering across the pile of neatly bound fresh hay off to the side of the stall.
“You’re very young,” he says, “for a stable boy I mean.”
Minseok nods.
“My father is supposed to work here, but he’s too sick so I took his place.”
A flash of sadness creeps across Lu Han’s eyes.
“Oh, I’m sorry.”
He bites his lip and fiddles with a gold ring on one of his fingers.
“We could be friends you know,” Lu Han says after a beat of silence. Minseok doesn’t even try to hide his snort of disbelief.
“I’m a stable boy,” he says pointedly and Lu Han just smiles.
“So?”
Minseok is a little taken-aback. It’s rather obvious, he thinks, why that could never work. And yet Lu Han seems genuinely curious as to its impossibility. His slender fingers curl around the wood of the stable gate delicately, as though worried it will taint him.
“It’s not allowed,” Minseok finally replies, and Lu Han shrugs. His eyes flash up, holding Minseok’s gaze.
“I was never one to play by the rules anyway,” he says quietly, and Minseok feels the ground tilt beneath him as he falls deeper into those brown irises, losing himself within the depths of mystery that they hold. Lu Han’s hands fall away from the fence to curl at his side.
“I suppose I should get back inside,” he says, “Father will wonder where I’ve run off to.”
He sends Minseok a smile and a small nod of acknowledgement before he disappears in a twirl of velvet and the scent of jasmine, with the promise of his return just a whisper on the breeze.
Lu Han begins to appear every so often. He spends time talking to Minseok as he works, making light conversation, small jokes and teasing him to no end. They fall into an easy friendship, and Minseok realises that beneath it all, beneath the perfect slope of his nose, the porcelain cheeks, the expensive drapes of cloth; Lu Han is just another boy.
When darkness falls, sometimes Minseok looks up at the palace wall, up at the tower of shadowed bricks looming over him in a condescending structure of wealth and power. He can see the candles flickering inside, casting flashes of light across the windows, interrupted by the silhouettes of people walking past. He sees Lu Han sometimes, cheek pressed against the glass of his bedroom as his eyes fall out on the distant lands that surround the palace. Lu Han never notices Minseok, but Minseok can’t help but notice him - he can’t help but notice the sadness that swirls inside his eyes.
In an odd way, he pities Lu Han.
Lu Han is like a captive Nightingale, a beautiful thing which everyone comes to admire and adore. But without the ability to stretch his wings, he sings sadly on the floor of his cage.
Minseok is cleaning up the last of the stalls, murmuring sweet words to his favourite horse as she nuzzles into his neck, exhaling hotly against his skin. Minseok laughs and gently strokes her nose, flicking off a loose bit of chaff that has become caught in her mane.
A shadow falls over him, blocking out the moonlight from behind. Minseok instinctively tenses, arms raising in a defensive response, before he turns to see the sparkling eyes beneath the darkness of the hooded cloak, the slim fingers clasped together and the soft cheeks illuminated by the light of the moon.
He opens his mouth to speak, but Lu Han is too quick, halting his words with the palm of his hand pressed against Minseok’s mouth. When Minseok inhales, he can smell jasmine flowers and the spice of the perfume Lu Han’s mother had bought back from her travels.
“I want to go away somewhere, just for tonight,” Lu Han whispers, excitement rendering him breathless. He leans close and the hood of his cloak slips off a little, revealing more of his features in the light. A strand of his hair is displaced and falls across his eyes.
“I don’t plan on being executed for treason, just because the Prince is restless and can’t sleep,” Minseok replies, although his voice is muffled by Lu Han’s palm and his lips move a little sluggishly, trapped against the skin. Lu Han jerks his hand away as though scalded and wipes it against his tunic, and even in the moonlight, Minseok can make out the pale flush that works its way across his cheeks.
“Minseok please,” he asks, and his voice is infused with desire - need, even - and Minseok feels his resolve crumble immediately.
After a beat, he nods, “I know of a nice place.”
“Show me,” Lu Han replies, before he reaches down and links their fingers together, hands warm against each other, defying the bitter cold of the night air.
And so they end up on the hill with the small apple tree; Minseok, with his legs crossed, and Lu Han lying beside him, arms outstretched and gaze drawn to the stars above. Like this, it’s almost as though the world beneath them doesn’t exist, and for a single blip in time, they are just two boys beneath a star studded sky. Lu Han exhales, and Minseok’s eyes flicker over to him, a smile gracing his lips when he notes Lu Han’s own mouth is curved in contentment.
“Thank you,” Lu Han whispers, and his words are carried by the breeze, whistling through the air in a blissful sigh.
He reaches over and squeezes Minseok’s hand and Minseok thinks that maybe everything will be okay.
It creeps up on him. Like the way the spring crawls across the ground, thawing out the winter until pretty pink buds twirl open to peek at the sun. It’s slow and hides beneath the surface; an occasional leap of the heart, a touch that warms his skin. And Minseok doesn’t realise it until it’s too late and he’s splayed out on the hill one afternoon with Lu Han beside him, their fingers gently touching as blades of grass tickle the backs of their hands. Lu Han looks at him, eyes crinkling in the sunlight, a smile gracing his lips as he laughs, and Minseok feels it. The sounds around them lull into a muted array of noise and all Minseok can hear is the steady thud of his heartbeat and the air he sucks into his lungs with a deep inhale.
Terror strikes him to his very core.
“What’s wrong?” Lu Han asks softly, and he rolls onto his stomach, propped up by bony elbows. His head tilts curiously, and Minseok can see the clouds reflected in the wide eyes before him.
He swallows.
“Nothing,” he replies evenly, as his mind screams in panic and guilt wraps its cold fingers around his throat and silently suffocates him.
(Except I think I love you.)
To name the feeling is to acknowledge its existence. It’s to recognise that something hot and heavy swirls low inside him, sending jolts of nervousness firing through his veins when Lu Han glances at him. And he knows that the cause of the sickness is Lu Han - Lu Han with his harsh laugh and wide smile, Lu Han with his kind words interspersed amidst friendly teasing, Lu Han with his perfect eyes and hair and voice and everything.
Minseok’s dreams are filled with soft hands and gentle lips pressing against his skin, over and over, and the sound of his name murmured against his neck, spoken in a voice he knows only too well.
A year passes, and then two.
He finds it difficult sometimes, to look Lu Han in the eye. To look at him and not to think about any of it, to ignore the painful beat of his heart and the stifling urge to move closer, just move a little closer, just reach out - but no, he knows his boundaries, and this is a sure limit set in cruel barbed fencing.
Lu Han takes his hand one afternoon, flushed with excitement, an exhilarated giggle bubbling from his throat. He presses a finger against Minseok’s lips and pulls him along, ignoring Minseok’s sharp sound of protest when he drags him into the palace walls. They run down the long corridors, footsteps echoing painfully loudly. The servants offer them raised eyebrows, but none seem to want to stop the Prince and whatever game he is playing with the stable boy.
Lu Han drags him into a room and closes the door behind them both, letting out a loud laugh before collapsing against the wall, mirth prickling tears at the corner of his eyes.
Minseok doesn’t make a sound, his eyes round as he takes in what he assumes to be Lu Han’s room - the enormous bed with organza drapes across it, the glass window overlooking the gardens, the overflowing shelves of books. Lu Han’s laughter fades, but it still lingers as a ghost in the smile across his lips.
“This is your room?” Minseok breathes, and Lu Han nods, walking to stand beside him. He nudges Minseok’s arm with an elbow and ducks his head.
“It’s not that amazing,” he says, somewhat shyly. Minseok begs to disagree.
He walks over to the bookshelf and begins to trace the golden characters etched onto the leather spines, fingers following the dips and curves of each word. He never learnt how to read, and it’s something he regrets greatly.
“You can come here whenever you want you know,” Lu Han says, and Minseok looks over at him in surprise, but Lu Han’s eyes are on the floor.
“Really?”
“Of course, I don’t mind. You might have to try and avoid my parents though. I don’t know if they would be happy.” He throws an apologetic glance at Minseok, but Minseok doesn’t really care. He feels his lips quirk into a lopsided smile and he swallows.
“Thanks Lu Han,” he says softly, and Lu Han grins.
“What are friends for?” he replies.
Minseok likes that word - he likes being Lu Han’s friend.
It quickly becomes a habit for Minseok to sneak into Lu Han’s room in the late afternoon, when the rest of the palace is too busy to notice the intrusion. They sit by the window, as the sun droops behind the horizon and casts out its final rays of light. Lu Han curls his legs up beneath him, his pants catching in the quilt to reveal thin, pale, legs. Minseok sits beside him, legs crossed and elbows resting on his knees. Occasionally Lu Han likes to amuse himself by tracing patterns into Minseok’s hand, or playing with his hair, and other times they sit silently, shoulders pressed together and the skin of their arms touching in the kind of intimate way that close friends enjoy. They create their own world on these afternoons, a world that only lasts for a few hours at most; somewhere where social norms fade into oblivion and it’s comfortable, just the two of them.
Their fourth year together brings a whirlwind of activity.
Lu Han is whisked away and there are weeks where Minseok barely even sees him with only the exception of a passing smile. Minseok knows enough, he has heard the palace maids mention Lu Han’s coming of age ceremony at the end of the year. He knows what is expected of such a thing.
But Minseok doesn’t give himself time to think about it - he works twice as hard, filling his free time with extra chores, distracting himself with the horses and his job and besides, he rationalises to himself, that’s what he is there for anyway.
They manage to find a time between Lu Han’s schedules one evening, and Minseok sneaks into Lu Han’s room. It’s just like before, but when he looks at Lu Han now, he sees someone so much older, someone who bears the weight of decisions and expectations. Unhappiness wrinkles in the slight downwards pull of his lips.
“I don’t want to get married,” Lu Han says, feet curled up beneath him as he sits on his bed. His robes are thrown around him, a curve of beautiful silk against his ankles as his fingers occupy themselves with pulling gently at a stray piece of cotton protruding from his sheet.
“You have to,” Minseok says with certainty, and he hopes the strength of his voice is able to persuade Lu Han. It has always been this way; the prince must choose a bride before he comes of age.
Lu Han just looks at him with a frown and Minseok hates the expression on him. Lu Han should always be happy, he thinks silently.
“They’re all ugly!” Lu Han says, and it’s childish, followed immediately by a pout and a slight flush of embarrassment. Minseok laughs and settles down beside him, legs dangling over the edge of the bed.
“Don’t be stupid,” he says quietly, “I’m sure you’ll find a pretty girl to marry.”
Lu Han huffs, a sigh of sound that escapes from between his pursed lips. His eyes flicker over towards Minseok, and he looks almost confused; a dash of uncertainty flashing across his pupils. The wrinkles in his forehead smooth, but his mouth still folds downwards, displeasure evident. He parts his lips as though to say something, and then closes his mouth again, but not before another sigh escapes him.
“What is it?” Minseok asks. Something claws at his heart; fear and unease.
“I don’t want a pretty girl,” Lu Han says almost wistfully, and his words are just a breath in the air, barely audible above the symphony of sound Minseok’s heartbeat is creating.
Lu Han leans forward slowly, and his eyes flutter shut, eyelashes curved against the slight flush of his cheeks. Their noses brush, and Lu Han pulls back a little, as though unsure, before he pushes forward again, still tentative. He exhales and Minseok can feel the warmth of his breath fan across his mouth as their noses touch for a second time, and everything inside Minseok shuts down completely.
Lu Han ducks his head forward to bridge the remaining distance between them, pressing their lips together softly. The pressure is barely there, and Minseok doesn’t move, eyes wide and heartbeat throwing itself painfully against his ribcage.
But then Lu Han’s hand creeps across the bed and reaches up to thumb at Minseok’s cheek and Minseok relaxes immediately into the touch, his eyes falling shut as Lu Han deepens the kiss. It’s not perfect, a little awkward in their position, but Minseok has never felt more elated in his life.
Until he remembers who Lu Han is.
“No!” he says, pushing Lu Han away harshly, seeing the latter fall back in alarm, eyes comically wide. His lips burn, but Minseok ignores the desire to lick them.
Minseok looks to the ground, to the beaded lamp on the table, to the curtain falling across the windowsill; anywhere but Lu Han. Out of the corner of his eye though, he can’t miss the way Lu Han’s figure stiffens, and the fingers that curl tight into the bed sheets.
“Lu Han, you can’t,” Minseok says quietly. Lu Han doesn’t say anything for a few minutes so Minseok chances a glance at him and immediately wishes he hadn’t.
The Prince is staring down, hopeless tears trickling across his pale cheeks.
Minseok takes a shaky breath.
“Lu Han I’m sorry but-“
“Go,” Lu Han says, and his terse voice is interrupted by a sniffle. “Just go.”
Minseok wants to stay. He wants to pull Lu Han into his arms and hug him and kiss him and whisper about how wonderful he is. But he doesn’t.
He slowly slips off the bed and leaves the room, hoping he hasn’t just left a friendship behind him too.
Over the next few weeks, Minseok sees many visitors come to the palace - young girls who move with grace over the marble stairs as they are swept inside, a dazzling smile across pink lips and a spark of desperation in their eyes. Minseok watches them go, counting them, and he feels a piece of his heart shatter with each new pretty face that emerges from a carriage.
He goes to the hill more often now, because he can forget about everything there. All of his worries tumble away with the breeze and he lets his eyes fall shut as the sun beats down on him from above, caressing him in warm rays of light. He pretends Lu Han is lying beside him, their arms pressed together. He hears Lu Han’s laugh, loud in the silence and sees him smile, the sun catching in his eyelashes. Lu Han’s fingers play with his hair and he leans forward, kissing Minseok softly.
And in his dreams, Minseok kisses him back.
Minseok finds Lu Han by the stables one morning, back facing him, and eyes turned out towards the rising sun. There is still dew on the grass and it shines in the dull light, the silent dawn encompassing the landscape.
“I’m getting married in two months,” he says, without turning around.
Minseok swallows.
“That’s good,” he replies quietly. They both know he doesn’t mean it.
Lu Han scoffs a laugh and now he turns, but Minseok almost wishes he hadn’t. Lu Han looks exhausted, dark purple bags creeping beneath his eyes, lines etched into his face. But his eyes are what terrifies Minseok the most - they are completely dull.
“I suppose,” Lu Han says. He walks over until he stands just a breath away, shivering in the crisp air. His arms are bare, and Minseok can see goosebumps dot across his skin. He leans forward slowly, pressing his lips against Minseok’s cheek.
He doesn’t say anything more, he just walks away, crossing his arms over his chest to warm himself, head bowed as he returns to the castle. Minseok watches him go, and the words he wants to say die in his throat, constricted by fear and the unknown.
Love, he thinks, is a cruel thorn masked by a beautiful rose.
The winter frost fades and Spring whispers life into the curled buds around the gardens. The palace hums with activity as everyone prepares for the wedding. Minseok sees her a few times - the girl Lu Han has chosen to be his bride. She is beautiful, a dainty little thing with gorgeous long hair that falls in curls around her shoulders. But Minseok has to look away after a few moments, to inhale deep and blink away the tears that prickle at the corner or his eyes. He needs to learn to tame the jealous beast that unfurls in a rage of fire inside him when he looks at her.
He needs to learn his place.
It’s the night before the wedding and Minseok sits on the grass beside the palace walls. He leans his head back against the bricks, eyes closed, with one leg throw out in front of him and the other bent at the knee. It’s a warm enough night for him to forgo his shoes and he feels the blades of grass tickle his bare toes.
A shadow falls across him and he blinks one eye open, before both fly wide in alarm.
Lu Han drops to his knees before Minseok, face flushed and gaze frenzied.
“I can’t do it Minseok,” he says, and his voice trembles. He reaches a hand out, fingers curling around Minseok’s knee. Minseok just looks at him, unsure of what to say. His own hand moves forward, slipping beneath Lu Han’s and finding the spaces between his knuckles, squeezing gently.
“It’s okay.”
Lu Han shakes his head, and Minseok notices the tears that threaten to spill from his eyes. One manages to escape over the bottom of his eyelid and it trickles down his cheek, but Minseok catches it with a thumb, brushing it away.
Lu Han lets out an uneven breath, moving closer. His eyes find Minseok’s, searching deep.
“I don’t think it will ever be okay,” he says, before he closes the gap between them and kisses Minseok on the mouth. Minseok doesn’t fight it this time, he just lets it be. He kisses Lu Han back, softly, gently, as though terrified the prince will break beneath his touch. Lu Han’s tears fall rapidly now, and Minseok can taste them on his lips, the salt seeping into their mouths and getting lost between their tongues. Lu Han pushes Minseok back against the wall, straddling him in the grass, one arm braced against the brick wall behind him, and the other, trapped by his side, their fingers still curled together.
Lu Han pulls away after placing a few more kisses against Minseok’s lips, and he lets his head fall against Minseok’s shoulder. He is trembling and Minseok pulls him close, arms wrapping tight around his small frame.
“I’m sorry,” he says, because it’s the only thing he can say.
Minseok hears that the wedding is beautiful.
She is described as the most beautiful bride the nation has ever seen, with a train that flowed far behind her and a smile as radiant as the sun. He is described as perfectly handsome, with a red cape that caught around his ankles and a flush of happiness across his cheeks. They are described as a couple that is entirely, and irrevocably, in love.
But Lu Han finds Minseok later that night, and pulls him into the shadow of a tree, trapping him against the rough bark of its trunk. He trails kisses down Minseok’s neck and his fingers map out Minseok’s every inch, slipping beneath his tunic and trailing fire across his skin.
“You shouldn’t,” Minseok whispers, but it is caught in Lu Han’s mouth, trapped between them in a desperate hunger. Lu Han pulls Minseok’s bottom lip between his teeth and bites softly, before kissing him again and again, over and over, until they are both exhausted and out of breath and the only thing keeping Minseok standing is the tree pressed against his back.
He cups Lu Han’s cheek in his palm and kisses him lightly just beside his mouth.
“You need to go to your wife,” he says.
The sentence rings out, far too loud against a backdrop of secrecy and guilt. Lu Han pulls back, although a hand lingers against Minseok’s chest, fingers curling in a little.
“I don’t want to,” Lu Han says, his head bowed. He looks so small and alone like this, illuminated by just the moon in the dark, and Minseok kisses him again, long and slow. He pulls away, just a breath apart, enough to feel the warmth of Lu Han’s exhale against his own lips.
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he says.
The tiniest hint of a smile tweaks Lu Han’s lips before Lu Han disappears into the night, hurrying back to the palace.
Minseok collapses back against the tree, confusion sighing from his lips as he squeezes his eyes shut and prays for a better tomorrow.
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