everything that kills me makes me feel alive.
everything that kills me makes me feel alive.
Kris/Suho - PG-15 - angst - implied smut - 3166 words
The Selection!AU. Prince Yifan has his duties.
note: i was lovelight_genie, the owner of talkalittlemore. this fic is not plagiarized; it is mine and it has always been mine.
Joonmyun straightens the nobleman’s outfit one last time, making sure that no fold, crease, or imperfection could be seen on the most anticipated event in months. He looks up slightly, his breath caught in his throat when he realizes just how close he is to the model of perfection for Illéa.
Yifan smiles at the smaller male, fearful but with so much hope in his damp eyes.
Kim Joonmyun was fifteen when he became a servant in the royal palace. Their family was still struggling to survive in the foreign country and being a Six, a lowly, made-only-to-serve Six, was much better than the Seven that they started with. Serving at the royal palace was an honor, and it paid well enough for his family to survive.
Wu Yifan was sixteen when he met the young servant boy. He was quiet and brooding, but he was the country’s pride and its future. He performed his part as a prince well, and they couldn’t ask for anything more.
The small servant in the suit that was just a bit too large for his frame was fast but hesitant, kind but distant.
They got along well.
“Joonmyun.”
Yifan was nineteen now, and he was starting to have a say in things. He was present in war meetings and trips abroad and other things that he never partook in before, things that adults hid from him to protect the then young teen.
“Yes, your majesty?”
Joonmyun was eighteen now, and his family was back in their homeland and he supported himself. His life as a servant wasn’t nearly as torturous as he expected, and there was a sense of purpose in what he was doing.
“What do you think will happen when The Selection has to begin?” Yifan leaned on the headboard and his servant sat down on the chair facing him. They practically grew up with each other already, and they were so comfortable with each other that Joonmyun’s usual rigidness and Yifan’s brooding nature were set aside for them to show who they truly were.
“I’m sure that I’ll be more tired than ever watching out for you and making sure you don’t get into some lady’s skirt within the first few days,” Joonmyun smiled before hastily adding a “your majesty” as his funny sort of apology.
Yifan rolled his eyes, frowning when the tiny servant chuckled. “I’m a gracious prince, Joonmyun. Not a monopolizing playboy.”
“You’re a lady killer, your highness. I’m sure of it,” Joonmyun winked, laughing loudly when Yifan covered his face with a pillow.
“You agreed not to talk about that ever again!”
Yifan could remember the embarrassment he felt when he spilled his wine on not one, not two, but four ladies’ dresses. He didn’t know if his face was red because of the wine or because of the barely concealed anger on the women’s faces.
“But seriously. What do you think will happen? Do you think I’ll meet my true love there? Do you think she’ll make a great princess? Queen, perhaps?” He was rolling around on the bed, the nervousness taking control of his body.
“Stop rolling like a buffalo, please,” Joonmyun sighed. He saw that Yifan wasn’t nearly as prepared as he had to be for this.
The Selection was something that everyone anticipated and slightly dreaded. It was entertaining for the citizens, but it also determined their future. The prince had to make the right choice, or else he’d put the nation in the wrong hands.
“You’re going to be fine, Yifan.” Sometimes they had those moments; moments when all the formalities and caste differences were dropped and they were just Yifan and Joonmyun, two boys that still didn’t know anything about the world. Sometimes they just found comfort in seeing each other as friends.
“How sure are you of that? What if I chose the wrong person? What if I don’t find anyone there?”
“Look at your parents. Do you think they would have known how happy they would be with each other if they didn’t go through the Selection?” Yifan stopped moving around and buried his face in his pillow.
“Now I better go, your majesty.” The butler stood up and fixed the chair he sat on.
“You can stay, you know that?”
Joonmyun smiled. “Good night, your majesty.”
When the thirty-five girls moved into the palace, Joonmyun didn’t know what to expect.
He knew it would be hectic, and he would be doing more than just dressing the prince and cleaning up whenever and wherever necessary. He didn’t know that he’d be doubling as the prince’s personal therapist whenever he just finished a date with one of the many girls.
“She’s lovely and perfect, but she’s so boring. I felt like I was carrying the conversation, Joonmyun. And I don’t even know how to converse!” He tugs his shirt down and collapses on the bed.
“It’s only been a week, your majesty. You haven’t even eliminated anyone yet. There’s still much time. Just relax,” Joonmyun smiled his brilliant smile and neatly took Yifan’s used clothes.
Yifan bit his lip. “Can you stay?”
Joonmyun smiled before placing his hand on the doorknob. “I am always nearby. Good night, your majesty.” He bowed before leaving.
The next day, eight of the thirty-five girls went home.
Weeks passed, and Joonmyun could see how Yifan was losing his sanity. The girls were driving him crazy, confusing him with their shy but expectant ways.
“It’s like one moment, I’m just a really handsome guy, and in the next, I’m their one and only chance to rise up from poverty! I don’t know if they like me or if they like the crown.” The prince put down the papers he was going through. His father had scheduled a war meeting on the next day and he had to know about the situation in New America.
“’Really handsome guy,’ you say?” Joonmyun smirked while stitching up a tear in one of his white shirts.
Yifan placed his hand on the servant boy’s arm. “You can get one of my shirts. I know you need a new one.”
The tiny boy snorted. “I’ll drown in it,” He smiled at the sincerity in the prince’s eyes. “But I do appreciate the gesture, your majesty.”
“I-I… of course. You are welcome,” He rubbed his thumb over the pale skin of Joonmyun’s arm before pulling away and leaning back on his chair, picking up the papers and starting again.
“I can’t say that I’m surprised to see you here,” Chanyeol, the tall guard who usually wandered around wherever Joonmyun was, leaned on the pillar beside the rose bush. Joonmyun turned around and smiled at him.
“How are you?” He took a seat on the lonely bench and patted the space beside him. Chanyeol shook his head, pointing at the hat on his head.
“I’m on duty.”
“But you’ll make time for me, won’t you?” He smirked and Chanyeol couldn’t help but chuckle before sitting down.
“How is the prince? I heard he was losing his mind.” Joonmyun laughed at his observation.
“He is losing his mind. ‘Girls are confusing,’ he always says.”
Chanyeol looked around before leaning closer to the smaller male. “I heard from Baekhyun that he’s kissed one of the girls, right at this very bench.”
Joonmyun’s eyes widened, and he stood up immediately. Flustered, he coughed to clear his throat. “It’s best I go. Someone might need me inside. You should go back to your post.”
They nodded at each other before Joonmyun ran away.
“So, how did he react?” Baekhyun grabbed a slice of the bread from Chanyeol’s plate and snickered at his glare.
“Freaked out. Ran away. It was weird,” Chanyeol finished off Baekhyun’s drink as revenge and smiled widely.
“But is it true? Did he really kiss someone already?” The tall guard whispered to Baekhyun in the middle of the noisy common hall.
“Of course he did! Most of the remaining fifteen, I heard.”
“Good for him. At least he’s making some sort of progress.”
“Tell me, Yifan,” the young prince perked up when Joonmyun referred to him without any honorifics, “have you kissed any of the girls yet?”
He was taken aback by the question. It was a little too direct to be Joonmyun speaking, too determined to be coming from the small, reserved servant boy that he came to know so well. Joonmyun, however, seemed unfazed by his straightforward question and continued to fix the mess that Yifan made.
“W-Why are you asking?” Yifan bit his lip and tried not to think too much or else Joonmyun would see right through him.
"Well that was the answer I needed. Who was it, Yifan?" He dropped the sheets on the edge of the bed. He crossed his arms in front of his chest. The prince was left staring at him.
"Sooyeon." Joonmyun sighed in relief. At least it wasn't Hyuna or one of the people that he didn't trust as much.
"And Song Qian. And also Mai." Joonmyun's eyebrows raised. "And Hyuna. I won't forget Hyuna."
The tiny servant sighed. "You could have at least told me about them. I would have liked to know that you were somehow getting closer to making a decision," he bit his lip before adding a quiet, "your majesty."
Yifan stood up, ending up right in front of Joonmyun. He towered over the servant, but Joonmyun still possessed some sort of control over the prince, as if he was the more powerful one between the two of them.
He placed a hand on Joonmyun's shoulder. "I promise to tell you more about my personal life, Kim Joonmyun."
"And I promise not to disrespect you in any way again, you majesty."
Yifan laughed, loud and open. "Oh Joonmyun. Knowing you, we know that's impossible."
He smiles at the expression on Yifan's face. "Stop acting like you're a petrified deer. This is your big day. You should be happy."
"You're not happy," Yifan says as plainly as possible and his butler merely sighs.
"I am happy for you, your majesty. She is lovely. She fits you very well."
Yifan pulls him closer. "Not as well as you do."
Joonmyun doesn't have time to sigh before the taller male pulls him impossibly closer and connects their lips together.
Yifan stumbled into his room after attending one of the little parties that the Elite organized. It was fun, and the girls acted very well in the middle of the big crowd that attended.
Royalty never gets drunk, and Yifan tried his best, but he thought that a little wine wouldn't hurt. He wasn't blessed with a lot of tolerance though, and halfway through his third glass, he decided to retire for the night before he could do something to embarrass himself.
His servant didn’t even bother to stand up and greet him. They both knew that Yifan was dangerous whenever he was a little tipsy. Joonmyun smirked at him before returning to the book that Yifan let him borrow from his personal library.
Yifan stood near the edge of the bed, trying his best to unbutton his shirt but failing miserably. He groaned and attempted to rip the shirt off before Joonmyun chuckled and stood up to help him.
Their fingers brushed just once on the top button. Joonmyun looked up and Yifan looked at him with a look that the small butler couldn’t decipher. They stared at each other, and Joonmyun could swear that he wasn’t imagining when he saw the prince swallow.
He felt Yifan’s long fingers hold his forearm before lips were pressed against his and he lost himself in all of it.
He felt the heat coursing between them, the unsaid desires suddenly exploding. Joonmyun, despite showing shock, pulled Yifan as close as he could. They clutched each other tightly, both of them too afraid to let the moment end.
Joonmyun pushed the tall male down on the bed and deftly unbuttoned his shirt. They separated for a second, simply a second, but it was long enough for Joonmyun to snap out of his lust-induced haze and pull away.
He took several steps backward, stopping when the edge of the table hit his back. He fixed his clothes and his hair and breathed in and out, as if the entire situation was something he could easily brush off, just as trained. His eyes were firmly locked on the floor in front of him.
“G-Good night, your majesty,” He turned around and started walking. As he placed his hand on the doorknob, he heard movement and suddenly, a warm chest was pressed against his back and an arm wrapped around his waist.
“Please don’t leave, Joonmyun. Just tonight. Just give me tonight,” Yifan placed his free hand on the hand that Joonmyun had on the doorknob. Slowly, carefully, cautiously, he linked their fingers together and pulled the arm to wrap around Joonmyun’s waist just like the other one.
“We both know this won’t lead anywhere, Yifan.” Joonmyun turned around, leaning on the sturdy wood of the door, wishing that his willpower was nearly as strong as it.
The tiny servant ran his hand up Yifan’s arm, smiling slightly at the prince’s shudder. He stopped at the side of Yifan’s neck, and in one swift movement, their lips were together again and everything just moved fast from there.
Yifan placed an arm around Joonmyun’s waist and pulled him flush against his chest, not caring if both of them were sweaty and spent and scared, even if they weren’t going to admit it. The younger male was stiff and uncomfortable as their skin touched again.
“I will not be here in the morning, Yifan,” He said quietly. Yifan merely nuzzled his face into the back of Joonmyun’s neck and pressed a soft kiss against his pale skin.
“I know. It was worth it though.”
Joonmyun spent several nights a week in Yifan’s room. They didn’t have to do anything more than kissing and cuddling and assuring each other that they still had time. They knew they were lying, but they believed that it would be easier to deal with the end when it had to come.
Yifan would come back to his room after another tedious date with another girl who had no chance in ever being in the fickle prince’s heart. Then Joonmyun would approach him and kiss him and they would play a game of tug of war with their lips and with their bodies and they’d have to stop themselves from going too far.
They liked spending hours just lying around, staring at each other in the dark. They liked the feeling of their breaths fanning against each other’s faces. They liked knowing that their smiles mirrored each other’s, despite not seeing each other at all. They shared intimate moments and moments in which all they could do was nothing.
Yifan would wake up and Joonmyun wasn’t beside him anymore.
“Shh. You wouldn’t want to wrinkle your clothes,” Joonmyun’s voice is gentle and hesitant, afraid to simply say that he’s afraid of people finding out about them.
“I don’t care, Joonmyun. You’re leaving me and I don’t know if I can take it…” Yifan is shushed by Joonmyun’s lips quickly pressed against his.
“We can run away,” Yifan whispered one night. He sent home another girl and he was down to the final four. The competition was getting fiercer, and he knew that he had to make a decision soon.
Joonmyun chuckled, reaching his hand up to run through Yifan’s hair. “No. No, we can’t.”
“You know that we can do it. You know that it’s possible. You’re just afraid to agree with me because you know that if I do, you’re going to have to do something about this. You’re going to have to do something about us.”
The younger male sighed before pulling him closer and kissing him. “I hope you realize that we just can’t, Wu Yifan. We can’t just leave.”
“Your new princess… Song Qian!” The announcer proclaimed loudly. The crowd cheered, welcoming the newest member of the royal family of Illéa.
Everyone smiled perfectly that night. Everything was perfect; from the announcement, to the party right after. They simply enjoyed the night, even the other girls of the Elite who weren’t chosen.
Yifan was smiling when he was walking back to his room, just a little positively buzzed from the little wine he drank and the comforting hand on his shoulder from his normally stoic father. When he came in his room, the smile on his face vanished.
Joonmyun was smiling, but it wasn’t the real smile that Yifan knew so well. It was the practiced smile that Joonmyun rarely ever used, reserved for tense situations and strangers the he didn’t know how to deal with. Yifan didn’t know which one he was.
“Joonmyun…”
“Please, your majesty,” Joonmyun’s eyes were not teary. His knees were not shaking. His voice was not cracking in places they weren’t supposed to. “Let me help you.”
The servant helped him take of his coat, and his touch was light and distant, as if he was trying his very best to make as little contact as possible.
Before Joonmyun could run away that night, Yifan held his wrist firmly. He kissed Joonmyun’s hand before smiling slightly. “I’ll find a way.”
There’s a knock on the door and they separate as quickly as they could. Joonmyun pretends to smooth over invisible creases on Yifan’s suit. His touch was lingering on the prince’s body, knowing that it could possibly be the last time he would do that to Yifan.
“She’s almost here. You should go out already.” Yifan smiles at the messenger before closing the door.
“I wish you the very best, Wu Yifan,” Joonmyun looks dashing in his suit, the nicest one he’s ever worn in his life. He fixes the buttons on it and dusts something off his arm.
“I wish you didn’t have to leave,” Yifan fixes a stray strand of hair on Joonmyun’s forehead and smiles.
“I promised that I’d leave after you get married and you don’t need me to nag you anymore; you have your wife for that.”
“I still wish it was you, though.”
The king’s health was getting worse and worse.
Usually, the king would hand down the crown to his eldest son when he was 20, but because of his failing condition, they had to speed up the process.
“The wedding’s next month.”
Joonmyun nearly dropped the jar he was holding.
Yifan went behind him and hugged him as tightly as he could. “I want you to be there. I need you, Joonmyun.”
Song Qian walks down the aisle. She’s gorgeous in her long white dress, and at the end of the aisle, Yifan’s smiling at her with the bright gummy smile that Joonmyun fell for.
He smiles a little, sighing as he walks out of the cathedral and into a cab.
“To the airport please.”
Kris/Suho - PG-15 - angst - implied smut - 3166 words
The Selection!AU. Prince Yifan has his duties.
note: i was lovelight_genie, the owner of talkalittlemore. this fic is not plagiarized; it is mine and it has always been mine.
Joonmyun straightens the nobleman’s outfit one last time, making sure that no fold, crease, or imperfection could be seen on the most anticipated event in months. He looks up slightly, his breath caught in his throat when he realizes just how close he is to the model of perfection for Illéa.
Yifan smiles at the smaller male, fearful but with so much hope in his damp eyes.
Kim Joonmyun was fifteen when he became a servant in the royal palace. Their family was still struggling to survive in the foreign country and being a Six, a lowly, made-only-to-serve Six, was much better than the Seven that they started with. Serving at the royal palace was an honor, and it paid well enough for his family to survive.
Wu Yifan was sixteen when he met the young servant boy. He was quiet and brooding, but he was the country’s pride and its future. He performed his part as a prince well, and they couldn’t ask for anything more.
The small servant in the suit that was just a bit too large for his frame was fast but hesitant, kind but distant.
They got along well.
“Joonmyun.”
Yifan was nineteen now, and he was starting to have a say in things. He was present in war meetings and trips abroad and other things that he never partook in before, things that adults hid from him to protect the then young teen.
“Yes, your majesty?”
Joonmyun was eighteen now, and his family was back in their homeland and he supported himself. His life as a servant wasn’t nearly as torturous as he expected, and there was a sense of purpose in what he was doing.
“What do you think will happen when The Selection has to begin?” Yifan leaned on the headboard and his servant sat down on the chair facing him. They practically grew up with each other already, and they were so comfortable with each other that Joonmyun’s usual rigidness and Yifan’s brooding nature were set aside for them to show who they truly were.
“I’m sure that I’ll be more tired than ever watching out for you and making sure you don’t get into some lady’s skirt within the first few days,” Joonmyun smiled before hastily adding a “your majesty” as his funny sort of apology.
Yifan rolled his eyes, frowning when the tiny servant chuckled. “I’m a gracious prince, Joonmyun. Not a monopolizing playboy.”
“You’re a lady killer, your highness. I’m sure of it,” Joonmyun winked, laughing loudly when Yifan covered his face with a pillow.
“You agreed not to talk about that ever again!”
Yifan could remember the embarrassment he felt when he spilled his wine on not one, not two, but four ladies’ dresses. He didn’t know if his face was red because of the wine or because of the barely concealed anger on the women’s faces.
“But seriously. What do you think will happen? Do you think I’ll meet my true love there? Do you think she’ll make a great princess? Queen, perhaps?” He was rolling around on the bed, the nervousness taking control of his body.
“Stop rolling like a buffalo, please,” Joonmyun sighed. He saw that Yifan wasn’t nearly as prepared as he had to be for this.
The Selection was something that everyone anticipated and slightly dreaded. It was entertaining for the citizens, but it also determined their future. The prince had to make the right choice, or else he’d put the nation in the wrong hands.
“You’re going to be fine, Yifan.” Sometimes they had those moments; moments when all the formalities and caste differences were dropped and they were just Yifan and Joonmyun, two boys that still didn’t know anything about the world. Sometimes they just found comfort in seeing each other as friends.
“How sure are you of that? What if I chose the wrong person? What if I don’t find anyone there?”
“Look at your parents. Do you think they would have known how happy they would be with each other if they didn’t go through the Selection?” Yifan stopped moving around and buried his face in his pillow.
“Now I better go, your majesty.” The butler stood up and fixed the chair he sat on.
“You can stay, you know that?”
Joonmyun smiled. “Good night, your majesty.”
When the thirty-five girls moved into the palace, Joonmyun didn’t know what to expect.
He knew it would be hectic, and he would be doing more than just dressing the prince and cleaning up whenever and wherever necessary. He didn’t know that he’d be doubling as the prince’s personal therapist whenever he just finished a date with one of the many girls.
“She’s lovely and perfect, but she’s so boring. I felt like I was carrying the conversation, Joonmyun. And I don’t even know how to converse!” He tugs his shirt down and collapses on the bed.
“It’s only been a week, your majesty. You haven’t even eliminated anyone yet. There’s still much time. Just relax,” Joonmyun smiled his brilliant smile and neatly took Yifan’s used clothes.
Yifan bit his lip. “Can you stay?”
Joonmyun smiled before placing his hand on the doorknob. “I am always nearby. Good night, your majesty.” He bowed before leaving.
The next day, eight of the thirty-five girls went home.
Weeks passed, and Joonmyun could see how Yifan was losing his sanity. The girls were driving him crazy, confusing him with their shy but expectant ways.
“It’s like one moment, I’m just a really handsome guy, and in the next, I’m their one and only chance to rise up from poverty! I don’t know if they like me or if they like the crown.” The prince put down the papers he was going through. His father had scheduled a war meeting on the next day and he had to know about the situation in New America.
“’Really handsome guy,’ you say?” Joonmyun smirked while stitching up a tear in one of his white shirts.
Yifan placed his hand on the servant boy’s arm. “You can get one of my shirts. I know you need a new one.”
The tiny boy snorted. “I’ll drown in it,” He smiled at the sincerity in the prince’s eyes. “But I do appreciate the gesture, your majesty.”
“I-I… of course. You are welcome,” He rubbed his thumb over the pale skin of Joonmyun’s arm before pulling away and leaning back on his chair, picking up the papers and starting again.
“I can’t say that I’m surprised to see you here,” Chanyeol, the tall guard who usually wandered around wherever Joonmyun was, leaned on the pillar beside the rose bush. Joonmyun turned around and smiled at him.
“How are you?” He took a seat on the lonely bench and patted the space beside him. Chanyeol shook his head, pointing at the hat on his head.
“I’m on duty.”
“But you’ll make time for me, won’t you?” He smirked and Chanyeol couldn’t help but chuckle before sitting down.
“How is the prince? I heard he was losing his mind.” Joonmyun laughed at his observation.
“He is losing his mind. ‘Girls are confusing,’ he always says.”
Chanyeol looked around before leaning closer to the smaller male. “I heard from Baekhyun that he’s kissed one of the girls, right at this very bench.”
Joonmyun’s eyes widened, and he stood up immediately. Flustered, he coughed to clear his throat. “It’s best I go. Someone might need me inside. You should go back to your post.”
They nodded at each other before Joonmyun ran away.
“So, how did he react?” Baekhyun grabbed a slice of the bread from Chanyeol’s plate and snickered at his glare.
“Freaked out. Ran away. It was weird,” Chanyeol finished off Baekhyun’s drink as revenge and smiled widely.
“But is it true? Did he really kiss someone already?” The tall guard whispered to Baekhyun in the middle of the noisy common hall.
“Of course he did! Most of the remaining fifteen, I heard.”
“Good for him. At least he’s making some sort of progress.”
“Tell me, Yifan,” the young prince perked up when Joonmyun referred to him without any honorifics, “have you kissed any of the girls yet?”
He was taken aback by the question. It was a little too direct to be Joonmyun speaking, too determined to be coming from the small, reserved servant boy that he came to know so well. Joonmyun, however, seemed unfazed by his straightforward question and continued to fix the mess that Yifan made.
“W-Why are you asking?” Yifan bit his lip and tried not to think too much or else Joonmyun would see right through him.
"Well that was the answer I needed. Who was it, Yifan?" He dropped the sheets on the edge of the bed. He crossed his arms in front of his chest. The prince was left staring at him.
"Sooyeon." Joonmyun sighed in relief. At least it wasn't Hyuna or one of the people that he didn't trust as much.
"And Song Qian. And also Mai." Joonmyun's eyebrows raised. "And Hyuna. I won't forget Hyuna."
The tiny servant sighed. "You could have at least told me about them. I would have liked to know that you were somehow getting closer to making a decision," he bit his lip before adding a quiet, "your majesty."
Yifan stood up, ending up right in front of Joonmyun. He towered over the servant, but Joonmyun still possessed some sort of control over the prince, as if he was the more powerful one between the two of them.
He placed a hand on Joonmyun's shoulder. "I promise to tell you more about my personal life, Kim Joonmyun."
"And I promise not to disrespect you in any way again, you majesty."
Yifan laughed, loud and open. "Oh Joonmyun. Knowing you, we know that's impossible."
He smiles at the expression on Yifan's face. "Stop acting like you're a petrified deer. This is your big day. You should be happy."
"You're not happy," Yifan says as plainly as possible and his butler merely sighs.
"I am happy for you, your majesty. She is lovely. She fits you very well."
Yifan pulls him closer. "Not as well as you do."
Joonmyun doesn't have time to sigh before the taller male pulls him impossibly closer and connects their lips together.
Yifan stumbled into his room after attending one of the little parties that the Elite organized. It was fun, and the girls acted very well in the middle of the big crowd that attended.
Royalty never gets drunk, and Yifan tried his best, but he thought that a little wine wouldn't hurt. He wasn't blessed with a lot of tolerance though, and halfway through his third glass, he decided to retire for the night before he could do something to embarrass himself.
His servant didn’t even bother to stand up and greet him. They both knew that Yifan was dangerous whenever he was a little tipsy. Joonmyun smirked at him before returning to the book that Yifan let him borrow from his personal library.
Yifan stood near the edge of the bed, trying his best to unbutton his shirt but failing miserably. He groaned and attempted to rip the shirt off before Joonmyun chuckled and stood up to help him.
Their fingers brushed just once on the top button. Joonmyun looked up and Yifan looked at him with a look that the small butler couldn’t decipher. They stared at each other, and Joonmyun could swear that he wasn’t imagining when he saw the prince swallow.
He felt Yifan’s long fingers hold his forearm before lips were pressed against his and he lost himself in all of it.
He felt the heat coursing between them, the unsaid desires suddenly exploding. Joonmyun, despite showing shock, pulled Yifan as close as he could. They clutched each other tightly, both of them too afraid to let the moment end.
Joonmyun pushed the tall male down on the bed and deftly unbuttoned his shirt. They separated for a second, simply a second, but it was long enough for Joonmyun to snap out of his lust-induced haze and pull away.
He took several steps backward, stopping when the edge of the table hit his back. He fixed his clothes and his hair and breathed in and out, as if the entire situation was something he could easily brush off, just as trained. His eyes were firmly locked on the floor in front of him.
“G-Good night, your majesty,” He turned around and started walking. As he placed his hand on the doorknob, he heard movement and suddenly, a warm chest was pressed against his back and an arm wrapped around his waist.
“Please don’t leave, Joonmyun. Just tonight. Just give me tonight,” Yifan placed his free hand on the hand that Joonmyun had on the doorknob. Slowly, carefully, cautiously, he linked their fingers together and pulled the arm to wrap around Joonmyun’s waist just like the other one.
“We both know this won’t lead anywhere, Yifan.” Joonmyun turned around, leaning on the sturdy wood of the door, wishing that his willpower was nearly as strong as it.
The tiny servant ran his hand up Yifan’s arm, smiling slightly at the prince’s shudder. He stopped at the side of Yifan’s neck, and in one swift movement, their lips were together again and everything just moved fast from there.
Yifan placed an arm around Joonmyun’s waist and pulled him flush against his chest, not caring if both of them were sweaty and spent and scared, even if they weren’t going to admit it. The younger male was stiff and uncomfortable as their skin touched again.
“I will not be here in the morning, Yifan,” He said quietly. Yifan merely nuzzled his face into the back of Joonmyun’s neck and pressed a soft kiss against his pale skin.
“I know. It was worth it though.”
Joonmyun spent several nights a week in Yifan’s room. They didn’t have to do anything more than kissing and cuddling and assuring each other that they still had time. They knew they were lying, but they believed that it would be easier to deal with the end when it had to come.
Yifan would come back to his room after another tedious date with another girl who had no chance in ever being in the fickle prince’s heart. Then Joonmyun would approach him and kiss him and they would play a game of tug of war with their lips and with their bodies and they’d have to stop themselves from going too far.
They liked spending hours just lying around, staring at each other in the dark. They liked the feeling of their breaths fanning against each other’s faces. They liked knowing that their smiles mirrored each other’s, despite not seeing each other at all. They shared intimate moments and moments in which all they could do was nothing.
Yifan would wake up and Joonmyun wasn’t beside him anymore.
“Shh. You wouldn’t want to wrinkle your clothes,” Joonmyun’s voice is gentle and hesitant, afraid to simply say that he’s afraid of people finding out about them.
“I don’t care, Joonmyun. You’re leaving me and I don’t know if I can take it…” Yifan is shushed by Joonmyun’s lips quickly pressed against his.
“We can run away,” Yifan whispered one night. He sent home another girl and he was down to the final four. The competition was getting fiercer, and he knew that he had to make a decision soon.
Joonmyun chuckled, reaching his hand up to run through Yifan’s hair. “No. No, we can’t.”
“You know that we can do it. You know that it’s possible. You’re just afraid to agree with me because you know that if I do, you’re going to have to do something about this. You’re going to have to do something about us.”
The younger male sighed before pulling him closer and kissing him. “I hope you realize that we just can’t, Wu Yifan. We can’t just leave.”
“Your new princess… Song Qian!” The announcer proclaimed loudly. The crowd cheered, welcoming the newest member of the royal family of Illéa.
Everyone smiled perfectly that night. Everything was perfect; from the announcement, to the party right after. They simply enjoyed the night, even the other girls of the Elite who weren’t chosen.
Yifan was smiling when he was walking back to his room, just a little positively buzzed from the little wine he drank and the comforting hand on his shoulder from his normally stoic father. When he came in his room, the smile on his face vanished.
Joonmyun was smiling, but it wasn’t the real smile that Yifan knew so well. It was the practiced smile that Joonmyun rarely ever used, reserved for tense situations and strangers the he didn’t know how to deal with. Yifan didn’t know which one he was.
“Joonmyun…”
“Please, your majesty,” Joonmyun’s eyes were not teary. His knees were not shaking. His voice was not cracking in places they weren’t supposed to. “Let me help you.”
The servant helped him take of his coat, and his touch was light and distant, as if he was trying his very best to make as little contact as possible.
Before Joonmyun could run away that night, Yifan held his wrist firmly. He kissed Joonmyun’s hand before smiling slightly. “I’ll find a way.”
There’s a knock on the door and they separate as quickly as they could. Joonmyun pretends to smooth over invisible creases on Yifan’s suit. His touch was lingering on the prince’s body, knowing that it could possibly be the last time he would do that to Yifan.
“She’s almost here. You should go out already.” Yifan smiles at the messenger before closing the door.
“I wish you the very best, Wu Yifan,” Joonmyun looks dashing in his suit, the nicest one he’s ever worn in his life. He fixes the buttons on it and dusts something off his arm.
“I wish you didn’t have to leave,” Yifan fixes a stray strand of hair on Joonmyun’s forehead and smiles.
“I promised that I’d leave after you get married and you don’t need me to nag you anymore; you have your wife for that.”
“I still wish it was you, though.”
The king’s health was getting worse and worse.
Usually, the king would hand down the crown to his eldest son when he was 20, but because of his failing condition, they had to speed up the process.
“The wedding’s next month.”
Joonmyun nearly dropped the jar he was holding.
Yifan went behind him and hugged him as tightly as he could. “I want you to be there. I need you, Joonmyun.”
Song Qian walks down the aisle. She’s gorgeous in her long white dress, and at the end of the aisle, Yifan’s smiling at her with the bright gummy smile that Joonmyun fell for.
He smiles a little, sighing as he walks out of the cathedral and into a cab.
“To the airport please.”