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Yunho grew up in a dark and damp room of a large castle. The other servants described it as something close to a dungeon, but Yunho never thought it was that bad. He spent most of his time outside anyways, following his father around as he took care of all the vegetation around the castle.
He was more than what you would call a gardener, gardeners didn’t chop down trees or cut firewood. Yunho’s dad was in charge of all nature around the castle. He helped make routes through the forests and cleared the fallen trees after storms. But Yunho’s favorite part was the gardening.
Among the lush gardens of the palace was where Yunho spent his time once old enough to be without supervision. When he was eight, he noticed the window above the gardens for the first time. The inside of the palace was foreign to him, but that window intrigued him like none other had before.
Who was lucky enough to be able to look down at the garden everyday? Surely that was the window to the room of someone of high standing, someone important.
Yunho took to laying under the window when ever he had time, but it wasn’t until a year later that he finally saw trace of life. Well, more heard. There was a woman who yelled quite loudly from that room, obviously angry with something or the other. Her tone was harsh, and Yunho crowded directly under the window to hear what she said.
Something about a pair of pants, something about hair, and something about eyes. That’s all Yunho could make out before the woman left. And then there was the faint sound of crying. Yunho stayed at the window until it stopped.
Everyday after that he would sit at the window for at least an hour, but he still never saw anyone, and only rarely heard.
When he was ten he finally gave up on waiting for life to appear in the window, and he decided to go to it himself. It took a lot of effort to get his dad’s ladder to the window, but he didn’t give up, and somehow managed to get it there without being seen.
He propped the ladder by the window and climbed up. To his dismay there was not a soul in the room when he looked in. Their were signs of life, of course. A bed obviously in use, outfits out on display. Elaborate and extravagant outfits fit for a prince, but that couldn’t be right. There was no prince in the royal family, only two young princesses.
He spent a while up on the top of the ladder, finally giving up when his legs begin to get tired. With a sigh of disappointment he scrambled down, spotting a bunny nearby once he reached the ground. Thus sparked the idea to give the owner of that room a gift. The bunny.
Catching the bunny proved to be easier than getting the ladder, and soon he was back up to the window, the fluffy rabbit trapped under one of his arms. He dumped the small animal into the room and grinned before going down again.
A week later there was finally a great surprise for him. There was a boy at the window. Clad in clothes similar to the ones Yunho saw in the room, and he couldn’t be older than Yunho’s age. Yunho ran to the ladder, getting it there in record time. The boy jumped when the ladder hit the stone, and Yunho climbed up with more speed than usual.
He greeted the boy immediately with a loud, “Hello! My name’s Yunho! I’m the caretaker’s son!”
The boy smiled, but he didn’t even look at Yunho. Instead, he stared out at the sky as he answered, “Hello, Yunho,” his voice was calm, proper and polite, “Were you the one who left me the bunny?”
Yunho nodded vigorously, “Did you like it?” he asked.
The boy’s smile grew, “Yes, I really love it! She’s so soft.”
Yunho looked around the room and was able to spot the bunny looking very happy lounging in a large cage. He was so proud he was able to get the boy something he liked, “Who are you?” Yunho finally asked after studying the boy a little longer. He still wasn’t looking at him.
“Changmin,” the boy told him, “I’m the prince.”
Yunho laughed at his claim, “There’s not a prince though.”
Changmin’s smile turned sad at that, “There was supposed to be,” he told him, and then almost looked close to tears, “You should go now.”
Yunho shook his head at the request, but Changmin didn’t seem to waver in his decision, “Can I come back tomorrow?” he asked him, and after a pause, Changmin told him yes.
He returned the same time the next day, and talked to Changmin for the same small amount of time. Changmin still didn’t look at him.
After a month of visiting him, Yunho finally asked the question, “Why don’t you look at me?”
Changmin took a while in answering, “It’s because I can’t see,” he finally told him, and it took Yunho quite some time to understand.
“Is that why there’s no prince?”
Changmin didn’t answer him, instead he went to his bed and hid himself in his blankets.
Yunho didn’t see him again for a week.
When Changmin did show his face again it was stained with tears, and he let Yunho slip off the ladder and come into his room. They played with his things and the bunny Yunho had given him until Yunho was forced to leave by the sound of footsteps in the hall.
Over years they grew closer, Yunho became busier helping his father with the work, but he still went to Changmin’s window every chance he got. Eventually their friendship was discovered by a few maids, a governess, and Changmin’s sisters, but none of them stopped Yunho from propping the wooden ladder to Changmin’s window and climbing in.
Years made the garden grow even more beautiful, just like the prince. And Yunho thought it a shame Changmin couldn’t see either one.
One day he asked Changmin why he chose to live by the garden if he couldn’t see it, and Changmin had laughed at him and answered as if it was the most obvious thing.
“The plants attract bugs, birds, all sorts of animals. And that means noise, lots of it. I can’t appreciate the sight of the garden, but I can appreciate the sound. And on windy nights or hot summer days, you can smell all the plants and fruits, and it’s wonderful.”
Yunho grinned at his explanation, and then spent the rest of the day attempting to explain as many flowers as he could to him.
Years also made a passion grow in Yunho that he never noticed before. Every time he looked at the prince he would notice such odd things about him, things he never noticed about anything else. He noticed his small actions, every emotion that flickered through his face, noticed how even though his eyes didn’t work they were so full of life.
He found himself dreaming about him, and the results of those dreams weren’t something he wanted Changmin to know. Still, he acted just as he always had with the prince. Let him hold his hand through most of their time together.
Changmin told him it was important for him to feel Yunho with him that strongly. He told him many a times how badly he wished he could see Yunho, but he settled with letting his hand, calloused from work for his father, tell him about Yunho’s appearance.
He always felt guilty for how hard he held his hand, how he would brush his thumb over his soft skin. It made him want to feel more of Changmin, and Yunho didn’t think it nice how much desire such an innocent thing for Changmin gave him.
It was even worse when Changmin asked if he could touch Yunho’s face, map out his appearance. Yunho had agreed, with a nervous swallow just as those delicate fingers came to rest on his cheeks. He was unshaven at the moment; he’d just only started to grow hairs on his face, and his inexperience with the blade made him uneager to shave often, but his scratchiness put a smile on Changmin’s face, who was still two years younger than him and had a smooth face.
Although Yunho learned later that didn’t even matter as the prince had servants to do his shaving for him, and would never let his facial hair grow.
He ran his soft fingers down the bridge of Yunho’s nose, cupped his chin and smoothed his hand over his jawline a number of times.
The prince laughed when he took his hand away, and Yunho grew a little self-conscience at first before Changmin spoke, “You’re so different from me,” he told him, and it made Yunho smile.
“And you’re beautiful,” he told him. It made Changmin blush, and Yunho could only hope he believed him.
One of Changmin’s favorite things to do was to recite poetry or myths to Yunho, things he had memorized from lessons. He told Yunho that he preferred poetry and short myths to books because they were easy to memorize. He often complained about the dreary short stories his governess often attempted to teach him, but one day Changmin began reciting something to Yunho he hadn’t memorized.
He didn’t tell Yunho until he was done, and Yunho couldn’t believe it when he told him. Couldn’t believe those words came from Changmin’s own mind.
When Changmin was 17 and Yunho 19 was when Changmin asked Yunho for a kiss. Yunho agreed and kissed him on the cheek, to which Changmin protested and told him he wanted a real kiss.
It took Yunho a long pause before he gathered all the courage, pressing his lips to Changmin’s as gently as he could. He gave him a kiss, light and short, and Changmin looked sad when Yunho pulled away.
“I said a proper kiss, Yunho,” Changmin once again argued, so Yunho grabbed him by the chin and pressed their lips together once again, this time with all the passion and need he held back. His lips worked against Changmin’s, and the younger man was quick to do the same.
This time when they pulled apart, Changmin was smiling wider than he ever had before. He let out a small laugh, and enveloped himself in Yunho’s arms. He fit so perfectly there that Yunho swore he must not be real.
Kissing became one of their favorite things to do together, as did cuddling on Changmin’s bed, which was much comfier than Yunho’s.
Changmin’s long fingers would find their way to Yunho’s shirt buttons as they laid together, and they would undo each one with delicate movements. His hands were always a little cold when they found their way to his chest, but that only gave Yunho an excuse to pull Changmin closer and warm him. Changmin was so obsessed with feeling Yunho during their times together, feeling his bare skin on his hands. It was an innocent obsession, and Yunho understood.
Seeing Changmin everyday was something he’d gotten used to, and days when he was too busy to climb to his window were torturous. He imagined waiting for him to come until nightfall, all alone with the feeling of rejection. Or maybe he didn’t even care, maybe he went on as normal when Yunho didn’t arrive.
But he always seemed close to tears when Yunho climbed into his room the next day, he always clung to him the moment his two feet were on the ground, said no words, just enjoyed having Yunho in his arms again.
The first time Yunho stayed with Changmin for an entire night was an accident. They were laying in the bed together as always, Yunho holding Changmin tight against his chest until they both fell asleep.
Yunho woke up the next morning with an unusual comfort. None of his joints hurt, his muscles didn’t seem sore, and he wasn’t freezing. Instead, he was rested and warm, holding Changmin in his arms.
He breathed in the other’s scent, running fingers through his soft hair and nuzzling against his shoulder. It was so natural feeling, so nice to be holding the prince in his arms. His prince.
Even then, Yunho realized with a small sigh, Changmin was a prince, and he was only a gardener. But that did mean they couldn’t lay together? Or love each other? And he was certain he loved Changmin, it was nothing other than love.
With a sigh Yunho slipped out of the bed and clamored over to the window, sleep still in his eyes. The ladder was still there, standing as it always had. A bunny was sleeping at the foot of it, and Yunho smiled from nostalgia, from the first time he climbed that ladder.
Maybe this was a sign he should come back. If a rabbit marked the beginning then perhaps it marked the end. His and Changmin’s paths in life would eventually separate. Yunho had responsibilities, to his family and the palace, and he couldn’t keep avoiding them by fooling around with the prince.
Still, he loved him.
And when he turned around, he was there, like he would always be there, waiting for Yunho, wrapped in a cloak or blanket. His steps over to Yunho were silent, and when he pulled Yunho close to be guarded by the blanket, it felt like wind wrapping around him.
His hands came to rest against Yunho’s neck, and his head fell against Yunho’s shoulder.
“Come back tomorrow, Yunho,” he told him, as if he’d read all of Yunho’s thoughts. He nuzzled his cheek against Yunho’s shoulder. “Come back and let me give everything to you, everything I have,” he took a deep breath, and Yunho watched his eyelashes brush his cheeks as he closed his eyes, “You’re the only person I want to have it.”
Yunho didn’t say anything, didn’t have the right words or enough breath to say them with, Instead he took Changmin’s face in his hands and pulled him into a kiss, gentle but passionate, and everything Yunho wished he could say.
He left in silence, and regretted it immediately after realizing Changmin had no idea what his expression was.
The next day he found himself to be wobbly on the ladder, climbing up to Changmin’s window with less grace than usual. Changmin was waiting for him, sitting on the bed, a nervous expression on his face.
Yunho took his steps with care, erasing the wobbliness he had on the ladder and leaned down in front of Changmin.
“We don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to. I know you love me, you don’t have to give yourself to me like this,” Yunho told him, keeping his voice calm and quiet, as if Changmin was a rabbit he was trying to catch.
All his statement did was bring out a laugh from Changmin, and the prince put a hand on Yunho’s waist, “This isn’t about proving I love you, Yunho. I want you, just as much as I hope you want me. So let me have you, please?”
Yunho replied with a hand on Changmin’s cheek, thumb brushing over his skin, and another hand on his waist, leading him back to make room for Yunho, for them to kiss and for Changmin to pull away at Yunho’s clothes, feel his chest as he always did, feel his arms and all of him.
But this time he didn’t stop at just touching, he tasted him with his soft lips, heard him moan and gasp as his hands and mouth worked on his body, explored him and finally mapped him out completely.
By the time the last bit of sun disappeared, Changmin had seen all of Yunho.
The morning came with a lazy awakening, but Yunho couldn’t stay for long, and the thought crushed him. He wanted to spend the day with Changmin, explore this new level of their relationship, but he had responsibilities, just as Changmin had his.
The day would be long, but with one last look at Changmin, curled around a pillow, wearing his dirt stained once white shirt and only that, Yunho decided it would be bearable.
As long as he had their next meeting to look forward to.
Each time he left he thought the same.
The first time he asked Changmin to come down he said no, that he was scared and that he’d never left the palace, so Yunho dropped the subject.
But one day Yunho was offered a job, away from the palace, away from Changmin. There was promise of a better life, more pay, his own house, but how could he leave Changmin?
So Yunho did the only thing he thought might work, and he set his ladder against Changmin’s window for the last time, and he gathered an armful of roses. He climbed with one hand, and didn’t come in.
“Changmin, I’ll ask you only once to run away with me. I brought you roses, and they can be a goodbye present. But I would much rather let them be a reminder to the queen, that she had a son so beautiful and wonderful as a hundred red roses, but she didn’t care for them, and so they began to wilt on a bed too large for them, only hoping a gardener would come and save them.”
