Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Seokjin,” His mother enters the desk he holed himself in, a letter in her hand. Seokjin has received and read enough of those to know exactly what it contains and he prepares his rebuff already, frowning slightly. He was so sure his mother would stop trying to push the subject after a while but it seems she’s not discouraged yet. He opens his mouth but she stops him by raising her hands in the air in a truce offering sign. “I think you should really consider this proposition. It really fits your expectations, my son.”

“You know she can’t fit my expectations, mother,” Seokjin says, frowning as much as is considered polite in front of your mother when your mother is a retired queen.

“Not she, Seokjin. I think he could fit your expectations alright, if you gave him a chance.” Seokjin feels his own face go slack with surprise, eyebrows raising without his approbation. His mother does tell him often he should work on bettering his poker face.

“A man?” He asks, voice raising uncontrollably at the end. His mother’s own policed expression cracks a little, the hint of a smile playing on her lips. She walks to the desk and puts the green envelope in front of Seokjin. A pretty seal closes it, dark green wax dusted in gold. A higher ranked person.

“Prince Namjoon is, I’ve been told, a really pleasant person. His kingdom is really interested in an allyship and Prince Namjoon, who should inherit the throne, isn’t very interested in ruling at all. Both his parents and I agree that such a wedding would be beneficial to all.”

“What does Prince Namjoon says about it?” Seokjin asks, toying with his letter opener. He won’t actually open nor read the letter in front of his mother; he’s been raised to be much more polite. He can’t deny that he’s intrigued by it, though, even if it doesn’t seem to be announcing anything very exciting. At best, Seokjin imagine he can hope a comfortable companionship. At worse, well… That Seokjin doesn’t want to think about.

“He’s very enthusiastic!” His mother answers. “Prince Namjoon is known for being a lover of nature and his parents assured me he wants nothing more than to discover our gardens!”

Seokjin hums. Gardens. What a boring, politically correct answer. What can Prince Namjoon actually hide inside his heart, he wonders? What secret and shameful tendencies are pushing him to renounce to a life of ruling? “We do have nice gardens,” Seokjin agrees. “It would be a shame, I suppose, to deprive Prince Namjoon of them.” His mother lightens up, like her only remaining son agreeing to a gay wedding is the apogee of her life. Oh, how low the monarchy has fallen. “I’ll read the letter and I’ll answer it. I’ll let you know about it.”

She leaves him alone in his desk, green envelope still in hand. A little bit old fashioned he thinks, feeling the thick paper between his fingers, but emails get leaked while letters disappear in a spark of a flame. Privacy is necessary when ruling a country, and even more in the matter of arranged weddings.

Prince Namjoon’s handwriting is neat with just enough frills to hint at a meticulous care for appearances and maintaining status. The letter itself is short, professional and efficient, suggesting a formal meeting and agreeable relationship; nothing transpires of love, romance, or lifelong commitment.

Maybe Prince Namjoon is, in fact, more interested in plants than persons, Seokjin thinks a bit cruelly. And then, regretting such a hard judgment: maybe Prince Namjoon is, like himself, being coerced into a wedding he doesn’t wish for. He supposes he allows him a little coldness and distance.

He reads the letter three times before he opens an incognito tab on his laptop to search for Kim Namjoon, tacks a Prince at the end before hitting enter, afraid that other, more famous Kim Namjoons might find their way in his research. Seokjin knows technically that using incognito tabs are useless for most thing when used on a network like the palace’s. But still, the idea of someone innocently using his computer for work research seeing Kim Namjoon Prince pop up as a suggestion kills him. Especially when the search comes back bearing pictures of Kim Namjoon Prince on the beach, wearing short shorts. He’s certainly not gawking at Kim Namjoon Prince’s thighs. This is a professional agreement. One simply does not look at a professional agreements’ thighs.

Seokjin reverts to classic search and browses one, then two, then who-knows-how-many articles about Kim Namjoon Prince until he feels like he could be the man’s best friend, if the man was really the superficial description of a person those websites make him to be.

He’s twenty-five, he’s handsome, he’s got a diploma in botanics (Maybe the gardens do have some rights after all.), he smiles a big, policed smile that’s framed with dimples that aren’t very politically correct in Seokjin’s opinion. Just a glance tells him people think about those dimples at night; you’re not supposed to think about your Prince’s dimples at night. He’ll have to have a word with Prince Namjoon about it when they’re married. If they get married, that is.

Apart from the dimples Seokjin can’t tell he’s very intrigued by his potential fiance, though he knows better than to trust such publications. He very rarely searches for Kim Seokjin Regent King anymore (Not as much as he used to do when he was younger at least.) but he knows the portrait that those articles make of him. If Prince Namjoon has made a similar search, somewhere in his own castle, he probably found some very interesting tidbits of informations such as the width of his shoulders and his feet size and the multiples studies he’s followed, from politics to management. Ah, and maybe a couple sob stories about the incident that left him the regent King until his niece is old enough to take the throne.

The letter that leaves the Palace to Prince Namjoon’s kingdom is short, the writing neat but still less pretty than Prince Namjoon’s, to Seokjin’s chagrin.

It also contains Seokjin’s personal phone's number.

Two days later his phone dings with a new text message and Seokjin finds himself staring at the screen, knowing full well that the unknown number can only mean two things: either a fanatic found his number again by some sordid way, or Prince Namjoon is texting him.

His grey cat plops on his lap like she can tell Seokjin needs some comfort and Seokjin smiles despite himself, rubbing her behind her soft little ears. He lifts her in his arm to bury his face in her soft belly, laughing when she starts purring.

She settles comfortably on him when he puts her down, tucking her little nose against his belly. He keeps one hand in Nova’s soft fur and with the other unlocks his phone, opening the text waiting for him.

Hello, the text reads. this is Namjoon. It is very thoughtful of you to ask if the is suggestion was my decision. My parents were the one who brought it up, but I decided to make this proposition on my own will. I think we could make an efficient team, if you give us the chance.

Seokjin stares some more. He can’t really say we could make an efficient team was in any of his dream proposals. Then again he supposes he never had much time for dream proposals either. This one will do.

For a moment he ponders on the answer to send, the tone to set; should he be professional? Friendly? A sudden image of Prince Namjoon’s thighs comes to his mind.

Flirty?

After a far too long hesitation :

Me: I look forward to make an efficient team with you.

He waits for several minutes, tapping his screen every time it starts to darken but to his disappointment receives no answer back. He gets annoyed at his phone, then, turning it face down so he isn’t tempted to glance at it every other minutes to check if the little blue light is flashing.

He manages to go back to his work successfully until Hyejoo barges in, her heavy combat boots stomping on the carpeted floor. She throws herself in the seat in front of Seokjin and smiles, putting her feet on the edge of Seokjin’s desk. The noise startles Nova who jumps down and leaves through her cat door to wander who-know-where in the castle with an indignant meow. Seokjin glares at Hyejoo and she smiles bigger, absolutely aware that her dear uncle can’t ever say no to her. She crosses her hands behind her head.

“I’ve heard you’re getting married,” She says. Seokjin can’t help but smile at her antics.

“Am I?” He asks, making her laugh.

“That’s what I heard. Did you know my friend Hyerim is in love with Prince Namjoon?”

Seokjin feigns surprise, leaning in his chair. “Wasn’t Hyerim in love with me?”

“Psh, oppa,” Hyejoo admonishes, her expression serious. “That was two months ago. She’s changed twice since.”

“Oh, I’m heartbroken!” Seokjin moans, bringing a delicate hand to his forehead. Hyejoo giggles.

“You’re being ridiculous,” She says. “Don’t you think he’s very handsome?”

Seokjin gasps. “You’re twelve, Hyejoo! You shouldn’t be able to tell if a man is handsome or not!”

His niece shrugs, putting her feet down so she can lean her elbows on her knees to look at Seokjin with her best inspector-interrogating-a-suspect glare. Seokjin can now see the blue tip of her hair, a remnant of her last act of rebellion. He supposes his mother and him are lucky no one wondered why their young princess has not been seen without a hat on in more than three weeks.

“But you think he’s handsome, don’t you? You wouldn’t marry him if you didn’t.” Seokjin’s heart sinks slowly. His mother and him have been smothering her far too much since they’ve been the only persons left to raise her, back when she was five and Seokjin sixteen. She went through several phases through her childhood until now and Seokjin is ready to admit they’ve been too soft on her on a lot of aspects, though she’s been repaying them by being a good kid all around, soft hearted but full of character. He promises himself to make everything he can to ensure Hyejoo marries the love of her life and not some neighborhood prince in search of new gardens to explore.

He has a fleeting thought for Kim Namjoon Prince’s thighs and his politically incorrect smile. “I do think he’s a very handsome man.”

They hear some clamor coming from the hallway and before Seokjin can ask what’s happening Hyejoo raises three fingers, folding them one after the other in a silent count. They hear a knock on the door just as she folds her index finger and giggles happily.

At Seokjin’s come in call a small man tumbles in, breathless.

“Your highness,” the man says, “And your highness. Please stop running away from your homeworks.”

Hyejoo pouts at him, crossing her arms in front of herself in a protective way. “My uncle is getting married, Jimin oppa. Don’t I get to congratulate him?”

Jimin frowns almost imperceptibly, his eyes going from Hyejoo’s happy grin to Seokjin’s frozen rictus. “Hyejoo,” Seokjin protests weakly. “This is supposed to be a secret for now.” Jimin’s furrowed brows twitch like they can’t decide between expressing confusion or worry. Seokjin waves his hand slightly behind his niece’s back. I’ll explain later. Jimin nods discreetly.

“Congratulations, your highness,” He says, bowing slightly. “Your secret is safe with me. May I please get your niece back so she can finally work on her mathematics?”

“You may,” Seokjin answers to Hyejoo’s despair. She kicks her feet a bit on her way to the door, directing a short mocking bow to Seokjin and sticking her tongue out when she stands up. He hears her announcing to the guard that her uncle is getting married as the door closes behind her, followed by Jimin’s whispered scolding. He shakes his head fondly and allows himself to finally grab his phone.

There is a new unopened text from Namjoon (?) waiting for him there.

Seokjin can’t stop the ugly snort from leaving his mouth when he finds a picture of Namjoon’s hand, long pretty fingers taking up all the frame.

I’m a size 18 reads under the picture. A smile tugs at Seokjin’s lips.

He snaps a picture of his own hand, wondering what Prince Namjoon will think of his slightly crooked fingers.

That’s a first thing we have in common.

Prince Namjoon answers with a winking emoji.

Oh, Seokjin thinks. Friendly it is.

Seokjin is in the middle of a meeting when he notices the flashing blue light the following day. He glances at the counsellor who's talking, a younger man that Seokjin isn't quite sure he should trust or not, and unlocks his phone under the table.

Namjoon (?):

Good morning.

Seokjin stares until he's seeing the screen blurred.

He's never been one for small talks, a secret anxiety shaking him at the idea of engaging discussion with someone he doesn't know quite well yet. This someone being his future husband makes the ordeal even harder, in his opinion. How does one initiate a friendship with someone they're set to marry in two months?

He puts the phone down and tries to swallow the guilt that comes with ignoring Prince Namjoon. He's in the middle of work, after all. He really shouldn't be looking at private conversations when the tacticals of his upcoming wedding are being discussed.

He's almost forgotten about the text when he goes back to his room that night, until the little blue light starts flashing next to him on the bed. He looks at the text showing on top of the picture of Hyejoo he has as his lockscreen.

Namjoon (?):

Good night.

He unlocks his phone to send back an identical message and throws his phone out of reach on the bed, burying his reddening face and embarrassed feelings in his pillow.

Seokjin wakes up to sun filtering through the curtains and his alarm ringing from much farther away than it usually is. His hand moves lazily to the bed table, swiping around in its quest to his phone. It’s only after a couple of pats and the opening of one eye that he remembers chucking the phone away before falling asleep.

He rolls over in his bed, taking the blanket with him until he’s rolled in a tight blanket burrito and plants his face back in his pillow. He’s getting married.

He’s getting married to someone he doesn’t know, an estranged Prince from another kingdom that he’s never even travelled to.

Seokjin never planned to get married, if he’s being honest. He’d never planned on ruling either, though, but marriage especially was at the lowest point on his bucket list for the future. At best he hoped for some secret relationship, a shelter from the public scene but as soon as he accepted his attraction was for men only he gave up on the possibility of a public relationship. The fact that suddenly marrying a man is good and proper when the man isn’t one he loves should make him angrier, but his destiny has never been totally his’ in the first place and he’s learned to put himself second when it comes to his desires. He wonders if Namjoon, too, once dreamed of falling in love or if he was always more reasonable than Seokjin.

On the floor, his phone finally stops ringing. Seokjin buries deeper in the blanket, trying to imagine the weight on him as the weight of a lover who’d been embracing him, the comforting idea of having someone to hold and who would hold him back. He closes his eyes and tries to imagine this person as Prince Namjoon, the only person he’ll ever be allowed some closeness to, now that the wedding is decided. Tears burn the corner of his eyes.

He stays there in his blanket cocoon until his phone starts ringing again. Skipping one alarm is okay but two pushes him in too late territory. He slowly gets out of the mess of sheets and blankets, a small frown showing on his face when his bare feet touch the cold hardwood floor. His phone is waiting face down on the carpet, his screen showing the slide button to stop the alarm. A little envelope signals an unread message, that Seokjin opens in turn.

Namjoon (?):

:)

Seokjin dries the tears at the corner of his eyes, rubbing the thin skin under his eyes with the heel of his free hand.

After an hesitation, he types out:

Me: Good morning.

The least he can do is try to make an ally out of his future husband.

For two more weeks Namjoon and Seokjin sends each other bidaily texts, always the same good mornings and good nights. It feels almost comfortable, like the lowest of bare minimums, a routine Seokjin is only half embarrassed to perform. That’s the reason he feels almost unbearably furious when he wakes up one morning to two texts in a row.

Following the regular Good morning he finds a second text, wishing him a good day. Seokjin throws the phone on the carpet where it bounces sadly, showing itself face up and still open on the discussion. He looks at it angrily until it’s so blurry he can’t see it at all anymore. Fat tears roll on his cheeks.

He wants Namjoon to be despicable, he wants to hate him. He doesn’t want this weird extended hand. He doesn’t want forced friendship. He doesn’t want to marry someone he doesn’t know.

He wants, more than anything, the right to love and to be loved.

On the floor, the dreaded flashing blue light goes off again. Seokjin sits on the floor, rubbing messily his eyes.

Namjoon (?):

Tell me more about you? :)

In a fit of anger Seokjin answers without thinking, regretting almost immediately when he hits send.

Me: I don’t want to marry you.

Namjoon (?):

Oh.
I’m very sorry.
I don’t really either, if that’s of any comfort.

Seokjin sniffs, rubbing the back of his hand over his eyes.

Me: Not really. But thank you. Tell me something about you?

Seokjin waits for the answer for several minutes but the next message arrives with a picture of a small white dog smiling a big toothy dog smile at the camera, its little paw propped up on someone’s bare thigh.

Namjoon:

I have a puppy! :)

Seokjin chokes on a watery laugh and goes through his phone’s gallery to find a picture of Nova to send Namjoon. He selects one where she looks particularly displeased at him and select it.

Me: I have a kitty.

Namjoon:

I hope they’ll get along well :D

With a last sob Seokjin puts the phone next to him face down and hides his face in his hands.

Namjoon is going to come to live here, and he’s going to bring his cute, friendly puppy and his cute, friendly smile with him, and whether he wants it or not Seokjin will have to deal with it.

Every morning after that Seokjin wakes up to a new question and a new little piece of information about Namjoon. Most questions are innocent and cute; a game of getting to know each other. Something Seokjin saw happen on online dating website from the sideline, when he listened to his friends gush over or complain about their recent hook-ups. He's happy there isn't any top or bottom? thrown in the mix. Namjoon does ask him about his favourite pair of underwear once and Seokjin blushes fiercely until he sees the picture Namjoon attached of his allegedly favourite pair, a huge vintage pair of bloomer with frills and bows.

He laughs softly, jostling Nova on his lap, and opens naver to find an equally ridiculous option. It's only when he hits send that he realises that the red lacy thong he chose might not be the most sensible answer.

He gets a confirmation when Namjoon answers half a minute later.

Namjoon:

Interesting.

Seokjin decides to forget this happened.

A week later Seokjin finds himself unable to sleep at night, turning restless in his bed. Nova has gave up on sleeping with him an hour ago and she's now glaring at him from the bed table, from which she knocked all of Seokjin’s books off.

He grabs his phone, the only thing safe from Nova's vengeful knocking, and peruse the Internet in the always open anonymous tab, cheeks burning at the sight of Namjoon’s dimples.

He would find him attractive, he thinks, sexy even if Namjoon wasn't someone he was forcefully bound to. Seokjin loves men, and he knows his tastes in men, and he knows Namjoon fits them perfectly. He could have had a crush on him, maybe. He could have seen him from across a room during a fancy dinner and he knows he would have eyed him with discreet interest.

Seokjin is not the type of man who does a first step, or a second, or a third. He's the kind who waits for love to step on his foot before he acknowledges it. Maybe it's for the best, then, that fate decided to tie him up to a man that will probably never step close enough to hurt him.

As if summoned Namjoon’s name pops up on his screen and Seokjin drops the phone, turning to bury his face in his pillow.

Namjoon:

Are you asleep?
I hope you're asleep.
I was thinking about you.
I know you don't want to marry me. And I said I don't want to either.
But I want to be your friend, hyung. I really want that.
I hope we can work well together, truly. I want us to be a great team and to uplift each other.
Also I'd like a picture of you to put as your contact pic.

Though his face is burning Seokjin smiles at the last text. He scrolls through his gallery until he finds a selfie that is cute-but-not-too-much, hot-but-not-too-much and shows how plump his lips are (but not too much.).

He sends it without a caption and waits several minutes for Namjoon to answer, the three little dots dancing on the screen making him question his choice of picture more with every passing moment. After a while he finally receives a new text that just says oh. and, after that, a screenshot of Seokjin’s informations on his phone with the newly received selfie. Seokjin notices he’s saved as Hyung ❤ and a small part of him finds it endearing while the biggest part of him is annoyed at being endeared.

Me: Don’t I get a picture?

Namjoon’s answer is quicker this time to the point Seokjin suspects he sent the message before thinking about it. It’s kinda cute.

Namjoon:

You want one?
Sorry
I look too eager
It’s because I’m very tired.

Seokjin is ready to answer something basic, like it’s okay or take your time or you don’t have to but before he has the time to do so a new picture loads in the discussion and. Seokjin might have never seen a selfie that hot before.

It's… Baffling, really. Who in their right state of mind would send that type of selfie (head tilted, mouth half open, eyes hooded and a peak of collarbone showing.) to their soon-to-be-husband that they never met? Seokjin suddenly wonders if Namjoon might be drunk, and if looking at a selfie sent while drunk is considered a breach of privacy. Did you drink something he asks hurriedly, to which Namjoon answers A warm cup of milk with honey, why?

Seokjin’s future husband drinks milk with honey before going to sleep. Seokjin’s future husband drinks milk with honey before going to sleep and he sends selfies that are much too hot to be legal and he doesn’t seem to see anything wrong about that. Seokjin could almost interpret it as flirting but Namjoon is probably just a straight prince who did taxes evasion and needs a pretty cover up. He also drinks milk with honey before going to sleep. And takes really fucking hot selfies.

Seokjin slips out of under his sheets and walks silently to the kitchen, phone in hand lighting up the path in front of him. The high windows of the castle let the moonlight flow in, so clear that once he reaches the main hall he’s able to turn off the torch and let the moon guide him. A sliver of light under Hyejoo’s door catches his eyes so he knocks softly at his niece’s door, letting her know with a quiet call that he’s the one behind the door.

She opens the door and smiles weakly at him, her untied hair showing its blue tips in all their glory. She has dark bags under her eyes that she keeps rubbing with stubborn fists, like trying to repel sleep or sadness.

“I can’t sleep,” Seokjin says gently. “I’m going in the kitchen for a cup of milk with honey. Wanna come with?” Hyejoo rubs once more at her eyes.

“Wait for me,” She says, disappearing into the room before coming back with a warm old sweater that Seokjin knows was her mother’s.

“What’s on your mind?” Hyejoo asks when they’re seated together with their cups on the large table of the kitchen, the one only the employees normally eat on. Seokjin remembers hiding in there when he was a child, the cooks sneaking him little snack after the dinner when they served something he didn’t like. He knows Hyejoo must have similars memories of the place, too.

He tilts his head and places his elbow on the table, his cheek on his fist. How unproper.

“The wedding,” He says finally. Hyejoo’s lips quirk up a little. She has milk on her upper lip. She looks just like a cat.

“Are you thinking about your first night?” She asks with a twinkle in her eyes.

“No!” Seokjin protests, cheeks heating up. The sleeping arrangement has been made already and Seokjin has cleaned out one of the room in his private quarters for Namjoon’s future bedroom. The two rooms communicate, of course, because, well… Because it’s Seokjin’s private quarters and all the rooms communicate. Nothing less. Nothing more. “I’m thinking about, you know,” He waves a hand at the moon. “The ceremony. How many steps until I arrive in front of the wedding officiant, the music, the flowers. That type of thing.”

“What’s Namjoon’s favourite flower?” Hyejoo asks, and Seokjin is surprised to find out he has the answer all ready.

“Daisies,” He says, and sees Hyejoo’s smile growing like she knows a secret. Seokjin thinks about arguing, saying he didn’t chose them for decorating the tables because Namjoon likes them but because he likes them, their simplicity, how resilient they look, and wild, and free, but he realises answering an unasked question would be a confession already.

“I wish I could have this too,” Hyejoo says softly, eyes back on the milk in her cup. Seokjin wants to ask her if she wants that, a fake wedding with a virtual stranger, but he doesn’t for her sake. “A private wedding. No broadcast. No fanfare. Me and the person I love.” She looks up at him. “And you, oppa. Maybe you could officiate it for me.”

“I could, if that’s what you want,” He gently offers. She nods slowly.

The full moon floats in his own mug. He smiles at it, then at Hyejoo. “Wanna make pancakes?”

She smiles back. “Sure.”

The sun finds them both asleep on the table, Seokjin’s head on his crossed arms and Hyejoo’s on his shoulder, the plate that contained the pancakes emptied in front of them and flour dusting their pajamas. On Seokjin’s phone the little blue light is flashing.

Namjoon:

Good morning!
The moon was very pretty yesterday. It made me think of you.
When you look up at night, hyung, do you realise we can see the same moon?
I hope you have a beautiful day.

The cook shakes Seokjin and Hyejoo awake and Hyejoo sees the way his eyes water, surely, because she takes the phone from Seokjin’s hand and gently she says : “Oppa, do you know you can appreciate a situation and yet hate the destiny that made it happen?”

“I know,” He says, “Thank you.”

Me: The moon was really beautiful. And the milk helped me fall asleep. I wish you a day full of beauty.

At lunch, when he checks his texts:

Namjoon:

Oh, hyung.
Beauty is staring at me from the top of this chat.

Seokjin doesn’t answer this one.

Namjoon and his parents are set to arrive the following week in preparation for the wedding.

Their first meeting is formal, almost cold with Namjoon’s parents framing him, Seokjin’s mother holding onto his arm. It’s almost cold because Namjoon’s presence is warm, a tiny spark of fire that shines its orange light on Seokjin. His smile is warm, his eyes gentle… He holds Seokjin’s hand in his’ for a second too long when they shake them in greeting and Seokjin ignites from his fingertips to his toes, hot shiver running down his spine. He feels as ashamed as exhilarated by it: attraction? To the man he’s about to contract a gay fake union with? His ancestors must be turning over in their graves.

They sit around a table that’s intended to host at least twenty people and thus feels too large. Too glacial. They’re talking about his wedding (They’re talking about his wedding, for fuck’s sake!) but Seokjin’s mind is on the fan on top of his head. He wishes they would stop it. He wishes he could feel warmer, could project warmth the way Namjoon does but he’s a log of dead wood. He could start a great fire if only he had the spark to light him up.

Before he has time to process the whole array of his feelings, and before he has time to decipher whether the cold is within himself or out he discovers the meeting is over, the other four people standing and looking curiously at him. Seokjin scrambles to his feet with grace, something he’s mastered after years of scolding about bad posture. Everyone bow to each other and then leave the room and separate at the door except for Namjoon, who stays there and look at Seokjin, and Seokjin, who’s cold and frozen and leaning toward Namjoon’s heat.

“You could maybe show me around,” Says Namjoon, that same shiver inducing smile growing on his face. He offers Seokjin his arm, like he’s the one about to lead him around. The hand Seokjin puts on his biceps burns.

“I could,” Seokjin agrees. “Is there something specific you want to see?”

Namjoon’s smile is devastating. “Our private quarters?”

Seokjin’s whole face heats up. It’s a known charm of his’, something the magazines like to point out. They say his embarrassed face is cute, his red ears adorable; Seokjin wonders if Namjoon thinks the same. Maybe he can be foolish enough to believe that’s what his growing smile secretly means.

“You won’t sleep there until the wedding.” Namjoon shrugs, the smile never disappearing from his face. After a second too long of studying his face Seokjin squeezes the hand around Namjoon’s arm and starts walking. “This way,” He says.

They don’t talk that much, Seokjin because he’s too shocked, his head empty of thoughts and Namjoon, he imagines, because he’s too busy taking in the environment he’s about to move in. They’ve had full conversations in the past five weeks but it’s like talking out loud is too hard. Seokjin liked to have the time to ponder about his answers, to sound more witty, funnier than he is in his everyday life. What a small betrayal of Namjoon, he thinks, to be a living person, to exist outside the safety of his phone.

It’s at the sky that Namjoon looks first at when he looks outside the windows of what’s set to become his bedroom, not at the gardens he’s supposed to be so interested in. He turns back to watch Seokjin, his outlines blurred by the bright light of the sun, face hiding in the shadow but dimple catching a dot of light on his cheek.

“Can you see the moon well from here?” He asks. Seokjin feels trapped for a terrible second. Beauty is staring at me from the top of this chat.

“Yeah,” He says, “You can.”

“Perfect,” Namjoon answers. The dot on his cheek moves with his smile. “I think I’ll like it here.”

For the next five days Namjoon and Seokjin spend more time passing by each other than talking, Seokjin still busy with wedding preparations and his duties as the king, but it fills Seokjin with a strange tender feeling to be able to greet Namjoon every morning in person instead of sending him a text.

He doesn’t know if Namjoon is a naturally touchy person or if he’s trying his best to force a comfortable impression with his future husband, but he never greets him without gently clasping his hands in his’ and Seokjin grows more flustered about it every day. Namjoon is, it seems, never lacking charms. He’s good at speaking the words Seokjin wants to hear and good at putting a light hand just where Seokjin wants it, on the juncture between neck and shoulder, and good at smiling a smile that makes Seokjin’s day brighter. Sometimes Seokjin wonders if Namjoon is truly speaking and doing the things he wants to hear and wants to see or if he himself is good at learning to enjoy Namjoon’s drops of kindness. He wonders if he’s attracted to Namjoon or making himself being attracted to him. He wonders if he might really have a crush or if he’s mistaking his eagerness for attention with something romantic.

It’s a bit too late, he thinks, to realise he’s never had a real crush on anyone in his life before. Everything feels too late when you’re about to marry a stranger.

And while Seokjin participates in too many meetings and spends all the time dissecting his own heart and wondering if falling for your husband might be the recipe for a great heartbreak, Namjoon occupies his days with visits around the kingdom, collecting flower pictures that he sends a flustered Seokjin.

Seokjin tracks social medias for candid pictures of his fiance’s outings posted by indiscreet townspeople. He wonders if Hyejoo’s friend, the one with a crush on Namjoon, does so as well.

He considers asking for her number to ask her and then wonder what it means of him that he’s considering asking a teen girl for love advices.

Two days before the wedding a journalist asks Seokjin a particularly rude question about his wedding, something he doesn’t care that much about for himself but cares a lot about for what he represents. He answers, he thinks, in a way that’s both diplomatic and witty and hopefully makes the journalist sound like an idiot. He knows this won’t hurt him much but he thinks about Namjoon in that half second he has to find an answer, think about how marrying him drags him through the mud as well, fake marriage, moving out in a country that isn’t his’ and televised mockery hidden behind polite questions. He thinks about all that and crafts the deadliest answer he can find, and doesn’t even smile proudly when the journalist blushes and sits back.

Seokjin doesn’t get the chance to talk to Namjoon during the dinner; his parents say he was exhausted and retired to his room early. Despite this explanation Seokjin receives a text when the night fall; a picture of the moon and a Are you watching, too?. The very morning Namjoon decided to move in his new room, though it’s improper before the wedding.

I am, Seokjin answers, wanna watch it together?

Someone rasps softly at the door separating their room a minute later. Seokjin is painfully aware of how dishevelled he is when he opens the door, wrinkled pajamas and hair going everywhere. He’s especially aware of it because Namjoon looks good and soft and solid, with a chest Seokjin wants to lean against. He blinks the hearts out of his eyes and tries to see Namjoon in a way that isn’t distorted by the feelings sprouting in himself but Namjoon leans just enough that Seokjin’s sense get filled with him. Namjoon smells good, very good.

“Good evening, hyung,” He says, and leads him by the hand to the balcony whose door stayed open, long white gauze curtains swaying with the gentle wind.

Namjoon releases his hand to lean against the railing and it’s like Seokjin just dipped his fingers in ice, how cold the night sky is compared with Namjoon’s skin.

“Very beautiful,” Namjoon says. Seokjin is watching Namjoon but he agrees; Namjoon was made to be seen under the light of the moon, private and soft, a gentle glow. Seokjin thinks about kissing him, two days from now, in front of a small crowd and a small camera for the kingdom to see. He thinks about kissing him now, with the moon for only witness.

He asks, “Why did you agree to marry me?” And Namjoon turns to him with a smile and a small laugh and eyes that know more than Seokjin does. He takes Seokjin’s hand in his again. Seokjin wants to bring it to his face, to see how well it would fit against the curve of his cheek.

“I was never a very good student in the art of being a king,” He says. “I’ve always been too interested in pursuing my studies and, I’m afraid, relationships with men,” Namjoon says, bright, pleasant smile placated on his face. Seokjin freezes for an instant, hand still clasped in Namjoon’s big soft one. Relationships, plural. Men, plural as well.

Namjoon must read his confusion because he tilts his head gently, smile still firmly in place. “Are you surprised? Did you think they’d send you some straight prince to marry? After all I sent you?”

“I didn’t want to assume,” Seokjin says softly. He raises his hand to rub at his nose, a nervous habit his mother has tried to break him off for much too long.

“You have a gentle heart.” Namjoon’s hand in his’ is gentler, he thinks. Namjoon’s smile is gentler. “I think you’re a good person, my king. I hope we can get along well and live in good friendship.”

“I hope for nothing more,” Seokjin says. Now that he’s face to face with Namjoon he does secretly think he could hope for more; a kiss that would be shared in privacy instead of during a publicised wedding or a hand in his’ that feels more tender than polite.

"What did they tell you, then, to make you believe I was interested in such an alliance?"

"Mother said you preferred gardens over ruling," Seokjin says, realising as he says so how ridiculous of an excuse this had been. He looks down, then up when Namjoon softly chuckles.

"I love the outdoors, that's true. Wouldn't that make a hell of a metaphor?" He laughs again to himself and Seokjin feels drawn to it. "Is he, you know? More into gardening than ruling?"

Seokjin does laugh at that, a surprised sound finding his way out of him without his authorisation.

Namjoon’s thumb swipes softly on the back of his hand. “Since we share some tendencies, let’s go clubbing together one of those days, meet some anonymous subjects.” His eyes twinkle and the dimples on his cheeks deepen. Seokjin imagine the outrage, the regent King and his husband getting hot and bothered with unnamed men in a club, getting home to the castle with one-night stands.

“Let’s do that on our next diplomatic visit.”

Namjoon is still looking at him intensely, eyes boring in his’, hand still warm in his own. “I know this is all an arrangement,” He says, “But we’re still making history. I know this is extremely scary, Seokjin hyung, but I want you to know we’re in this together. I’ll share your burden, step after step. And I’ll be so obnoxiously gay on every public outing so no bigot can take their eyes off of us.”

He stands a bit closer, putting his other hand on top of Seokjin’s, smile playful but eyes serious. “I’ll laugh at all your jokes, and I’ll nod at all your words. I’ll look at you so sweetly people will give us the sappiest nicknames. I’ll hold onto you like I can’t help myself, and I’ll blush when I’ll realise what I did. I’ll whisper in your ear during long stupid ceremonies. Is that alright with you?”

Dazedly, Seokjin wonders if Namjoon is saying all that to fluster him on purpose. He blesses his perfect education that prevents him from squirming under Namjoon’s burning gaze. “Aren’t you supposed to keep your vows for the wedding day?” He asks, refusing to blush or look away.

“So you’re the type that waits until you’re married,” Namjoon notes. This time Seokjin does feel his face heating up. Namjoon’s hand finally leaves his, only to move up to his cheek and brush the back of his fingers feather-like to Seokjin’s burning skin.

“Handsome, humble, generous, kind…” He whispers. “The reports all sang your virtues but they forgot to add cute to the list. Fatal error.”

Slowly Seokjin leans up, an attraction he can’t help but indulge him, and leaves enough space between his trembling lips and Namjoon’s to let him decide on the next step. Namjoon’s hand go back to Seokjin’s cheek, this time fitting his palm against the heated skin, and closes the short distance between them.

The warmth on his lips is almost shocking. Seokjin can’t think; Namjoon is so gentle, soft hand on his cheek, soft lips caressing his’ but he is ignited, burning. He presses his whole body to Namjoon’s and wishes him to eat him the way bonfires do driftwood. He probably lacks the finesse all the men in Namjoon’s past life flooded with yet Namjoon seems affected when they separate, gasping for cold night air.

“Hyung,” He says gently while Seokjin kisses his cheek frantically. “Are you sure?”

“We’re getting married,” Seokjin says, “Does it matter?”

“It does, for me.”

“I…” Namjoon is looking at him very gently, a look that says there’s no right or wrong answer. “I think so.”

“So you’re not sure,” Namjoon concludes. He wraps his arms around Seokjin tenderly. “It’s okay. You have a lifetime to decide, my King.”

Seokjin feels the tears slowly flooding his eyes. “I’m sorry I’m trapping you in this life with me,” He whispers. Namjoon shushes him with soft caresses and temple kisses.

“I chose my destiny,” He says softly. “You aren’t guilty for being you.”

Namjoon leads them back to the room and to the bed and he keeps his arms around Seokjin until he falls asleep.

He wakes up the following morning to Namjoon’s asleep face and thinks this is better than any good morning text, and promptly starts crying again.

He hears a low rumble coming from Namjoon’s chest and strong arms press him against Namjoon’s body. “Good morning hyung,” Namjoon whispers in a deep, mellow voice. Seokjin gasps against his neck. “Go on a date with me today?”

Seokjin chokes silently. “We’re getting married tomorrow.”

“I know,” Namjoon hums. “Hyung. Go on a date with me today.”

“Okay,” Seokjin sobs. He hides his face in Namjoon’s neck and lets himself be held for the longest time. “Where are we going?”

Namjoon presses his lips to Seokjin’s hair; not a kiss but something close enough to create warmth in Seokjin’s heart. “I don’t know, where are we going?” There’s a smile in his voice, like he’s proud of himself for tricking Seokjin like that. Seokjin hits him on the chest softly, making Namjoon chuckle. “So?”

Seokjin sighs and lets himself enjoy Namjoon’s embrace. He’s aware of how unreasonable that is; trusting himself around a man he barely knows and is about to marry, letting him be his source of pain and comfort. Crying in the arms of the person who makes him hurt in the first place. He relaxes in the sweet embrace of pain, sneaks his arms out from where they’re trapped between their chests to wrap around Namjoon’s waist.

“I know the place,” He says, “I’ll call to have it privatised later.”

Namjoon giggles. “Fancy,” He whispers in Seokjin’s ear. Seokjin pinches his waist to scold him but it just makes him laugh more. He buries his nose in Seokjin’s hair and takes a deep breath, like he’s trying to learn the scent of him. Seokjin does the same as discreetly as possible, nose tucked to the crook of his neck.

Seokjin second guesses his choice during the whole car ride, deeming it too childish, too boring, too small… But the second he understands where they’re headed Namjoon lights up and suddenly he can’t feel anything but pride.

Namjoon takes his hand as soon as they’re out of the car, not caring that their respective bodyguards two steps behind them leave them very little privacy. He links their fingers sweetly and holds the door open for him, barely containing his excitement when they finally pass the plastic gate that keeps the butterflies inside the greenhouse.

“Hyung!” He exclaims, watching a large blue butterfly on a plant nearby. “This place is magical! Have you seen this?”

Fondness isn’t a feeling he’d expected to experiment when it comes to Namjoon, but there is something so sincere about him, like all he’s made of is genuineness, and Seokjin feels himself drawn to it against his will.

The greenhouse is warm, too warm for hand holding. Their palms stick together uncomfortably but not once Namjoon looks like it annoys him, even if it hampers his movements.

They spend a long time exploring the greenhouse then sit on a bench together and watch in awe a small orange butterfly eat honey off Namjoon’s fingertips. For a long time they stop in front of the cocoons hanging from a small protected area, hoping but failing to see an all-new butterfly emerging from one of them.

Namjoon points at all the plants and flowers he can recognise and tells Seokjin their meaning in the language of flowers and, when they arrive at the exit door, Seokjin realises this date is the funniest, sweetest thing he’s lived in a long while. He also realises this date really was a date, and that Namjoon’s hand is still in his’, and that Namjoon is now looking at him with twinkling eyes and just when he opens his mouth to talk a small white butterfly lands on his nose, making him funnily cross his eyes.

A second one lands on his hair just above his ear and without thinking Seokjin reaches for it, jumping back when the butterfly flutters and flies away, leaving Seokjin’s hands centimeters away from Namjoon’s cheek. The butterfly on Namjoon’s nose flies away as well, following the first one closely. Namjoon scrunches his nose at the feeling, sends Seokjin a bright smile.

Seokjin wants to kiss him.

Slowly he touches his fingertips to Namjoon’s cheekbone, asking him silently the permission to do more. Namjoon looks surprised at first; just a half second of stillness that scares Seokjin away but just when he wants to let go Namjoon reaches for him too, hand on his waist as delicate as a butterfly. He looks at Seokjin’s lips then up at his eyes, searching.

“Are you sure?” He whispers, his breath hitting Seokjin’s cheek as soft as a butterfly wing.

“I’m sure.”

He wonders once again if he’s too old to discover what a crush is, but he can now say it tastes of the honey Namjoon stole from the jar when he was feeding the butterflies and feels like tiny insects’ legs on his cheeks, where Namjoon’s lashes flutter on skin. In Seokjin’s heart, millions of butterflies are trying to find an escape… Making him feel featherlight, feet above the ground.

Playful teeth pull on his bottom lip and the rush of a foreign feeling strangles Seokjin sweetly. Is he really ready to let himself fall for Namjoon, trust the fate that was given to him against his will?

His thumb caresses Namjoon’s cheekbone, catches the corner of his eyes, the fluttering lashes. He wants his presence to be solid, his mark to be felt. He doesn’t want to be a feather caught in the wind. “I don’t know how to do this,” He tells Namjoon softly.

“I don’t know how to be a married man,” Namjoon laughs against his cheek. “But I’ll teach you what there is to know about love, if you let me.”

Tomorrow in front of a camera and a small crowd Seokjin is getting to get married to someone he barely knew the name of two months ago and for the first time he thinks he can be hopeful about it.

Chapter Text

They’ve been married for three months when they finally go on their first official travel together. It’s a serious matter, their bodyguards flanking them closely on their way to the airport, even if they’re only going to Namjoon’s kingdom for a visit. Namjoon links their fingers together sweetly in front of the reporters, keeping true the vows he made Seokjin in the privacy of their quarters before their wedding.

He checks the news on his phone when they’re ready to fly and finds Namjoon kept another vow as well; his eyes on Seokjin are so soft several articles call his gaze as soft as honey and the descriptions of his own smitten expression aren’t less embarrassing.

In the plane they play a movie that Seokjin had been wanting to see for a while, whispering little commentaries to each other when something particularly funny or touching happens. Namjoon keeps his head close to Seokjin’s and sneaks little kisses to his cheek, laughing at at Seokjin’s little noises of embarrassment. He whispers a soft scolding, asking Namjoon to keep the PDA away from where their bodyguards can see and Namjoon points to them in answer, laughing once again at Seokjin’s stunned expression when he realises Hoseok and Yoongi are deep asleep, Hoseok’s hand on Yoongi’s thigh and their heads pressed together.

“Our wedding really made unexpected alliances possible.”

Seokjin huffs but presses closer to Namjoon, bringing their mouths together with a touch of his fingers under Namjoon’s chin. Namjoon answers in kind and pushes up the separation between their seats to loop his arms around Seokjin’s waist, holding him gently in his warm embrace. A blood hot wave crash through Seokjin’s body and he releases Namjoon’s lips to move to his neck, nipping at the skin there. The hand previously on his back gently push on his chest and a dishevelled Namjoon puts space between them with a small laugh. “Not here, my King.”

Seokjin’s whole face catches flames, embarrassment hot in his veins. Since they’ve gotten married Namjoon have shown no sign of wanting their relationship to go further than gentle kisses and Seokjin’s too shy to bring up the discussion. He’s perfectly alright with Namjoon never wanting more from their relationship but he knows that is a necessary talk they must have some day. The fact that he’s so eager and so inexperienced make it all the more difficult.

“Sorry,” He mumbles shyly.

“Don’t be sorry.” Namjoon kisses his cheek sweetly. “Let’s finish the movie.”

Namjoon’s reunion with his parents and siblings is touching but he seems especially happy when finally seeing his puppy after all this time. Though their visit has an official matter, presenting Seokjin as Namjoon’s spouse to his extended family, the actual reason was getting to get the dog back to their home as soon as possible.

The small dog seems unable to get enough of Namjoon and Seokjin, though he isn’t jealous, can relate to the feeling. He’s only partially grossed out at the sight of the small white dog licking across the skin Seokjin kissed mere hours ago.

Namjoon shows Seokjin around the castle, dog on their heels and when they’re about to separate for the night Namjoon stops in front of the door of Seokjin’s door, like hesitating to ask something. Seokjin considers inviting him in but he’s still a bit discouraged by the stop Namjoon gave him in the plane, and he’s not sure he’s ready to the discussion just yet.

“I was thinking,” Namjoon starts hesitantly. “You remember when we talked about our first diplomatic travel? There’s a club I went when I lived here, a very discreet place, very private and, well. I was wondering if you’d be interested in going with me? Tonight?”

“I,” Seokjin says, stunned. “I don’t have any clubbing outfit with me.”

“I can lend you some clothes, if you want.” Seokjin looks at him, incredulous. “You look good in anything, my King. You could go in your official clothes and people would still find you hot.”

Seokjin feels his cheeks heating up. “Okay.”

When he looks himself in the mirror, a small part of Seokjin wonders if Namjoon dressed him up in what is pleasing for his eyes. The large V neck of the shirt unveils more of his chest than Seokjin is used to show and the pants are definitely tighter than anything he’s ever worn. He wants to squirm under Namjoon’s gaze, unable to read the emotion behind it. He secretly hopes it’s hunger.

“Are you ready?” He asks, turning around Seokjin to inspect his choices. Seokjin nods and he smiles. The hand he puts on Seokjin’s waist burn through the silk of the shirt. “Good. Hoseok and Yoongi are waiting for us in the car.”

The club is nothing like what Seokjin saw on TV; it’s almost classy in a way, large velvet curtains draped on the walls and music loud but tasteful. Lots of couples are dancing already and it conjures images of Namjoon in their place, arms looped around the bodies of nameless men, then images of Namjoon pressing against him in this very place, whispering in his ear like he does so well in public.

“Want a drink?” Namjoon asks him, lip catching the lobe of his ear seemingly unwillingly. Seokjin nods. He needs something chill to calm himself down, quickly.

Namjoon finds them seats in front of the bar and greets the bartender like an old friend, ordering drinks for himself and his husband. The bartender’s eyes dart to Seokjin in surprise but he smiles at him in a way that seems genuine enough. Seokjin’s wedding band clings against the glass when he grabs it.

“You really look gorgeous hyung,” Namjoon says in his ear. His hair tickles his temple and when he leans back Seokjin sees his lips glisten under the dim light of the club.

“You do too,” Seokjin says back, taking in the tight fit of the thin white turtleneck Namjoon is wearing. He’s wearing accessories glasses that Seokjin thinks might be a failed attempt at anonymity but is successful in making him look smart and unbelievably hot. Namjoon smiles.

“You want to dance?”

Seokjin doesn’t know how to dance. Still he nods dumbly, lost in the feeling of Namjoon’s warm fingers pressing on his waist.

Immediately Namjoon presses against Seokjin’s body like he can’t get enough of it, his fingers tightening their hold. He looks at Seokjin’s chest with what can definitely be interpreted as hunger, this time, and bends to caress his lips to Seokjin’s ear. “You’re not allowed to button your shirt ever anymore.”

Seokjin laughs shakily. He threads his hands in Namjoon’s hair to keep his head in place, whispers back. “How improper, my husband.” He tries his best to move to the beat, his body following the music and Namjoon’s own graceful body. He shivers when Namjoon’s head lolls on his shoulder completely and his hands slips under the satin of his shirt, hot fingers leaving burning traces on his skin.

Namjoon bites on his neck softly and kisses the skin he releases, bringing his mouth back to Seokjin’s ear. “Tell me if I’m going too far, love. I’m trying to go slow for your sake but you’re not making it easy for me.”

Seokjin sighs, a mix of relief and nervousness. “I’m begging you to stop trying Namjoon, please. Take care of me.”

“Oh,” Namjoon sighs. His hands go back to Seokjin’s waist, his hips, just shy of his ass. “Thank god. Let’s go home.”

They leave Hoseok and Yoongi to their make out session, hidden in a dark corner of the club and stay glued to each other the whole car ride, finally stumbling together in Namjoon’s childhood bed, under the clear light of the full moon.

“Look what I found!” Namjoon exclaims, bringing a small blue leather book with him to the bed where Seokjin is still lounging, wrapped in the white sheets. He sits back against the headboard and gathers the sheets around himself as well, giggling under his breath. The morning light makes him look glowing and Seokjin thinks he’s too close to finally making his very first love declaration.

“What’s that?” He asks, caressing the soft cover of the book.

“My diary from when I was a teen,” Namjoon laughs. He opens it with care, showing Seokjin pages after pages of meticulous handwriting, recountings of his days alternated with clumsy poetry that makes Namjoon’s cheeks redden in embarrassment. A small paper falls from the book and Seokjin takes it carefully, halting in surprise when he finds a picture of a fourteen years old himself, clearly taken from an article in a magazine.

“Oh,” Namjoon breathes, taking the pic from Seokjin. “Oh, I totally forgot that.” He turns the pages until he finds the ones the picture was slipped between and taps the text with his index finger, laughing softly at the memory immortalised there.

“I was going through a bit of a rebellious phase then,” He remembers. “So my mother thought she would show me how a real prince is supposed to act. She kept praising your posture.” He shrugs. “I remember thinking you were very pretty, somehow, and I kept the picture.” He points at a sentence. Prince Seokjin seems to be very nice. I hope we can be friends one day. Would he want to be friends with me? What if he laughs at me because I can’t sit all straight for the whole dinner?

Seokjin presses his lips together not to laugh. “I’m sure I would have been your friend,” He answers, leaning up for a kiss.

Namjoon’s hand go to the back of his head, keeping him there for a second, longer kiss. “Your straight back made me gay, my King, and that’s all you have to say? You have to take responsibility for it.”

Seokjin smiles against his mouth. Their wedding bands cling together when he takes Namjoon’s hand. “I made an honest man out of you, isn’t that right? Lawfully wedded husband.”

Namjoon carefully puts the diary aside and presses Seokjin back to the mattress with a smile. “My husband,” He smiles, then dips down to kiss Seokjin harder.