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The townspeople have wool tucked up to their noses to block the air so cold it almost burns and to block the bitter smoke that spouts from chimneys. Namjoon’s boots dig into broken ice and road salt. The constant crunch draws their attention, and they wave and shout. He waves back. However, the only thing he can hear is the Queen’s voice ringing in his ears. “Never cross the river. There are monsters on the other side.”
Namjoon knows the Queen has been wrong before. A prince’s education seems to be made up of old notions and inherited fear. “Princes may wave at commoners from a distance, but they do not interact up close. It’s better this way.”
A little girl bounds towards him with rosy cheeks and a blue rose much like the ones that weave through his tunic. Namjoon kneels, and the girl tucks the flower behind his ear. He ruffles her hair until she giggles.
The jagged road turns into powdered snow. The whistling wind turns into burbling water. There are branches with claws stretching over the far side of the river; its yellow leaves eat away every space on the tree. The bridge is covered in peeling paint and patches of moss and is hammered in with rusty nails. He steps on a board, and it groans low. Perhaps a warning. But the wind pushes him forward. He makes it halfway when he sees a face, and he drops to his knees and holds back a curse as it throbs.
“I can see the top of your head!” Namjoon ducks lower and grips the hilt of his sword. Maybe he should have heeded the Queen’s advice, but the blue rose tips down, and he remembers the girl’s heart-shaped smile. Calm down. Breathe. He surges to his feet and stands tall.
There is a boy with a cloak that glitters golden as if dyed in hazy stardust and dotted with the moon’s tears. “I don’t intend any harm,” Namjoon says and raises his hands with palms facing forward. The boy’s shoulders relax, but he doesn’t move. His eyes linger on the blue rose tucked behind Namjoon’s ear, and Namjoon offers the flower. “A peace offering. My name is Namjoon. What’s yours?”
It prompts the boy forward. He pokes the inside of his cheek with his tongue and glances up at Namjoon’s crinkling eyes. He snatches the flower and takes a tentative sniff. Namjoon knows the rose’s effect: it smells sweet and warm and full, and it overpowers the cold blankness of the snow. The boy smiles and sticks his hand out. “I’m Jimin.”
Not a monster, Namjoon thinks as he shakes Jimin’s hand. Jimin glances back to the yellow forest, and Namjoon can see his shoulders shake and his cheeks turn red. It’s a wonder his voice is steady when he says, “I have to go. I’m not supposed to be out this late.”
“Will you come tomorrow?” Namjoon blurts out, and Jimin laughs.
“If you bring me another flower.”
Namjoon comes back with a rose in a deeper and darker blue. Jimin comes back with a puffy coat, chamomile tea, and lemon cookies. Namjoon waves his legs over the edge of the bridge and enjoys the tea’s warmth seeping through his gloves. “Why’d you come here yesterday?” Namjoon asks.
“I heard there was a blue flower that only exists in cold climates. My friend wanted one.” Namjoon tucks the flower in Jimin’s coat pocket.
“Keep this one for yourself. I have a garden full of blue flowers.” Namjoon talks about the different colors—soft blues that blend into purple, blue-green from the sea, blue that looks like it was dipped into a sunny sky. Jimin hugs his knees to his chest and listens with smiling eyes.
When Namjoon reaches for a cookie, his fingers brush against something warm. He sees a tiny star in the middle of the plate, and it floats until it perches on top of Namjoon’s fingertips. “This little buddy wanted to meet you,” Jimin says. Namjoon doesn’t dare move, and Jimin clings onto his shoulder as he laughs.
Jimin talks about how he lives so close to the sky that the stars brush against his hands like a cat seeking attention, how the stars kiss his nose but the stardust they leave behind makes him sneeze, and how the stars whisper about the oceans, deserts, and forests they’ve seen. The star moves into Namjoon’s front pocket. Perhaps that’s why his heart feels light and warm.
They trade each other jewelry—crowns made of blue roses, frozen leaves, and snowdrops and crowns made of yellow stars, melted meteorites, and condensed nebulae—and stories—tales of little kids who like to sit on Namjoon’s shoulders to feel tall and tales of a servant named Jungkook who juggles the stars even when they burn his hands in defiance. Sometimes Jimin doesn’t come. Sometimes Namjoon has to work late into the night, but he’s comforted looking at the growing collection of stars that nestle into his flower pots.
Seven months later, Namjoon stares at broken, charred pieces of wood where the bridge once stood. It doesn’t hit him at first. He can see Jimin on the other side frantically waving his arms. Namjoon is sure he can hear the river and the birds, but his mind can’t process it; his ears only buzz with his racing pulse. There must be another bridge. The river must end at some point. He brings his hands to his mouth and yells, “Let’s find another way!”
Namjoon sprints along the river and focuses on the cold burn in his lungs instead of his unraveling thoughts. His left foot slips on ice, and his right foot misses the ground. He doesn’t register the pain that he knows he should feel. He pushes his bruised palm against the snow, and his arms shake as he struggles to his feet. Namjoon looks around and notices how small he is compared to the river, the evergreen trees, and the acres of snow.
It’s when Jimin tries to wade through the water that Namjoon fully understands they’re separated.
Although Namjoon can’t feel Jimin’s arms wrap around Namjoon’s own in a half-hug or see Jimin’s smile grow bigger before his laughter shakes his whole body, Namjoon doesn’t stop visiting the river. He thinks about who did it, but it doesn’t change their reality. They shout, but their voices are buried underneath the wind and rushing water. Jimin moves his limbs in large movements, but Namjoon doesn’t know if the arc of his arms means Jimin is trying to cheer him up with a funny dance or is playing a complicated game of charades.
Namjoon can cut their relationship and return to the nights alone in his room. Who would blame him? But meeting Jimin has moved Namjoon’s heart, and there’s no amount of force that can change its motion. His heart loves, and it will continue to love no matter if it brings him joy or pain. Jimin doesn’t stop trying, and Namjoon thinks he should do the same.
Various screwdrivers, hammers, and rulers are organized into neat rows on a board. Nails fill the small bins attached to the wall. A child’s drawing of a little girl and the sun sits framed on a desk.
When the shop owner enters the room, Namjoon says, “Hoseok. I’ve heard your work is impeccable. I want to commission you a boat. It doesn’t need to be big. Just needs to be made fast.” Namjoon checks for a raised eyebrow or a smug twitch of the lips, but Hoseok simply hums as he flips open his notebook. There’s a lot Namjoon is risking with this request: if rumors reach the King and Queen, it might take years to meet Jimin again. Yet it’d be tempting for anyone to gossip how the prince wants to cross the forbidden river.
“I don’t specialize in boat building, but I have a friend in another city who does. I can send the order to him.” Hoseok motions Namjoon over and brings the side of his hand to his mouth. “Anyone who’s nice to my little sister gets a discount. I’ll put a good word in, and your boat will be the number one priority. Don’t tell anyone.” The tension leaves Namjoon’s shoulders when he sees a familiar heart-shaped smile. He laughs at Hoseok’s secretive wink and thinks he truly loves the townspeople.
It’ll take six months for the boat to arrive. Six months until Namjoon can hold Jimin’s hands in his and feel the warmth of Jimin’s presence beside him. His grin falters when he steps on the riverbank and notices the air feels odd.
Namjoon moves his arms into rowing motions and thinks Jimin understands from the way he jumps. But there's something else in his movements that Namjoon can't comprehend. Jimin cups his mouth with his hands and flings his body forward in half as he shouts something Namjoon wishes he could hear. Jimin takes one long look at Namjoon and turns back to the woods.
Namjoon doesn’t stop visiting the river. He takes slow sips of his tea and waits on the cold ground. Any moment now, Jimin will pop his head out from behind a tree and apologize for being late. However, Namjoon only sees the broken bridge.
For a few minutes, Namjoon looks at the yellow leaves and the darkness behind the trees, hoping to see anything move. Nothing changes. He shakes his head and looks up at the stars. They shine brighter, and Namjoon smiles. “Thanks for keeping me company.” The silence holds easy camaraderie; this must be why Jimin loves the stars so much. Namjoon knew he missed Jimin’s voice, but now he misses their shared silence. Words couldn’t travel across the river, but their affection could. He stands up and shouts to the sky, “Please give Jimin your love too!”
Every night for six months, Namjoon talks to the stars. They might not hear him, but he hopes they can tell Jimin he hasn’t given up. He has a plan although it makes him afraid.
Hoseok rows the boat strong and steady. Namjoon cradles a bag on his lap while a prickly haze crawls over his skin. When Hoseok shoots him a concerned glance, Namjoon does his best to smile, but he can’t ignore his panicked thoughts. Would it work or would he make things worse? It’ll be so simple to mess up. There’s no way he can’t mess up.
“Look at that!” Hoseok exclaims. Namjoon snaps his head up. A shower of snow falls, taking their time fluttering and twirling in the wind. It’s a couple of seconds later that they hear whispers. “They’re falling stars.”
The river is covered in a yellow glow as each star dips inside. Others entangle themselves in the trees. Namjoon holds his hands out and a star snuggles against his palm. In every direction, there’s laughter and excited words mushed together. Although Namjoon can’t pick out everything they’re saying, he knows the message they’re sending: “He loves you.”
The stars light Namjoon’s path and bounce along his side. He can’t help but grin. His heart is snug in a warm blanket woven of interlaced pinkies, subtle glances, and gentle smiles.
"Namjoon!" Jimin sprints with his legs in full stride and leaps forward. Namjoon drops his bag to catch him and hears Jimin laugh loud in his ear.
Namjoon’s eyes are soft as he looks down at Jimin’s face. "Did you do all this?"
"Had to distract the guards somehow." Jimin lands on his feet but doesn't let go of Namjoon's arm. "You said six months, right? Not six days or six weeks."
"Yeah." Namjoon wants to imprint the lilt of Jimin's voice in his mind, the warmth of Jimin's hands on his arm, and the look on Jimin's face in a memory box he can always hold. Namjoon wants their days and nights to intertwine. He doesn’t want this to be a secret only the stars can see. “Can you take me to your parents? I want to talk to them.”
Jimin purses his lips, and Namjoon interlaces their fingers. “We’ll do this together.” They enter the castle, and a couple of guards stop them, but Jimin has a protective arm around Namjoon. Servants pop their heads out of doors, and a few pretend to perform their duties. They watch the two princes hold hands and climb the stairs.
They walk to the center of the throne room. Although the King and Queen are imposing figures, Namjoon wants to connect with them personally. He thinks back to when he met Hoseok’s little sister and when he met Jimin for the first time. He pulls out a bouquet of blue roses from his bag and kneels.
"I am Kim Namjoon—a prince from across the river. Will you accept this gift?" A servant takes the bouquet. Jimin squeezes Namjoon’s hand reassuringly. The King and Queen take a sniff and smiles bloom. Namjoon and Jimin trade fond glances.
Roses are small but hold so much beauty. Stars fit in his palm but hold so much warmth. Love is a small word but holds everything he feels. In this quiet throne room, Namjoon loves and feels loved.