Archive of Our Own ^beta

At the convenience store on the way to the cafe, Seoho spots Geonhak’s face on a tabloid. 

It isn’t even a strange occurrence these days. Geonhak is so far in the public limelight that Seoho sometimes wonders if he ever gets a break from all the cameras and microphones. Everybody wanted an insider’s look at the life of glamour and scandal that the Prince of Korea, Heir Presumptive to the Phoenix Throne ostensibly lived. The fact that he’s so ethereal, so unfairly attractive doesn’t really hurt, either-- objectively, of course. Not by Seoho’s own observations or anything like that.

Seoho takes the magazine and haphazardly flips through. Apparently, His Royal Highness has gotten himself wrapped up in yet another dating scandal. “Dating.” Geonhak and his presumptive girlfriend-- a rising idol, Seoho notes-- don’t really do anything that should indicate an intimate relationship in the actual photographs, but some of them manage to catch the redness of Geonhak’s ears, and that makes Seoho chuckle to himself. The public doesn’t know just how awkward Geonhak could be around girls. Or guys, for that matter.

So, in spite of his better judgement, Seoho grabs the magazine and pays for it alongside some spearmint flavored gum and a pack of strawberry-flavored Hi-Chews. 

The cafe, his destination, is just across the street. After buying his drink, Seoho picks a secluded spot for two somewhere in the corner of the room. If they sit next to the window, they run the risk of being exposed to cameras. Sit near the entrance and Geonhak could get recognized by anyone who walks in, especially when he can’t drink his coffee-- not coffee, he wouldn’t order coffee. Sugary menageries that don’t even remotely belong in a coffee shop-- while wearing his mask. 

Seoho looks through the tabloid magazine some more while he waits, and it doesn’t take long for Geonhak to walk in. Never too late, but never very punctual, either. He’s dressed inconspicuously, almost sloppily, like he just came from the gym, but anyone with a modicum of fashion knowledge could tell that his clothes are expensive, however, they’re coordinated in a way that would’ve made Youngjo click his tongue in disappointment. As soon as Geonhak notices what Seoho is reading, he scrunches up his nose, a gesture that Seoho has come to know and love over the years. 

“I hope you know that by buying that, you’re supporting yellow journalism and contributing to an industry that perpetuates all the unsavory practices that intrude on the private lives of public figures,” Geonhak tells him wryly as he sets his mocha frappuccino with caramel syrup and extra whipped cream down on the table. 

“I get it, you went to Cambridge for a semester,” Seoho says, taking a sip of his americano. “Want a Hi-Chew?”

And Geonhak’s right. The tabloids make Seoho’s blood boil as well, but he’s often much too curious about them to just leave them be. He’s angry that the public will make up such wild and conspicuous stories about Geonhak all the while ignoring his painstaking efforts in conservation and philanthropy. Sure, Geonhak’s pretty far in the public limelight, but that only means that the public will choose to believe what they want about him.

“But I studied zoology there,” Geonhak says, looking slightly scandalized. “This has nothing to do with it.”

“ Zoology . Now that’s a big word I’ve never heard of before. Sounds like it could be related to whatever you just said.”

“Hyung, you’re literally in vet school. We did the same major!”

Seoho puts the magazine down for a moment to take another sip out of his iced coffee. “Don’t see how that’s relevant.” 

Geonhak sighs, then holds out his hands. “I would very much like that Hi-Chew, please.”

And Seoho doesn’t miss the way Geonhak’s eyes light up when he notices the pink wrapping on the candies that indicate that they’re strawberry flavored. He hopes that this doesn’t tip Geonhak off to the notion that he might’ve gotten them specifically for him and not himself. Geonhak is the last person in the world who needs to know just how much Seoho adores him. 

Geonhak enjoys his candy and drink while somehow avoiding a sugar rush, and Seoho continues to read the magazine. There are a few pages about some actress’ newest role being announced, ads about makeup and exorbitantly priced accessories that cover more space than all of the articles combined. On page sixteen, fashion model Son Dongju poses with a tube of lipstick, smiling at the camera just subtly enough to avoid distorting the shape of his lips. And finally, the article about Geonhak’s supposed dating scandal. There isn’t much substance to it, like all gossip articles, and the pages consist of just the photos and a couple of cheesy captions. 

“How scandalous,” Seoho coos, still trying to get a rise out of him. “The Crown Prince of Korea. Such a ladies’ man.”

Geonhak’s ears begin to turn red, to Seoho’s delight. It’s never been difficult to get him flustered, but it’s always fun to watch him squirm. 

“We’re hardly even friends,” he mumbles. “Why do journalists think that all interactions between people of opposite genders are inherently romantic?” 

“You should be glad that they don’t know how much of a disaster you really are,” Seoho says with a laugh, drawing a string of stuttered protests from Geonhak. 

“You’re so mean to me, hyung,” he replies. There’s a pout on his face and a slight whine to his voice, something that should’ve been uncharacteristic of someone with a voice so deep.

And that is just how things are between them. No titles, no hierarchy, none of the restrictions that Geonhak’s used to and none of the respect and veneration that Seoho would’ve been expected to show. None of the reservations that Seoho once had towards speaking to him, and none of the anxieties that Geonhak would have about speaking to anyone else.

Once upon a time, Geonhak had told Seoho that he liked the teasing, liked their unique relationship that rose from the unique circumstance of Seoho having met him before either of them could understand their places in the world. Geonhak said that he liked how Seoho treated him as an equal, how he was sometimes the only person in the world who wouldn’t put him on a pedestal, not even mentally. Seoho simply smiled and stayed silent. If only he knew just how wrong that statement truly is. 

“Hey,” Geonhak says suddenly, interrupting Seoho’s thoughts. “Can we go to your place?” 

“Right now?” Seoho wrinkles his nose. “Why? It’s such a shithole.”

Geonhak pouts again, and Seoho finds that he does not have the capacity to deny him anything. 

“You know I don’t get to leave the palace often these days,” he reasons. “I want to spend time with you, hyung. In private. Plus, you have a PS4.”

To that, Seoho sighs and finishes up the rest of his coffee. With what he has, Geonhak could probably buy billions of PS4s, but Seoho choses to not point that out for his sake. 

And Geonhak’s right. They’ve been seeing each other less and less as the days go on, and although there’s a certain type of comfort to the fact that they’re meeting in public, on neutral ground and thus devoid of suspicion, they could never truly be themselves in an environment where a camera could be hiding around any given corner, across any given street.

“Fine. Let’s go.”

Despite being, by all accounts, an ordinary person, Seoho grew up in the palace. His parents were both employed by the royal family and worked important live-in jobs, so he got to live within the bounds of the palace walls as well. Growing up, he’d never had any interest in taking a palace job himself, and his family respected that. Much of his youth consisted of spending school years at various boarding schools, and vague memories of summers in the palace. 

Rather unsurprisingly, Geonhak was different. He’s been sheltered and homeschooled for his entire life. He had the other palace children to play with, but they were often taught to treat him differently from a very young age, leaving him socially isolated and perhaps hyper-aware of his own privilege. 

They’re a strange pair, that’s for sure. This becomes especially evident while His Royal Highness is playing Call of Duty in Seoho’s dinghy little apartment and Seoho sits at the small table in the corner and works on studying for his upcoming exam. Geonhak’s sprawled over the couch in a way that should absolutely not be comfortable in the slightest, with his feet crossed over the armrests and his head awkwardly hanging over the side. 

The scene puts a fond smile on Seoho’s face, and he’s reminded about all the times he’d accompanied him to royal functions over the years, how Geonhak would always sit uncomfortably straight and visibly fidget in his well-fitted suits. On the other hand, whenever they’d spend time in the palace together as kids, he would sit on any available surface and lie on the floor and cling to Seoho like a big royal barnacle. Whenever they were caught by one of the advisors or workers, or worse, a member of the royal family, they would gently berate Geonhak and tell him to sit up straight, but they always left Seoho alone. 

The two of them sit together in a sort of comfortable silence, until suddenly, Geonhak pauses the game. 

“My parents introduced me to a new suitor the other day,” he says. He sounds hesitant, like it’s something he’s been waiting to say, something he’s been stewing over the words for. 

Now, Geonhak is still quite young. Normally, there wouldn’t be much of a rush to get married at his age, but of course, Geonhak’s circumstances are never normal. His family has been introducing suitors to him ever since he reached his teens, and although he’s never taken a liking to any of them, there’s a certain pressure about it that makes Seoho worried that he might cave.

The thought of Geonhak settling for someone he doesn’t like, someone who wouldn’t make him happy. That puts a heavy lump in Seoho’s throat.

“Really?” Seoho tries his best to sound uninterested. Partially for his own sake, partially for Geonhak’s. “What’s she like?”

“He.”

Oh. Seoho suddenly finds himself sitting up completely straight, turning around to face Geonhak. “That’s new.” 

“Mm. Trust me, I’m surprised too.”

Geonhak puts down his controller and somehow reclines even further into the couch. At this point, Seoho’s half-worried that he might fuse with the cushions altogether. 

“He’s nice enough, but I still...I don’t know. I don’t know him, you know? And this might sound stupid, but...I want to meet someone myself? Someone right?” 

“Such a romantic,” Seoho says with a mock groan. “Congratulations, Doya. You’re thinking like a commoner.” 

Geonhak continues to talk about the suitor as Seoho tries his best to focus on his task on hand, but it’s no use, really. Geonhak’s voice is a familiar comfort to him, and usually, he can tune it out into background noise, but this time, he finds himself hanging on to every word he says. According to Geonhak, the suitor is younger than him. Not royal, in the traditional sense, but still rich and powerful, and certainly a member of the illustrious Seoul elite. Exceedingly beautiful, enough so to have built a modelling career for himself outside of his trust and inheritance. 

“And yet, you don’t want him.”

“No,” Geonhak says with a frown, like he’s coming across something he hadn’t realized before. “I don’t think I do.”

“They’re not going to force you to marry him, are they?”

Geonhak lets out an affronted snort. “Hyung, this isn’t the Joseon era. I have agency.”

Some, Seoho thinks to himself. But not as much as he thinks. Never as much as he thinks. 

“If you want to wait, I think it’s fine to keep waiting. I’m sure you’ll meet someone you like,” Seoho tells him carefully. 

He feels a little foolish, giving such ordinary advice to a person whose life can only really be described as extraordinary. But at the same time, Geonhak’s lines of thought have always been fairly ordinary, even if they don’t exactly align with the card he’s been dealt. 

“But that’s the thing, hyung. I don’t know if I want to be with someone I don’t know.” Geonhak stops talking to yawn, and the sight makes Seoho fight down another smile. He looks like a newborn puppy. “I want to marry someone I’ve known for a long time. You know?”

Oddly specific, Seoho thinks, despite his better judgement, and his chest twists uncomfortably.

“I get what you mean.” Then, he shoots him a suggestive grin. “Got anyone in mind?”

“Mm.” Geonhak looks away, answering absolutely nothing, and in Geonhak-language, this means that the conversation is over. 

They sit in relative silence for a while after that, but after Seoho gets sufficiently frustrated by his assignment, he joins Geonhak on the couch and they play Call of Duty for the rest of the day. Geonhak ends up lying on Seoho’s lap, and at some point during a round, he reaches up to scratch Seoho underneath his chin. This throws him off enough to get him killed. He attempts to tell Geonhak off and make sure that he never hears the end of it, but after Geonhak tells him that he’s doing this because he thinks that the way he reacts is so cute , Seoho finds that he has nothing to say.

And for a while, that’s the last time Seoho and Geonhak meet. It’s just the way things are, just the way things have been for a while now, and although they’re too busy to see each other as often as they used to, there’s the unspoken knowledge that they’ll always, always hold each other close.

(And for Seoho, that’s relieving sometimes. Keeping Geonhak at an arm’s distance means that he can avoid some particularly difficult questions that he really should be asking himself.)

After his classes for the day, Seoho’s the first to arrive at the Korean barbecue restaurant that he and Keonhee had agreed to meet up at. It’s become a bit of a habit of his, always making sure to arrive a few minutes early to ensure that he doesn’t miss out on any time at all. The waiting can get lonely, sometimes, but loneliness can often be a comfort. 

Though when Keonhee finally arrives, it’s even more of a comfort. Keonhee’s one of those people who can light up a room just by being present, and the very sight of his old friend makes Seoho grin. They order soju and a quantity of meat that should definitely be way too much for just two people, but it’s nothing out of the ordinary because whenever the two of them eat together, they become forces of unbound chaos. They talk about their work, about their research, about their lives, as well as reminiscing about the past.

“Oh yeah! How’s Geonhak-hyung doing? Manage to catch him lately?”

Seoho takes a noncommittal sip from his soju bottle before answering.

“Pretty well, I guess. We met up a few weeks ago.”

“Oh?” Keonhee begins to cut up the meat on the grill. It’s not as done as it should be, usually, but he’s likely eager to eat and too unhappy sitting idle. “Whenever I ask to hang out, he’s always busy with royal stuff.”

“Yeah?” Seoho cracks a smile. “Maybe I’m just special.”

And to that, Keonhee rolls his eyes at him. “Of course you are, hyung.”

Seoho knows better than anyone that Keonhee’s not accusing Geonhak of anything, and his words were likely meant to act as more of a jab towards their curiously close relationship than Geonhak’s schedule. They both know that he is, in fact, always busy with royal stuff, and that he intentionally and laboriously sets aside small chunks of time for Seoho’s sake. 

For many years, Seoho hadn’t really known what to think about that. In fact, he still doesn’t.

Seoho spots Youngjo long before Keonhee does, quietly and slowly approaching from behind him like a cat stalking its prey. And Seoho lets Keonhee talk, remaining silent until Youngjo finally pounces and hugs Keonhee around the shoulders from behind his seat as a greeting. Keonhee yelps in surprise, causing heads to turn in their direction from all across the restaurant, and Seoho laughs in the face of his misfortune. 

“Hyung, you’re awful,” Keonhee whines, but he reclines into Youngjo’s touch. Youngjo smiles at him and ruffles his hair. 

“Hey, Youngjo-hyung. You’re late,” Seoho says, with no bite in his voice. “Finally decided to pay us a visit?”

“Yeah, sorry about that.” Youngjo walks around the chair to take a seat next to Keonhee so that both of them are sitting across from Seoho. “Got held up by one of my clients.”

Keonhee wrinkles his nose. “Your clients sound like they’re the worst. Is it the same guy that wanted you to make four suits in a week?”

“Not the same, no. Might as well be, though. They both act the same way.” Youngjo swipes Seoho’s soju bottle, causing him to let out a noise of protest, and takes a long gulp. “Entitled.”

Keonhee and Seoho both know Youngjo through Geonhak. He’s a member of a family that’s practically tech royalty, and although they’re only very recent members of Seoul’s high society, they’re established enough to maintain a close working relationship with the royal family and its associates. Although a person like him would usually be expected to take over the company some day, he’d opted to independently pursue fashion as a career instead. He’s been quite successful, launching pieces that have become hot topics for critics and consumers alike.

And as Youngjo continues to talk about work, Seoho thinks about all the similarities his story shared with that of the suitor Geonhak described, albeit the fact that he’s a designer and not a model. He privately wonders if they know each other, but he opts not to ask. However close they are to him, Keonhee, Hwanwoong, and Youngjo don’t need to know the things Geonhak tells him about his already very closely-monitored love life. 

Realizing something, Seoho frowns.

“Hey, is Hwanwoong not coming today?”

Youngjo shakes his head. “He said he wanted to, but he had a late class to teach.” 

“He works so hard.” Keonhee picks a piece of meat off the grill. It’s ready now, charred on one side and a vivid shade of dark brown on the other. “One of these days, I think someone’s gonna have to force him to take a break.”

“Believe me, I’ve tried. I always have to remind him to eat and sleep.” 

“Ask him to sleep more, hyung,” Keonhee complains. “I went to get coffee with him the other day, and he looked like shit .”

“I’ll try my best,” Youngjo says wryly. “Next time he stays up past two, I’ll knock him out myself.”

It makes Seoho think of the university days, when Hwanwoong would spend entire nights in the practice rooms before dragging himself back to the dorms at the same time Geonhak would usually leave for the gym in the morning. Now, as a dance teacher, he didn’t have to practice as often, but he still had the option to overload his schedule with way too many classes, which he often did. Some things just never change, he supposes.

When their second plate of meat arrives, Youngjo nods at Seoho. “So, the palace charity event next week. You going?”

Seoho smiles wryly. He hadn’t wanted to go-- frankly, he’s been to enough little palace soirees to last an entire lifetime and more-- but even if he doesn’t go, Geonhak will still have to, and he’s never been very good at socializing, at navigating all the intricacies and internal politics of the elite. Plus, he’d begged Seoho with those huge puppy eyes of his, and once again, Seoho franky finds it exceedingly difficult to deny him anything.

“Yeah,” Seoho tells Youngjo. “I guess I’ll see you there, then. Are you bringing anyone?”

Youngjo shrugs. “No, I don’t think so. Unless you want to come?” He nods at Keonhee, who immediately wrinkles his nose.

“No way. I’m already sick of all this rich people talk,” Keonhee complains with an overly exaggerated roll of his eyes, to which Seoho loudly protests: “I’m hardly rich!”

“Yeah, but the royal family loves you. You’re rich by association.” Keonhee points an accusatory pair of chopsticks at Youngjo. “You, however, are just plain rich.”

“Yah! Show some respect, I’m your elder--”

They eat and drink and squabble for the rest of that night, and it reminds Seoho of a simpler time.

Geonhak and Seoho attended the same university. The finest in the country, of course, because anything less would have been unacceptable for someone of Geonhak’s status. It’s still new for royals to be formally educated at a higher level, outside of the standard homeschooling and etiquette lessons, but Seoho has a feeling that Geonhak would’ve insisted on it even if it weren’t the norm. 

And when Seoho found out that he had been accepted as well, on a scholarship, he was over the moon. He rarely ever cried, was rarely ever willing to show any signs of vulnerability even in front of his best friend, but he had vivid memories of sobbing tears into Geonhak’s sleeves on the day he received the letter. It meant that they did not have to be apart. It meant that they could stay together for just a bit longer, just another chapter of their lives. 

In university, Geonhak went by Leedo, which Seoho thought was a less than great idea due to the fact that it was the alias of one of Korea’s greatest rulers, and perhaps Geonhak thought it was clever, but it didn't exactly do anything to draw attention away from him. It was a simpler time, though, so maybe that made things alright. 

Hwanwoong, Seoho, and Keonhee have been to that very same barbecue restaurant many times before, with and without Geonhak and Youngjo. It’s quite close to where the dorms were, so it was never difficult to call everyone up after their classes and arrange a time for lunch or dinner. The restaurant wasn’t quite a karaoke, but sometimes, they would hold open mic nights. 

And among those nights, there was one particular time, one moment that continued to stand out in Seoho’s memory even after years have passed.

When the host asked for volunteers to start things off, Keonhee practically bounced to the mic with such a magnetic confidence that it probably intimidated the rest of the restaurant guests instead of encouraging them. He delivered a smugly beautiful performance that left everyone speechless, and the host certainly had trouble finding the next performer.

That’s not fair, Hwanwoong complained. You’re a vocal performance major . Keonhee laughed and shoved him lightly.

After that, the two of them dared Geonhak to go up next, and Geonhak had begged Seoho to sing with him. Seoho agreed because he could never deny him a single thing. 

They chose a song that they’ve sung together many times before, and that night, their voices blended together like the swirling colors of a winter sunset. At one point in the chorus, Geonhak had looked at Seoho a certain way, and… Well. There was something in his gaze that reminded Seoho of something he thought he’d long gotten over, but at that moment, he knew he hadn’t. That was the third time Seoho could ever recall falling in love with Geonhak.

But while Seoho has always been good at treating Geonhak like he’s not a royal, he’s always privately seen him as something untouchable. Something beyond him. And while tiny moments like those had never failed to make joy shoot through his veins like falling stars, the immutable axiom in his mind of Geonhak being beyond him would always transform them into great sources of pain and heartache.

Thank you, hyung , Geonhak had told him after the performance. Seoho smiled at him, a small and gentle expression, and told him that it was nothing. And that wasn’t even the first time he’d ever lied to his best friend.

Once, Seoho had been used to this palace. He knew every hallway, every room, even every secret passage as if there were a map drawn on the palm of his hand. 

Now, this place could almost be on another planet, another star system. The years can’t possibly erase an entire childhood of playing in these halls, but change certainly could. It’s been many years since he’d last visited, and since then, the royal family has made a series of high-profile renovations that left the building still ancient and sublime, but now, the lavish interiors could have been befitting of the CEO of a modern tech empire. 

While he’s strolling along the pristine and marbled hallways, Seoho’s confronted with the fact that he’s a commoner here. The simple suit he wore at his university graduation makes him feel out of place among everyone else's’ perfectly tailored and altered outfits, their crowns and medals and golden chains. But at the very least, he’s not a stranger. Older staff, and even members of the royal family smile and nod at him, small and curt gestures of recognition. He’s a commoner, but he still has a place here, however small.

“I’m already at the banquet hall,” Youngjo tells him over the phone. “I haven’t seen Doya yet, but I’m sure he’s around.”

“Got it. Sit tight, hyung, I’m coming.” And with that, Seoho hangs up.

Once he makes his way over to the banquet hall where the events of the night are almost due to take place, he finally spots Geonhak on the other end of the great room. Geonhak’s wearing a white silken tailcoat trimmed by red and gold, and upon a second glance, Seoho notices a subtle gold thread running around the plain white expanse of the rest of the suit jacket. It’s accompanied by a plain black tie that appeared unassuming but likely cost a fortune, and to anyone else, he would’ve looked absolutely regal, completely befitting of his titles But to Seoho, he looks a tiny bit less like himself, a tiny bit out of place. Almost as out of place as Seoho himself, which comforts him, in a way.

But he’s not alone, because someone as important as him rarely ever is. Next to him stands a young man with a head of striking red hair, dressed in a purple suit that could almost rival Geonhak’s in its extravagance. With a jolt, Seoho recognizes him as a face on a tabloid he read, the same one that claimed to have caught Geonhak in that dating scandal. He’s Son Dongju, model and second son of the prominent and powerful Son family, the sun who’s thus far managed to pursue a successful career of his own while his older twin is currently poised to inherit all the assets and responsibilities. With another jolt, Seoho realizes that he must also be the suitor that Geonhak had described to him at his apartment that day. Exceedingly beautiful, just like he had said. 

Untouchable, just like him. And that makes Seoho’s heart sink into his chest a little.

So Seoho takes a seat next to Youngjo, who greets him with a grin and immediately places a reassuring arm around his shoulders. The official activities conclude with a blur, and Geonhak is quickly whisked away by one of the palace attendants to talk to some of the special guests, much to Seoho’s disappointment. It can’t be helped. He’s being trained to be a mediator, an ambassador, and this is basically part of his job now. With nothing else to do. And after Youngjo leaves his side to do some networking of his own, Seoho makes the impulsive decision to seek Dongju out. 

When he spots Dongju next to one of the hors d'oeuvre tables, he’s waved over with a surprising amount of enthusiasm.

“You must be the famous Seoho-ssi,” Dongju says brightly, reaching out to shake his hand. He smiles so sweetly that it makes Seoho’s head hurt, and it gives him the creeping suspicion that he’ll be almost impossible to dislike. Normally, Seoho appreciates that in a person, but in this case…

“You know me?” Seoho says, blinking in surprise.

Dongju offers him a surprisingly firm handshake. “You’ve come up in conversation a few times,” he tells him excitedly. “Geonhak-hyung talks about you a lot, you know that?”

Something flips in Seoho’s weak, traitorous heart. 

The two of them manage to strike up a decent conversation, though Seoho refrains from asking about his courtship with Geonhak. And as Seoho had thought, Dongju really is impossible to dislike, so he decides that he rather likes him. Although Seoho refrains from asking, Dongju does let a few things slip, and while it doesn’t seem like Geonhak is outright rejecting his advances, it doesn’t really seem like he’s leading him on, either, which is incredibly curious. 

But speak of the devil. At some point during the conversation, Dongju suddenly stops talking to stare into space, and Seoho glances in that certain direction as well. It turns out that Geonhak’s there, hiding behind a pillar right outside of the banquet hall, and Seoho is taken aback by the ridiculousness of that sight. Geonhak doesn’t seem too concerned that both of them are staring at him, as he’s frantically waving in Seoho’s direction.

“Um--” Seoho says, turning back to face Dongju. “Can I?”

Dongju laughs. “Yeah. Go ahead. That looks important.”

Flustered, Seoho slips away to meet Geonhak, making sure that nobody else in the banquet hall watches him leave, although it’s highly unlikely that anyone is actually paying attention to him. Dongju leaves to talk to another pair of people, presumably with the intention of charming them just like he’d charmed Seoho. Seoho recognizes one of them as Bong Jaehyun, another prominent heir within the Seoul elite. His companion, however, who has bright fuchsia hair and nails painted in all the colors of the rainbow, is someone he’s not all that familiar with. He doesn’t have too much time to dwell on this before Geonhak’s hands are on his shoulders, dragging him out the door and behind the pillar with him at an angle where he could no longer observe the people in the banquet hall.

“What are you--”

Geonhak hushes him with a finger, then points at the other side of the hallway. There’s the clicking of high heels against marbled flooring, and a woman walks by, apparently making her way back to the hall. It’s a serendipitous reminder that the place is absolutely crawling with hired bodyguards and staff alike. 

Ah, Seoho thinks, with a mischievous grin travelling up his face, and Geonhak mirrors this expression. So this is what they’re doing.

They’ve done this before, sneaking away from the main halls and stuffy adults and responsibility , gallivanting off to a stroll in the gardens instead. In all honesty, it’s probably Seoho’s fault for planting sparks of rebellion in the prince’s impressionable mind at such a young age, but over the years, that spark has never quite faded from either of them.

There’s a member of the royal guard standing in front of the closest door leading out to the courtyard, so the two of them turn the other way and tiptoe through the relatively empty long way instead.

“Hey,” Seoho hisses when he’s sure that the coast is pretty much clear. 

Geonhak turns to him after briefly scanning the hallways ahead. He’s still wearing the mischievous smile they shared outside the banquet hall. “What’s up, hyung?”

“You didn’t tell me that your newest suitor is Son fucking Dongju .”

“Oh yeah.” His face turns around into a frown. “Didn’t think you’d have heard of him.” 

“He was literally on the tabloid I was reading, Doya. Your tabloid.”

“Alright, can we not call it my tabloid? You’re the one who consciously made the decision to support--”

Suddenly, footsteps echo through the empty halls from a corner behind them, and Seoho quickly grabs Geonhak by the collar and shushes him harshly. Luckily, there’s a door just ahead on the right, and they tumble outside in a pile. There’s a moment of awkward silence before the two of them burst out into laughter. Seoho dusts himself off, then reaches his arms out to help Geonhak up, one of his hands clasping onto Geonhak’s and the other stabilizing his shoulder. 

“What do you think of him, hyung?” Geonhak asks, a little breathless, to which Seoho frowns. He notices that there are dirt stains on his suit now, and they stand out much too clearly against the pale white and subtle gold of the garment’s expensive material. It’s concerning, certainly, and they’ll have a lot of difficult questions to answer if and when they get caught, but there’s hardly anything they can do about that now. If you’re breaking a norm, you might as well break twenty.

A few seconds later, Seoho realizes that he hasn’t responded to the question, so he lets out a very eloquent and very intelligent: “What?”

Geonhak scrunches his face up and huffs. 

“About Dongju, you airhead. You guys met, right?”

Seoho hums, forgoing the insult for now. He’ll get him back for that later. “I like him.”

“He’s hard not to like,” Geonhak agrees. They’re in the garden proper now, a small grove of plum blossom trees welcoming them into the space. It’s flowering season, and although it’s dark outside, petals are scattered all over the ground and drift through the air like new snow. Scattered lanterns and moonlight give them a decent view of all the species on the flowerbeds and undergrowth. “He’s considerate, he’s smart, my parents like him, and--”

“He’s pretty,” Seoho finishes for him. Right then, a petal lands on the top of Geonhak’s head, light and delicate pink contrasting against his dark hair. And while Seoho reaches up to brush it off, Geonhak nods in quiet agreement.

“So why--”

“He’s not right , hyung,” Geonhak says, voice still quiet, but he cuts Seoho off with a sort of aggression that he isn’t exactly used to from his best friend, so he flinches before he could help himself. “Wait, sorry, I--”

“No, I shouldn’t have pried.” Seoho laughs weakly. “I’m sorry. It’s just...He sounds so perfect…”

“You’re fine, I promise.” Geonhak loops his arm around Seoho’s, and the sudden contact is electric, but also reassuring. Geonhak’s arm is a familiar weight by his side, and he should’ve been acclimated to its presence after all these years, and yet… “Perfect, yes, but it still doesn’t mean that he’s… Right, you know?” 

“Mm. I get that.”

And they simply walk together until they’re at the southern end of the garden. There are still plum trees here, but they’re more sparsely scattered about, and significantly less petals lay on the ground ahead. 

“Hey,” Geonhak says, pointing at a beam underneath one of the roofs. There’s a haphazard shape nestled against it, a mass of mud and twigs that seem to form a bowl of sorts. It makes Seoho smile in recognition, and in a strangely happy sort of nostalgia. He remembers the old swallow nest. But it also strikes him, then, just how long it’s been since he’d last been here. 

“I wonder if they ever came back,” Seoho says wistfully. “Did they ever come back?”

At that moment, Geonhak reaches into Seoho’s pocket and grips his hand. His fingers are cold and characteristically dry, though the feeling of his skin on Seoho’s own immediately sends a jolt up his spine. 

“They came back every single year,” he reassures him. “I’m sure they’ll come back this year, too. At the right time.”

At the right time, huh?

“You know, it’s interesting,” Geonhak says, and Seoho notices that he suddenly has his thinking face on. One brow furrowed, one side of his face slightly scrunched up, though not so much as he does so when he’s annoyed. “Once, someone told me that swallows represent something being left behind. Leaving and never coming back, that sort of thing.”

“Who told you that?”

“My friend’s tattoo artist, but that’s besides the point.” Seoho holds back his scoff. 

“But they always come back,” Seoho says. The nest sits empty, but now, he begins to notice things about it. It’s a little bigger than it used to be, as if it’s been patched up from many years of damage. There’s a cobweb woven right underneath it. “You’re right. That’s pretty interesting.”

And Geonhak practically beams at him. “Right? It’s super ironic, and actually, I had a classmate in Cambridge who did a study on swallow philopatry...”

Really, they should be going back to the banquet hall; Geonhak’s important, and people are probably looking for him. But the moon’s bright in the sky, half-full but still illuminating the petals that fall from the plum blossoms, imbuing them with a strange and ethereal glow against the night. There’s a single star in the sky, and Seoho could listen to Geonhak talk for the rest of eternity. This moment is perfect. The two of them are perfect. 

There is another time, another ghost in the past that Seoho remembers all too vividly. 

They were teenagers, at the time, and Seoho was still trying to figure out who he was. At the same time, Geonhak was trying to come to terms with who he was supposed to be, wrestling with the conflict that arose between that and who he wanted to be. In all actuality, Seoho thinks that it’s something he’s going through even to this day.

It’s one of his last and fondest memories of living in the palace. Just before the year in which he went off to the university dorms with Geonhak, just before he’d left for good, a couple of swallows had built a nest underneath one of the palace roofs. They snuck away from the guards, one day, and while they were running around the courtyards and tip-toeing about the halls, Geonhak had excitedly told him about a nest underneath one of the roofs surrounding the main gardens. 

It was during the junction between spring and summer, the liminal season in which the weather oscillated between days of stifling heat and days of pouring rain. The season of the plum blossoms had long passed, and instead of flowers, the trees on the grove had been heavy with plump yet unripe fruit. The nest looked like nothing but a mass of dirt and stones pressed against the gable, and Seoho wouldn’t have been able to tell that it was a nest at all if it weren’t for the fact that Geonhak told him so, and if it weren’t for the presence of the swallow that had been perched on one of the beams, warily staring back at them with its wide, beady eyes. 

And from that day on, he and Geonhak would visit every single morning to watch the birds in the nest, then to check if the eggs had hatched, then to watch the baby birds grow into their wings. In the moment after one of the birds took their first flight out of the nest, Geonhak gripped Seoho’s hand so tightly that his fingers might have cracked, but when he glanced back at him and beamed, smiling that wide smile of his that made the edges of his mouth curl up like tiny sickles, all had been forgiven. 

That was the second time in Seoho’s life where he had realized that he was, in fact, deeply and inconsolably in love with his best friend. And that was also a moment where Seoho had taken time for granted, where he hadn’t even thought about how he would probably never have moments like that in the palace, with Geonhak, for a long, long time.

They grew up as equals when they shouldn’t have, and at the time, Seoho was only just beginning to realize this. Geonhak’s life had been steeped in privilege, but for Seoho, in the eyes of everyone else, getting to be around the Crown Prince was a privilege for him. That fact became more and more obvious to Seoho as he grew up, and slowly, he internalized it.

And yet, Geonhak had remained so blissfully oblivious. He clung to Seoho like a barnacle, following him everywhere and orbiting him like a planet around a star. Or perhaps a moon around a planet. His eyes have always been like two bright crescent moons, shining like all the stars in the sky.

But that was all wrong. Geonhak couldn’t have been a moon, or even a planet. That couldn’t have possibly been him. Seoho and Geonhak grew up as equals, but being around Geonhak will always be a privilege for Seoho. Geonhak is the bright morning sun, the most luminous star in the sky, and Seoho is a planet at best . Actually, he feels more like a lost, singular asteroid most of the time, rushing aimlessly around the vacuum of space with only his star at the center to guide him. 

So Seoho orbits around him, but as the years go by, he can feel himself drifting further and further away, spinning out of his system despite the strength of his gravitational force. It’s obvious, now, that Geonhak will never be for him. He’ll always be a rock in space, while Geonhak will always be a blazing star, and he’s lucky to have existed in his presence for so long without being blinded or burned by his brilliance. 

It takes another grueling couple of weeks before Seoho gets any chances to meet with Geonhak again, but when he does get the chance, he finds himself thinking about it for the entire day leading up to it. Early spring has slipped away like a petal in the wind, and the dreary heat of midspring spreads like a blooming rose. 

After a long day of classes, Seoho’s at a cafe with Keonhee, who’s too busy working on his part of an article that he’s co-publishing with one of his profs to strike up much conversation, which is a rarity for someone as outgoing as he is. So Seoho tries his best not to disturb him, which is in turn a rarity for someone like him.

The keyword here is tries, as Seoho could go completely silent for about two hours, a new record, but after that, he couldn't help but lay his head on the table and let out a long groan. Then two. Then several.

“You alright, hyung?” Keonhee says absently, knowing full well that he’s probably being dramatic but simply being too good-natured to let him suffer alone or tell him to shut up. 

“My soul is leaving my body.”

“Mood.” Keonhee looks up from his laptop. “When’s your next clinical rotation?” 

“Next week,” Seoho mutters listlessly. He’s working with a certain Choi Sungyoon, a resident that’s just a year older than him but seems to work with the animals like a vet with years of experience. “I didn’t even have a rotation this week, and I’m already lethally sleep deprived. Please help me.”

Keonhee leans over to pat him twice on the head, which he leans into. “It’s your last year, isn’t it? You’ll get through this. I believe in you.”

“Thank you,” Seoho says. “How’s the article going?”

Keonhee wrinkles his nose. “As well as it could be, I guess. I mean, my prof did most of the work, so it’s not all that bad.” He then takes another look at his laptop screen. “Oh, it’s almost eight.”

Seoho immediately sits up. “Oh shit? It’s almost eight?”

He packs up his laptop and his notes, which he admittedly hadn’t taken a lot of over the course of their study date. If he hurries, he’ll be able to make it back to his apartment by the time he and Geonhak had agreed to meet up. 

Keonhee continues to work, probably intent on finishing what little he had to finish before the cafe’s closing time. “I’m still wondering, hyung. Should you really be going clubbing on so little sleep?”

“You know I don’t get to catch him very often,” Seoho tells him, although the question gives him pause. He’d be willing to make worse decisions for Geonhak’s sake, and he hates that he knows this about himself. “I’ll be fine, I promise.”

At that, Keonhee shoots him an odd expression, and for a panicked moment, Seoho wonders if he knows . He’s been watching the two of them interact for years now, and has basically been introduced to Geonhak and Seoho as a set , as a pair of inseparable lifelong friends who happened to go to the same university just to stay close. If Seoho’s ever betrayed the contents of his heart even a little bit, he’s sure to have noticed it. But even Youngjo, who’s so observant about people that it scares all of them a little bit, hasn’t ever brought the matter up to him, so he assumes that he’s safe. For now.

Seoho’s apartment is about five minutes away, and although he couldn’t be as punctual as he would’ve liked, he’s still not exactly late when he reaches the front of the lobby. 

Geonhak’s already waiting at his door, dressed in a leather jacket that’s opened at the front to reveal his matching turtleneck. There’s a thin gold chain hanging from his neck, matching his blond hair and acting as a splash of color against his otherwise black-on-black outfit.

Blond hair. That’s new. Geonhak had texted Seoho about it extensively when he was getting it bleached, sending him selfies with slightly puckered lips and the occasional peace sign, and it had made him smile. A day later, paparazzi pictures of his new look had been plastered all over the internet, eliciting shocked reactions from people all over the country. But, seeing it in real life makes his breath audibly hitch a bit, his heart skip a beat. 

Geonhak waves to him as a greeting, then shyly runs a hand through his hair. “It doesn’t look bad, right?”

“You look…” Seoho struggles to find the words, trying his best not to stutter. “Like a bowl of ramen.”

To that, Geonhak scrunches his face. “Hyung, you’re mean,” he says, but he slings an arm across Seoho’s shoulders. Instinct.

“I basically called you a snack, and you’re calling me mean for that? I see how it is, Your Royal Highness.”

Geonhak rolls his eyes at the title, but he doesn’t deign it with a response. Seoho wriggles away from his grasp to disappear into his apartment and get changed, opting to just throw a simple blue blazer over his white shirt. Normally, he would’ve simply gone with his current outfit, but where they’re going, it probably wouldn’t be best to wear something so understated. Despite having changed next to nothing about his appearance, Geonhak immediately tells him that he looks nice, which almost makes his brain short circuit.

“Ready?” Geonhak asks, and he lasts about four seconds without putting his hands on Seoho again, this time gripping his wrist almost like he’s gently pulling him along, trying his best to keep him close.

“Mm. Ready as I’ll ever be. Let’s go.”

The bar isn’t too far from where Seoho lives, and it’s pretty much within walking distance, a club that’s unusually opulent for the university neighborhood that it’s located in. He could imagine that it’s a place built to attract the older folks, the people who can afford to rewind with a glass of scotch after a long day of work, but in the recent years, it’s caught the attention of the students from the local university-- the international students, especially. When they arrive, Seoho cringes at the number of digits on the drink prices and notes that the light fixtures probably cost more than the total property value of his flat. 

It’s becoming a trend these days, Geonhak treating Seoho to places that he’d never be able to afford by himself. Geonhak has his own land and titles now, poised to take up his position as the young heir, and of course, that also means he has more of his own money to spend. So, as a consequence that he claims is perfectly logical to him but doesn’t make the slightest bit of sense to Seoho, he’s been taking his friend on increasingly ridiculous and expensive outings.

Outings. If Seoho didn’t know any better, he would’ve been calling them dates.

Geonhak nudges him as he balks at the menu. “Come on, hyung. Pick something.”

“It’s your treat! You pick!”

Geonhak ends up asking the bartender for two bottles of soju. Strawberry flavored for him, of course, while Seoho opts for the regular. It’s the cheapest thing on the menu besides beer, and he likely chose it because he knows all the fancy drinks about as well as Seoho does, which isn’t very well at all. And he’s picky. Choosing anything unfamiliar would’ve been a risk, and remembering the fact almost makes Seoho laugh. 

There’s a dark sort of ambiance to the place. The lights are dim, but not so dim that you couldn’t see any faces. The music is loud, but not so loud that you couldn’t hear any voices, closer to the low hum of restaurant music than that of a typical club. 

“Hey,” Geonhak says, lifting his bottle. He has a brow raised, too, and oh. Seoho is absolutely doomed. “Come here often?” 

Seoho giggles, already a little tipsy off a couple of sips. He leans into him, and Geonhak wears an expression of surprise for a couple of moments before smoothing it out. “Not at all, but I’m glad I’m here. Glad I met you.” Then, before Geonhak could stutter out a reply, he tugs on his sleeve.

“Come on, Doya, let’s go dance!” 

The rest of their time at the club is a blur, and Seoho feels himself fall into a stupor of light, music, and the sound of Geonhak’s low but jubilant laughter, which might as well have been light and music in its own right. They order more drinks, and more, their competitive spirits outpacing their ability to think critically, which is really nothing new. At some point, Seoho could remember the two of them stumbling out the front door, laughing inconsolably with their arms around each others’ shoulders as support. Geonhak even offers to carry Seoho, which he vehemently refuses because despite losing all of his inhibitions, he somehow retains his pride. 

When the night is over, Seoho is left with fleeting observations about the way the streetlights shine against Geonhak’s newly dyed hair, causing him to look like he’s the sun, giving off rays of light even while it’s the middle of the night. He’s left with vague memories of Geonhak’s easy smile slowly morphing into something more serious.

As well as, most alarmingly of all, the taste of strawberries on his tongue. 

It’s an odd situation to be in, being in love with your best friend for years and years and years. It’s even odder when your best friend is constantly in the eye of the public, performing such a delicate dance around his own life just to have his life to himself, and it becomes downright bizarre when the public knows about your feelings before he does. 

Well, when the public thinks it knows about your feelings, which is a wild assumption to make based on a couple of horribly blurry pictures on the internet. But then again, they’re absolutely correct. Correct, albeit in the most wrong way possible. 

Seoho sees himself on the cover of the tabloid magazines, now. A blurred figure standing next to another blurred figure who’s always circled a million times like people can’t figure out that it’s Geonhak. Never his own person, and he’s called things like paramour, lover, dirty little secret. A satellite to a planet, a planet to a star. It’s always the same picture, too, like the magazines had scrambled for the rights to it at the exact moment it was taken. And yet, even though he feels like nobody, even though the headlines treat him like he’s inconsequential at best and a stain of tar on Geonhak’s golden reputation at worst, this incident turns his life upside down. Suddenly, everyone wants to know more about the man who’d ostensibly captured the Crown Prince’s heart. If only they knew.

And while Seoho would like to take Geonhak’s earlier words to heart, about how the tabloids are stupid and make devious assumptions based on minuscule amounts of data, he has the uncomfortably acute awareness of the fact that this time, they have a precedent. They aren’t just holding hands, or looking at each other in a certain way, or even hugging. They’re kissing, blurred faces pressed so closely together, a hand behind a neck and an arm around a waist. And, worst of all, he remembers. Even if the memory is just of a smile, a taste. It’s there, and now he can’t deny that it’s him, not even to himself. 

As for Seoho and Geonhak, neither of them have contacted each other since the incident. Geonhak had walked him home before donning his mask again and leaving for the palace, and Seoho had collapsed right onto his bed. He’d woken up to a new life entirely, and the paparazzis haven’t left him alone for hours that became days that became weeks. Since then, Geonhak has left a string of voicemails to apologize, which is a bit ridiculous because who uses voicemails these days? And even so, it makes Seoho’s heart lurch. Because it isn’t his fault. Because whose fault was it, really? Was there even a fault? 

Geonhak’s always had this problem of apologizing for things that aren’t his fault, and Seoho means to tell him this, at some point, but his finger rests on the call button when he realizes that he wouldn’t know what to say, how to address this. Thus, they’ve fallen into a bit of a communication stalemate.

“Seoho-ssi! Seoho-ssi!” Seoho’s making his way over to the veterinary hospital for his clinical rotation, and there’s a reporter running up to him on the street, microphone in hand and camera crew trailing behind. Seoho doesn’t stop for them, so they struggle to catch up. This must be what a celebrity feels like, although Seoho thinks that he couldn’t be further than the definition of a celebrity, in this situation.

“I would prefer not to speak on this matter,” Seoho tells them coolly. And luckily, this one chooses to leave  him alone this time.

He’d woken up to zero good morning texts from Geonhak, nor did he send one which, admittedly, wasn't much of a change in the past few weeks, but this fact always sours his mood whenever he’s aware of it. He’s sick of running into reporters whenever he’s on his way to his classes or rotations. He’s already been late twice this week because of them, and it’s Wednesday .

While he’s on his way home, Seoho makes sure to put his hood up and wear his mask, and the perilous journey becomes relatively quiet. He’s avoided going to the grocery store for weeks now, but he’s running dangerously low on eggs and ramen, so it’s high time to take a trip. But once he’s there, passing through the candy aisle to pick up a pack of (strawberry) Hi-Chews as an afternoon snack, he spots a familiar head of red hair.

It seems like he’s caught Dongju completely out of his element, although with the way he’s stuffing his basket with various sweets, it seems like he’s perfectly in his element. It’s something that, oddly enough, reminds Seoho of Geonhak, which makes his heart twist once again. He would’ve been a good fit for him. A perfect fit. 

“Seoho-ssi? Hey!” When Dongju sees him, he greets him with a wide grin. 

Seoho returns with a small wave, too little energy to match his enthusiasm. He takes a throwaway glance at his cart, balking when he spots an entire bag of strawberry Hi-Chews. “Oh! Those are great, I love them.”

“Really? I’ve never tried these,” with that, Dongju pulls two more bags off the shelf and drops them into his basket. The gesture makes Seoho laugh. “I trust your judgement, Seoho-ssi.”

“You can call me hyung,” Seoho tells him, almost without thinking, and that makes Dongju smile even wider. 

They peruse the shelves together for a couple of minutes, with Dongju prattling on about his favorite snacks and Seoho occasionally making recommendations of his own. But at some point, Dongju stops talking mid-sentence, and his content and carefree smile suddenly twists into a frown.

“Wait, so--”

Seoho tries to hide his grimace, with little success. He already knows what he’s about to bring up. Actually, it’s quite amazing that they’ve talked for this long without mentioning it.

“Yeah. Sorry about that.”

“Oh! No, don’t apologize, I don’t mind!” Dongju pouts, then, an expression so adorable that it almost physically hurts. “My parents told me to court him, really, and I thought he was cute. So. I just wish he’d told me that he’s taken--”

“Wait,” Seoho stops him. “He’s not.”

“Not what? Taken?”

Seoho simply purses his lips and nods, which only makes Dongju’s expression of puzzlement deepen. “Then why?”

“We haven’t really… Talked about it?” 

Dongju drops his basket, and it lands on the floor with a light thump. “What?”

“Yeah.”

“So, let me get this straight. A week ago, you guys kissed outside a club. It’s been all over the news ever since. The whole goddamn country thinks you’re in a relationship. And you’ve never even--”

“It’s complicated.” Seoho’s playing with the edges of his sweater, now. It’s an old sweater, with its threads beginning to slowly but surely unwind, but he’s been far too attached to the thing to even think about getting rid of it. “Like. Really, really complicated.”

Dongju hums, and Seoho thinks that he probably has an inkling that if he asks for further clarification about that, they’ll probably be here all day. He’s proven correct when Dongju checks his phone for a second, jumping a little right after opening the screen. 

“Ah, I’ve got to get going soon. I have dance practice.”

“Oh? Aren’t you a model?”

“It’s for a commercial, yes. But it’s more like a music video. And the company wanted me to get better at dancing.” Dongju throws up a peace sign. “So yeah, I guess I’m a dancer now, too.”

“That’s cool. Broadening your horizons, I see.” Seoho throws him the warmest smile he could muster. “I’ll see you around, then.”

“Yeah. I hope so. Take care!” Dongju picks up his basket and starts walking. But then, he immediately stops and turns around.

“And please, hyung. For the love of God. Please clear this up with Geonhak-hyung at some point.” Dongju glances at the Hi-Chews in Seoho’s basket, then the ones in his own. “I don’t know all that much about your relationship with him, but I’ve talked to him, you know. I think, no matter what happens, he’ll want you by his side. You’re very important to him, you know that?”

After he’s out of the aisle, Seoho’s still stuck on the thing about the dance lessons. He vaguely remembers that a day ago, Hwanwoong had been complaining to the group chat about one of his students being a model with zero dance experience, and about said model being super nice, what an asshole as well as a goddamn brat and so cute it’s unfair, what the fuck. A moment of thinking later, Seoho shrugs it off as some kind of weird coincidence.

You’re very important to him, you know that?

Seoho spent so many of his childhood summers living in the palace, and as one of the very few children who happened to be around the Crown Prince’s age, he had the grand privilege of getting to spend time around Geonhak, though he hadn’t thought of it as a privilege at the time. In fact, for a long time, the two of them hadn’t really gotten along at all. 

And although he hadn’t thought it a privilege to be around Geonhak, the sense of privilege that surrounded Geonhak himself never did escape his notice. He was much too young to know why, but he knew that Geonhak was somehow special, and this knowledge often manifested in a sense of bitterness towards the Crown Prince, and this bitterness often led to an attitude that got him in trouble with his parents and even a few palace officials. Whenever they met, they would constantly bicker, and they’ve had to be separated more than a couple of times. 

But one day, after an event that had seemed so insignificant back then, that all changed. Seoho was twelve, at the time, and Geonhak was a shy and demure kid who smiled at everyone and treated his elders with respect, but still kept his distance from Seoho. Even though they argued pretty much whenever they met, Seoho would notice small flashes of interest in his boyishly angry expressions, and he’d often squeeze in small (but annoying) questions about Seoho’s interests. It wasn’t all that strange for an eleven-year-old to be curious, especially about the only person in the palace that he could have anything in common with, but when Seoho made it so clear that he wanted nothing to do with him most of the time, it intrigued him that he’d continue to try to break down his heavy walls. 

On that particular day, Seoho had been kicking a soccer ball around one of the courtyards within the palace. For a while, it was just him, but he’d eventually grow aware of another presence within that courtyard. He’d catch a glimpse of Geonhak darting around the pillars, watching from the shadows, but making no move to show himself and ask to play or a fight. It was strange, because he’d usually always be intent on pestering and bothering Seoho in moments like these, but this time, it was like he was pretending to be too shy to talk. 

It annoyed Seoho, just a little bit. Did he think that he was too good to play soccer with him? Did the privilege finally manage to rot his brain and completely transform him into a mean, spoiled brat? So while Seoho kicked the soccer ball up and around the small field, he had an idea-- perhaps he was simply trying to show off, but also, equally as likely, he could’ve been trying to impress his very special and very privileged junior. He attempted to shoot the ball in between a pair of narrow pillars, located just outside one of the doors to the main palace. It went badly, and the ball bounced right off one of the pillars and landed right back on the top of Seoho’s head.

Maybe he achieved his goal of catching Geonhak’s attention, then, because while he was busy writhing in pain on the grass, he’d immediately run over from his spot around the edge of the courtyard to make sure that Seoho was alright.

Hyung, what were you even trying to do?

Seoho grimaced. I have no idea. 

It was cute, then, the way Geonhak had fussed over him. He’d tried to make him go to the infirmity, and it took about ten minutes of coaxing before Seoho could convince him that he was really alright. 

It’s just a bump! I’ll survive! Seoho reassured him, flashing the brightest smile he could muster. And somehow, finally, that was when Geonhak decided to believe him.

They’d retreated into one of the pavilions within the palace grounds, laughing and talking and joking to each other for the rest of the day. It was a strange little memory, but it was also the earliest time wherein Seoho could remember the two of them being. Amicable, at least. It was a moment that would carry consequences for the rest of their lives, although, like many things, they hadn’t known this at the time. 

[7:52]

seoho? you there?

i need to get away.

are you home?

While holding his breath, Seoho tries to start typing his reply, but he deletes it. He types out a word, then deletes it again, and after another minute, he types it out yet again, finger resting on the send button. It’s been weeks, now, since either of them have contacted each other. He’s replied to a few of his voicemails, but those messages have never quite felt this direct. Especially when Geonhak’s name is saved as Doya , with an emoji of a chick next to a heart on his messaging app. It’s a familiar moment, something that feels strange and intimate and now, almost dangerous.

[7:54]

yeah im home

u can come over if u want

God, what the hell is he doing?

Seoho paces restlessly in the hallway right outside of his front door for the next twenty or so minutes, heart beating at a mile a minute. 

Eventually, his phone rings, and the elevator on the other side of the hall gives off a faint but distinctive ringing sound. When Seoho spots Geonhak in one of his many perfectly-tailored suits, his breath hitches in his throat. His tie is undone, hanging loosely from his shirt collar, but his bright white shirt and navy blue jacket are both completely devoid of wrinkles and stains.

“Hey, Geonhak.”

Geonhak shoots him a tired smile. His hair has obviously been styled sometime in the past day, perhaps even professionally, but it’s ruffled and messy and sticking up in various places now. “Hey, Seoho-hyung.”

There’s a thick air of unsaid words and unuttered apologies hanging between them, but somehow, it also feels like absolutely nothing has changed. Seoho thinks that he could forget about everything, about the cameras and lights and alcohol and strawberries, and dive into Geonhak’s familiar arms like the couch at his old family home, and everything would be absolutely alright. But he couldn’t. Not before they figure all this out.

“You look nice,” Seoho tells him, which makes him widen his smile despite the simplicity of the compliment. “Where’d you come from?”

Geonhak does that face scrunch of his, and once again, Seoho’s heart does a painful twist. “Art auction. At the palace.” 

“And why’d you come here?”

There could be so many reasons, Seoho thinks. And maybe it’s all of them.

“Too much media. Too many questions. I needed a break,” Geonhak says. Then, he damn near stumbles forward, falling right into Seoho’s arm. Of course, Seoho catches him and immediately holds him close.

And for the first time ever, Seoho relates. He considers mentioning this to Geonhak, though he decides not to, not when he already looks so crushed. Knowing him, he’ll probably blame himself for the bullshit going on in Seoho’s life, though it pains Seoho to think about how much more intense the whole thing is in Geonhak’s life. He’s been shoved in front of the spotlight practically since the day he was born, not a moment of agency for himself. Never a chance to decide what he wants.

“I’m sorry,” Seoho mutters, hands gently caressing down Geonhak’s back.

“Me too,” Geonhak replies, though his words are muffled against the crook of Seoho’s neck.

They could avoid each other all they want, but in the end, Seoho knows that he’ll never be able to stay away. Knows that whatever he does, he’ll be pulled back into orbit by Geonhak’s gravity. And deep inside, he knows that this is mutual.

“Do you want… to come inside?” 

Immediately, Geonhak vehemently shakes his head. “Can we go somewhere?” He sounds so young, so small, like the Geonhak that Seoho had shared his childhood with, and he holds him even tighter.

They end up somewhere along the banks of the Han river. It’s after sunset, and the dying light of the sun renders the sky dim and dreary. The streetlights on a nearby bridge shine against the backdrop of the sky like distant stars. 

Geonhak’s standing at the edge of the water, hands in his pockets, looking out at the other shore. He has his thinking face on, and in the dim light, against the navy blue sky, he looks so incredibly regal that it makes Seoho want to swoon. So obviously, Seoho decides to cause problems on purpose and give him a light shove.

Geonhak stumbles, stuttering as he just barely stops himself from falling face first into the water, but Seoho would’ve been ready to grab him by the waist regardless. 

“Hyung, I’ll get you for that--”

Seoho laughs and darts just out of his reach. As they run, they send a few rocks flying, and the crunch of footsteps on small river stones ring lightly in the air.

Their last encounter, the weeks of silence. It all hangs over their head like a dark stormcloud, but despite all that, they enjoy themselves. Years of familiarity means that they know all of each others’ idiosyncrasies, that they don’t even need to talk to communicate. And from what Seoho’s getting from Geonhak, from the way his eyes pinch into tiny crescents when he smiles to the way he holds onto Seoho’s wrist when he laughs at something he says, he thinks that everything is going to be alright. 

A few minutes later, they tire themselves out and finally decide to call a truce, sitting next to each other on the shore. The river is still. Seoho grabs a rock and tosses it out, and it skips a few times before landing in the water, leaving blooming ripples in its wake. 

“You never did teach me how to do that,” Geonhak complains, to which Seoho smiles slyly.

“Why should I teach you? I like being better than you at things. ”

“Meanie,” Geonhak says, but he leans into Seoho’s side instead of doing literally anything else to punctuate his point.

So they just sit there, watching the rest of the light fade from the sky. A while later, Seoho notices that it’s pitch black. There are no stars, which isn’t strange for a spot in the city, but he frowns.

“Shouldn’t you be going back, Doya?”

Geonhak thinks for a moment, then lets out a long sigh.

“Maybe. They’ve been blowing up my phone.” He pauses and looks at Seoho. “Should I, hyung? I mean, I should, right?”

“I’ve been told to do things all my life. I’ve had everything laid out for me, I’ve always had this path to follow.” He picks up a rock and tosses it into the lake, and if Seoho had noticed it any sooner, he would’ve told him to pick a flatter one, because the rock doesn’t skip. “Shouldn’t I be able to do what I want? Why should my life be any different?”

It makes Seoho nostalgic, in a very strange and sad way. In his mind, they’re teenagers again, and Geonhak’s relaying an exact monologue that he made back then, just before they went to university together, right after a long and grueling argument with his parents. Back then, he had come out on top, and maybe that means that he’ll come out on top this time, as well. It’s a monologue he’s relayed many, many times before in the past, though Seoho doesn’t blame him at all. It’s something that’s always been relevant, will always be relevant. 

But one thing still strikes Seoho as strange. What I want . What does Geonhak want?

I want this , Geonhak had said, just before the streetlights dimmed in Seoho’s mind and he tasted strawberries on his tongue. It’s right. You’re right . And just then, Seoho is reminded of the fact that they still haven’t really talked.

“Well,” Seoho ventures carefully. “It’s getting late, and you sound like you’re getting tired. Do you want to go home?”

“Absolutely not.” Geonhak kicks a swarm of rocks into the water with one fell swoop. “But you’re right, hyung. Should we get a motel?”

“We can just go back to my place?”

“But I’ve never been to a motel before!” Geonhak looks up at him with his puppy gaze and. Oh God. Not this again. “Come on, I’ll pay--”

“That’s not the issue, Doya. I mean, do you even know what they’re like?”

Geonhak waves him off. “I’m sure they can’t be that bad.”

“Mm. Fine.” 

The sky is almost completely dark now, its deep navy hues broken by only distant streetlights, the reflection of the moon on clear water, and a single star in the sky. And once again, Seoho and Geonhak are standing next to each other on the banks, afraid to move, afraid to speak. The silence is so deafening that when Geonhak finally does speak, Seoho practically jumps in surprise. 

“Hey. Can I kiss you again?”

“Yes,” Seoho tells him, almost without thinking. Without once considering the implications, the consequences.

“I just. I know we were both drunk, and I know it made everything.” Geonhak pauses and waves his hands around. “But I. That was nice. I, so I was wondering if you wanted to do it again--”

“I said yes , Geonhak,” Seoho says bemusedly. He doesn’t know where he gets the confidence, but he reaches up to wrap both arms around Geonhak’s neck, putting a hand on the back of his neck and pulling their faces close. “Come on. Let’s try this.”

So Geonhak cautiously and gently places a hand on Seoho’s waist, and Seoho hopes that he didn’t feel his breath hitch just now. Everything’s warm. Geonhak’s dead serious, dead focused, when he cautiously and carefully leans in, and time stops.

When they kissed the first time, Seoho could only recall Geonhak tasting like alcohol and strawberries. This time, of course, Geonhak doesn’t taste like either of those things, but he’s sweet and intoxicating nevertheless. When they kissed the first time, things were a blur, but now Seoho’s mind is so vividly focused on the moment that he could feel himself logging every movement of Geonhak’s lips, every feeling, every detail and tucking it deep into his memories. 

They part. Geonhak’s expression is still dead serious, his brows still raised, eyes filled with a sort of unspoken concern.

“Thank you,” Seoho gasps, and at first, he doesn’t know why he says it. A moment later, he’s hit with the realization that this is something he’s wanted to do for. Practically his entire life. 

And for the fourth time in his life, he falls in love with his best friend. But this time, it feels slightly less hopeless. His heart doesn’t twist, it runs and jumps like it’s trying to capture the stars in the sky. And Geonhak becomes just a little bit less untouchable, his pedestal lowers just slightly enough for Seoho to scamper up and stand next to him.

“Alright,” Geonhak says smoothly, as if nothing had happened. It’s funny, because growing up, Seoho’s always known him as someone who’s an absolute mess in romantic situations, all blushy and innocent when talking about his crushes. And here he is, operating completely normally while Seoho’s the one being rendered a stuttering and incoherent mess. “There’s a motel just next to the bridge. Let’s go here.”

While Seoho’s the one in love, because it’s always been him. He’s always been the one pining from-- not much of a distance, admittedly, but in the moments where Geonhak’s turned away, smiling at the sunset or, laughing at something Seoho says, the spaces in between. He’s been the one enamored by Geonhak’s presence, blinded by his brilliance. But at the same time, maybe it hasn’t always been him, hasn’t only been him. Seoho thinks that he knows everything about Geonhak, every crack in his facade, every one of his idiosyncrasies, but at the end of the day, they’re both standing on their own stars. 

Motels are, in fact, that bad. It doesn’t seem to bother Geonhak, who stares at everything from the lobby to the little wrapped hygiene sets to the small television screen at the end of their tiny room with all the wonder of a newly hatched chick. Seoho nags Geonhak into letting him shower first, to which he reluctantly relents. They talk about inconsequential things as they dry off in scratchy bathrobes on the motel’s dinghy beds, and everything’s alright. If it weren’t for the fact that the cloud that’s been hanging over them for weeks has gotten even heavier, now.

“So-” Seoho says, at the same time Geonhak says “Um.” Then, they stare awkwardly across at each other from their respective beds. 

“You go first,” Seoho tells him, and Geonhak wastes no time at all.

“Well, see, I’ve been thinking of retiring,” Geonhak says very quickly. “From royalty. Obviously. Like, from the line and everything. I’ve been thinking about what you said, about what I want, and I think--”

“Wait. Woah.” Seoho rubs at his temples. “Dude, I just wanted to talk about the kiss. This is huge.”

“Oh right.” Geonhak looks over at him blankly. “The kiss.”

Kisses , Seoho’s mind helpfully supplies.

Geonhak’s hair is still wet, he notices, and it’s something that he curses himself for noticing. It’s clinging to his scalp and parts of his forehead, and it makes him look younger, somehow. It’s the way a young boy would look after a pool party, or the way a puppy would look after its first time playing in the sea. 

He tries his best to stop thinking, clears his throat. “No, this suddenly seems more important. How long have you been thinking about this, exactly? And what’s the plan?”

“Not for long,” Geonhak reaches up to scratch the back of his head. 

“So your brother. He’ll be Crown Prince then, right?” Seoho puts his legs up on his bed. “How do you reckon he’ll think about that?”

Geonhak lets out a laugh, and it sounds so bright and jovial, so easy that it makes Seoho hurt a little. “Are you kidding? Geonhee’s always wanted to be king. He’d never plot my death or anything, but I know he wants it.” A pause. “And I think he’ll do a better job, honestly.”

“I guess things will work out for everyone, then,” Seoho muses, which draws a breathless laugh from Geonhak. “But what about you? What do you want to do?”

What do you want. Geonhak visibly freezes at the question. His hair is almost completely dry now, beginning to fluff up around the ends, characteristic curls becoming visible once again. Soft. Seoho has to physically resist the urge to reach out and pet him.

“I haven’t thought that far, really. But I guess I’ll do the same things. Do more things for the world. Maybe travel.” The blinds on their windows are closed, but for a moment, Geonhak looks over anyway. Then, he turns back to Seoho and grins. “Alright, that’s it. Your turn, hyung.”

Geonhak leaves several things out, but Seoho manages to catch them all. They’re more unspoken questions than anything, questions about what Seoho plans to do, about what he wants, about what would happen to their precarious situation if and when he chooses to walk down this path. And most of all, there are questions about the two of them.

Questions that Seoho can answer. So he takes a deep breath.

“Okay. So. The kiss.”

Geonhak smiles wryly. “Yeah. The kiss.”

And at that moment, Seoho feels like a gust of wind had somehow blown through their closed windows, brushing past his shoulders and making him shiver. 

“Do you want to try it again?” Seoho says quietly. 

“Seriously? That was what you were going to ask? No serious conversations or anything, no--”

“We can talk later,” Seoho tells him. “Just. Please, Doya.” 

And maybe this time, Geonhak’s the one who couldn’t deny Seoho a single thing, because his face changes once again, from his teasing smile to an expression that’s more serious and passionate. And it’s freeing, knowing that it’s just them this time. No cameras, no paparazzis, no expectations, and no fear of being caught. When Geonhak leans close, Seoho feels all his worries dissipate, and all he could think about is him, is the two of them.

It’s some time later into the night; Geonhak’s fast asleep in Seoho’s arms, now, and he’s snoring very loudly. There are two beds, but they’d fallen asleep in the bed-- Seoho’s bed-- next to the window that’s been cracked open to let in a bit of the night breeze. Seoho doesn’t feel cold, couldn’t possibly feel cold because Geonhak’s body is practically a living furnace, so the cool air washes harmlessly and comfortingly over his face. 

Of course Geonhak’s much bigger than him, he’s taller, and he’s practically completely made of dense muscle, but it almost feels natural for him to be curled up in his arms like this. A giant dog who still doesn’t realize that he’s far outgrown his puppy years. Although Geonhak hardly looks like someone who needs to be protected, there are many reasons why Seoho feels like it’s his job to do so, the least of which is the fact that he’s a year older. 

See, Geonhak had a boyfriend, once. They met in university, and although seeing them together made Seoho’s heart ache deeply, a part of him had felt happy for him. Proud, even. So it hurt him just as much when his best friend’s supposed boyfriend leaked practically everything he knew about him to the tabloids upon finding out that he was not simply a zoology major who went by Leedo, but also Kim Geonhak, the Heir Presumptive to the Phoenix Throne.

And while Geonhak had made sure to tell him off before breaking up with him, Seoho vividly remembers his own confrontation with the ex. The threats he made that he’s still sure that he would deliver on if it weren’t for the fact that he knew Geonhak, knew that Geonhak’s heart has always been too good for his own good, for the world that he lives in. Over the years, he’d tried his damned best to forgive everyone who’s ever hurt him, even if Seoho knows firsthand that the damage they’ve done was practically irreparable. 

And there was one more thing. Back at the palace, Geonhak had no shortage of people to look up to. People to respect. But they hadn’t always treated him the same way. Sure, they were obligated to respect him because he’s the prince, but they always treated him as someone higher than them, something untouchable. Geonhak’s an extraordinary person, and while his situation has always been quite extraordinary, he’s always simply wanted to be him. Seoho had taken it upon himself to make him feel that way as often as he possibly can, whether that was by teasing him, taking care of him, or simply by being his friend.

But in many ways, Geonhak protects Seoho, too. He’s the only person in the world who can keep Seoho sane, who can convince him that he’s worthwhile, that he belongs. He’s the only person in the world who could spot the delicate cracks in Seoho’s facade, and he’s the only person in the world who Seoho would allow near him when he’s feeling beaten down or crushed. Geonhak is Geonhak, and he has so much love to give to the world that it makes Seoho’s head hurt sometimes, because he absolutely cannot wrap his head around how and why, around what the hell he did in his past life to deserve someone like him. Geonhak’s a star, he radiates warmth and light, and he’s much too brilliant to fly near without getting blinded or burned.

And yet, very early in his life, Geonhak had been drawn to Seoho. 

And they’d begun to orbit each other.

Something clicks in Seoho’s head, then. No, he realizes. He’s not a planet, not a moon, and least of all an asteroid. He’s a star, just like Geonhak, and they’ve been orbiting each other for as long as either of them can remember. It’s been so long, so many years, but Seoho now knows that they’ve always been destined to collide. That this moment was always going to happen, it was simply a matter of when and how. 

And Seoho could be floating aimlessly in deep space, could be barreling across an empty vacuum with no destination in sight, but as long as he’s with Geonhak, it’ll always feel like he’s flying back home. 

Seoho’s back at that very same convenience store, on his way to that very same cafe. While he’s about to pay for his huge bag of strawberry Hi-Chews, he spots Geonhak’s face on a tabloid-- A different one. This time, there’s someone next to him, and it’s not a blurred image. He comes out just as clear and crisp as the Prince next to him, smiling up to his eyes, mouth frozen mid-laugh.

When it’s his turn to pay, the cashier’s eyes are glazed over for a few moments until she takes a look at the cover of the magazine, then glances back at Seoho in shock. “You’re--”

Seoho smiles slyly and puts a finger on his lips. To his relief, she doesn’t pry any further, but she continues to wear the shell-shocked look on her face even after he coughs up his coins and walks away from the counter. 

This time, Geonhak’s waiting for him at the cafe, at their usual corner spot. From the way he’s tapping his foot insistently against the ground, he’s probably been here for a while now. He’s always liked to be early, even more so than Seoho most of the time, and the fact that he’s early more and more often is a sign that he has more time for that now. More time to style his hair into the exact shape he’s envisioning, more time to sit across empty chairs at cafes and restaurants and scroll through his feeds, though it’s not something that Seoho exactly sees the appeal of.

“Hey, Doya.”

“Hyung,” Geonhak looks up at him, scrunching up his nose as he points to the magazine in his hand. “Were you distracted by another one of those things?” 

Seoho sits down, then lays the magazine flat on the table. “When I heard that the Prince started dating a commoner so soon after that shocking announcement, I simply couldn’t stop myself. It’s much too scandalous to resist.”

He points to a picture of himself. “But he’s so, so cute! Aren’t you lucky?”

This fails to get a rise out of Geonhak, it seems, because he simply smiles. “I know. I am very lucky.”

Seoho finds that he has nothing to say to that. He stutters and sputters like an idiot, so Geonhak reaches out to ruffle his hair before leaning over to kiss his forehead. This, decidedly, doesn’t exactly do much to ease his flustered sputtering.

On the streets, a few people point to them and whisper among themselves, but Geonhak gives his hand a couple of reassuring squeezes, so Seoho doesn’t let it bother him all that much.

When Geonhak kisses him later, he tastes like sugar and strawberries, so sweet that it makes Seoho scrunch up his face. The cameras and lights have largely faded into the background of his life, but he doesn’t think he’ll ever quite get used to this, to having Geonhak in his arms and walking openly down the street with while holding his hand, to the fleeting touches and kisses that Geonhak never seems to get tired of leaving on him all the time.

“You’re gross,” Seoho mutters, trying to struggle out of his grasp. They aren’t exactly in public, tucked away in one of the alleyways so that Geonhak could steal a kiss, but they aren’t exactly in private, either. They don’t have anything to hide anymore, but it’s the principle that still makes Seoho nervous.

“You love it,” Geonhak shoots back, his voice muffled by the cloth of Seoho’s shirt. He moves his head around for a moment, nuzzling him, and his soft blond hair is so ticklish against Seoho’s skin that Seoho can’t help but let out a giggle. 

Yeah. He doesn’t think he’ll ever quite get used to this, but he supposes that he can learn to tolerate it.