Chapter Text
Spring.
Springtime was the peak growth time for flowers and brought blue skies and windy days to the palace. Minhyun wasn’t exactly fond of the wallflowers on the barns, but nevertheless, spring was spring.
And to be frank, if spring wasn’t special enough already, the Crown Prince of Primavera, Kwak Aaron, was returning from abroad after four years. It wasn’t like Minhyun knew about it because he was informed personally, but he’d been walking by the outdoor banquet hall when he overheard a conversation he wasn’t part of.
“This is a complete disaster! Prince Aaron’s favorite color is blue. Why are the napkins red?”
Minhyun’s eyes had traveled towards the voices as quick as light.
“I know you’re preparing everything at once, but I must remind you that the Crown Prince returns tomorrow afternoon! There’s no excuse to allow tiny mistakes!”
When Minhyun sat down next to León–the horse Aaron had gotten as a birthday gift when he turned fifteen–he wondered if Aaron would care about napkin colors at all. Aaron wasn’t as demanding as the rest of his family members. He doubted four years abroad had done enough to change his attitude and turn him into another perfect and graceful royal- pain-in-the-ass. Prince Aaron was kind and gentle; he was amazing even to the lowest of the servants, and even to him, the royal family’s horse groom.
Even with the mild spring breeze, the flower petals outside of the barn stirred as if they were aware of tomorrow’s significance. It was winter just a few weeks ago, and the crisp days were perceived at night when he rolled on his bunk bed in the castle’s shared attic and tried to sleep. But at least the green fields bathed in the afternoon sunlight and the dead leaves weren’t buried under thick piles of snow anymore.
Days were longer now and nights were shorter, but every night, he repeated the same process. He’d kick his muddy boots on the entrance of the attic chamber and say good-night to the royal marshals, farriers, carpenters, and blacksmiths in the room. Years ago when he was younger, he was allowed to sleep on the east wing’s attic where the cooks (and his mother) slept, but now that he was nearing his twenties, he had no excuse to share rooms with her. His job was far more technical than cooking desserts for Prince Aaron’s younger siblings.
To be honest, Minyun didn’t know if befriending the members of the royal family was even allowed, but Aaron had never once acted as if Minhyun was inferior to him. A lot could change in four years, though, and nothing assured him that Aaron would return to the palace tomorrow and remember his name. Would he? God, Minhyun wished he would. Oh, how he wished Aaron would remember his face at least. He wasn’t unique or special, but he hoped Aaron would at least look at him once and mutter “you look familiar”.
Minhyun looked through the small window on the left wall of the room and sighed. He had cleaned the barn and changed the horse’s haystacks earlier, but even when he finally lied on the bed and stretched his body, he realized that sleeping was impossible. Tomorrow night there would be fireworks, dancing, and music all around the palace. Everyone had been busy with tomorrow’s banquet preparations, and Minhyun wasn’t sure about what to expect. He was given a free day, so he could either sit on his bed all day or check on the horses to make sure they weren’t too scared of the noise.
He rubbed his eyes harshly and closed his eyes. Maybe tonight’s dreams would take him to a universe where he and Prince Aaron weren’t so unfairly incompatible and lived together and in love. That universe was his favorite.
–
Four years ago, Hwang Minhyun saw a shooting star and made a wish. Not a single soul in the barn or the attic would ever believe his foolish superstitions, but Hwang Minhyun still thanked the constellations for sending a fallen star his way.
Whether it had been because of the fallen star or a simple coincidence, he didn’t know; but under the full moon of the most important spring night in years, Minhyun remained hidden behind a haystack when he recognized the silhouette he hadn’t seen in years. The loud music from the main hall was barely audible, mostly filtered by the crickets of the night. It allowed him to think about something else that wasn’t Prince Aaron’s presence in the castle. (He had arrived hours ago. The word had spread quickly.)
Aaron had always been beautiful and unreachable. Even when he stood on the barns, he looked unrivaled. In all the years Minhyun had lived in the palace, he had never seen a single noble or neighboring prince look so unobtainable and perfect. Even the slight twitch of his eyebrows every time he frowned at his horse-riding instructor looked delicate. To Minhyun, no one compared to him.
And nothing compared to the distance between the two of them as they stared at each other in stunned silence either. Minhyun remembered the shooting star and his wish; he was paralyzed in place and the bucket of water on his right hand almost slipped from his grip. They weren’t fifteen and seventeen like the last time they had seen each other’s faces respectively.
Minhyun wasn’t wearing the silly, maroon hat to protect himself from the sun, and Aaron was definitely not wearing his horseback-riding outfit either. Instead, the prince had perfectly styled hair, combed with excellence, and dark eyebrows adding to the sharpness of his face.
Even if there were far too many meters in between them, Minhyun could smell the mix of expensive colognes, wondering how many nobles had been doting on the prince’s return for the scent to be so indescribable and sultry. How many people had danced with him during the banquet just now? León neighed loudly from the left corner of the barn as if reminding Minhyun of what he was supposed to do, and it brought him back to the reality in which neither he nor the prince seemed to have the right words for each other.
Until realization kicked in.
“Your Royal Highness,” Minhyun breathed out when he finally realized that across from him was the son of the king and not an old friend as much as he wanted him to be. He kneeled down before him and his knee quickly got wet from the moist hay on the ground.
“You’ve grown,” His voice called out instead and Minhyun didn’t reply.
“You don't have to do that. Remember?” Of course, he remembered. He always would. “You can get up.”
When he did, their eyes met and he felt his ears burn with shame. He had indeed grown; his height forced him to lower his gaze. Most of the time it brought him pride, but not now as he faced Aaron.
And the absolute want to reach out and remove the red strand of hair covering the soon-to-be-King’s eyes was driving Minhyun mad.
How very typical of him. To want things and people that were unreachable for a person like him. Him. A horse groom who cleaned the barns and stables three times a week and fed, groomed, and bathed dozens of royalty horses. Prince Aaron and horse groom Minhyun didn't even sound right together.
Aaron and Minhyun would never be the same. Perhaps in Minhyun’s midnight dreams they picked cherries from dreamland farms and daisies from the palace’s gardens. But in reality, he was just Hwang Minhyun, a horse groomer, and a wallflower.
Kwak Aaron was so much more. The Crown Prince and the most beautiful rose.
He’d have to learn it the hard way.