#it's not helping either kekw | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

fantastic-bby · 3 years ago

Text

Enchanted

Pairing: (AFAB, NB)Reader x Minho

Word count: 20.4k

Summary: Minho spots you one evening at his parents' events and, suddenly, it's as though he starts seeing you every; at his university and even at his figure skating tournaments. He can't help but feel some sort of attraction towards you and wonders who exactly are you...

Warnings: Mentions of alcohol | Aristocrats | Reader has to mostly hide being non-binary | There's a lot of rich people | Minho has no filter

A/n: What's up bingos, I've risen from the dead with a long fic wao I'm ngl Taylor Swift's Enchanted was what inspired the whole thing kekw. This is the softest and most mundane thing I've written in a while considering the fact that I've been working on [REDACTED] ever since I post Han Jisung's Crappy Guide, so have fun and I hope you guys enjoy OwO

Masterlist | AO3 Link

Minho looks around the bustling hall with a slender glass of champagne gingerly held between his gloved fingers. His posture is as straight as it can be and his dark red suit is neatly hugging his frame as he stands in the corner.

The domed ballroom is filled with his family members and friends of his parents, music from the live orchestra bouncing off of the golden walls and beams. Minho wonders why they invested so much in such a grand and golden ballroom when his parents could have easily gone for something more modern.

He’s never truly appreciated the gatherings his parents would hold—they were always too grand for his liking—but that’s what Minho was forced to grow up with. Modern royalty didn’t exactly mean much, but Minho was blessed enough with old money from the importance of his family line; which also meant that he was constantly being watched by the public eye and protected by both the government and his personal bodyguard.

“Minho, could you at least try to be more social?” his mother sighs when she sees him.

“I don’t know what to say to them,” he confesses bluntly. “I’m not close with them, mother. There’s not much for us to talk about and we’re not interested in the same things.”

“I don’t mean your cousins; they’re all as pretentious as your aunts and uncles,” she snorts. “Your father invited a handful of his business partners tonight and we thought that getting to know them will be good for you.”

Minho looks around once again, his eyes only now noticing a handful of new faces. He lets out a somewhat impressed huff when he sees a woman standing in the other corner of the room, a dark red dress hugging her figure as she politely raises manicured hand to shake hands with another businessman. Minho recognises her from an ad for some high end makeup line.

“You have the face of a model, Minho. Give it a shot,” his mother says as she pats his shoulder gently.

“I don’t care for modelling, mother,” Minho says right before he takes a sip of the champagne. “You know that.”

“Models can work up until they’re fifty, but athletes usually only last up until they’re in their mid thirties.”

“And that’s enough for me,” he argues. “Ice skating is something I enjoy. I would like to continue doing it for as long as I’m allowed to.” The woman purses her lips into a straight line with a sigh.

“As long as you’re happy, darling, but please try to socialise. Your father’s already thinking of getting you to meet some fine women from some of his friends.” Minho’s eyebrows furrow together, head whipping to look at his mother in pure shock.

“No, I refuse,” he immediately states.

“You know how he’s like—”

“And I refuse,” Minho shakes his head. “I don’t care. I’m not marrying some girl that would help with business.”

“I’m not keen with the idea either, okay? But your father is the one in charge,” she grumbles as her arms cross over her chest. “Marrying off my only son just for the sake of business—it’s ridiculous. I told him that I don’t want him doing that and that I surely wouldn’t force you to do that, but he won’t have it. If you’re not in a relationship by the time you’re twenty-five, he’s going to start pushing for your betrothal.”

“Must I find one so soon, mother? I don’t think I’ve even met enough people that I’ve truly felt attracted to,” he grumbles.

“With time, Minho. Just… don’t be like your aunts and uncles,” she advises, “with me as your mother, I will not tolerate any inbreeding.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

“You’re excused for the night if you’d like to be in your room instead,” his mother says just as she takes a glass of champagne from a passing waiter, flashing him a gracious smile when he stops momentarily. She turns back to Minho and her smile changes into one more loving, “the first day of your new year is tomorrow. I’ll just tell your father that you’re preparing for your classes.”

“Thank you, mother.” Minho lets out a sigh of relief that he hadn’t known he was holding the entire time, his now empty glass of champagne being handed to the next waiter that walks past them. “I’ll… try your suggestions, but I won’t make any promises.”

“It’s alright. I trust that you will find your way on your own time, my little prince,” she chuckles.

“I’ve asked you so many times to not call me that,” he cringes when she tries to kiss him on the cheek.

“It doesn’t matter how old you get, you will always be my little prince,” his mother smiles. “Now, I won’t be occupying you for any longer. Rest up. The chauffeur will be waiting at eight a.m. sharp to take you to campus. Goodnight, Minho.”

“Goodnight, mother.” Minho bows to her, wondering why he has to hold so much formality towards his own parents.

He turns around and makes his way towards the large, mahogany doors to the left of the room. Minho keeps a smile on his face; one that he always has on whenever he attends formal events. Slipping past all of the guests, Minho looks around slightly until his eyes make contact with someone that he’s not seen at any of his parents’ gatherings.

Minho’s movements immediately halt when you turn around and catch his gaze. You have on your own smile that he presumes is fake, but the corners of your lips drop when you see him and Minho’s able to catch a glimpse of sincerity behind your empty expression. Despite knowing that he’s never met you before, Minho can’t help but feel some kind of recognition when your eyes meet.

Your off-shoulder ball gown is light blue, the dark blue accents that frame your torso in a way that makes it look like a corset and the skirt elegantly reaching your feet. He catches a glimpse of your heels underneath, noting the way they glimmer whenever light reaches it.

You stare at him for a moment before being preoccupied with a prince that he’s seen only a handful of times, the professional smile immediately making its way onto your face when you face the black suited man.

Minho stares only for a moment longer before he continues on his way out of the ballroom, but your presence occupies his mind for the rest of the night. You look like you’re around his age—early 20s, perhaps 23 as he is. He feels like he’s seen you before. There was some kind of recognition that seemed to flash in your eyes as well when you made eye contact, but Minho has a feeling that you only recognise him from seeing him in figure skating tournaments.

He lets out a relieved sigh once behind the doors of his bedroom, his shoulders slumping forward and his back leaning against the dark wood. Minho works quickly on pulling the velvet blazer off of his shoulders and neatly hanging it on one of the many coat hooks that line the wall of his room. If he had the energy to, Minho would typically hang it in the large walk-in closet and in the section where he’d hang his used clothing, but he can’t be bothered to.

Minho just wants to lay down and allow sleep to take over. Once free of the suffocatingly heavy outfit and his slacks tossed aside in the corner of his room, he changes into the loosest of his shirts and shorts, plopping himself onto the queen sized bed and moaning the moment his sore back hits the soft covers.

“Fucking finally,” Minho sighs to himself. He picks his phone off of his bedside table, lazily scrolling through the many messages from his friends.

Sungiezz: Dude Get this: there’s apparently a new royal in our university

Seungmo: Yeah haha But it’s all word of mouth Not too sure about it until class starts tomorrow

Sungiezz: Have any ideas of new princes or princesses in town? You’re the only prince in the area that goes to SKU Maybe you know them

Minho: Dumbass Just because I’m a prince doesn’t mean that I know all of them -_-

Sungiezz: You never know!

Seungmo: You know Ji said the same thing about the gay guy in our class He asked if he knew his cousin because he’s gay too

Minho: You’re actually I can’t believe you, Sung, why the hell would you say that to someone???

Sungiezz: For what it’s worth, he said he did!

Seungmo: Not every gay person knows every gay person The logic applies to Minho Just because he’s royalty, it doesn’t mean he knows all of the other royals

Sungiezz: God, you guys suck Haven’t you guys ever heard of Six Degrees of Separation? It’s supposed to mean that everyone in the world is only six people away from you!

Minho: You’re such a special, special, child

Sungiezz: I’m serious!!!!! You guys never take me seriously, sigh

Seungmo: We trust psychological theories But not from you LOL

Sungiezz: Whatever I’m going to bed

Minho: Aww Sungs, we were just kidding hehe But I wanna sleep too I’m exhausted

Seungmo: Another event?

Minho: They have one every week It’s fucking exhausting

Sungiezz: You know, for a prince, you’d think that you would have more of a filter

Minho: Suck my dick

Seungmo: Don’t bother his royal highness any longer, Sungs You know how cranky he gets when he’s tired

Minho: You know how tired I get when you bitches decide to treat me like a prince Hey Siri, play Choke

Sungiezz: Haha Very funny, Minho

Minho: Choke. I’m going to sleep

Sungiezz: Goodnight, Minho

Jisung: Night night <3333333333333

Minho puts his phone on his bedside table with a fond smile on his face. He’s never felt more connected to anyone other than Han Jisung and Kim Seungmin; the only two students that he’s made friends with on-campus. He’s never actually felt like he ever needed more than one or two friends purely out of keeping himself safe.

Minho’s extroverted, yes. He’s good at socializing, yes he is—but Minho’s social life and his personal life are strictly kept private for the sake of privacy and trust. Too many people have befriended him only for his status and for the lavish lifestyle that he lives. Too many of them were only in his circle because Minho thought that money could buy him company.

Seungmin and Jisung were always different.

They never treated Minho any differently than they treat each other and they only come to his house to play with his cats. They never care for expensive dinners at 5 star restaurants, they never care for any of the expensive souvenirs and trinkets that he gets from travelling, and they never care for his status. The pair only asked about his bodyguard the first time, but after that, it was normal for them and they hadn’t minded it since.

To them, Lee Minho is Lee Minho. He’s not a prince; he’s just some guy that they became friends with at college. The pair were already joined at the hip when Minho met them, but they pretty much sewed him to themselves after meeting him. The two take him to the dodgy diner on the South side of town that have the extremely good double patty burgers, they take him to the park to run away from geese, they take him to the beach on weekends where Jisung’s allowed to take his car; Minho’s never felt any different from the two.

Which is why he loves them way more than he would ever outwardly admit.

Two knocks at his door followed by a soft, “your highness?” Makes Minho squeeze his eyes shut in frustration. “It’s Soojin. The queen has asked for me to prepare you a warm towel. Her majesty said you may be feeling a bit stressed with the new semester starting.”

He forces himself out of bed and trudges over to the door, pulling open to reveal the blonde holding a silver tray with a single white towel roll sitting on it. Her long hair is neatly tucked into a bun that’s mandatory for all of the housekeepers in the mansion and her black suit is as spotless as it was in the morning.

“Thank you, Soojin,” Minho mutters as he takes the towel. “Tell my mother that I’m fine. Just tired.”

“As you wish,” the woman bows before he closes the door. With the white fabric in his hands, Minho sighs before deciding to use it anyway. He returns to his bed, climbing underneath the covers and gently laying the towel over his face, and slowly drifting off to sleep.

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ♫ ⋅.} ───── ⊰

After a lapse of judgement, Minho watches with his arms crossed over his broad chest, watching as Seungmin chases Jisung around the campus park with two books in his hands. The prince had assumed that Seungmin wouldn’t have a manhunt for Jisung after mentioning the film student’s raging crush on one of the students in his class, but Minho was so terribly wrong.

“I was just joking!” Jisung cries as he hides behind Minho, the younger’s hands gripping onto the prince’s shoulders to use him as a human shield against Seungmin’s fit.

“I told you to stop talking about that,” Seungmin groans as he throws the smaller of the notebooks in Jisung’s direction. The book smacks against Minho’s chest, a grunt leaving him at the contact.

“Cut it out, Seungmin,” Minho laughs with his hand reaching out to keep Seungmin at a distance and Jisung shifting him from side-to-side. “If you keep this up, you’ll be sweaty by the time we get to my place—and you know how my mother feels about you smelling.”

“I’m—Are you saying that I smell?!” Seungmin scoffs loudly.

“To be fair, that woman has the nose of a bloodhound,” Jisung claims.

“Please, never refer to my mother that way ever again,” Minho sighs.

“Sorry,” he immediately apologises. Seungmin lets out a sigh of his own as he crouches down to pick up the textbook he had tossed at the two, gripping it along with the thicker ‘Introduction to Film’ books.

“Watch that mouth, Jisung. The monarch may not matter that much anymore, but they’re still protected,” Seungmin hisses.

“It’s alright,” Minho gives Jisung a pursed lip smile, “it’s not his fault.” He raises his hand to ruffle Jisung’s light brown hair until it sticks out messily. “So what do you guys wanna do now? I have a few hours before I have training. We can head over to my place and hang out in the games room.” He pauses for a moment to glance at his bodyguard who stands a few feet away from the ground, dressed in a plain black t-shirt and jeans. “Let mother know that I’m coming home early.”

“Yes, your highness,” Aki nods right before pulling his phone out. Minho has had the same bodyguard ever since he was a child, the heavily built man having watched him grow up and knowing exactly what his habits are. The only thing that Minho minds nowadays with Aki is the fact that he fails to be casual with the young prince.

“I don’t want the games room—I want your Dori,” Jisung laughs.

“Can you believe it? All of the consoles and all of the games you have in the games room, yet Jisung chooses to hang out with your cats instead,” Seungmin chuckles.

“His cats are cute!” he defends himself. “And they give me a lot of attention.”

“If it’s worth anything; the cats don’t give just anyone attention,” Minho claims.

“Hell yeah! See?! I passed the kitty vibe check!” Jisung cheers.

“Am I allowed to play darts?” Seungmin asks.

“You can do whatever you want. The games room is my responsibility.” Minho smiles when he sees the two of them smile, his heart flipping at the sight of his beloved friends.

But something else catches his attention for a moment.

There’s a sense of being watched that overcomes Minho’s mind, his arms uncrossing as he glances to the side. His smile drops when he makes eye contact with you. You’re glancing at him as well with your hand loosely wrapped around the strap of your black backpack.

You look completely different than from the night that Minho had seen you; a plain white t-shirt, black jeans and a pair of canvas sneakers. You laugh at a joke coming from one of your friends, a smile that reaches your eyes pulling at your lips. Minho breathes out a laugh when he sees how different you seem in and out of formality.

You bow your head slightly when you realise that he sees you and Minho returns the exchange, his own head lowering slightly before it raises to see you smiling.

“Who are you nodding at?” Seungmin asks.

“I found out who the other royal is,” Minho mutters.

The two immediately whip their heads in your direction, obviously staring at you and not even leaving a single wonder about who they’re staring at. You give them a smile as well before turning to your own friends.

“Who is that?”

“They were at the event the other night,” he continues as he starts pushing them in the other direction. “I don’t really know where she came from because it was the first time I saw her.”

“Do you know her?” Jisung presses.

“Other than just making eye contact? Not really,” Minho shakes his head.

“She seems pretty chill,” Seungmin says as he glances over his shoulder once again to look at you.

“Stop making it so obvious,” he scoffs when he lightly shoves Seungmin’s shoulder. “Some royals don’t like being stared at in public—”

“Like you!” Jisung points out.

“Exactly,” Minho nods, “and some of them can be extremely pretentious. They act like they’re above everyone else; royal or not. A few of them even tried to step over me and I gave them a reality check.” He slings his arms over both of their shoulders, walking in between them. “They seemed pretty cool when I saw them at the event, but you can’t really be too sure unless you talk to them.”

“I wanna head to the bowling alley,” Seungmin states suddenly.

“But I have a bowling alley at home,” Minho points out. “And it doesn’t smell like old socks and I can ask the chef for snacks.”

“Do you have any of those mini meringue pies that your mum makes?” Jisung questions with an excited look in his eyes.

“We don’t have meringue pies, but we have songpyeon…?” His statement comes off as more of a question, head tilting in wonder as he tries to remember what was the last kind of dessert he had recently. “Yeah, I think we have songpyeon and maybe some mooncakes. Mother really likes them, and she makes sure the pantry’s always stocked with them.”

“What about Doritos?”

“I’m taking you to a king’s mansion and you want Doritos?” Minho laughs.

“I don’t get Doritos at home,” Seungmin claims with a shrug. The eldest of the three stares at him with his jaw dropped. “What? I like them.”

Minho blinks a few times before breathing out a laugh. Out of everything that Seungmin could ask for at his home—and Minho truly has everything—and all Seungmin wants are Doritos that he could easily buy from the 7/11 at the campus cafeteria.

His smile changes into a fonder one before he shakes his head with a chuckle, “if we don’t have any, we can pick some up on the way home.”

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ♫ ⋅.} ───── ⊰

“Do you know him?” Hongjoong asks when he notices you staring at Minho and his friends.

“I briefly saw him at a ball the other night,” you hum.

“He’s the only royal that goes to SKU—well, now there’s two of you now that you’re here,” Yeji claims.

“The entire university’s already heard of the princess who just joined our campus, you know?” Chan points out.

“Please don’t refer to me as such,” you state while glancing at the music student, his mouth immediately closing shut when he sees your eyes. “I didn’t know he was a student here. I had heard about another royal attending this place, but I hadn’t realised it was him.”

Your only friends so far consist of Hongjoong, Chan, and Yeji; all three of them taking different courses but were nice enough to take you around campus when you suddenly showed up out of nowhere.

“He seems pretty cool,” Hongjoong says with a sigh. “But that’s only what I’ve heard.”

“Jisung and Seungmin are pretty nice. Jisung once gave me the last cookie in the bakery because I was having a bad day,” Yeji chuckles. You bow at Minho, smiling when he returns the greeting.

His friends obviously turn to you as well, which makes you laugh slightly and smile at them. You and your friends watch as Minho suddenly grabs them by the shoulders and pushes them in the direction of the campus gates.

“What was that?” Chan laughs.

“I think he knows that I might not like other people staring at me,” you guess when you notice one of them turning to look at you, only for Minho to push him once again. “Royals don’t like being stared at. Some of them think people are not worthy of looking at them,” you sigh and turn back to your friends, “I think it’s good that he does that. If I were someone who minded, it would’ve turned out messy had his friends stared at me for any longer.”

“I still find it so interesting that you talk so formally,” Hongjoong points out, earning a smack on the shoulder from Chan and a glare.

“It’s fine, Hongjoong,” you chuckle, “the way I speak is habitual and it avoids any sort of conflict in public. Should I bump into a royal that demands respect, I would have to speak this way. I prefer not having to argue with anyone.”

“What’s the deal with royals and… you know…”

“When you’re born into a family such as Minho and I, you grow up with mostly your family around you. If they think being a royal is worthy of being pretentious, then they’ll act pretentious and spit on anyone that they think is lower,” you explain. The thought lingers in your mind for a moment longer before you shake your head and smile, “let’s move on. I don’t like dwelling on the issues with royal families.”

“We’re heading to the cinema room after this and we might crash at Chan’s place, do you wanna join?” Yeji asks.

“I have plans tonight, unfortunately, but we can always plan for another time,” you sigh. “I have dinner with a royal family from another region. Something about a betrothal.”

“Betrothal…?” Her words trail off, all three of their faces painted with shock as they stare at you.

“As a female born royal, I have the, oh so lovely, fate of being married off to a prince from a different region. Thank God that my parents have no interest in,” you raise your fingers into the air to quote, “‘protecting the family line’ and are decent enough in letting me choose my suitors rather than choosing them for me.”

“What does that—Oh…” Chan’s face contorts into one of disgust, his nose cringing. “I didn’t realise that was still a thing.”

“You’d be surprised, but every family has their differences,” you answer with a shrug. “What are you all watching anyway?”

“Hongjoong’s trying to convince Chan to finally watch Hereditary,” Yeji hums.

“I refuse to watch that on my own,” Chan scoffs while feverishly shaking his head. You tilt your head curiously, silently asking him to explain further. “I-I don’t like horror movies,” he admits sheepishly, “never been a fan of them. I’m more scared of them than I actually say that I am.”

“Hereditary is good,” Hongjoong snickers. “I also think that maybe Chan needs to step out of his shell and explore the array of horror movies.”

“I’m easily scared, Hong,” he grumbles, strong arms crossing over his broad chest as he shoots a glare in Hongjoong’s direction, “you know that. The only way I watch horror movies is with my friends so that I can distract myself with their reactions instead.”

“You got scared the last time you saw Jeongin scream at a ghost prop during Halloween,” Yeji laughs.

“Have you heard that man scream?!” Chan throws his arms into the air, “he screams like he’s possessed! Anyone in the right mind would be scared of his scream!”

“Jeongin’s one of Chan’s juniors,” Hongjoong explains softly while Yeji and Chan start going back and forth, “he’s got a huge set of lungs on him and he casually screams like someone’s trying to break into his apartment.”

“That’s interesting,” you chuckle.

“Every holiday, we get themed events. Halloween’s about the time where the performing arts club have haunted mazes or haunted houses that all of the students can attend and participate in. I’ll admit quite proudly that I’m in charge of a lot of the performing arts events,” he continues, “if you’re interested, we usually get to dress up around that time, too.”

“Oh? I’ve never been to a costume party before,” you admit, “my old university didn’t indulge in events like that and my high school wouldn’t either.”

“Really?” Yeji ceases her argument with Chan to turn her attention to you. When you nod, she lets out an excited gasp and claps her hands together, “we can help you make a costume this year!”

“We can think of something cool that maintains your dignity,” Chan nods.

“What do you guys usually dress up as?” you ask.

“Last year, my friend Changbin and I went dressed as WWE wrestlers.”

“Don’t those men only wear tight briefs and knee paddings?”

“Yep!” he nods proudly.

“Chan and Changbin went around the place with their dicks almost falling out.” Yeji clicks her tongue in disgust. “It was hardly a sight to see.”

“I can’t imagine the secondhand embarrassment I would feel,” you laugh.

“Precisely,” Hongjoong giggles. “Don’t worry, (Y/n). If they do that again, you can just stick with my friends and I. We usually dress like celebrities from the 80s.”

“Ooh,” you gasp slightly, “I’m curious to see how you would pull off a Prince costume.”

“Oh, Hongjoong does old pop celebrities so well,” Yeji gushes. “You should’ve seen him in his Freddie Mercury costume last year. He looked wonderful! And he even had a stand microphone that he brought around with him!”

“What do you usually dress up as, Yeji?”

“I go with whatever I feel like usually,” she admits with a shrug. “Last year, I went as Regina George from Mean Girls.”

“That feels very in character with you,” you joke, causing Yeji to gasp loudly. Chan’s hand slaps over his mouth in shock while Hongjoong chokes on nothing, his hand raising to Chan’s shoulder for leverage as he coughs violently. Your face cracks, lips pursing to contain your smile when you see the gobsmacked look on her face.

“God, I really like you,” Yeji laughs.

“She could spend the rest of her course with us, right?” Chan chuckles.

“I’d prefer if you wouldn’t refer to me that way,” you quickly interject. “I-I don’t appreciate the use of feminine pronouns, but I have to present as a female to protect my parents’ image in public.”

“Oh,” his smile drops. “My bad.”

“It’s fine, you couldn’t have known,” you reassure him with a smile. “I only tell this to people that I’m close to.”

“We won’t tell anyone,” Hongjoong shakes his head.

“I trust that you wouldn’t or else you could be arrested for defamation towards my family.” Your words come out smoothly, as though it’s such a normal, everyday thing. His eyes widen immensely, mouth opening and closing at a loss of words. “It’s a joke,” you chuckle, “they don’t really care about our identities and what people call us, but they do care if it happens at a mass level for no reason. I doubt they would put much effort into protecting my name unless my parents were to get involved and I would rather the public don't find out I'm non-binary.”

“That’s totally fine, (Y/n),” Yeji reassures you.

“Now, I have about three hours before I’m supposed to be at home, so shall we get some lunch?” you suggest while clasping your hands together in front of yourself.

“We can get something to eat from the Chinese stall in the cafeteria,” Chan suggests. “I just know you’re going to like their szechuan dumplings.”

“I’ll trust your judgement,” you smile and allow them to lead you to the cafeteria.

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ♫ ⋅.} ───── ⊰

Minho thinks he’s going crazy. He already felt like he was going crazy from the way you were suddenly showing up at his parents’ events and at his university—but at his skating tournament?!

“Keep your head straight, Minho,” his coach warns when she sees his thoughts going elsewhere. “This tournament determines whether or not you’re eligible for international tournaments.”

“Y-Yeah, sorry coach,” he immediately apologises, turning his head away from your presence in the other side of the room and with the female skaters.

“I understand the nerves, but we can’t allow that to disturb your routine, your highness,” Kara continues. “Would you like something to calm them down?”

“No it’s fine,” Minho shakes his head. “I can do this.” She places her hands on both of Minho’s shoulders, her fingers massaging his taut muscles. The massage does little to quell his raging nerves, but what does help is when you turn around and make eye contact with him.

Your eyes squint slightly when you try getting a clearer look of him before they widen in shock and your lips part. You look just as surprised as he is at each others’ appearance, but once again, you’re disturbed by someone else; the woman who he assumes is your coach.

You nod politely when she asks you something, the older woman bowing slightly before she walks away from you. You turn your gaze back to Minho, your face relaxing when you realise he’s still watching you and you nod your head like you did when you saw him on campus.

Minho, as he did then, returns the nod and flashes a small smile when he raises his head. You wave at him this time, your hand raising into the air with your fingers splayed out; the act only making him smile more and wave back.

“Who are you waving at?” Kara asks when she turns away from one of the contestants currently skating, light brown hair slipping from her ponytail and framing the sides of her face.

“It’s a princess from another region,” Minho mutters. “I’ve seen her about three times before.”

“Spoken to her before?” his coach asks, but Minho shakes his head.

“Never really felt the need to.” He glances at Kara, only being faced with a very confused and almost judgemental look on his face.

“Minho, if you don’t make a move on her, then I might as well because she’s gorgeous,” Kara scoffs.

“You should see her in a ball gown,” Minho absentmindedly mumbles. His eyes widen at the confession, cheeks turning bright pink when Kara lets out a loud gasp and smiles.

“So, you do have a thing for her?”

“No, I don’t,” he grumbles and tries his hardest to ignore Kara’s teasing pokes and laughs. “Kara, please,” Minho whines, “I don’t want to think about that. I don’t even know her—and knowing other royals, she could easily be a pompous asshole.”

“But you’ve never spoken to her before,” she remarks.

“But I’ve known enough of them to be wary,” he counters.

“Minho, give her a chance,” Kara rolls her eyes, quickly catching herself and clearing her throat. “I can’t do that in public; my mistake.”

“I couldn’t give a rat's ass whether or not you're formal with me.” Minho rolls his eyes with an exasperated sigh leaving past his lips. “It irks me how I can’t have relationships with people who can joke around with me.”

“It’s not exactly easy to be so casual with you, you know,” she sighs, voice lowering to a whisper, “I’m not exactly fond of the immense formality, but your parents insist and you have a bodyguard who follows you all over the place who tells them everything. I appreciate having at least some middle-ground with the people I train. I like at least being able to treat them like a friend.”

“For what it’s worth, Kara,” he turns to her, “this is exactly how most of the people I make friends with talk to me.”

Kara’s lips purse into a straight line, sympathy painting her features when Minho turns back to the skating rink.

“Well, I’m up after this,” Minho claims as he starts tying the shoelaces to his dark red skates. He pulls his white jacket off and lays it on the bench beside him, the sequins of his dark red leotard shining in the light. “I’ll be fine, Kara,” he reassures her. “I’m used to it.”

“Doesn’t make it any better…” she trails off, eyes flitting away from him before she shakes his head. “We can talk about this later—I have faith in you, Minho. Just do it the way you practiced and you’ll do spectacularly.”

Kara pats him on the shoulder once and gives him an encouraging smile just as his name is announced through the speakers, cheers coming from the crowd of the audience that either loves him for his skating or for his status as the region’s royal bachelor.

Minho makes his way up to the edge of the rink, letting out a mouthful of air to calm himself down further. His heart pounds in his chest and in his ears, his teeth grinding together anxiously as he takes his first step on the ice.

The cheering only gets louder when he skates to the centre of the rink and raises his arms into the air, taking his first position before the music starts.

Minho loves competing for many things; the main reason being how fair the judges actually are. His parents have never tried meddling with his tournaments, which makes his efforts in perfecting his sport even more worth it. Every jump, every spin, and every glide—Minho’s trophies and medals are purely from his own efforts;

Never his status.

For a moment, he catches your wonder-filled eyes watching his routine intently. Minho wonders whether you compete for the same reasons. Most royals that are more laid-back prefer picking up competitions that are completely fair and that give the contestant equal opportunity to win; purely their own skill and willpower.

Minho lets out a breath of relief and closes his eyes as he carries on with his routine, body feeling free of all of the stress and anxiety from his family and from school. He truly feels free whenever he’s on ice and allows the metal blades to glide him along the ice and move as though he’s made of water—as though he has no resistance in his body at all.

When the music ends, Minho’s kneeling on the ground at the end of his routine. He stands up and raises his arms into the air with his chest heaving out of exertion, legs somehow not trembling like they usually do whenever he finishes his routine.

The commentator announces the end of his performance and Minho skates back to the side, not without glancing over his shoulders to see you clapping and smiling widely, nodding your head at him, the small act sending a sense of pride rushing throughout his veins along with the adrenaline.

“Minho, you did so well!” Kara cheers, bouncing up and down while clapping. “I’m going to be so upset if you don’t at least get bronze for this—you did amazing!”

“Thank you,” he thanks her in between breaths. “I felt amazing, Kara.”

“That’s always a good sign,” she smiles. “Now, get yourself hydrated! Your routine is difficult and it takes a lot of strength. I can’t have you collapsing on me.”

Minho nods, swallowing thickly as he tries to catch his ragged breath and follows her to the benches.

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ♫ ⋅.} ───── ⊰

Minho’s in his regular corner of the ballroom. He wishes that he could chug down the rest of his wine without anyone noticing, but he’d rather not drunken himself at his parents’ event. He lets out a sigh when another flock of princesses giggle as they walk past him, waving their hands at him and fluttering their eyelashes.

You look as amazing as he thought you did last time, but your dress isn’t blue this time. Instead it’s burgundy; elegant as he falls to the floor and covers your shoulders completely. The long sleeves reach down to your forearms and your heels are black.

Your smile doesn’t quite reach your eyes in the way it does whenever Minho sees you on campus, but he knows exactly why you’re not genuine. Your head turns to look at him, the way you always do and smile at him.

The only difference this time is that Minho places his half drunk glass of wine onto the passing waiter and walks towards you. He doesn’t know exactly what it is that brings himself to you, but all he knows is that it’s partially his own will and partially the attraction of something completely different. Your lips part in slight surprise, but you bow to the guest you’re talking to and excuse yourself to turn to Minho.

“We’re finally introducing ourselves,” you chuckle when he stands in front of you, back straight and with one arm bent in front of himself.

“We always seem to be in each others’ radius, so I decided that we should actually get to know each other,” Minho says politely with a smile. “I’m Lee Minho,” he introduces himself with a bow.

“(Y/n).” Your hands fluidly extend to the sides as you return his greeting with a curtsy. “I wouldn’t have expected you to be a figure skater had I not seen you at the tournament,” you point out.

“Neither had I,” he admits, his smile fading away when he realises that it’s far too loud for him to hear you. “Mind if we move to the balcony? It’s a bit too loud in here.”

“I was hoping you’d ask,” you sigh in relief and allow him to lead you to the open balcony, the sound from inside the ballroom immediately fizzing out when you’re outside. The buzz is softer, easier to block out, and makes the perfect environment for you and Minho to properly talk to each other.

“I was very surprised to see you at the skating rink,” Minho starts as he leans his arms against the concrete balustrade, “at SKU, though, I heard news of another royal joining the campus, but I hadn’t known about you until I saw you for the first time in this very ballroom.”

“My parents had sent me to a finishing school across the country until I had asked to be transferred to a university that was more… of the current generation,” you explain. Minho’s eyebrows knit together in confusion, his bottom lip jutting out slightly. “It isn’t the sort of finishing school that you would expect it to be. It catered more to royal traditions and mannerisms that were fitting for all genders. The syllabus was forced to change in the 90s, which I’m admittedly very glad for.”

“Why transfer to SKU this late?” Minho questions curiously.

“I had asked to be transferred to a university closer to my family. I hadn’t fancied the distance between us if I were to stay at the finishing school, so I chose to come back,” you admit while setting the glass down on the smooth concrete.

“And my parents’ events?”

“My parents decided it would be good for me to socialise with other big names, but I can’t exactly say that I’m enjoying myself,” you chuckle.

“I don’t exactly enjoy myself here either,” Minho confesses with a laugh. “I’m not a fan of half of the personalities that fill this room. I’m going to safely assume that you’re not like them.” He glances at you with a teasing look on his face and you quickly shake your head.

“Oh, God no. I would most likely break my own hand than act like them,” you scoff. “Half of them act as though I’m no more of a royal than they are, and the disrespect I get from looking like a woman—” you cut yourself off to roll your eyes, “it’s baffling.”

“You know, I’ve never quite understood that either. You’re just as significant as they are and your status is the same as theirs; why be disrespectful just because you wear a dress?” he grumbles.

“You seem like you keep secrets well,” you claim after looking him up and down, “I don’t consider myself a woman. I use gender neutral pronouns.”

Minho turns to you in surprise, “a royal admitting that they’re non-binary?”

“Only to those that I feel will hold the secret,” you clarify.

“But you’ve only known me through glances and the current conversation; how could you possibly have judged me from that?”

“A mere feeling,” you hum with a smile. Minho’s eyes narrow for a moment as he takes your words into consideration before he smiles as well. There’s a strange relief that floods his chest at how open you are despite the recent introductions.

“Careful there, your highness, I might just start calling you The Royal Enby,” he jokes. You let out a hearty laugh, your hand reaching out to smack his shoulder lightly.

“If anyone in that ballroom were to hear, they’d have both of our heads!” Minho laughs as well. His hand holds onto his shoulder as he does, sighing after he laughs. “Never mention this to anyone,” you warn.

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” he chuckles.

You keep your back straight and your hands clasped in front of yourself as you look out. It’s still early enough that the Sun still hasn’t completely gone down yet and the remaining sunlight blends in with the night sky.

“I have spent so many years of my life locked away, holding expectations with only a single word tied to my name,” you mutter. You turn to look at Minho, who’s intently looking at you. “I have only known what it was to be referred to and to be seen as royalty, which is something anyone would expect to be as heavenly; constantly being put on a pedestal as though you’re a doll of the most skilled craftsman, but I found myself hating that. I realise now that you’re the first royal I’ve met who also feels this way.”

Minho doesn’t say anything upon hearing your words at first. He lets the thought settle in his mind for a moment before nodding.

“Birds of a feather flock together,” he shrugs. “I’ve spent most of my life surrounded by cousins who thought that they were better than me—cousins who thought that they could push me around just because I was younger than them. After a while, you grow tired of all of the arrogance and the aristocracies.”

“Do you wish that sometimes you were born to a family that wasn’t of royal blood?” you ask.

“Of course,” Minho nods. “And… of course, I am grateful for the opportunities I was blessed with and the luxury that I was very lucky to grow up with… but sometimes I wish that maybe I was born into a life that was less high profile. Everyone talks to me a certain way, everyone treats me a certain way—they treat me as though I’m made of glass—as though I’m so fragile.”

You feel your heart aching, resonating with Minho as he speaks.

“Every sports event while I was growing up was, ‘make sure the prince doesn’t get hurt!’, or, ‘ the prince isn’t allowed to play! It’s too rough for a boy of his status!’,” he sighs. “It’s tiring.”

“It makes you feel like an alien,” you finish for him. Minho glances at you and lets out a deep breath, nodding sadly.

“I always wondered why the other kids at school would never play with me. They were so scared of the ‘big, scary man’ that would follow me around the block,” he continues. “I realised in high school that no one wanted to be friends with me because they were scared of fucking up—oh,” Minho gasps. “Excuse my language.”

“Excused,” you reassure him with the wave of your hand. “Profanity has never been an issue with me.”

“You just speak so proper that I worry about slipping my words every now and then,” he chuckles. You shake your head and give him a reassuring smile, urging him to continue. “Well, kids at school were so scared of accidentally hurting the ‘porcelain prince’ that no one wanted to be around me. The only ones that did enter my circle were only there because I had money; and lots of it. I stopped making friends after I realised that,” Minho confesses softly, the thumb and index of his left hand picking at the skin around the thumb of his right. “The only people that overlook my title are Jisung and Seungmin.”

“I assume they’re the ones that you are always around on campus,” you say and Minho nods.

“They don’t care about my status. They don’t care about my family. They see me as another person—another human—and they treat me like another student. They come to my house,” he turns around and raises his arm to refer to the ballroom, “to play with my cats and to eat Doritos.” Minho breathes out a small laugh, “I hadn’t known what it was like to actually be friends with someone until I met them, but please don’t tell them this. They’ll never let me hear the end of it.”

“I wouldn’t dream of spilling,” you laugh. “I trust you to keep a secret of mine, thus I’ll keep one of yours.” Minho smiles.

He glances into the ballroom when the music becomes louder and the talking becomes softer, a small announcement from his father echoing throughout the room and out onto the balcony.

“I would like my son to be the centre of the waltz tonight,” he announces.

“I think we need to head back inside,” you sigh. Minho purses his lips into a straight line before straightening his posture and taking a deep breath. The two of you make your way back into the room to listen.

“Prince Minho had won a gold medal at the national figure skating tournament last week,” his father continues from the indoor balcony that oversees the entire ballroom, “to celebrate, I’d like him to lead the waltz.” Applause breaks throughout the room, all eyes turning to Minho who smiles and bows in gratitude. The prince prepares to make his way to the center of the room, but his father’s voice stops him. “Would you like to choose a partner, Minho?”

He freezes in his movement, looking up at his father who all but nods. A small sense of frustration runs throughout Minho’s thoughts, his stomach churning at the idea of having to choose a partner to dance with.

Until he sees you watching him with a supporting smile on your face and bright eyes. Minho locks his eyes with yours and you immediately understand what he’s asking of you, to which you nod.

“I choose her highness, Princess (Y/n),” Minho announces with his hand extended in your direction. You push past the crowd and take his gloved hand in yours, letting him pull you close enough for him to whisper, “thank you.” The lights dim when the music starts and Minho has his hand resting on your waist. “Do you mind if I keep this fast paced?”

“I do enjoy a bit of a challenge,” you chuckle. Minho raises an eyebrow, seeing the glint in your eyes before he raises your other hand in the air and steps his right foot forward. Your left foot moves backward when he does and you continue on with the dance that moves slowly and in time with the music.

Until the rhythm picks up.

Minho gives you one look before he twirls you and catches your waist. “Too fast?”

“Not fast enough,” you remark. His lips curl into a smug smile as he pulls you back into him.

“Looks like we have to catch a faster tempo.”

Your dance quickly turns into a game—a game of Minho trying to see how fast you can go and of you trying to prove that you can keep up with him. Your feet move quickly even with your heels, swiftly moving back and forth with his own feet as giggles leaving the both of you every time you both come out successful.

“You’re one tough cookie,” Minho jokes.

“It takes more to crack me down, your highness,” you counter.

A pair of figure skating royalties who know exactly how to move with the rhythm of the music; two gold medalists who dance around each other fluidly like water. Minho twirls you away once more, your hands stopping you from going too far, before he pulls you back into him with your faces inches apart and your hand against his chest just as the music comes to a halt.

“Impressive,” Minho laughs, breath hitting your face.

“Finishing teaches you many things. One of those being how to waltz,” you chuckle.

“Are you sure it’s not because you’re a gold medalist figure skater?”

“It could possibly be that as well. I have many talents, Minho.”

He looks at you with a wide, genuine smile on his face.

“I think we’re going to get along just fine, (Y/n),” Minho claims.

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ♫ ⋅.} ───── ⊰

“I’m fucking exhausted,” Minho groans as he throws himself onto the couch behind you. You glance over your shoulder at him, tearing your attention away from the textbook you were reading to give the young prince your attention instead.

“I’m going to assume that you had World Economy today,” you chuckle.

“It’s painfully boring,” he sighs. “I understand what Professor Alina was saying, but dear God that woman is boring.”

“I simply can’t wrap my head around why you picked up Economics when you have no interest in it,” you absentmindedly say while you let your pen move around to highlight the important terms in your textbook.

“I simply can’t wrap my head around how you can tolerate something as boring as Literature,” Minho retorts.

“I find it rather interesting, thank you very much,” you sigh as you fully turn yourself around, arm slinging over the back of the wooden chair to look at him. “And might I remind you that you’re the one who chose something that you don’t enjoy while I chose my own degree.” He silently mocks your words which makes you throw your pen at him. “It’s a bigger wonder as to how I’ve tolerated you these past few weeks,” you shake your head while turning back to the library desk to pull out a new pen from your pencil case.

“I know, I’m such a pain in the ass, aren’t I,” he cries. “‘Woe is me, Prince Minho is such a bore. He’s not the handsome bachelor that I thought he was’.”

“I might just start referring to you that way if you carry on,” you hum.

“Oh, come on, you love me,” Minho claims while sitting up right.

“Of course I do, that’s why I’m friends with you.” He stares at the back of your head, scowling when he realises that you’re no longer paying attention to him.

Minho stands from the library couch and moves in front of your desk, arms crossing over his chest. You don’t pay him any mind and keep your attention to your book instead. He lets out a huff when you don’t look at him, but you still ignore him. Minho purses his lips together and knits his eyebrows together, huffing once again; louder this time.

You learned a week into your friendship that when Minho wants attention, he will do everything in his power to make you give him the attention without outwardly asking you for it. Which is exactly what he was doing right now.

You finally give in with a sigh and look at him without raising your head, “yes, Minho?”

“What are you doing?” he asks.

“I’m analysing Shakespeare sonnets.”

“What’s so interesting about them?”

“Minho, please,” you groan and set your pen on the table. “Could you please just allow me a few minutes to focus? I have an assignment due in a few days and I can’t focus when you’re constantly bothering me.”

“But I’m so bored,” Minho whines loudly.

“You’re acting like a child.”

“Because I’m bored!”

A hiss from the student librarian immediately silences him. You turn to Lia and give her an apologetic wave, but she reassures you with a smile.

“Chan, Hongjoong, and Yeji are planning to watch a movie in an hour,” you say while turning back to Minho, “if I promise to bring you, will you please allow me the hour to focus?”

“Yes, yes, I promise,” Minho nods feverishly, his voice lowering after the warning from Lia.

“Good. Now, sit on the couch and be patient.” He nods once again and plops himself down on the beaten and worn out leather, politely sitting as he waits for the hour to pass.

But Minho is Minho.

And you also learned quickly that Minho isn’t a patient man.

Barely even ten minutes pass before he sighs loudly from behind you. You squeeze your eyes shut in frustration and squeeze them with the thumb and index of your left hand. Attempting to ignore Minho’s whining and moaning, you plug your ears with your headphones and play music to block out the outside world.

Even that proves fruitless.

Minho crouches down beside your chair and rests his cheek against the table, tugging your earphone out and making you hiss at him in annoyance.

“Can we go do something fun together, please?” he asks politely.

“Where are Jisung and Seungmin?” you ask while turning to him.

“They both have classes,” Minho claims with a pout.

“Don’t you have any other classes?”

“Not anymore for the rest of the day,” he shakes his head.

“So, I’m the unfortunate soul you have for the rest of today?”

“Precisely.”

You sigh as you glare at him before you completely give in. You place your pen in the centre of the book to mark your page before shutting it. Minho lets out a victorious ‘yes!’ at the realisation that he’s won while you put your things into your backpack.

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ♫ ⋅.} ───── ⊰

“(Y/n)?” your father calls, his footsteps getting louder as he approaches the living room. You immediately stand up and turn to the entrance. “Aila mentioned that you have a friend over?” he asks just as he pushes open the door. His eyes widen at the sight of Minho standing a distance from you with his hands clasped in front of himself. “Oh. Prince Minho. I hadn’t realised you were friends with (Y/n).”

“We’re in the same university, sir,” he explains while bowing slightly.

“No formalities in this house. My daughter may have been sent to finishing school, but it’s only because we wanted her to be better with the rest of the family,” your father explains.

“‘Them’, father,” you correct.

“I hadn’t realised that you already told the prince.” His eyes are apologetic, but you reassure him with a smile. “Well, make yourself at home, your highness. If you’d like to spend the night in the guest room, I could always inform your parents since we’re quite close.”

“O-Oh, no, it’s fine,” Minho quickly shakes his head.

“Minho was bothering me while I was in the university’s library, so I brought him here to keep him occupied with the dart board while I study,” you explain with your hand gesturing to the books splayed across the coffee table. Your father’s lips part in realisation, amusement flashing across his face for a second.

“I’ll leave you to it, then.” He clears his throat to stifle his laughter when Minho’s face turns red. “If you need anything, just let any of the housekeepers know. And—uhm—if you’re hungry, there’s a box of chocolates in the mini fridge.” Your father extends his hand towards the silver fridge in the corner of the living room. “Do help yourself to it, your highness.”

The moment your father leaves the room, Minho scurries over to the fridge and pulls the small, golden box out and returns to the couch.

You look at the box of your chocolates and sigh softly. You turn your attention to your books for the nth time today and start reading the notes, your attention instead being caught by the box of chocolates slowly being slid towards you.

“Sorry,” Minho apologises with a mouthful of chocolate. Your head turns to look at him and you give him a soft smile.

“I’m sorry for being really snappy today. I’m afraid the workload has been getting a bit more taxing than I had initially imagined, you mutter as you push it back towards him. You sigh softly when you see the way Minho looks at you like a child guilty of breaking something, chocolate staining the corner of his lip as.

“I’m sorry for being really annoying,” Minho apologises. “I don’t blame you for acting like this.”

“I wouldn’t blame you either,” you chuckle. “Economics truly is a bore. I would end up as frustrated with it as you are.” He smiles slightly and pushes the box back in your direction.

“Thank you for tolerating me.”

You take one of the chocolates out of the box and pop it into your mouth, “thank you for sharing.”

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ♫ ⋅.} ───── ⊰

Minho pulls up outside your home, Jisung and Seungmin glancing at the mansion before taking a double-take. It’s the same size as Minho’s mansion, but somehow it looks even more grand than his. The outside is white and pristine. The driveway surrounding the large fountain in front of the building is lined with rose bushes and a perfectly green garden.

“Holy shit,” Jisung breathes out when he sees the garden.

“I know right,” Minho chuckles while turning the engine off.

“How in the world…” Seungmin trails off, his voice a whisper as he steps out of the car with Minho and Jisung.

“It’s bigger than yours,” Jisung claims.

“Shut up,” Minho snaps, his eyes holding the familiar mischievous glint that makes Jisung snicker. “Remember; their friends are here too. We’re gonna have a little movie night, courtesy of their parents, and you guys can’t say dumb shit in front of them,” Minho warns as he locks the door and leads the two up the stairs. He pauses in his footsteps and turns around, “I do not care that you guys sometimes hang out with them, but please don’t say anything dumb.” Jisung and Seungmin share a look and nod obediently.

“Remind us how you guys became so close again. I feel like you two never actually went into it but we hang out with (Y/n) and their friends every few weeks now.” The prince glances at Jisung and shrugs.

“It just worked. It probably helped that we always seemed to be in each others’ circles, but we never actually spoke until a few months ago,” he explains just as he rings the doorbell. “It felt like I kept seeing them everywhere and I just… approached them when I saw them when they were at one of my parents’ events.”

“So the stars just aligned?” Seungmin questions just as the door opens to reveal one of the housekeepers.

“Something like that,” Minho shrugs.

“Are you here for her highness’s gathering?” the man asks.

“Yes,” he nods.

“Her highness is still in her bedroom. I can take you to the cinema room where the rest of her friends are waiting.” The trio follow the man throughout the mansion, Seungmin and Jisung with their eyes glued to the ivory interior and almost bumping into one of the giant pillars in the entrance hall. “Do patiently wait until her highness arrives,” the housekeeper says as he pushes open one of the large sets of doors.

The entire room is the same ivory walls with subtle gold accents, a large black couch lining all sides of it and a projected screen hanging from the wall at the right side of the room. It’s huge for a cinema room. The centre of the room has a floor that looks more like panels than tiles.

“Why does it look like that?” Seungmin questions when he sees it, completely missing the three of your friends perched on one end of the couch.

“I think it’s best if you wait for (Y/n) to explain that,” Hongjoong chuckles. The film student whips his head up at the sound of his voice, his cheeks flaring when he realises that they’re all watching him.

“I have a feeling I know what it is, but I’m not going to make a guess until they’re here,” Minho hums as he plops himself on the opposite end of the couch. “Haven’t spoken to you guys in a while,” he says while watching the three. “How have you been?”

“I feel like the urge to drop out just keeps getting stronger and stronger,” Chan jokes with a laugh.

“Oh, that sounds amazing right now,” Yeji groans while throwing her head back. “What I’d give for just a whole year of no assignments and no extra year of studying.”

“Maybe we should all just drop out,” Jisung suggests. “A pact where we all just hide in (Y/n) and Minho’s houses.”

“You know, my parents most likely wouldn’t notice if you guys snuck around our mansion. They barely even spend time anywhere other than their chambers, the dining hall, and the ballroom,” Minho snorts. “They wouldn’t even notice if a whole family of five moved into the mansion.”

“Is that a yes?”

“It’s a very big ‘maybe’, Sung,” he chuckles.

“I’m taking that chance and I’m staying over for a few days to see how long before it takes your father to notice I’m there,” Jisung giggles mischievously as he plops his head down on Minho’s lap.

The doors open and you step into the room in a black hoodie and sweats.

“Oh! You guys are here!” you gasp in slight surprise when you see Minho and his friends. “No one told me that you already arrived.”

“The guy who let us in just told us to wait for you,” Seungmin says as he sits down beside Jisung. You give him a weird look but quickly brush it off and sit yourself in between Minho and Chan.

“You stink,” he states when you look at him. You scoff and immediately stand back up, “no! I was joking—sit back down.”

“I thought so,” you huff and sit back down. You look around the room, noting the fact that Minho’s usual bodyguard isn’t around. You think through the options in your mind before you look at him in surprise, “you drove here?”

“Yeah,” Minho nods. “They didn’t think Aki needed to follow me since I was coming here.” You breathe out an ‘oh’. It was always relatively surprising for you whenever Minho was without a bodyguard.

“Hey, (Y/n)?”

“Yes, Jisung.”

“Why does the floor look like that?” You look down at where Jisung is pointing and towards the panelled floor.

“Could everyone lift their feet off of the floor, please?” you ask and look between everyone in the room who obliges, bringing their legs up and sitting cross-legged. You reach towards a small black remote beside you and press the red button on it.

The room goes silent as everyone patiently waits for something to happen, when there’s a vague sound of metal whirring and the panel splits in two, pulling apart to reveal a pool.

“What the fuck?!” Jisung gasps as he shoots upright.

“The leather of this couch has been coated with a waterproof coating for this very reason,” you explain, “my parents were unsure on whether or not it was a good idea to have this in here with how it would be rather difficult to maintain, but they decided to go on with it. I would’ve asked you to bring along your swimming wear, but I hadn’t thought of you even noticing the pattern being a bit off.”

“Are we allowed to dip our feet in it?” Chan questions. His question doesn’t even feel like he’s asking for permission with the way he’s already rolling up his sweats.

“Feel free to,” you nod, “the black cabinet on the wall is filled with towels. You can use them if needed; just remember to leave them in the white cabinet right beside it.”

“This is so cool,” Hongjoong breathes out a laugh as he slides down the couch to let his feet dangle in the water.

“What are we watching?” Seungmin asks when he sees you reaching for another remote.

“I was planning on a more lighthearted film for Chan’s sake, but I decided on A Quiet Place because Hongjoong insisted.”

“I’m never paying for your lunch ever again,” Chan grumbles as you start the movie.

“You’ve never paid for it anyway,” Hongjoong argues.

“Hush,” Yeji hisses, which effectively silences the pair.

“Have you watched this before?” Minho whispers, but you shake your head.

“I don’t actually watch movies unless there are other people watching with me,” you say softly.

“Really?”

You nod your head, yes. Minho pulls away slightly and simply stares at you for a second before he returns his attention to the movie. He doesn’t want to disturb the silence, but he’s curious to know more about you. If you don’t watch movies that often on your own, then what do you watch? Or do you just not watch anything at all?

The movie carries on in silence. Chan disturbs after the first minute or two to ask for your permission to submerge himself into the water with only his boxers on, to which you grant it to him.

The first scene where the monster appears on screen causes Chan to jump and scream, the water splashing all over the couch and on you, Yeji, Seungmin, Jisung, and Minho.

“Dude?!” Minho gasps.

“Sorry! Fuck!” Chan squeaks sheepishly as he gathers himself and scooches closer to Yeji’s ankles. You wipe the droplets of water off of your face, silently laughing to yourself when you see how shaken up he’s gotten from barely even the first twenty minutes.

“Not joining them?” you ask when the movie hits the half hour mark and Jisung slides himself into the pool with Chan, looking close to passing out.

“I don’t really like being in water without any kind of swimming trunks,” Minho says while shaking his head. “Maybe another time.”

You lean closer to Minho out of instinct from the movie’s eerie music and ambiance. The prince barely questions it and slings his arm over your shoulders, pulling you closer to him as he grabs the dark blue blanket sitting beside him and drapes over your curled up frame.

Mere months of spending time together and the two of you had gotten closer as friends. Your hovering touches turned into more welcoming hugs and cuddles when needed. The others barely minded your skinship since you were relatively more open to it and so were Minho’s friends.

But the moment you’re comfortably curled up in Minho’s side, Seungmin glances at the both of you for a split second. He notes the way you have your head on his shoulder and the way Minho barely bats an eye at the way you had silently leaned up to him, but Seungmin stays silent and turns his attention back to the movie.

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ♫ ⋅.} ───── ⊰

“Do you have any plans for this weekend?” you ask as you hand Minho a bag of potato chips.

“Why?” He takes the bag and gives you a curious look.

“Hongjoong, Chan, and I are planning on taking (Y/n) to the beach this weekend. It’s been getting hotter and we all need a break from all of our assignments,” Yeji says as she rolls over on your bed so that she’s laying on her stomach and facing the two of you who are sitting on a pair of beanbags in the corner of your room.

Hongjoong, Jisung, and Chan have busied themselves with the dart board hanging on your wall, screaming and cheering every once in a while whenever someone lands the darts.

Seungmin’s perched at your desk chair, comfortably sitting on his own with one of your books in his hand. He had taken a liking to your bookshelf of old literature and browsed through it for a few minutes before deciding on a collection of William Blake poems.

Yeji has been on your bed and scrolling through her phone for the past two hours. Every once in a while, she raises her head to show you a funny meme that one of her other friends, Felix, had sent to her.

You and Minho sit on your bean bags with your own laptops and a shared bag of potato chips. You’re finishing one of your assignments while Minho binges Bojack Horseman on his own. It’s not silent, but the environment is comfortable enough for you to be able to focus, undisturbed and willingly pulling yourself away to see what the others are up to.

“Uhm… (Y/n)?” You look away from your laptop only to see Yeji sitting upright and looking at her phone with uncertainty on her face. You hum in response and she hands you the gadget. On the screen is an article with pictures of you and Minho at a mall with ‘SKU’S NEW ROYAL COUPLE?’ headlining the top in big, bold letters.

“This is nothing but tabloid, Yeji,” you reassure her as you return her phone. By now, you’re already used to the kinds of articles that would be written about you and the people around you. It’s happened to any member of the royal family

“What was it?” Minho asks.

“It’s another rumour about us,” you sigh, focusing your attention back on your assignment, fingers clicking away at the keys of your laptop. “Tabloids never worry me. They’re nothing but rumours.”

“These guys have nothing better to do,” he hums. “If they can’t force royals into a scandal, they can make rumours on our public relationships. Since we aren’t as important anymore with modern government, royals are treated like celebrities.”

“Should they find anything they can make an article about that will give them clicks and views, they do as they wish. It’s the reason why I pay no mind to them; nothing but rumours,” you lift your head and smile at Yeji, “nothing but lies.”

“So… you guys are totally cool with these things?” Yeji asks.

“Something like that,” Minho nods as he diverts his attention back to his Netflix. She looks between the two of you before shrugging and laying back down.

“Minho.”

“Yeah?”

“Could you read this, please? Let me know if it sounds alright.” He obliges without hesitation, switching his laptop with yours and letting you watch the rest of the episode while he reads through the entire essay.

“Do you guys have any tournaments coming up?” Hongjoong asks as he plops himself right beside Yeji, assumingly because the dart game started to get boring.

“Not until the New Year,” you shake your head. “My coach thinks it’s better that I focus on my academics.”

“I have one in the summer, but it’s state level,” Minho says.

“Minho’s training only gets more intense towards the month before, so we have plenty of time to hang out before then,” Jisung hums as he throws himself right onto Hongjoong’s back, the performing arts student screaming when he does.

“Oh no…” you trail off when you watch the chaos erupt.

Jisung won’t get off of Hongjoong’s back, Yeji is trying to avoid being hit or grabbed by Hongjoong’s violently swaying arms, Chan is so very desperately trying to pull Jisung off and Seungmin has finally pulled his attention away from the book he was reading.

You, Minho, and Seungmin watch from your own spots as Hongjoong cries out with his arms flying all over the place. He grabs Yeji by the ankles and she exclaims at the sudden action, unfortunately being pulled into the mess while Chan moves to try to pull her away.

“Hongjoong, let me go!” she cries out while kicking at his hands.

“Get him off of me!” Hongjoong groans while still trying to push Jisung off. “Why are you so heavy?! I swear you were so small last year!”

“I gained a lot of muscle this year, dude,” Jisung giggles as he finally decides to pull himself up. “You have funny reactions.”

“I hate you,” he pants.

“Be nice to my Jisungie,” Minho hums. He had been completely unphased throughout the entire affair and kept most of his attention to your essay. “It’s good,” he says as he finally hands switches your laptops.

“Really?” You take the device and read through the first paragraph yet again.

“Yeah, I haven’t read Beowulf but it makes sense. Speaking of, what’s the deal with that guy?” Minho laughs.

“Beowulf’s in a silly mood,” you joke as you save the file before closing your laptop. “Now what?”

“Well, we came over here to bother you while you were doing your assignment, but you’re done with that now,” Yeji hums.

“And we couldn’t even bother you,” Chan adds. “You never give us attention whenever we try to bother you.”

“You guys don’t try hard enough, that’s why,” you laugh. “Either that, or I’ve simply gotten too used to Minho bothering me all of the time.”

“I once made them so frustrated that they took me here and their father gave me their chocolates,” Minho laughs while closing his own laptop and puts it away in his bag.

“You were so very annoying that day,” you grumble.

“Minho annoys everyone,” Seungmin laughs from the other end of your room. He stands up with a small grunt and makes his way to your expansive bookshelf to put away the book exactly where he had taken it from. “I’m not surprised that he’s the most likely to break your focus out of all of us.”

“Hold on—since everyone’s not focused on anything else now—beach this weekend?” Hongjoong suggests, pushing himself upright to look around the room. “We can get an AirBnB around the area, leave Friday evening and come back Sunday evening.”

You turn to Minho when you feel him brushing your elbow and give him a questioning look. “What do you think?”

“It should be fine if I tell mother and father that you’re joining. They can always refer to your parents if they don’t trust me,” you say.

“Your bodyguards are also completely free to join, by the way,” Hongjoong continues. “But I’d feel bad if they didn’t at least join us at the beach, so ask them to bring their own swimsuits too.”

“Would you even be able to convince Aki to join us in the water?” you snort as you turn to Minho.

“I can barely even convince that man to eat lunch with me in the campus cafeteria sometimes,” he rolls his eyes with a laugh. “Although, I’ve noticed that he’s been a bit more casual ever since Lyra started joining us.”

“Lyra is casually formal, I think. She still speaks and acts very formally, but somehow she does it in a way that comes off as more casual than what I believe people are mostly used to,” you explain. “For my entire childhood, my classmates and teachers hadn’t found her that intimidating unless she needed to be.”

While Minho’s bodyguard had failed to become more casual with him, your personal bodyguard had a brighter aura to her. She was bubbly and jovial, extroverted and social enough to make friends with anyone. Her connections were valued to your parents and her initiative and determination in keeping you safe was what made them choose her to care for you ever since you were a child.

“Aki could not be casual around me to save his own life,” Minho jokes, “I’ve asked him a million times to be more casual with me, but he doesn’t want to.”

“Trutfully, Minho, you are rather intimidating,” you state.

“They’re not wrong,” Jisung nods in agreement. “You are very intimidating. The first time Seungmin and I saw you, we were more scared of your face than Aki.”

“Mhm, we can vouch for that,” Yeji hums.

“What?” Minho scoffs in disbelief. “I’m not that intimidating.”

“You truly are,” you shake your head. The prince looks at you with shock written all over his face. “One of the reasons I hadn’t approached you myself was because you always looked so bored during events.”

“Okay, but that’s because the events are actually boring,” he defends.

“Your face tells the people around you that you’d like to set the entire ballroom on fire, Minho—I truly would not be surprised if that’s the reason Aki is scared of being casual with you.”

“Is that true?” Minho looks around the room and all six of them nod. He has to admit that he feels slightly deflated at the revelation.

“I hadn’t meant it as a bad thing,” you reassure him, hand reaching on to hold onto his forearm gently. “I think it’s a charm that you can use to keep bad intentions away.”

“You think so?”

“Of course I do,” you nod.

“Dude, haven’t you noticed that the worst people on campus still haven’t approached you? You’ve been here for the past two years and you’d think that the ‘It’ group would’ve tried making friends with you, but they haven’t,” Hongjoong points out. “They’re all scared of you.”

“Even the campus devil is scared of you,” Yeji claims.

“Why did you guys approach me then?” Minho asks, eyes diverting to Jisung and Seungmin. The pair share a look before shrugging in unison.

“You seemed like a cool dude,” Jisung admits.

“There wasn’t anything wrong with you. You just looked scary,” Seungmin claims.

“We just assumed that gave yourself a resting bitch face because you’re, technically, seen as a celebrity. Either that or you were just born with it,” he adds. Minho turns back to you, but you only smile in response.

“It’s not a bad thing, alright?” you reassure him as you squeeze his arm gently. Relief floods his chest at the reassurance you give him.

Minho lets out a sigh and smiles, “so… beach this weekend?”

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ♫ ⋅.} ───── ⊰

Arriving at the AirBnB, you and Minho were quick to make your way to the bedroom you decided on sharing. The first thing you noticed in the process of unpacking was the fact that Yeji, Jisung, Chan, Hongjoong, and Seungmin still hadn’t arrived yet, which led to Minho calling Jisung to check in on them.

“How much longer are you guys gonna take?” Minho asks into the phone as you start unpacking your bag. “Four hours?!” The exclamation tears you away from your bag for a moment, but you decide to only listen instead of completely turning your attention to the conversation.

“... it’s Chan’s fault for not checking his tires…” Jisung’s voice is vaguely heard by you and it makes you look away from your duffle bag to look at Minho, your hands stopping and resting among your clothes.

“Jeez, alright,” he sighs. “(Y/n) and I are already here, so we’ll probably hang out around the beach before you guys get here. Yeah, it’s no problem. We’ll find something to eat, too. We did a small grocery run before we got here. Yeah. Yeah—dude, seriously, it’s no problem… a little bit. I’m starting to think that we should’ve taken the same car. Yes; I know that you guys are all living in the dorms, but I’m just say—Jisung—I’m just—God! Fine! Just let us know when you guys are nearby.”

Minho hangs up the call and taps on his screen a few times before he locks it and places it on the bed. He plops himself beside you and starts unpacking his own bag.

“Four hours?” you repeat.

“That’s what he said,” Minho nods with a sigh. “It’s fine. It’s still bright out, so we could just head on over to the beach now and watch the sunset.”

“I’m not opposed to that,” you claim as you start searching for your swimsuit. “We can convince Lyra and Aki to join us in the water. “

“You could probably convince Lyra, but I’m not so sure about Aki,” he chuckles.

“Did you ask him to bring swimming wear?”

“I did, but it’s not a promise as to whether or not he actually did,” Minho says as he rummages through his bag. “By the way, what do you want to eat? I doubt they’ll actually be here on time for dinner.”

On the four hour trip to the beach, Aki was kind enough to stop by a grocery store to buy food for everyone. Three hours into the tripand Lyra had convinced him to stop at a Family Mart along the way to buy snacks for everyone.

“You never know,” you hum, “but in the chance that they don’t arrive by then, we can always cook something for the four of us. Whatever food is leftover can be shared with the others.”

“But what do you want to cook?”

“We can run through what we bought at the grocery store and figure something out later.” You zip up the top of your bag and stand up, “now, I’m going to change in the bathroom, so you can change in here, and we can talk about food afterwards.”

“Alright,” Minho nods.

You disappear into the bathroom and leave the prince to his own company. It’s not much of a surprise to your friends that you two chose each other as roommates the moment the options were given; especially after Seungmin asked for his own room because, according to him, ‘Jisung talks in his sleep’.

Yeji chose to share a room with Chan only after he promised to keep his shirt on and Jisung chose the couch since he sleeps pretty much anywhere and everywhere.

When you had brought the plan to Lyra and Aki, they both had chosen their own rooms on both sides of yours and Minho’s. They didn’t want to share a room with the both of you for the sake of your privacy but preferred being in at least the same area just in case anything would happen—in which you reassured them that the chances of anything going south were low.

Minho pauses for a moment in the middle of putting his swimsuit on. Your phone had lit up on the dressing table of the bedroom and your lock screen is a picture Chan had taken while you were at a Christmas party the year before. His hand drops from zipping his suit up halfway as he takes a step closer to pick up your phone.

It was one of the first times you had ever been to a party that wasn’t formally prepared by another royal family, and you and your friends went back to Minho’s place for the rest of the night where he had gotten drunk and threw you over his shoulder.

The memory is fresh in Minho’s head despite the few months that had passed. He remembers the night so fondly mainly because it was the first time he had truly seen you so happy.

Minho’s attention is so fixed on your phone that he doesn’t even hear you stepping out of the bathroom and staring at his back in confusion. “Minho?”

“You have this as your lock screen?” he asks as he turns around. You stare at the image for a moment before it finally hits you on which picture you had saved as your lock screen.

“Yeah,” you nod while approaching him and taking the device from his hands, “it was one of the best nights of my life—how could I not?” You look at the picture as well and laugh, “don’t you remember Yeji spilling her drink all over Hongjoong? He was more upset over the fact that she accidentally stepped on his shoes over the fact that he was drenched in alcohol.”

“Yeah, I do,” Minho laughs. You pull your phone back and smile at the image as you sit at the edge of your bed. He feels his heart warming, smiling fondly as he sits beside you. “Do you actually remember what happened after I threw you over my shoulder because I completely blacked out after that.”

“Well,” you sigh as the memory runs through your head. “Seungmin threw a cushion at you to put me down right after Chan took the photo. You almost dropped me. You had gotten frustrated with how you weren’t able to speak properly in your state. Jisung had to convince you to put me down safely.”

“I have a very vague memory of me trying to throw you out the window,” he wonders.

“Yeah, Jisung had to make you put me down safely after you tried to throw me out the window,” you clarify with a chuckle. “All was fine. After you put me down, you laid down on my bed and started mumbling about the suit you had accidentally spilled champagne on before falling asleep.”

“Was I that wasted?”

“You were worse than Yeji on her birthday,” you joke. Minho gawks at you.

“No way…”

“You really were, Minho,” you giggle.

“No fucking way—worse than Yeji?”

“Quite so. I had never seen you acting as extremely as the way that you did—it was very entertaining,” you claim.

“I think you’ve all turned me into the equivalent of the jester,” he snorts as he lays down. “Nothing but a laughing stock.”

“You have to admit, Minho, you’re quite entertaining in general,” you say as you turn around and place your hand on his knee. “You know that you’re more than just a jester. You’ve given me many things since we’ve met.”

“Such as?” Minho gives you a cheeky look. On one end, he wants you to fuel his ego, but on the other, he’s genuinely curious to know what kind of a place he has in your heart.

“Well, you’ve taught me how to chug alcohol like a lunatic, you’ve taught me how to make fun of funnily dressed royals, and you’ve taught me how to truly discipline my focus during assignment season.” His face contorts into a scowl and you can only smile at his reaction. “On one hand, I’m joking, but on the other; Minho, you’ve taught me how to be more casual with people. You’ve taught me things that I had spent so many years failing to figure out. I hadn’t had that many friends before this, but by meeting you, I have few that I hold so dearly.”

“Does that include me?”

“Yes, that includes you,” you roll your eyes, amused. “I hold you dearly, Minho. Very so. We’ve only been close for a few months, but I can admit that you are the most interesting person I’ve ever met.” Minho keeps his eyes trained on you without saying anything, silently urging you to continue; not because of his ego, but because he’s genuinely curious. “You’re… different,” you say, “I’ve met royals before who prefer a more laid-back and casual lifestyle, but you’re the only Lee Minho I’ve ever met.”

“The one and only,” he smiles. You hadn’t realised that your hand had been on his knee the entire time, your thumb tenderly rubbing over the skin exposed from his swimming shorts.

“You’re my best friend, Minho,” you admit softly. A strange feeling runs throughout Minho’s gut. He’s never heard anyone outright admit to him that they see him as their best friend; Jisung and Seungmin had their own way of doing it, but it was never vocal. He slowly sits upright and takes your hand in his, clasping the other over it.

“And you’re mine, (Y/n),” Minho smiles. Your smile softens into an adoring one as you take your hand out of his. For a moment, he feels disappointed from the sudden pull, until you wrap your arms around his shoulders to pull him into a hug.

“I intend to keep you around for as long as I am able to.” Minho lets out a contented sigh as he wraps his arms around you as well, burying his face in your shoulder.

“(Y/n),”

“Yes, Minho.” You don’t pull away from him, but he feels the way your head turns towards him slightly.

“I—” Minho, unfortunately, gets cut off when there’s a knock at the door.

“Your highnesses,” Lyra calls from the other side “We’re packing food to bring to the beach; would you like us to bring the sandwiches you bought from Family Mart?”

You pull away from Minho too quickly for his liking, standing up to open the door completely. “That would be lovely, thank you, Lyra,” you nod.

“Oh, also…” The bodyguard takes a step into the room and quietly closes the door, leaning her back against the wood as she looks at Minho. “Aki would never admit this to you, but he is so excited for the beach.”

“Is he?” Minho’s eyes widen in surprise.

“He told me that he loves the beach, but your family doesn't visit it that often. This is his first time in a while and he’s absolutely thrilled,” she snickers.

“I would kill to see him playing in the water,” he breathes out a laugh.

“We must move quickly, then,” you urge as you take Minho’s hand. “Lyra, pack the basket. We won’t tell Aki anything.”

“As you wish,” Lyra giggles right before she leaves the room. You tug Minho towards the door after she leaves but he stops you, pulling your arm back and trapping you in his embrace.

“Thank you,” he hastily breathes out as his arms tighten around you. “Thank you for being my friend. Thank you for tolerating me. I seriously cannot thank you enough.” As Minho holds you, he doesn’t realise it, but he’s praying that you love him as much as he loves you.

But Minho himself doesn’t even realise just how much he loves you.

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ♫ ⋅.} ───── ⊰

“No,” you state simply. Minho bites his lip in an attempt to contain the cheeky look on his face as he chases after you.

“Come on! It’s a grand idea, (Y/n)!” You shake your head at his persuasion, walking away from the park and away from him.

“I refuse,” you state.

Minho had a thought, and when this man has a thought, he thinks he’s a genius. But Minho also doesn’t really think that often in general, which makes his thoughts even more of a rare and more of a spontaneous occurrence.

“We’ll be matching at the Halloween party! Don’t you want to match with your best friend?” He grabs onto your elbow and pulls you towards him while you let out a frustrated whine.

“Minho, please, I would like to not embarrass myself.” You look at him with pleading eyes and a pout, “I just want to look nice this year.”

“You looked nice last year. Now it’s time for you to look ridiculous with me,” Minho giggles with both of his hands holding both of your elbows to stop you from moving away from him.

Admittedly, you would’ve said yes to matching outfits with Minho. The only problem is that Minho is Minho.

And Minho doesn’t choose normal costumes.

“Please, please, please—pretty please!” You stare at him in shock because Minho is bouncing while he pleads.

“Minho—”

“It’ll be so fun, (Y/n), please!” Minho’s hands lower to hold yours as he continues bouncing, “we’ll look so cool.”

“We’ll look atrocious!”

“No, we won’t!”

“How do you dress up as pee?!”

“I never said you had to dress up as pee!”

“I sure am not going to dress up as shit!” Minho’s jaw drops.

“Holy shit,” he breathes out and you give him a confused scowl in response. “That’s the first time I’ve ever heard you swear.”

“Anyone spends enough time with you and their filter completely flies out the window,” you snort. “I’ll suggest an idea; we can dress up as a knife and a fork. I can be the fork and you can be the knife because you like playing with knives.”

“That’s so basic,” Minho scoffs as he takes a step back as though he’s offended that you have the audacity to suggest something like that. “I want something out of the box—something different! Something that’ll make everyone stop and stare at us like, ‘wow, they’re really weird’.”

“That doesn’t mean it has to be related to bodily fluids,” you deadpan. You pull your hands away from Minho and turn your back to him as you continue walking towards the university cafeteria.

“I just think it’ll be funny!” he persists, jogging until he’s following right beside you. “How about this; we can do something that isn’t gross, but it has to be fun.”

“I want it to be cute,” you add.

Minho rolls his eyes but nods nonetheless, “fine, it can be fun and cute.”

“And I want to be the cooler part of the pair.”

“Dude!” You snap your eyes in his direction and glare at him, the look only making him gasp and take a step back. “Who would’ve thought that you, (Y/n), is as cold as you really are.”

“You bring it out of me,” you hum with a mocking smile that you drop not a second later and continue on your way.

“Salt and pepper?”

“You’ll end up being salty about having to be salt.”

“Ugh, then what about Timon and Pumba?”

“Are you admitting to being a furry?”

“(Y/n)!” Minho finally whines out and stomps his feet on the ground like a child. You pay his tantrum no mind and just hold onto his hand as you bring him along.

“Halloween is not for another month, Min. We still have plenty of time to figure it out,” you reassure him with a sigh when his tantrum ceases.

“We’re going to need time to make the costumes and everything though,” he huffs.

“We can buy them online,” you state.

“That’ll still take weeks for it to arrive!”

“Minho, you’re overreacting and you’re making it a bigger deal than it has to be,” you groan as you throw your arms around the place in frustration. You stop walking and turn all of your attention towards him, “I don’t think that Halloween should be that big of a deal! It’s just a costume party.”

“You’re the one that’s overreacting!” Minho claims loudly. “I just wanna do something nice that the both of us can enjoy and have matching costumes!”

A hand rests on your shoulder and you turn your head to see Lyra’s face right beside yours, “your highness, people are watching.” You spare a glance around you to see the amount of students that are actually watching your argument and, from behind Minho, Aki raises his baseball cap to give you a warning look.

“Minho,” you clear your throat and place your hand on his shoulder, “shall we have this discussion in the privacy of one of our homes instead?” You truly can’t bring yourself to understand why Minho is being so difficult. With the way he actually looks frustrated to the point where he’s close to tears, you worry that he might just have a breakdown in the middle of campus.

His eyes frantically look around campus before stopping on you. You knit your eyebrows together in confusion, hand slowly extending towards him. Minho takes a deep breath before he wraps his fingers around your hand.

“It’s okay,” you whisper as you pull him with you. “Lyra, prepare the car.”

“Yes, your highness,” she bows her head before rushing off.

“Minho, we’re going to my place,” you say softly. Minho looks into your eyes, relief seeming to flood him as he nods.

“Okay,” he whispers. You pull him towards you and he obliges, silently following as you guide him to Lyra’s car parked in the driveway to campus. Minho doesn’t say anything throughout the forty minute drive to your house and he doesn’t say anything until you bring him to your room.

“Are you okay?” you ask once you’ve closed your bedroom door.

“I think I’m stressed out,” Minho admits shakily as he avoids eye contact with you. You don’t miss the way he swallows the lump in his throat or the way his hands keep anxiously clenching into fists only for his fingers to stiffly spread out to repeat the process.

“Is it because of all of the assignments?” He shakes his head. “Is it your parents? Are they trying to push you into another proposal?” Minho shakes his head yet again. You purse your lips into a straight line, eyebrows furrowing as you try to figure out exactly what’s going on. You resort to sitting at the edge of your bed and patting the spot beside you.

Minho obliges and sits beside you, your thighs barely touching from the lack of distance between you two.

“I don’t know,” he confesses. “I just feel so… stressed out and anxious for no reason.”

“Well, you don’t exactly need a reason to feel that way,” you reassure Minho. “You can feel whatever you want—you don’t have full control over your emotions.”

“I know that,” Minho claims. “It feels like there’s a lot on my mind right now.”

“Penny for your thoughts?”

“I wouldn’t know what to say, though,” he sighs. “It feels like there’s so many things that I don’t know exactly what’s causing it.”

“That’s alright,” you reassure Minho. Your hand rests on his knee, squeezing the fabric of his jeans gently in an attempt to maybe calm his nerves. “We don’t have to talk about it then. We can find something to do to calm your thoughts.”

“I don’t want to do anything,” Minho mumbles as he falls backwards and lays on your bed.

“Come here,” you urge while patting your thigh. Minho looks between your face and your thigh before obliging, adjusting himself so that his head is comfortably cushioned by your thighs. You start to softly comb your fingers through his hair and sigh, “you have too much in this strange head of yours, Minho. When was the last time you actually took the time to relax?”

“When you have the amount of assignments that I do, there’s barely even time to sleep,” he jokes with a laugh, but his laugh quickly dies down and his face changes. “I’m very tired, (Y/n). I should’ve turned down the tournament last month. I feel like I haven’t had the time to catch up because of it. Even Kara thinks I shouldn’t have.”

“What did Kara say?” you ask.

“When I told her I wanted to do it, she was really hesitant,” Minho starts, “she said that she was worried I would burn myself out. I just told her to let me do it because I really wanted to be in that tournament… I don’t think I was giving myself enough time for anything.” You hum in response, letting him know that you’re still there and you’re still listening as you continue to massage his scalp. “I don’t know… Maybe I should stop skating for a while—at least until I’m done with my final year.”

“Are you sure you want to do that?”

Minho sighs as his eyes look away from you and towards the ceiling, “I honestly don’t know, (Y/n). I don’t think I do, but if I keep skating as often as I do now, I might not be able to focus on school.”

“What if you just don’t skate for the next year?” you suggest. “Forget all of the tournaments between now and 12 months from now and only skate casually. Use it to relieve your stress or when you feel you really want to.”

“One year sounds decent,” he wonders.

“That’s what I’m thinking of doing as well. It’s a bit tiring trying to balance skating and assignments,” you confess. Minho’s gaze meets your eyes once again and the look makes your hands pause in his hair. His brown eyes bore into yours, his habit of blinking multiple times suddenly becoming more prominent the longer you look at him.

You’ve always thought that Minho was extremely handsome, but now, as you look at him, you realise that he may just be more radiant than you initially thought. Your hand lowers to his cheek as you smile fondly.

“What?” he questions, eyebrows knitting together in slight confusion when you don’t say anything.

“Nothing,” you say while shaking your head. “I was just thinking about something.” You pull your hand away from him and lean backwards. Minho’s lips part when you do, almost asking you to bring your hand back, but he quickly stops himself. “So, what’s the plan for Halloween?”

“Jisung wants to have a mega Halloween birthday party.”

You look at him in confusion, “wasn’t his birthday a few days ago?”

“Yeah,” Minho nods, “but he and Seungmin want to have a Halloween costume party for their birthdays, so they’re having a follow-up birthday party of sorts.”

“That… sounds more in character for Jisung than it does for Seungmin,” you point out.

“They work hand-in-hand,” he shrugs with a chuckle, “Jisung’s the mastermind, Seungmin’s the catalyst, and I’m just the enabler. Jisung comes up with wild ideas and Seungmo would pretend he has nothing to do with it when he’s the one making the idea come out worse than the original idea.”

“I see now why you three make such an interesting group of friends.” You let out a small laugh, returning to your previous act of running your hand through Minho’s hair. The prince closes his eyes, relishing in the comforting feeling of your hand that seems to wash away all of his stress and all of the doubts he had before.

But it doesn’t take away the initial cause of his stress.

Seungmo: I’m just saying that you’ve been treating (Y/n) differently

Minho: As in??

Seungmo: Minho I really think that maybe you need to start addressing what kind of a relationship you have with them before one of you gets hurt You’re more accepting to skinship and they can comfort you in seconds

Minho: I treat them like that because they’re my best friend

Seungmo: Then why do you push Jisung’s skinship away? Isn’t he your best friend too?

It was a mild argument that he had with Seungmin earlier in the day, but the idea had lingered in Minho’s head for longer than he initially wanted it to.

Did he really see you in a different light than what he thought he was?

“You’re thinking again, Minho,” you claim quietly. “Let go of your thoughts for a moment.”

“I’m trying,” he mumbles as his eyes open to meet yours. “It’s easier said than done.”

“I worry about you. I’m sorry if I came off as too strong just now,” you apologise.

“It’s alright,” Minho reassures you with a smile. “I knew you were messing around, but I don’t know why I was getting so upset over it. I’m sorry.”

“You know that I’ll always forgive you for these small things,” you claim, your hand lower to cup his cheek with your thumb tenderly running over the skin of his cheekbone. “It takes more than that to scare me off.”

Minho smiles, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he does. You feel a sense of warmth running throughout your body at the sight of his smile. It’s different from the ones you’ve seen before and it fills you with a strange feeling of comfort and safety.

“Thank you,” he thanks after a moment of silence between you two. “You make me feel safe.” Your heart jumps, your lips parting slightly. “I feel like I can tell you everything.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Minho nods. He’s overcome with a sense of pure adoration when he sees the way you smile. His hand hesitates for a moment before it reaches up to your face where he allows his fingers to graze over your cheek.

You both stay like that for a moment before Minho’s snapped out of his trance and is hit with the crashing realisation of what he’s doing. He clears his throat, swallowing thickly as he sits upright.

“Thank you,” Minho repeats. Disappointment fills your mind slightly at the lack of his closeness, but you push it down and smile instead.

“If you ever need anything, Minho, I’ll be here,” you say.

“I know.” He returns the smile, ignoring the single raging realisation that maybe Seungmin was right.

Maybe Minho loves you differently than he had initially thought.

But he can’t help but feel that you don’t love him that way.

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ♫ ⋅.} ───── ⊰

Another event and Minho’s at his regular spot. He had spent the past few months thinking over the relationship that he has with you and after an earful from Seungmin and Jisung, Minho stopped denying the fact that he was in love with you.

He had spent whatever time where he wasn’t with you to think it through. When did Minho even fall in love with you? Why did it take him so long to realise he was falling when his friends had caught on to it before him? He shakes the thought out of his head and straightens his back; Minho can’t afford to be lost in his thoughts during an event.

He surely can’t afford to be looking and staring at you the entire evening either, but that also begs the question of where are you?

Minho hadn’t seen you at all in the past two hours since the event had started and he hadn’t seen your parents either. Were you not attending? Surely if you weren’t, you would’ve let him know beforehand to avoid him constantly looking for you.

But why was Minho so eager to look for you anyway?

He’s used to not talking to anyone for too long the entire night. Even whenever you were around, Minho would spend most of his time hovering around you and following you wherever you would go, but tonight feels different.

Is Minho finally ready to let you know that he loves you?

A whole year together and Minho finally realises just how much he does. He had spent so long mistaking his feelings for platonic love, but he hadn’t realised that he was actually falling in love with you.

Minho had taken your advice of not skating for a while. He told Kara that he wasn’t going to participate in the national Winter tournament and opted on focusing on his school at least until he didn’t feel like he was close to burning out. Right after he had spoken with the coach, Minho felt a weight lifting off of his chest and his first instinct was to tell you about it.

Which only added to the suspicion of his feelings.

The longer Minho thought about it, the more he realised things that he wouldn’t have done if it were anyone else. He wouldn’t have shared a room with anyone if you had chosen to share a room with someone else. He wouldn’t have let anyone hold him as close as you do—and he surely wouldn’t have let anyone touch his hair the way you have.

So Minho is finally going to confess to you. Because right now, all he wants is you. And all he wants is to have you around him. He wants to be able to hold you and tell you just how much he loves you; Minho wants to hold you and call you his.

He wants you to be his to love and he wants to be the one you love.

So Minho stays at his usual spot in the ballroom, angling his head to look above everyone else in an attempt to find you. He feels his heart pounding in his chest. What if you weren’t as in love with him as he thought you were? What if he was reading your signals wrong?

Minho prays that you aren’t in love with someone else. He prays that, even as a royal, you aren’t betrothed to a prince from another region for the sake of a business relationship. He spots the back of your head from a distance, excitement rushing through him as he starts pushing past the crowd and towards you. He catches a glimpse of the black ball gown you’re wearing and the silver clip pinned into your hair, thinking that you look as enchanting as you always do.

Until he hears your laugh. Minho freezes in the middle of the crowd and stares at you. You’re smiling as you talk to a prince that he somewhat recognises; he’s come to his parents’ events a handful of times. Minho feels his world crashing down when he sees the way you’re genuine. All of the fake and polite smiles have disappeared and you look happy as you talk to the prince.

Minho stays in his spot, unable to move as all he sees is you. Maybe you are in love with someone else. His bottom lip trembles, eyes stinging with tears that he forces back as he turns on his heel. Minho makes a beeline towards the entrance to the ballroom and shoves his way past the large wooden doors, the heels of his shoes aggressively clacking against the marble floor. He needs to get away.

He feels like skating.

Minho walks towards the back entrance of the mansion, grabbing a pair of worn out skates that he keeps only for when he’s skating in the man-made frozen lake in his mansion’s backyard—courtesy of his parents. He doesn’t bother grabbing a coat and ignores the way the cold bites at his ears and the tips of his exposed fingers as he storms towards the ice.

He throws the dark blue blazer off and lets it haphazardly fall to the ground, leaving him in only the white button up that definitely isn’t warm enough in the low temperature. Minho shoves his feet into the softened leather of his skates, hastily looping the laces until he’s secure enough to skate.

He doesn’t even bother with stretching as he kicks off, gliding to the centre of the lake. Minho doesn’t follow any routine. He jumps and spins as he pleases. Without any music, he feels more freedom in his movement and in his thoughts. The image of you laughing and talking with the prince stays embedded in his thoughts, the tears that he was so desperately trying to force back coming in at full force and Minho lets out a choked sob as he stops for a moment.

He takes a deep breath, letting out a loud groan of frustration as he wipes away his tears with the back of his hand before he continues. Minho can feel his muscles struggling. Without any stretching and with the lack of warmth, he feels his muscles stiffening faster than they usually would, but he ignores it in favour of trying to at least relieve whatever pain he feels.

Meanwhile, from within the mansion, you bid your friend goodbye. You forgot to let Minho know that you and your family would arrive late for the event and you had left your phone in the car rather than in your purse like you usually would. You look around the ballroom in search of the young prince, but you feel disappointment filling you when you can’t find him.

You purse your lips together with a sigh. Where could he be?

“Excuse me,” you softly call when one of the waitresses approaches you. “Is Prince Minho attending this event?”

“You just missed him, your highness,” the woman says as she lowers her head slightly. “Prince Minho left the mansion almost half an hour ago. Some of the housekeepers have said that he might be in the backyard of the compound.”

“Backyard?”

“Yes, your highness,” she nods. “I can have someone show you the way if you’d like.”

“It’s fine—thank you.” The waitress bows her head slightly before moving past you. You head for the entrance to the ballroom, requesting your coat from one of the staff before you make your way down the white walls and towards the backyard. You have spent long enough in Minho’s mansion to navigate your way through the many hallways without needing much help and you quickly find yourself pushing through the glass door leading to the outside.

You let out a verbal shiver when you feel how cold it’s gotten and wrap your arms around yourself as you start wandering around the garden. The sound of skates scraping against ice makes you turn your head in the direction of the lake, your lips parting when you see Minho kicking himself off into the air as he spins.

Your steps slow as you walk towards the lake. Ice sculptures line the path towards the lake, a large Christmas tree to your right and wreaths hanging from the lamp posts that light up the long path. The closer you get, the more you see Minho in his element. He glides across the ice with less control and more fluidity.

The garden looks magical; as though it’s some sort of winter wonderland, and with Minho making use of the lake, you could say that it’s a scene out of a movie.

Minho spins once, twice, before he catches sight of your frame slowly approaching and loses his balance. You let out a loud gasp when Minho falls onto the ice with a loud thud and a pained grunt. Your first instinct is to laugh, a small giggle leaving past your lips.

He looks cute.

Minho blushes furiously at the sound of your laughing, but it’s barely obvious from the way his cheeks were already red from the cold. You take a step closer to the ice when you see him wobbling as he stands.

“What are you doing out here on your own?” you question.

“I needed to clear my mind,” he mumbles. Your smile drops when you hear the ice in his voice, his eyes looking at his hands as he brushes ice off of them.

“I was looking for you,” you say.

“Well, you looked like you were having a grand time with the prince.” Minho finally looks at you, but his eyes are blank as he looks at you, completely void of emotion.

“What prince…? Oh! You mean Seonghwa? We’re just friends, Minho,” you reassure him. You step onto the ice cautiously; your heels aren’t exactly made for walking on ice, but you manage. “Seonghwa and I used to be close when we were children, but we haven’t had much time to catch up since I left for finishing school.”

“I don’t believe you,” he huffs.

“It’s the truth,” you argue softly. Minho looks away from you and sighs. “Why don’t you believe me?”

“I-I don’t know—you looked happy talking to him, (Y/n). You looked like you were in love with him,” he claims.

“Nonsense,” you laugh in disbelief. “Why would I be in love with Seonghwa?”

“With the way that he looks, I really wouldn’t be surprised.”

“Minho, I don’t love him,” you retaliate when you get closer to him.

“Why not?” He still avoids eye contact with you, looking at anything else but you as his fingers nervously rub against the palms of his hands.

“I love you,” you confess. Minho’s breath hitches in his throat and his eyes immediately lock with yours, his habit of blinking constantly becoming more and more constant. Until he breathes out a laugh and shakes his head.

“No, you don’t.”

You let out a scoff, “what do you mean?”

“I mean that you don’t, (Y/n),” he states. “Why would you even be in love with me when you have someone like Park Seonghwa in your circle? Everyone wants him. Why would you be any different?”

“Because he’s like my brother,” you retort. “Seonghwa and I grew up together; I’ve gotten sick of his habits already, but he’s not you.”

“You’re just saying that.”

“It’s the truth.”

“I don’t believe you.”

You look at him in disbelief, anger starting to rise in your chest. Or was it the crushing feeling of Minho rejecting your confession purely out of jealousy? You shake your head—it doesn’t matter. “Whatever,” you spit, “if you’re going to act like this, then I’m going back inside. It’s too cold out here.” Your voice waivers as you speak and Minho doesn’t miss the way your eyes gloss over as you cross your arms over your chest, turning around to walk away from him.

Panic rises and he chases after you, “n-no, (Y/n).” Minho reaches for your wrist when you start walking faster.

But the world has funny ways of bringing you two together and you lose your footing against the slippery ice, stumbling forward. You shut your eyes when you fall, bracing yourself for the impact, but instead, you’re met with warmth and the soft feeling of Minho’s chest. Your eyes open to see him staring at you with wide eyes, heavily breathing as he looks at you in concern.

“Are you alright? Y-You’re not hurt, are you? God, I’m sorry—y-you shouldn’t even be on the ice in the first place,” he rambles as he helps you stand up right. “I’m sorry, (Y/n). You’re allowed to walk away if you need some space, but I’ve been so on edge lately because I just wanted to tell you that—” Minho’s cut off when he feels your lips against his, eyes widening even further as he tries to process what you’re doing until you pull away and stare at him. “That… I love you.”

“You have a funny way of expressing your feelings,” you chuckle as you raise your hand to his cheek. “I wanted to tell you tonight, but I forgot to let you know that I was going to be arriving late and by the time I got here, you were nowhere to be seen.”

“I wanted to tell you tonight as well,” Minho claims, returning the chuckle with a sheepish smile, “but I saw you with Seonghwa and I just assumed that you were probably engaged or in love with him.”

“That’s ridiculous,” you say while shaking your head. “My parents aren’t so eager in arranging my marriages. They’ll only suggest it if I’m getting older and I don’t seem to have anyone of interest. I realise that I’ve been in love with you for quite a while, but I didn’t know whether you even loved me back.”

“No. No, I’ve been in love with you for so long,” Minho quickly reassures you. He holds onto your hands and pulls you closer, “my dumbass didn’t even realise it until Seungmin pointed it out. I was denying it because I wasn’t sure if you liked me back either.”

“I guess we’re both idiots,” you giggle. Minho bites his lip, eyes shifting to your lips for a moment before he leans in. He takes in the way you kiss him back, arms wrapping around your shoulders as he deepens it for a moment. The lingering taste of champagne and chocolate left on your lips becomes more and more intoxicating until Minho wills himself to pull away.

His breath comes out ragged from both the cold and the kiss, eyes staring into yours lovingly, “I love you. You have no idea how good it feels to finally tell you this—I love you, (Y/n).”

“I love you too, Minho,” you smile. “And as much as I’d love to be here for longer, you’re not wearing a coat and your parents will definitely be looking for you.”

“Let’s head back inside,” he suggests as his hands lowers to hold onto yours. He carefully guides you back to the edge of the ice and crouches down to untie his shoelaces while you fetch his blazer from the ground, draping it over his shoulders. Minho mutters a ‘thanks’ as he stands up, smiling at you as he holds your hand with his skates in the other.

As you start walking down the path leading to his mansion, you catch a glimpse of white slowly falling in front of you. Minho catches it as well, the both of you stopping to look at the sky only to see snowflakes gingerly floating down.

“The first snowfall,” Minho breathes out in awe.

“Quick, make a wish,” you excitedly gasp. Minho turns back to you and his heart melts at the sight of you with your hands clasped together and your eyes shut. When you open them again you look at him with curious eyes, “did you wish for anything?”

“Of course I did,” he nods.

“What did you wish for?”

“I can’t tell you,” Minho scoffs playfully as he takes your hand once again, “it won’t come true if I do.”

“Whatever you say,” you laugh. Minho pulls you closer so that he’s able to stuff your hand into the pocket of his blazer, holding it in the newfound warmth. He glances at you as you look around the garden, watching the snow falling with pure adoration in your eyes at how magical and enchanting the garden looks.

Minho would never tell you his wish out of fear that it wouldn’t come true. Even if the jinx is fake, he wouldn’t tell you at all. Minho doesn’t want you to know just how much he loves you.

He doesn’t want you to know just how much he wishes that you’ll be by his side forever.

252 notes · View notes