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orchidyoonkook · 2 years ago

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To What We Were Before, And All The Things After | JJK | Ch. 3

Title: Greenhouse Muses and Surprise Guests

Pairing: Prince!College Student!JK x Fine Arts Major!(F)!Reader

Series Rating//Genre: (M) | College AU, Mild Royalty AU, Smut, Angst, Fluff, S2F2L, Indiffernce to lovers, sloooowwww ass burn

Summary: You need to think out this whole situation, and where better than your favourite place on campus? The one place where no one ever goes and where you can truly do your best problem solvi—wait who the hell is sitting in your supposed place of undisturbed tranquility?

Warnings: PG18, heavy swearing, photography jargon (hopefully nothing tooooo confusing, I intentionally over explained a bit for those unfamiliar but a quick google search should clear up anything), euc=short form for eucalyptus “Youke”, art jargon but less, 1 (one) mention of metaphorical murder, and a bit of angst and fluff. I think that’s all?? Hella internal dialogue

Word Count: 10,804

Release Date: March 2, 2023, 4:00PM

A/N 1: she somehow went from 8k to 10.8k???? Hope you enjoy!!

A/N 1.5: I’m literally so tired of looking at this, I’ve read it at least 10 times in three days.

Series: Chapter One | Chapter Two

Jungkook’s sitting at a table outside what he considers to be his new safe haven, making a mental note to thank Yuri for showing him the greenhouse cafe—is that its name? He should’ve asked.

He can see himself coming here all the time for quiet morning work sessions. The coffee is great, the snacks are delicious, and there aren’t a lot of people around either—zero—to be precise. So he really considers this a win in his book.

The cafe is just southwest of a medium sized greenhouse, not even a minute's walking distance between the two. He could clearly see all the flowers and plants within from his seat outside. And behind the greenhouse was nothing but a small grass field followed by thick, dense forest.

It doesn’t even feel like he’s on campus. Just free about the world, grabbing a coffee and sitting down to work on a project like anyone else would. Like anyone else could. Another face in the crowd instead of the one on magazines in every corner store, book shop and grocer.

He can dream about it. Take in these small moments, but it will never be his reality. Not really. Even in this little corner of blissful nowhere the barista who served him his coffee knew who he was, addressed him properly, albeit a bit stuttered.

And he can’t blame her. It’s what she’s supposed to do. How she’s ‘supposed’ to react to him.

He’s someone big and important. Someone people look to and see their future in his hands. Someone who merits reactions when in the presence of others.

Someone who...

Someone...

So he dreams. And is thankful for what little normalcy he can get.

Taking a deep breath in, he holds it and he shakes his head, dismissing the thoughts before releasing a steady, controlled exhale.

Reset.

The cafe has an awning over its small patio, four tables on either side of the doorway, two that seat four and two that seat two on their respective sides, eight in total. He’s chosen to sit at the table of two furthest from the greenhouse, closest to the cafe. It has more shade, allowing him to see the screen of his laptop better.

Jungkook needed some time alone without anyone finding him, he gave that stupid speech on Monday for many reasons, but one of the most important ones was that he wants to be able to exist in a public space and to do his school work without a crowd gathering.

He’s taking this university thing seriously, and that means doing good work, excelling in his chosen subjects. It requires no distractions and lots of effort.

He doesn’t want to have to be cramped up in his dorm the whole time, too scared to leave for fear of never being left alone. He left that behind when he stepped foot onto the campus.

No more worrying about cameras or security or kingdoms. No more watching and tracking his every step.

This is his time to be a young man, not the prince. Just Jungkook.

And so far? He’s doing okay.

But just in case, he’s also wearing a hat, hoodie and mask for extra protection while editing some pictures.

Old habits die hard.

His Design and Visual Culture professor had given out an intro assignment to the class so he could get a read on everyone’s skill levels and to see where his starting point would be. Professor Hirmer asked everyone in the class to each submit three images: one portrait; black and white or colour, one still life of the photographers choosing, and one image of whatever your preferred style was. Then edit them to the best of their abilities, and submit by noon the following Monday.

Jungkook’s already finished his portrait. He hasn’t really made any friends here yet, so he just took one of himself, which made it easier in the long run because he was so used to his picture being taken.

Slicked back hair, a black tight fit shirt, silver chain and white background made up the shot aside from him. He’d decided on butterfly lighting because he’s always found it to be the most flattering aside from Rembrandt. Don’t get him wrong, Rembrandt’s a nice technique, Jungkook just didn’t want his portrait to be too dramatic.

He got the one he wanted to use in no time, and it required very little editing. Black and white is forgiving like that.

Currently, he’s working on his still life.

A latte with a basic heart design in a dark navy mug sat on the keys of a mahogany wood grand piano. The mug sat on the right side of thirds, and a couple stems of eucalyptus half cover the keys to the left, the tips of it just barely covering the bottom of the mug. He kept his depth of field wide so that most of what was in the frame was in focus, but the primary focus of the entire image is intended to be the drink and tips of the eucalyptus.

Jungkook managed to get one of the six guards his father insisted on him having here to go to a local market to grab the euc stems. Their remains were currently hanging in his shower, smelling wonderful and fresh.

The latte he did himself, a small talent after needing coffee constantly in his teen years to keep up with everything.

And as for the piano? He booked a music room for an hour with one in it. Work smarter not harder.

He’d kept his lighting dark, but gentle, really highlighting the whites of the piano keys while keeping the rich hues of the mahogany and navy present. The eucalyptus is comfortably set in the middle, having some brighter and darker tones to balance it out.

He’s quite proud of it, having created a visually pleasing image that had equal amounts of high, medium and low tones. But he wants the edges of the picture to blur slightly, so he’s adding a very subtly feathered vignette to the image.

He knows most of his peers will likely be doing a traditional still life of fruit or flowers, so he took a risk and made the prompt his own. He just hopes it pays off.

While editing, Jungkook’s simultaneously trying to brainstorm what he wants to do for his third picture. His style of choice is candids, takes them constantly, yet he doesn’t have a single one he wants to use for the assignment.

He likes them best because candids are those perfectly imperfect moments that show who a person truly is, when they’re at their happiest and saddest moments and everything in between. Candids are for when someone’s so caught up in what they’re doing that they look entirely serene in their task, and you want to capture that, forever. A small sliver of them, existing purely as they are.

Nothing fake, nothing practiced, no do overs. Just capturing genuine moments as they happen. A true reflection of humanity without filters or editing.

Jungkook’s thinking of maybe going undercover in the courtyard to snap some pictures of random people to see if that could work when a movement in the corner of his eye catches his attention.

Someone, with their back facing him, is very unceremoniously dumping their tote bag at the table most opposite him; the table for two that’s half covered in sunlight, half shaded.

Clad in loose fitting paint and charcoal covered overalls, a white shirt and bandana, they’re taking out what appear to be art supplies.

Brushes, small metal tins filled with paint, a very chaotically colourful water holder, and painting pad all gather onto the little table. He’s surprised at how they make it all fit.

It seems like he’s not the only one who’s seen this place for its potential.

But when they turn around, it’s…You?

It’s you.

Of all people.

What are the odds?

He wants to say hi, but hesitates, still aware of your conversation from earlier and hopes there’s no harm in a friendly hello between people who are acquainted, regardless of pending decisions.

But Jungkook watches your eyes pass right over him, unaware or uncaring he’s there. His half-raised hand falls along with the smile that’s found its way onto his covered face as you continue into the cafe.

A byproduct of his upbringing is being able to read even the subtlest of body language and facial shifts in people. And in your case, it’s like you’re screaming at him without actually speaking.

He knows from your closed off posture alone that you don’t want to be disturbed. But your expression…it's like a mixture of anger, worry and thoughtfulness.

Jungkook knows better than to interrupt someone when they look like that, and he decides against saying anything, returning to his assignment.

A minute later the bell on the door chimes, signaling your exit.

Looking up, he notes the cup of warm whatever it is in one hand, a very full looking pastry bag in the other, and a water bottle tucked into your side via your elbow.

He wonders what’s inside the cup. Coffee? Would you drink caffeinated or decaf? Or maybe you’re more of a tea person. But would it be black or green tea? Do you use milk? What about sweetener? He can’t decide but that doesn’t stop the thoughts from racing across his mind.

Why does he care so much?

You settle down into your seat, the shaded one of the pair, and—somehow—place your newly acquired goods on the already jam packed table. Truly a talent within itself.

But a sip from your cup, and a bite of something that resembles a tart later, you wipe your hands on your overalls and pick up a brush, wetting it from the colourful container. Bringing the empty, water only filled brush to the paint pad in front of you, you start.

Your back blocks most of it so he can’t see much, but your eye line is honed in on the greenhouse. And if he had to guess just by looking, you’re focused on the orchid that sits front and center.

He couldn’t name it specifically, but he can see why you’d want to commit it to paper. It’s pretty—yellow and red, very exotic looking, and he doesn't mean to—doesn’t even realize he is—when he finds himself watching you work instead of doing his own, mesmerized.

Your hand moves gracefully from paint to paper to water and back again. Occasionally, switching out brushes or wiping the one you had on your pants, drying it or maybe getting the last bits of colour off. He’s fascinated with how you know exactly what to use and where to put what in order for the image to spring to life. Most likely years of practice and muscle memory guiding you.

Sort of how he does photography. Years of experience and knowing which poses and angles to use to really make an image pop. For a moment he wonders if anyones looked at his art the way he’s looking at yours.

When you take a small break, stretching out your back and limbs, Jungkook snaps out of his daze and looks at the clock on the bottom right hand side of his screen.

He’s been watching you for nearly 30 minutes.

That’s creepy as hell Jeon, he thinks to himself, lucky you didn’t notice, and returns his sights to his laptop.

Fuck. What was he doing again?

Staring at the still life in front of him, it takes a minute before he recalls.

Oh right.

Professor Hirmer’s assignment. The third image. A picture of his preferred style—his preferred style of candids. What could he do for his candid shot?

He thinks. A candid shot. Candids. Caaaannnndidddssssss. Caaaaaa—

A lightbulb goes off and he feels like both an idiot and a genius.

Retrieving his camera from his bag, Jungkook glances your way and sees you painting again.

Perfect.

Quietly, he gets up from his seat, moving just enough to be able to see a sliver of your painting and a small portion of your face. You're so focused that you don't even notice him, like nothing outside the page matters. And only for a second does he wonder what you’re thinking about.

Your body is easy to read, it’s your mind that remains a mystery.

The sun’s moved ever so slightly so that your page is now fully doused in sunlight, while you remain under the gentle caress of shadow from the awning.

Smart girl.

But your face is bathed in the subtle glow of your papers reflecting illumination. And it's like you’re the one creating light with every brush stroke.

You look transcendent.

With that sight in his viewfinder, Jungkook takes a few shots in portrait framing, his thumb covering the speaker that lets out the ‘click’ noise of a picture being taken, before adjusting his shutter speed.

These pictures all have you in focus, with the background consisting of half somewhat blurry cafe wall, half very blurry forest green. And they’re okay, they work. But he wants to have your movements and surrounding materials in the image as well, to really show the process of an artist at work. So he switches to a landscape framing and settles on a slower shutter speed to create a longer exposure.

Waiting for you to clean your brush in the water cup before snapping the capture button, Jungkook holds steady as it’s a couple seconds before the image takes. It makes him wish he had his tripod with him because it would make this so much easier, but he can make due if he has too.

And he has too. Because he doesn’t want this opportunity to pass.

After a few more shots and near leg cramp later, he brings the results of his efforts up on the viewfinder for review. Jungkook’s thrilled to see that the movement in the piece was taken exactly how he wanted. Your arm steady on the canvas, but all your movements prior shown like angelically lit rays due to the angle of the sun, creating an ocean of movement around a steadily focused you.

They’re hauntingly beautiful.

He takes a couple more like that for good measure, getting in different movements and shutter speeds before slowly making his way back to his laptop and table.

Popping his SD card into his computer for closer inspection, Jungkook sees there’s definitely more than one useful candidate and gets to work on narrowing down his favourite.

He is going to pass this assignment with flying colours. And it’s all thanks to you.

As you arrive at the cafe you notice a guy in a black hoodie, hat and mask with his head stuck in a laptop at the furthest table on the patio. Internally, you sigh that there’s someone else here; it’s almost always vacant and that’s why you love it. No people, no distractions, just you and your work, and your thoughts.

You try not to worry too much about it, doing your best to just ignore him and have hope that he leaves soon. At least he’s as far away from your spot as he can get.

Dropping your tote on the chair in the sun, you start placing all your things on the table. It’s an exact science you’ve perfected over many, many paint sessions and far too much spilled liquid. Countless art projects have fallen victim on this table, some you were able to salvage, but most were added to its body count.

Setting down your paint tins, you still can’t get the conversation with Yuri out of your head. Not leaving the building, not crossing the campus, not all the time it took you to get way over here either, no matter how hard you tried.

You huff.

Was your reaction really that unjustified? Could she not see how insane she was acting? Why did she jump to you being jealous? Why would she even think you’d be jealous?

You have Nel.

A prince isn’t going to change that.

And speaking of, you didn’t even get to tell her about your conversation with Jungkook.

After this fight though…you don’t think you will.

He seems to be becoming a sore spot between the two of you, ridiculous as that is, so you think it best to just not bring it up and deal with it on your own. That’s how you usually do things anyway, and you were only going to ask Yuri as a thinking out loud type of thing, hoping she had some input. But it’s clear now that none of it would have been useful anyway.

Finishing placing your things down—all fitting perfectly, by the way—you dig into your tote for your wallet and head into the cafe, still doing your best to ignore the other patron. Hopefully you can give off enough of a vibe that he takes the hint and leaves.

The bells hanging on the door sound as it opens and shuts.

“Hey YN,” Vivian, the barista, calls at your entrance.

You two know each other well, enough to be on a first name basis. You, being one of—if not the only—regular, and the cafe—being a little out of the way of anything else—not having many students make it a part of their routine.

A comfortable, welcomed sort of exile. One you gladly share with her.

“It’s good to see you,” she says, looking at the window closest to where you sit, “Are we painting again? I saw they switched up the flowers in the greenhouse on Monday. The ones they have out now are so beautiful.”

“It’s great to see you too, Viv” you respond, eyeballing the pastry display. You notice they have your favourite egg tarts in today.

At least one thing is going right for you.

“And yeah, they are,” you say warmly, regarding her comment. “I’m thinking I’m about to get real sick and tired of looking at that orchid they placed front and center.”

Viv laughs, patiently waiting on your order, though she’s got a good idea of what it’ll be.

“Could I get a hot chocolate with whip please?” You ask, and drum your fingers on your legs deciding how many tarts to get—two or three? Two or three?—before remembering, “Oh! and if you still have the not so super secret stash of mini marshmallows that you don’t have here,” throwing up air quotes and a smirk for good measure, “Could you toss a few of those in too? I’ll tip you extraaaaa.”

Viv only gives you a look that says yes they do but that she’ll never admit it out loud, and you’re grateful to her.

You’d spotted them one day by chance in first year and asked if you could have some with your drink. Viv merely stated that they don’t have marshmallows at the cafe while slipping a few in under your lid with a wink. You’ve been eternally appreciative for that kindness ever since, and tip her handsomely for it, but you’ve never known why it was such a secret.

Maybe one day you’ll ask.

Coffee isn’t really your thing, only turning to it during exams season, and you weren’t in the mood for tea, so hot chocolate’s always your favourite alternative.

But hot chocolate with whip cream and marshmallows?

Instant mood booster. And you definitely need that after the afternoon you’ve had.

“Anything else?” Viv asks, adding the large amount of whip cream she knows you like to the top of your drink.

“Yeah actually,” you smile, “could I get a water bottle and three of the egg tarts? They’re my favourite.”

Three seemed to be the most unreasonable option, therefore it’s the one you had to go with. And soon, a much too small, very full paper pastry bag finds its way onto the counter, accompanying your drinks.

“I’ll let bossman know about your dragon-like hoarding tendencies with the tarts and see if we can get them in more regularly,” Viv says, unsuccessfully keeping in a giggle at the end of her subtle jab and it makes you laugh too. “I mean, I don’t see why not seeing as you pretty much single handedly keep this place afloat anyway.”

You adore Viv. She’s real and kind, and very much someone you consider to be a bosom friend of sorts. You can tell her if you’ve had a bad day or a good one, and she’ll do the same, no shroud of inane pleasantries. You two having escaped the somewhat awkward ‘you work here and I go here so lets be nice to one another’ worker-customer relationship to a genuine friendship, and it makes the whole experience that much better.

But it also allows for pulling on one another’s legs, like you do now.

“You’re so mean to me… and lucky I like you for it,” you say, opening your wallet, happy to pay whatever number you’re given plus 30%. The marshmallows and Viv are worth it. “How much will it be?”

She lets you know the total and you hand her a couple of mandatory bills plus a few extra, telling her to keep the change. You’ll lose any coins you have anyway, might as well give them to someone who’ll use them.

Viv says thanks and you make your way back to your spot, hands full and mind feeling a little lighter.

Thanks Viv.

Sitting down, you take a swig of your drink, a bite of your newly acquired tarts and get to work.

Starting with a wet on wet approach: you brush the canvas with water where you’ll eventually put some colour so it bleeds intentionally, and glance up every couple seconds to make sure to get a proper likeness.

It’s a yellow tiger orchid, truly beautiful—you’re a bit of a flower nerd because of your mom, but especially with orchids because they’re your favourite. They just come in so many different forms, it’s hard not to love their diversity.

Dipping into your paints now, you add some yellows in slowly, deciding to think of it as less of a flower study and more of an artistic interpretation so you don't have to use your brain too much. You’ll be using it enough to think through this whole Jungkook thing, no need to get caught up in the details and strain yourself even more.

Carefully put and one by one, more and more colours make their way onto the page and you settle into the calmness of creating. It leaves the open space you need for your mind to finally start working through the whole Jungkook–Yuri, Yuri–You, You–Jungkook situation before immediately correcting that there is no You–Jungkook situation.

He just wants to be friends, and that doesn’t constitute a situation. More of a predicament.

Yeah, that sounds better.

You switch out your brush in favour of a tart after getting base colours down, takinge a hefty bite and chasing it down with more hot chocolate. Damn it’s good, you need to ask Viv what magic she puts in it to make it this amazing.

Another swig and you think it’ll be better to just jump right into your mental debate. Get it over with, hash it all out.

So that’s exactly what you do.

It isn’t that you do or don’t want to be friends with Jungkook, he seems nice enough.

It’s a matter of if you can be.

Jungkook is probably a very self-disciplined individual—if you knew anything about his upbringing—so it’s not like he wouldn’t understand your drive. He’d probably understand you in that respect more than Yuri does. Why you work so hard, why you don’t slow down. You can’t.

You won't. Not for anyone or anything.

And he can clearly understand social cues so you don’t have to worry about things getting awkward. He would act appropriately, never pushing boundaries—

Using a thin angled brush, you add more yellow to create sharper lines.

—And had he been just Jungkook, you wouldn’t even be sitting here having this ridiculous mental conversation with yourself. Because who stresses this much over a new potential friendship? You certainly never have before.

But that’s the problem, he isn’t just regular old Jungkook.

He is His Royal Highness, Prince Jeon Jungkook.

And as much as his title doesn’t mean shit to you, it sure as hell means a whole lot of something to everyone else.

He’s heir to the biggest kingdom on this half of the planet. On the cover of every teen magazine and online news article. Only child to the King and Queen.

Powerful. Attractive. Single.

In short, Jungkook has been incredibly well known and incredibly important since the day he was born 24 years ago.

So you have to sit and think out what would happen if you became the prince's first female college friend. Well… aside from Yuri, but you don’t know how long that’s going to last, given where she thought things were going.

Being seen with him publicly would immediately put you in a spotlight you don’t want. You hate being the center of attention, but that’s the least of your worries.

You worry greatly that you wouldn’t firstly be known for becoming ‘YN, globally renowned painter, artist and business woman,’ selling pieces for more than they’re worth and then some. Galleries from all over the world knocking down your door, begging for your work. Having billionaires auction off paintings you’ve done for charity, being flown around the world for and by people to have you create something for them. Be it portraits or murals or even a performance—

Some burnished red now, with a small thin tip brush to begin the rorschach like patterns on the petals.

—You wanted to be successful by your own hand, and then and only then would you occasionally speak of your very, incredibly platonic, not at all romantic, years old friendship with the prince, who you’d met in your college years by chance.

But you know that if you say yes, if you agree, all of those worries would prove true. That none of it would happen. None of the future you’ve worked for the better part of a decade on would come to fruition.

Oh no, no, no. That wouldn’t be the case at all.

Why would it? If you said yes, you’d become this week's most hot and trending piece of gossip. You’d be ‘the first girl Prince Jungkook was seeing in college,’ and everyone would ask ‘are you his new girlfriend?’ or ‘just a fling?’

If you said yes, it would be a constant barrage of:

‘Where did you meet?’ ‘Is he a good kisser?’ ‘How long have you been dating?’ ‘Have you met the king?’ ‘Does he like you?’ ‘What about the Queen, does she approve?’ ‘Has The Prince mentioned marriage at all?’ ‘Can we see the ring?’ ‘How many children will you have?’

At the grocery store, the mall, the hallways of your school, your hometown, the bathroom of a restaurant. It would be everywhere all of the time, constantly, and your head is already spinning at all the potential bombardment to your currently nice and relatively quiet life, so you take another snack break and stretch.

Finishing your first tart and making a good dent in your second, the hot chocolate is half gone at this point. Whip cream and marshmallows having long melted, making the drink extra smooth.

Returning to your painting and back on topic; you’re not dense. You know how the media does what it wants with the people they see as mere puppets. As if they aren’t living breathing individuals with lives outside the very narrow-minded, click bait titled, news articles.

Their ‘reporters’ have absolutely no regard for what they say and how they act. They have not a care in the world for what their claims do to all the innocent individuals whose lives they write about after they’re done with them.

Selfish is the nicest word you can think to describe them. They’re vicious, heartless, vile people, and you have no desire to ever be the object of their attention.

The flowers are springing to life beautifully as you put layer after layer of detail. You add some darker hues, deciding to go with a more vivid red rather than the burnished one from before. Your wet on wet approach is working magic on blending the colours seamlessly for you. It really accentua—

—And another thing! If you did say yes, you could just see it now;

After your successful career launch, you’d always—no matter what you did—always be questioned about your relationship and what could have been with the prince. Or you’d be asked if knowing him is what got you to where you were, if he gave you a leg up, so to speak.

As if you would let him have any hand in making you what you were always going to become.

You didn’t and don’t need his or anyone’s help.

But it would always be, ‘YN? Oh you mean that artist got that much recognition just because she knew Prince Jungkook?’ or ‘YN, the Prince’s ex from college?’ no matter how hard he or you pushed that you were just friends. Because who would listen to either of you after the speculation was already there? After the seed was planted in their minds.

People love secrets and thinking they know all the dirty, gossipy scandals more than anything. Thinking they know more about other people's secrets than they do their own. As if they have nothing better to do with their lives.

Sighing, you drink the last bit of hot chocolate, wanting another one once it’s gone, but not the sugar headache that comes with that. Water then.

Adding some dimension to the petals by using a clean, damp brush to remove some pigment, you can’t help but let your mind wander to the most obvious conclusion that would be made and sink into it.

You’re almost scared of the social pariah you’d become with every other woman and handful of men on campus. One dating rumor and you're done. Gone. Dismissed.

Or worse. One dating rumor and your popularity will suddenly skyrocket. You won’t have another moment to breathe alone so long as you’re still in school.

Jungkook is the most eligible bachelor on this side of the planet, potentially the whole world. His potential matches are princesses and the daughters of the filthy rich.

Who are you?

No one.

At least right now you are.

You aren’t royal, aren’t of ‘noble birth,’ aren’t a wealthy socialite. You aren’t even an independent, wildly successful career woman yet.

You’re just a scholarship kid who’s only at this school because she worked her ass off for it. Who has to continuously work her ass off for it if she wants to continue to be here.

And you do want to. You want to work hard and become who you’ve always known you’d be. One invisible, important step at a time.

From the first sketch to the last brush stroke.

So to summarize.

You don’t want to be the media’s plaything. Something for them to have their fun with and be bored of in a week, the future you’re working so hard to create destroyed before ever seeing the light of day. Fizzled out like a candle in a pouring downfall, only smoke remaining from the once bright and proud flame.

Secondly, you don’t want to be the social outcast or new campus favourite simply because you made a new friend. Having either icicles thrown at you from every set of eyes on campus or clout grabbers following your every footstep, begging for attention. Snubbed from any group projects, crowds parting like the red sea at your arrival, or never getting a moment to yourself again, late to every class due to your own personal assembly.

You’re exhausted at the mere thought of the possibility of either.

And lastly, you don’t want all the possible implications that come with knowing and befriending a man like him. Plain and simple.

What you want is to establish yourself because you worked for and earned it. What you want is to be successful, putting your near decade of practice and studying to good use. What you want is to have media attention, but for your talents, your efforts, and accomplishments.

Not his.

Not because you happened to treat the second most important person in your country like a normal, regular person.

Like he’d asked literally everyone else on your campus to do.

It isn’t your fault you're the only one who has ears that work.

But…on that note…

This is the prince.

And you are his citizen under his family’s monarchy.

You don’t know if you’re even allowed to say no.

Can you?

He said you could…or was that him just giving you the illusion of choice? Don’t you have to listen to him? By royal decree or whatever it was that forced people to live under the royal family’s rule?

You have no idea, and choose to sit on it some more. There has to be a better solution to this.

You wish you could just talk to Yuri. She’s been your sounding board for the better part of two years now. But that’s definitely a no-go after today. You worry what bringing up anything prince related would do to your friendship right now. You’ve had enough arguments and mental taxation for the time being, thanks.

And if not Yuri…You would talk to Nel…

But Nel’s in a completely different country—a completely different time zone—right now. Already halfway through his night and you don’t want to wake him.

Wait, Nel.

Fuck.

Nel is another thing you have to consider in all this. You aren’t sure how he’d react to any form of relationship you’d have with Jungkook.

How would he react to the media’s coverage of you with the prince?

Would he believe you when you denied everything?

Five years is a long time.

To know someone. To love them. To trust them. And you both know where you stand. You know where your future lies; with him. And he knows his lies with you.

But Nel is only human, and every human has flaws. No one is perfect. Everyone can have moments of weakness. Every person can feel jealous no matter how secure the relationship.

And jealousy can kill a relationship just as quickly, if not faster than anything else.

Jealousy can make you think things so irrational that it breaks down the wall of trust you built on a foundation of cement and bricks like it was nothing more than two twigs being held up by sheer luck and willpower alone.

A horrible rumor.

A gust of wind.

What’s the difference?

Five years of love, trust and communication could crumble to dust because of some asshole with a camera, an angle, and a computer with an internet connection.

You don’t want that to happen. You cannot express fervently enough how badly you never want something like that to happen to you or Nel.

You love your relationship. You love Nel, and you can’t do anything to jeopardize that. Ever.

But surely he’d understand if the heir to your nation's throne asked you to be his friend.

Surely he’d believe you when you told him that absolutely nothing was going on between you and Jungkook and that the media is just having a field day because he was the prince, and you were a girl around his age.

Surely he would…

Surely…

Five years is a long time.

But it’s also short. If you consider that for just over two of them you were long distance 9 months out of the year. And that two and a half more of them were when you were in highschool doing 60 hour weeks while he had football practice before and after school every day.

When you spent most of your weekends at galleries, or portrait study or cramming for a test.

When he spent his studying and practicing and catching up on all his lost sleep from practice.

Maybe…

Maybe you shouldn’t bring it up to him.

A fire can’t start where there isn’t any kindling…right?

An argument can’t start, mistrust can’t begin, jealousy can’t exist if he just…never knows about it.

If nobody knows about it.

Actually.

Maybe that’s exactly what you’ll do. Just not tell anyone.

It’s not lying, not really. It’s just omitting a very, very small part of your life.

And it’s not like you’ll be doing anything bad. It would most likely just be Jungkook asking about where to bring girls on dates or if you’ve seen the newest tv show that’s been on.

You’d tell him Azorè’s is the restaurant closest to campus that’s actually nice, and that no, you haven’t, because you don’t watch a lot of TV if you can help it.

That’s not devious, it’s normal friend stuff—just without the immense social pressure and potential repercussions of knowing him and being female at the same time.

Holy Shit.

This might be crazy enough to work.

And this way… this way you don’t have to say no to Jungkook, and Yuri won’t be mad, and Nel won’t get jealous, and you’ll stay out of the spotlight.

This way works out for everyone.

This way solves everything.

You huff, relieved.

Now you just have to convince the prince that it’s a good idea.

He’s used to omitting things, isn't he? He must because of his future job. Don’t they train future monarchs in the wise and ancient art of social deception and secret keeping—to keep the peace or whatever?

You don’t think it’ll be that big a leap for him.

The longer you ruminate, the more you like the idea, deciding that when you get back to your dorm later, that’s what you’ll tell him. And if he doesn’t like it, well then problem solved all around anyway.

You reach for your hot chocolate, remember it’s empty, and switch to your water instead. Celebrating by mentally patting yourself on the back.

Always trust the greenhouse cafe. The greenhouse cafe is good. The greenhouse cafe is wise. The greenhouse cafe is all kno—

“That’s beautiful.”

You almost jump out of your seat at the voice, knee hitting the table in the process. It makes everything on it bounce and clang loudly and the hand holding your brush that was also nearing your water flies to your chest, leaving a splotch of red paint on your cheek.

“Ow, fuck,” you say, reaching to rub your now throbbing knee. That’s going to bruise. You’re just lucky nothing spilled, you certainly hit the table hard enough.

Looking up to see who your unintentional heart attack provoker was, you blink a couple times before a worried looking Jungkook with big eyes comes into focus.

Though, his worry is brief it seems, as his attention shifts to the painting in front of you, the small smile from the day you met making an reappearance.

Didn’t he just see you jump ten feet in the air? Because of him???

“What the fuck Jungkook?! You scared the shit out of me,” you say scowling, giving him a piece of your mind while your heartbeat returns to a healthier pace. “Didn’t they ever tell you not to sneak up on people in that big, fancy house of yours?”

Jungkook doesn’t think he’s ever heard anyone call the palace a ‘big, fancy house’ before. Another first with you. And he’s about to say as much when his gaze finally meets your own and see’s how upset you are. Right, he spooked you.

The hand not holding a laptop into his side slides behind his neck and he looks away. You swear you can see the prince blushing.

Did you cause that?

Wait.

Stop.

Rewind.

You look him up and down quickly.

Hoodie. Hat. Laptop. Mask around his wrist.

Jungkook was the guy sitting on the patio from earlier? How did you not recognize him? Like at all?

He has the most famous face in the world and you couldn’t recognize it when it was 20 feet away?

Wow.

Actually.

Hat to hide the hair, hoodie to hide the body, mask to hide the face.

Impressive. He really knew how to blend in when he wanted too.

But he hasn’t even said hi or sorry. And he undoubtedly saw you earlier as you weren’t exactly subtle in placing your things on the table.

So much for wanting to be friends. He can’t even say hello to you?

...or maybe you got lucky and he saw that you really didn’t want to talk to anyone.

Thoughts aside, you won’t admit to him you find his camouflage techniques exceptional. He doesn’t need the ego boost.

Jungkook's hand recedes from his nape and he looks at you again, blush almost gone.

“Ah.. sorry.” He cringes a little. “I’ve always been told I’m light on my feet and I constantly forget when I’m around new people. I didn’t mean to scare you. Sorry, YN.”

So his manners haven’t completely escaped him.

You give him a hard time as you point a finger his way. “You’re paying the hospital bill if my kneecap’s broken.”

It only takes a second for the joke to land this time, and a small laugh escapes his lips.

“Yeah, that’s fair. You break it, you buy it?”

It’s the first joke you’ve heard him make, and honestly, it isn’t bad. You chuckle.

“Something like that, sure. Here,” you say, holding the canvas up a little higher for him to see. “It’s a Yellow Tiger Orchid. The greenhouse likes to switch around the plants every other week, but these guys are always my favourite. Make for a fun challenge.”

Jungkook's loose hand touches the edge of the canvas lightly, careful not to disturb the still drying paint.

His words are almost thoughtless, entirely too focused on your work as he says, “You’re incredibly talented, your parents must be so proud.”

“Parent,” you correct, not harshly, just so that he knows you’ve only got the one. “And thanks, it stems from my many years of practice and a shady deal with an even shadier witch. All I know is I owe her my first born.”

That smile of his makes a comeback, only bigger and followed by a snicker.

You match it.

“But yes, my mother’s incredibly proud and a large part of the reason I’m here, never once having stopped supporting my goals.”

That’s true. Very true. Your mum never once thought your dreams were out of your reach, only ever pushing you towards them where she could. Placing steps down for you where she was able to.

She signed you up for lessons, drove you to galleries, bought you book after book on all your favourite artists and painting techniques. She got you paints and palettes and canvases, and did everything she possibly could have to get you where you now are.

She’s your number one fan.

And, in true proud mom fashion, she told everyone she could about how her daughter got into RABFA on scholarship all by herself—except you didn’t. You’re here because of all the support she gave during those years as well as your efforts, but she refuses to take any of the credit.

“I’m happy to hear it,” he says genuinely, before hesitating. Looking like he wants to say something but is debating it. “Can I–Do you–,” he inhales deeply, clearly not used to fumbling over his words.

It’s...cute.

“Would you mind if I sat down?” he finally gets out. “I’d love to see more of your work.”

You think about it only for a second, taking a quick scan of your surroundings. There’s no one around besides Viv, and she’s probably working in the back. Plus, you're pretty sure he’s seen or even spoken to some of the greatest artists of your time. Not to mention, you’d love to hear his input.

“Yeah, sure.”

Instead of sitting on the chair your bag is currently using, he puts his things on the table to your right and spins one around from there, settling down with arms folded over the back of it.

“Thanks.”

You hand over your sketchpad. A perk to using a heavily water based medium is that your painting’s already dried in the time since you first spoke.

Jungkook flips his way through the pages slowly, taking his time in studying each painting as an individual piece. It’s not long before he reaches the one you were working on today. Having just started this pad a month ago, there isn’t much in it yet.

He searches back through to one right near the beginning.

“This ones my favourite,” he says, spinning the canvas around for you to see. It’s a tiger lily painting you’d done late in the summer at home.

Your mother is a notorious gardener, and has several flower beds that could rival a plant nursery with the sheer size, magnitude and variety of flowers in them.

Rose bushes, dahlias, sunflowers, snap dragons, carnations, tulips, daisies, chrysanthemums, you name it, they were there.

So it wasn’t uncommon for you to spend an afternoon out in the garden sketching different blooms or picking one out in particular to paint.

She’d gotten the bright orange tiger lilies this past spring. They were the first ones you’d chosen when you got home after second year to paint. And then you just didn’t stop. They take up about a quarter of your summer sketchbook.

You couldn’t help it. They were hypnotizing.

“Why that one?”

“It’s my birth flower,” he says, lifting the sleeve on his right, revealing a forearm full of wonderfully inked designs. At the center of it is a tiger lily in matching bright orange hue. “It’s always had significant meaning for me because it’s something that represents me that didn’t come from my lineage, position, or name.”

“Oh.”

You sit there for a moment, stunned, yet to release your gaze from the sight of his arm.

The designs that cover it go all the way up to his elbow and don’t stop.

From an artist's point of view, you’re incredibly impressed with the quality of the work. Intricately placed mixes of black, white and colour. Never one or the other for too long. Strong clean lines. Clear, unmuddied colours. Striking.

Beautiful.

You shouldn’t be so surprised, knowing only the best would be allowed to grace his skin, but still. It was rare you were this taken aback by art.

The colours chosen on the more visual pieces are gorgeous together. Bright, brilliant, bold. And the few quotes mixed in? Their linework is just… spectacular.

Jungkook doesn’t seem to mind your staring, twisting his arm to show you some of the designs previously hidden from your sight.

The quality doesn’t lessen.

It’s after you're done intaking the art on his body that you see the strong muscle underneath it. And you let yourself appreciate the discipline that goes into achieving said strong muscle instead of how it makes your mouth water.

Long distance does not help your libido, and you’re only human.

Not that you would ever cheat. You do have a functioning moral compass, and a person you love that you could never do that too in a hundred years.

It's just that you have working eyes... and it doesn't hurt to look every now and then.

To make sure everything’s still working.

It is.

You bring your line of vision back into his.

“I never thought of my birth flower like that before. My mom keeps an entire garden full of them—only child and all.” Like him, you realize. “They’re one of her favourites too. I guess they hold a similar importance to her as yours does to you.”

Jungkook nods as he asks for your birth flower and you tell him. He says he can understand why your mum would be so fond of them, they’re a beautiful and elegant flower, suiting for you.

“Thanks,” you say, brushing off the subtle compliment.

He holds a hand out for the pad and you give it to him, watching as he turns the pages to another drawing before returning it again.

This one’s of your mother, in the small breakfast nook by a window in your home. It’s drawn with dark pencil lead and painted loosely, a slight blending of the two mediums.

She’s drinking a cup of tea and reading a book. It’s one of your favourite pieces that you’ve done recently because it’s your mom, existing naturally.

Not posed for a portrait, or a painting, or a reference, just her enjoying her morning. You couldn’t help but sketch it quickly when you saw her, adding the bit of colour later.

“Is this her?” he asks, taking it in again as if seeing it for the first time.

“Yeah, that’s our breakfast nook. But she reads there more than eats, always saying the window lets in the perfect amount of light.”

“I see where you get it from.”

“Get what?” but he just smiles at you before switching the topic.

“Who do you draw inspiration from, or look up to? I’d guess but I only know the bigger names.”

You inhale, knowing that this answer is always long for you. You get it semi-regularly—it’s a part of being a visual artist the same way asking a musician who they look up to is.

“Well, there’s a couple bigger names in the mix,” you start, “Van Gogh comes to mind first because his work feels like freedom. Lines placed seemingly wherever, yet so meticulously put at the same time. Some aren’t like that, but even then, they still flow like water. I adore his work,” another breath. “Da Vinci. Always. I stand by that fact that he was a genius and I strive to have an ounce of whatever he did. Michelangelo is another. Enough said. The sheer magnitude he was capable of creating was incredible.

“I have a lot of smaller artists I love too. People I’ve seen at local galleries, people I’ve found online, teachers from past classes. Some not nearly as well known artists from a hundred years ago who broke the barriers of art in their time,” you’re smiling like an idiot as you recall all your favourites and how they inspire you.

“I like the people who create and created just because they could, because they loved to. Because it meant something to them to make something with their hands. I mean, look what their passion got them. They all created for themselves, perfected their craft for themselves and that was enough. A satisfying, fulfilling life. I can only hope to have that. But a part of me wants to be one of the lucky few. The ones who shared their art so that others might not feel so alone. They became some of the greatest artists of all time.”

“Also some of the saddest,” Jungkook adds. But he’s looking at you differently now. You can’t put your finger on it but it’s not bad. Something close to curiosity. Or wonder.

“That just goes hand and hand with being a creative person. I don’t know a single one who doesn’t express their pain through their art.”

“Do you?”

“Of course, but those are just for me.”

“Shame.”

That catches your attention. “Why?”

Jungkook doesn’t hesitate for a second before saying, “Because some of the most beautiful things in life are created out of pain.”

You don’t really know how to respond to that.

You know he’s right. People are most likely to bare their soul into their art when they’re hurt, just to get it out. It’s cathartic for them in the same way crying or breaking things is for others.

The most magnificent things can come from that vulnerability, and it isn’t something you ever take lightly when you’re shown.

You’ve heard enough music in your life to know that the most beautiful songs are the most gut wrenching. You’ve seen so many dance performances you know the ones created from anguish and heartbreak are the ones that make for the most delicate movements; the most fragile moments on stage. You've painted enough pieces in grief over your lifetime to know that when someone doesn’t hold back what they’re feeling when creating, it’s the most emotionally provoking when looked at, listened to and experienced by others.

The audience can feel it in a piece. They can feel it in the movement and in the melodies. In the soul of what was created. Of the creator.

“Yes, they are,” you agree, near solemn, and that’s all that needs to be said.

And a moment of comfortable silence later, he hands you back the pad and you pick up your brush to continue with your orchid.

He watches your every stroke. You pretend he’s not there as you add green to the leaves.

“Have you given any thought to our earlier conversation?” he asks. “I know it was only a couple hours ago, so I understand if not.”

Jungkook looks nervous when you wash your brush in the colorful water jar. His face reads like he thinks you’re going to say no, like he’s preparing himself for the rejection but his body language gives him away. He’s wringing his fingers under the table, and his leg won't stop bouncing.

It makes the corner of your mouth quirk. You thought he’d be better at hiding his tics, being prince and all.

But maybe he feels like he doesn’t have to around you.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the chair, Jungkook feels like he’s sweating buckets. Unknowingly showing every nervous habit he has, but can’t help it.

He doesn’t tell you that he doesn’t have a lot of friends. Doesn’t have a lot of people he trusts enough to even consider them friends.

Yeah, he’s always surrounded by people. But they were just that. People. He barely knew any of them, and they only ever wanted to be near him for what it said about them, for what being near him could give them.

He doesn’t say how can’t pinpoint it, but that there’s just something different about you.

So he’s really hoping you say yes.

Because it’s been…a long while…since he’s made a new one.

And it would be really nice too.

But he’ll respect your decision either way.

Just please say yes.

Mercifully, you end his suffering.

“I have,” a brush stroke—more yellow. You don’t look at him while you speak, focusing instead on what’s in front of you. “That’s actually why I came here. To think. I come here for that a lot, or to get work done. It’s my favourite spot on campus. Secluded, pretty, quiet.”

He silently agrees with every word, but is also impatient. “And?”

You try your best to ignore the stars in his eyes when you look up from your painting.

“And I’ve thought hard about this, Jungkook. I didn’t just once over the idea and choose on a whim, I fleshed out what it would mean for me—what a friendship with you would mean for me, that is,” putting the brush down, you allow your most recent details to dry. “And I have a condition—just one. It's one you may not like, but it’s the only one you’d have to agree to in order for me to agree.”

Jungkook deflates a little, wondering what you could want. Because everyone always wants something. He was just really hoping you’d be different.

His mind runs through all the possible answers he’s used to hearing; money, clout, pictures, gifts, vacations, an audience with his father, donations, sex, power, the list goes on.

He doesn’t want to think these things about you, but he can’t help it.

After so long… you get used to it.

“What’s the condition?” he asks, bracing himself.

“That nobody knows we’re friends.”

What? He thinks.

“What?” He asks.

You inhale again, wiping your hands on your pants and straightening your back.

Here we go.

“The more I thought about it, the more I realised that being seen with you publicly all the time would not go over well for me and my future. Anyone can be seen with the prince, but one girl over and over? People will talk about me. And it will be about me, because I’ll be the new shiny toy for them to play with. What I’m wearing, if we’re dating, who am I, what do I do, how did we meet, are you interested, blah blah blah,” you flick your hand, cringing at all of it. “I also don’t want my current relationships to change because of it. I don’t want my mother being cornered in a grocery store by a stranger asking about how her daughter knows Prince Jungkook and if she’s willing to give a quote,” you may actually come close to murder if that ever happened.

“Not to mention the social repercussions. I can deny everything all I want from here into next week, but the second anyone knows we’re friends? I’ll become either the most popular girl on campus—which is a waking nightmare for me—or the campus leper, which is a close second. And before you say anything to the contrary,” you fix him with a hard stare, unwavering. “You know I’m right.”

He tries to speak but you hold up a finger to show you’re not finished, and take a deep breath.

Collect yourself YN, sum it up, drive the point home.

“I don’t need nor want that in my life. So if you want me to be in yours, nobody will know except us and whatever royal people need to so I don’t get tackled for being near you.” He cracks a smile at that.

“If that isn’t okay with you, then that’s fine, I understand. It’s probably an ask you’re not used to hearing, but I hope you understand that I have to put myself first and that this is a hard boundary for me. I’ve worked too hard to get where I am and I won’t let anyone get in my way. Not even a prince,” you say. “Not even you.”

Jungkook waits a second this time, making sure you’re finished. Then leans back, deep in thought, eyes still trained on you.

He’s never been so impressed with anyone in his life.

It’s been a very long time since he’s met someone with such blatant, hard earned self respect. Such candor and veracity, who spoke to him with confidence, completely unwavered. Let alone a woman.

He’s so used to the fawning that he’s forgotten he likes it when a girl has backbone. Forgotten he likes a girl who doesn’t bend because he asks her to, who doesn’t need him or anyone to get what she wants.

She can do it herself.

If he’s completely real with himself, his pants are fitting a little tighter as he remembers. As he continues to stare into your unflinching eyes.

But he dismisses that feeling immediately.

He should have known better. You’ve always been honest with him up until this point, sparing as those moments were. So he shouldn’t be as astonished as he is; you’re the one that has yet to break pattern.

Yuri’d fed him piece after piece of information about you. How you almost never leave your dorm when not in class, how you’re always studying or practicing all hours of the day, how school is your number one priority above all else—she really liked to talk.

He should’ve known you wouldn’t let anyone get in your way—not even him—given how the first time you met, you told him point blank that you would’ve rather been in the library than be forced to see him talk.

Confident and direct from the very start. Unwavering in your goals.

Jungkook should have known when you said you had a condition, that you didn’t want anything from him, but privacy for you.

You are young, driven, smart, and beautiful.

He’s never wanted someone to be in his life more.

Fuck.

He shifts in his seat, primarily for comfort, but also to buy a bit more time. You’ve yet to break his gaze.

Yes, it is a strange request, and yes it isn’t one he’s ever gotten before, but he can work with it. He understands your need to not be in the public eye. To not have your image decided by the public for you.

Most importantly, he knows what being seen with him can do to a person via the media. It’s terrifying. They’re like vultures, ready to pick the flesh off of any victim they deem fit.

More than one woman has been slandered off the palace grounds because of it. He also should have considered that before asking, but like he knew—like he knows—you’re smart. There’s no reason why you wouldn’t have thought this through thoroughly enough to weigh upon all of the possible outcomes.

It was a day full of realizations. On both your parts is what he didn’t know.

So he really, seriously should not be as stunned, surprised and…still partially hard as he is.

Here you are, staring at him, expecting a reply while his mouth is slightly parted and apparently speechless. It’s rare for him to be given such a harsh truth instead of the immediate yes he is so used to hearing. For someone to have this kind of power over him.

When he’d asked you, Jungkook had just wanted a friend. Someone to talk to, maybe hang out with, share jokes with. Someone to spend time with so his college experience isn’t as lonely as it’s turning out to be.

But where he saw a potential friendship, you saw potential disaster.

Because as much as the title grants him, being Prince isn’t a great thing for everyone around him.

Sometimes it destroys them.

He’s still learning though, that you aren’t just smart. You’re calculated.

You are a scythe in a field of grass, a gust of wind in a foggy gulf, a sunbeam shining through the clouds on a rainy day.

You think things through to their every possibility, finding the best outcomes and worst fallouts. You did it with his request, and managed to find a solution that works at only a small hindrance to him.

So who the hell would he be if he didn’t take it?

The outside world already knows all of his friends. Granted about 95% of them are men, but that’s what you get when you grow up having the sons of the guards, groundskeepers and chefs around. The other 5% are the girls he met during childhood, the daughters of other royals and titled individuals.

And even then with them, the speculation never stopped. Not after years of platonic friendship. There was always a ‘what if?’ thrown onto them. So he understands that if he starts hanging out with a new girl, the media will go wild. Understands that existing in the same place as you and his social etiquette towards you have the power to make or break you, mentally, socially, even physically.

He understands.

So, everything considered?

Your one condition isn’t so bad after all.

And he has no problems with it.

“Agreed.”

You blink, clearly not expecting him to give in so quickly, or to at least debate it. Your eyebrows scrunch as you sputter, “Just like that?”

He grips the back of the chair, and leans forward again.

“I would never expect you to give anything up or be forced into an unwanted narrative because I asked you to be my friend. Of course I agree. It’ll be nice to have someone I don’t have to worry about the press bashing. To have someone normal, who I can be normal around, and who will, clearly, call me out on my shit or set me straight when I need it. So yeah,” he sucks a tooth, “Just like that.”

You flinch a little at his words. “Wait I lied, I have one more condition.”

He’s intrigued, especially considering the look on your face. “Go for it.”

“You can’t throw me in a dungeon for calling you out. My safety needs to be assured for any and all potential verbal ass whoopings you may receive in the future.”

A full, loud cackle sounds from Jungkook, eyes crinkling as he says, “Deal.” And holds out his hand.

“Deal,” you say, shaking it and laughing with him. Because you know there aren’t any dungeons in the palace.

And somehow, you know that even if there were, he still wouldn’t.

Chapter Four: Sunday Nights and Lost Memories

A/N 2: we do be getting into though.

A/N 3: I know I’m jumping ahead here but I’m excited for you guys to read chapter 4, it’s one of my favourites so far!

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