#hong joochan imagine

[thepixelelf]

can i please request golcha joochan and yellow for the drabble game??

first kiss drabbles

[the colour of happiness and energy] "Not the face! Not the face!" Joochan pleads, holding his arms and huge water gun up to block the relentless streams of water you're aiming at him.

"You soaked me!" you yell with glee. "This is just revenge!"

Despite donning bright yellow rain jackets before this impromptu water fight, you're soaked to the bone. Joochan is ruthless when it comes to water guns, apparently -- the sun shines bright and warm on you, yet you still feel a shiver coming on the moment you decide to stand still.

You smirk as another one of your shots hits his hand, the resulting spray hitting his face with cool mist. "And it is sweet!"

"That's it!" Joochan lunges for you, snatching your water gun and hiding it and his own behind his back.

"Hey, no fair!" you protest, trying to grab you gun back, but Joochan artfully dodges your attempts. He turns his bod in jerking motions to keep himself between you and the water guns. You fake a pout. "That's cheating."

You'll be honest, though: you don't really care. You haven't stopped laughing (screeching) since this all started. Instead of trying to get your near-empty water gun back, you wrap both your arms around him, trapping his arms against his sides. You beam at Joochan, and before you know it, he's kissing you.

It's warm, like sunlight, and sweet, like... you get lost in the feeling of his lips as they press oh so softly upon yours. Your brain turns into a mush that can't even attempt making similes.

When you both pull back, you blink slowly at Joochan, who's smiling at you so wide, you wonder if his cheeks hurt.

In that moment of reverie, you snag both water guns from behind him, take a step back and point both at his chest with a cheeky smile.

Joochan laughs in disbelief. "Now that's cheating!"

#golden child scenarios #golden child imagines #golden child x reader #joochan x reader #joochan scenarios #joochan imagines #hong joochan scenarios #hong joochan imagines #hong joochan x reader #golcha scenarios #golcha imagines #golcha x reader #gncd scenarios #gncd imagines #gncd x reader #kpop imagines #kpop scenarios

[seungmoroll]

My Job is to Protect You | Joochan

Word count: 1k

Genre/warnings: bodyguard! Joochan x celebrity reader, fluff, slight harm is done to the reader but it’s nothing too bad

Requested: yes

A/n: here’s another bodyguard golcha imagine. thanks to the anon fro this request, I hope that you like it!

          “Unfortunately guys, that’s all the time that we have today. Why don’t we give a big round of applause for our guest, Y/n!” You give the audience your best smile as you bid them a goodbye and walk off the set. As you make your way back to the dressing room, you make sure to thank all the staff for their hard work, making eye contact with a special someone, leaving a small smile on your face.

           When you get back to the dressing room, you thank your own staff for their hard work as they pack up the room. One by one, they slowly leave the room, leaving you all alone, but that only lasts for a few moments when you hear a soft knock at your door. Looking up through the mirror in front of you, a smile pops up on your face as Joochan walks closer to you. “Hey there.”

           “Hi.”

           “You looked good out there.” He says to you. The small compliment leaves you blushing. “Do I not look good all the time?” you ask him teasingly. Chuckling from behind you, he ducks his head down and whispers in your ear, “You always look good.” Playfully you push him away while checking to make sure that no one was seeing your interaction.

           It wasn’t like your relationship was a secret, well, at least between your staff it wasn’t, but if word got out that you were dating your own bodyguard then you know that the internet would have lots to say. Getting up from your chair, you let him lead you to the door, “C’mon, it’s time to go.”

           As you and your team make your way out of the studio, you are bombarded by your fans. Of course the security team does the best that they can to keep them away from you, but just as you are about to make your way into your van, a fan slips through the barricade and desperately grabs onto you, attempting to pull you into them.

           Trying to ignore the pain, you do best effort to rid the fan off of you, hitting them in an attempt to let you go. “Ow, you’re hurting me.” In the next second, the tight grip releases your arm, and you don’t see what has happened to the “fan,” but you do hear it. The sound of a person hitting the ground could be heard, and before you could turn around and see what has occurred, your manager rushes you into the van.

           Once you’re settled in the van, the driver drives off and your manager asks if you’re okay. Without saying a word, you give her a nod. She asks you again while observing your arm, which now has a red imprint left from the man’s hand. Her stare makes you hide your arm, as you tell her that you were fine and just wanted to go back to the hotel. Without saying another word, you put your earbuds in and shut your eyes, ignoring the texts from Joochan.

           When you arrive at the hotel, you wordlessly make your way up to your room, ignoring the concerned looks everyone was giving you. Making eye contact with Joochan, you mouth the word “later” to him, letting him know that it was okay for him to come up to your room.

           While you sit in your hotel room, attempting to forget about the whole ordeal that had occurred, you decide to scroll through Twitter. However, you see your name trending, and even though you hated searching your name on anything, you can’t help but let your thumb press on it. The first thing you see is a video and you can tell that it’s from earlier. Wanting to know what had went down you hesitantly click on the video. The point of view is from a someone the was on the side, and from there you can see the aggressor’s face. As you watch the video, you can see the frantic look on your face as your attempt to free yourself from the fan and then you see Joochan quickly come up to the pair of you and grab the man, slamming him down to the ground. Instinctively, you grab onto the part where you were gripped, ‘Huh, I guess that’s what happened,’ you think to yourself.

           Your thoughts are interrupted when you hear knocking at your door. Cautiously you approach the door when a familiar voice begins to speak, “Y/n, it’s me.” Recognizing the voice instantly, you quickly unlock your door and open it, revealing Joochan with a concern look on his face. Quietly stepping aside, you let him into the room. Turning around after shutting the door closed, you are enveloped in a warm embraced. You relax into Joochan’s arms, breathing in his familiar scent.

           “Are you doing okay?” Joochan asks after a few seconds. Contemplating whether you want to tell him he wants to hear or the truth, you decide to tell the truth. Weakly, you say, “No.” Joochan’s arms tighten around your body before separating from you, looking you directly in the eyes, “I’m sorry I wasn’t there quicker.” Quickly shaking your head, you let him know that it wasn’t his fault.

           “But it’s my job to protect you, and I couldn’t even do that today.” You could hear the guilt in Joochan’s voice, and it made you feel worse.  “But you eventually came, that’s all that matters.” Gently grabbing the arm that the man had a hold of, Joochan observes the imprint that was still present, and brings it up to his lips, planting a soft kiss on the area. “I promise that I wont ever let you get hurt like this ever again.” Bringing up a word to brush his hair out of his face, you say, “I know.” Silence then fills up the room as the two of you softly gaze at one another.

           The silence is broken when Joochan speaks up, “You have a few hours before your next schedule, is there anything I can get you or do for you?”

           “I just want to relax with my boyfriend and cuddle with him, can you do that for me?”

           Smiling and leading you to the bed, he says, “I think that’s doable.”

           Once the two of you were comfortable in the bed, you let your eyes shut, relaxing in Joochan’s arms as he softly sings to you.

A/n: feel free to let me know what you thought of this, feedback is always welcomed!<3

masterlist

#hong joochan #joochan #hong joochan imagine #joochan imagines #hong joochan au #joochan au #joochan scenarios #hong joochan scenario #hong joochan fanfic #joochan fanfic #hong joochan fluff #joochan fluff #hong joochan reactions #joochan reaction #hong joochan x reader #joochan x reader #joochan request #golden child #golden child au #golden child imagines #golden child scenarios #golden child x reader #golden child requests #golden child fluff #golden child reactions #golden child hong joochan #golden child joochan #golcha #golcha imagines #golcha au

[crybabybomin]

Sick and in Love - Hong Joochan

Pairing: reader x Joochan

Warnings: kind of angst maybe but fluff at the end

Word count: 1.544

Masterlist 💕

Request: by @incorrecttbz : can I request a joochan idol + trainee reader like friends to lovers thing? Thank you sm ❤️✨ golcha needs more content

I hope you like it :) 

Being a trainee can be hard, its tiring but you love it. You have been a Woollim trainee for 4,5 years. You’ve trained with Golden Child, before their debut of course. You became friends with them. You are the same age as Joochan that’s why you two became good friends. You haven’t spoken to him much lately. You’ve actually been busy with your debut. The company finally decided to debut your group. And he’s been busy with his comeback.

You’ve seen his teaser pictures and you have to say he looked so good. You did miss him, just talking to him. It’s been very stressful for you. You are the main rapper in your group but you can’t dance as well as your other members and it drives you nuts. You sleep for like 2 hours a night if it’s not less. You’ve danced so much lately that your feet hate you for it. But you couldn’t just slack off. You needed to do good for your debut. So that’s why you are in the practice room alone at 3 at night dancing your feet off.

You turn off the music to take a break for a little. When you do that you hear some music coming from the practice room besides you and some people dancing. You are kind of curious to see who it is but then you remember to practice even more. And you start dancing again. I guess the people next to you heard you too, because halfway trough the song some people walk in.

“Y/N? What are you still doing here so late.” Joochan said and some of the other boys walk in too. “Well I have to practice for my debut.” You say smiling at him. “Your debut? Why didn’t you tell me you were debuting.” “Because like you can see I’ve been very busy and I saw you had a comeback too so I didn’t want to bother you.” You say and he looks at you. “Bother me, you could never.” You sit down and all talk for a while. When you sat down you could feel the pain in your feet and how tired you actually are. You yawn and Joochan looks at you. “How long have you been practicing y/n?” You really didn’t know so you just shrug and he looks at you disappointed. “c’mon y/n, tell me you did eat today.” When he asks you those thing you feel kind of ashamed because you know he wants you to be healthy. But you have to be honest so you shake your head no.

“it’s time to go to the dorms okay and sleep.” Everybody agrees and stands up. “I have to stay because I need to practice more.’ You say and they all look at you. Joochan pushes them out of the room but he stays back. “c’mon y/n, if you don’t live healthy. You will never impose your dancing so please just rest for a day. No one will stop your debut if you do.” You sigh and sit down again. “How do you always just know what to say. I just feel like if I don’t dance as well as my members people will think I don’t deserve my spot.” He sits down next to you and puts his arm around you. “look at yourself y/n if you keep practicing like this is won’t get better how hard you will try.” He points at you in the mirror. Then you stand up. “You're right, let’s go.” He smiles and stand up. He walk you to your dorm and wishes you goodnight. “promise me you care more about your health from this day y/n.” And he keeps his hand up for a pinky promise

After this night you try not to fall into your old rhythm and try to keep your promise. It did help with your dancing if you're being honest. You feel so much better and you though you might want to thank Joochan for what he said. But you really didn’t know how. You think that you might’ve caught feelings for him after that night. But he was your friend and. You didn’t want to ruin that. You decided to send him a message to get some food to thank him. He agreed and now you are walking to his dorm. You ring the doorbell and Jibeom opens the door. “hey y/n, Joochan is inside.” He pauses for a sec and then scream “JOOCHAN YOUR DATE IS HERE” and he laughs. His date? You thought. You were confused by his statement, did he tell them that it was a date? Did he want it to be a date? You were so much in your thought you didn’t even see Joochan appearing in front of you.

“Hellooo? y/n?” He said and brought you back to reality. He looked great he was kind of dressed up. “Hey sorry I was just thinking about something. Wow I kind of underdressed here.” You said and looked at your own outfit. “It doesn’t matter you always look great, c’mon let's go.” He said and grabbed your hand. You blushed at his words. Then you realised you were holding hands and you got even more red. “hehe cute.” He said and you looked up to see what he was looking at, but he looked at you. You didn’t know what to say, so you just said nothing. Then he started a conversation and you both talked while walking. “where are we going?” You asked him. “I actually found this small festival and I thought that would be fun.” You nodded and smiled at him. You both walk there. And you see a mini festival with little games and food stands.

“omg Joochan we need to do this” and you drag him with you. He laughs at you but you didn’t notice. You stop at a mini game and you ask the person behind the counter what the price is, when you try to get your wallet Joochan has already paid. “You don’t have to pay for me you know.” You say to him “I don’t have to but I want to.” You try to win a plushy but you don’t have enough points so Joochan also tries. He immediately gets enough points. He teases you about it. You get kind of annoyed by him because he knows you’re a sore loser. But then he asks the person behind the counter for the plushy you wanted and when he gets it, he gives it to you. “omg are you serious?” You ask him and he nods. You hug him. Then the person behind the counter says “You two are such a cute couple, I hope y’all have a great day.” “We aren’t a couple.” You say but then Joochan says “yet” You look at him confused and then he grabs your arm and takes you too an empty bench.

“So I need to say something y/n..” He says and you look at him. “It’s actually why I care so much about you, yeah of course I care about my friends but you are different. When I am with you I don’t want you too leave and you always make me happier when you are with me. And so yeah I guess I just want to say that I have a crush on you.” You stay quiet when he’s done talking and realize what he just said. He looks at you to see how you reacted kind of scared of what you will say. “I like you too Joochan. You helped me so much and you bring out the better person in me.” He sighs in relieve and then you decide to kiss him on the cheek. After you did that you ran away. He laughs and runs after you. When he finally catches you he looks down at you and ask you “so will you be my girlfriend” you nod and then he kisses you. You spend the whole day together and then decide to go back to his dorm.

You walk hand in hand home and he rings the doorbell. “Are you gonna tell them?” You ask him, he knows you’re talking about his members “Yeah they knew I was gonna ask you anyway.” “Oh so that’s why Jibeom said that I was your date.” He laughs and nods then the door opens and its Daeyeol opening the door. “GUYS HE ACTUALLY DID IT.” He screams and everyone runs to the door. This makes you kind of shy and you lean into Joochan. “Guys stop this is embarrassing.” Joochan tells them and then walks in dragging you behind him.

You spend the whole evening in their dorms and when you go back to your dorm he walks you back and when you enter your members ask you how the day went. You explain every detail to them and they are kind of jealous and happy for you of course.

#joochan #hong joochan #golden child imagine #goldenchild #golcha imagine #golden child #golcha #kpop imagine #kpop x reader #joochan x reader #golden child x reader #friends to lovers #hong joochan x reader #joochan imagine #hong joochan imagine #gncd #gncd imagine #golden child joochan

[blossom-hwa]

valentine’s day + golcha ✧

blame @wingkkun​ for enabling me :) as well as @thepixelelf​ for putting up the list of valentine’s day prompts on her network @newskynet​ (check out the list and the network here!) that inspired these little blurbs! i really encourage anyone to join in on the event and use the prompts, they’re super cute and hella funny :) 

anyway happy early valentine’s day! there’ll be more blurbs for the boyz and stray kids leading up to the day of, and changmin’s interwoven story will top the holiday off <3

(find other valentine’s day blurbs for the boyz and stray kids here whenever i put up the masterlist!)

pairing: golcha x gender neutral!reader (one blurb for each member!)

wc: 4.9k (total)

genre: fluff, pure fluff, university!au

triggers: cursing, like one slightly implied mention of sex (it’s the first couple sentences of sungyoon’s story, but absolutely nothing explicit)

stray kids version | the boyz version

Golden Child Masterlist

9. “i’m allergic to roses.”

jaehyun doesn’t know why his boss decided to give him the valentine’s day shift. it’s annoying and stupid and dumb, especially when he just wants to spend the entire day with you, but you have class and he has work. so jaehyun resigns himself to being forced to work in the pits of hell on the supposed day of love (it’s a drugstore on valentine’s day. he’s pretty sure he won’t even be able to count the number of boyfriends and girlfriends who’ve forgotten to buy their partner a gift and have come to this shitty CVS for a last minute card or box of chocolates). 

slumped over on the counter after opening, waiting for the first wave of poor significant others to come washing in, jaehyun doesn’t even bother to move when the automatic doors slide open and a few pairs of footsteps sound on the floor. only when someone steps in front of him does he actually look up, immediately plastering on his customer service smile (that you’ve always found simultaneously hilarious and scary - “you look so dead inside, i don’t know what to say!” “i’m not dead inside!” “jaehyun, you’re in university. we’re all dead inside”), but it immediately drops when you step up to the counter and pass over a bouquet of tulips (not roses this time, thank god - jaehyun doesn’t need a repeat of the time you brought them and he had to break it to you between sneezes that “i’m allergic to roses.”), laughing at the expression of shock on his face. 

“wanted to bring you something nice in the morning since we won’t see each other until later,” you explain, pushing the bouquet into his hands. “i’ll meet you in front of your dorm, right? don’t be late.” 

holding the flowers, jaehyun doesn’t know what to do but nod and smile, smile so brightly it feels like the sun has come down to rest in his heart because by god, you’re the sweetest thing in this entire world and he loves you so, so much. “okay,” he breathes, unable to stop his eyes from crinkling as he smiles. “i’ll see you then.”

you lean over the counter and press a brief kiss on his lips. the bouquet nearly falls to the ground as he scrambles to lean in, to extend this bit of affection as long as he can, but then someone coughs and you two break away, jaehyun red-faced and blushing, you laughing as both of you turn to the customer holding two bags of lollipops with a smirk and a raised eyebrow on their face. jaehyun only blushes harder as you squeeze his hand one last time, supremely unconcerned, and murmur “see you later” before walking back out the door. 

14. “you’re seriously asking me out on valentine’s day?”

exactly one week ago, jangjun’s professor gave the entire lecture hall a stern talking-to regarding valentine’s day activities in class. no kissing, no inappropriate PDA, and “no giving out candy or confessions unless you’ve brought enough for the entire hall.” and given the fact that this is a lecture hall of just under a hundred students, no one is eager to break that rule. 

but on valentine’s day, you come running in just two minutes before class starts, a large shopping bag banging against your legs as you sprint to your seat next to jangjun. he frowns at the bag, looking up at you in confusion, but you only give him a shit-eating grin as the professor walks to the podium. just as he’s about to start the slides, you raise your hand. “professor, i have candy to pass out.”

a whisper runs through the hall as jangjun starts to laugh. you really would. you actually would. y/n, you perfect bastard. professor just raises an eyebrow that jangjun can see all the way from his seat halfway across the hall and replies “do you have enough for the entire class?”

“as a matter of fact, i do!” reaching into the bag, you pull out two packages of lollipops and brandish them in the air. “all in the spirit of valentine’s day, professor!”

the hall devolves into chaos and laughter and shouts as you run down the rows, throwing candy at every student. jangjun’s laughing with everyone else - even the professor can’t help a smile as you hand him a lollipop too - but then he realizes you’ve completely bypassed his row. no matter, though, right? you’ll probably just come back and give him one when you come back to your seat, or he’ll steal a lollipop away from you. that’s how best friends work, obviously.

but then you’re running down the stairs, finished passing out candy for the rest of the hall. jangjun expects you to slide into your seat but you don’t, instead stopping at the end of the row and tossing him his favorite flavor of lollipop. he grins, about to say something, but your smile has turned slightly nervous and he’s confused - you’re never nervous, never, you didn’t even look like this before you had your first job interview - but then your gaze takes on a steely  determination that’s more characteristic of his favorite friend ever and you say, “wanna go on a date with me?”

screams erupt from the seats around him, but jangjun can only stare as he tries to comprehend what you said. his mouth moves to form words and they are not the words he wants but he never thinks before he speaks and certainly not now when his brain is literally fraying at the edges - 

“you’re seriously asking me out on valentine’s day?”

your gaze shutters, your eyes turning dim. the smile on your face is still there but it’s a little forced and jangjun starts panicking because what the fuck, that’s not what he meant, and - “oh my god, y/n, i’m an idiot, i didn’t mean to say that, yes i want to go out with you, holy fuck i’ve wanted to literally since we met -”

“jangjun? shut up.”

he shuts up, terrified he’s messed up forever. but you’re smiling. you’re smiling so wide it looks like the stars themselves have come down to grace your eyes as you sit down next to him and tangle your fingers with his.

there are more screams and someone’s camera flashes but jangjun doesn’t care. he doesn’t fucking care, not when you’ve just asked him out when he’s been pining for you for probably years at this point and jangjun knows he’s grinning like an idiot when he squeezes your hand once, softly, and you squeeze back, winking as you pop a last lollipop into your mouth.

13. “you’re so cheesy. i love it.” (slightly amended from “this is so cheesy. i love it.”)

daeyeol may be dyslexic, but he certainly isn’t blind. as the ta for this lecture section, he’s had a front row seat to the obvious pining tension between jangjun and his best friend since they stepped into class on the first day. when they hand daeyeol a lollipop, he can see jangjun smiling like an absolute idiot even so far away, and when oblivious idiot #1 finally pulls themselves together and asks jangjun on a date, the professor himself can’t help but grin even as he starts clapping his hands to bring the class to order.

as the lecture goes on, daeyeol lets his thoughts wander. he’s been over this particular set of slides so long he could probably talk about them in his sleep (and according to sungyoon, he actually has, though he has no video proof so daeyeol will just put that down to his roommate exaggerating), so he doesn’t feel too bad about not paying attention as the professor keeps talking. he has better things to think about - namely his plans for later today. 

yeah, he has a date. he has a date with, in his humble opinion, the most wonderful and beautiful person in the world. he can’t help but smile when the image of your eyes crinkled in a laugh runs through his mind, the sound of your giggles and snorts making his heart flutter with excitement because holy fuck, he may not want to be in class, but at least he’s going to get to see you for hours later today. 

if he wasn't the ta, he’d be the first one out of class. instead, though, he stays a couple minutes to talk to the professor (he smirks a little bit when jangjun and his best friend-turned-significant other walk out the door, still holding hands) before he finally deems it polite to say goodbye and rush out of the lecture hall to his dorm so he can get changed. 

he’s breathless when he walks out of the flower shop to meet you just an hour later, clutching a bouquet of flowers in his hands. despite the fact that you two have been dating for months already, he still turns shy when you accept the flowers, eyes sparkling in delight. your gaze only turns sweeter, lovelier when you look up from the bouquet to give him a hug, wrapping your arms around him tightly as your body presses against his. 

“i missed you,” he murmurs into your ear, holding you as close as he can. 

you laugh. “we saw each other yesterday, daeyeol.”

his name still sounds like honey from your lips. “yeah, but that was still too long.” 

again you laugh, pulling away. before he can complain, your hand slips into his, automatically tangling your fingers together. “you’re so cheesy,” you announce as though you haven’t said the same thing a million times over the course of the last few months. “i love it. anyway, should we go?”

daeyeol smiles, squeezing your hand. “of course. come on.”

4. “valentine’s day is just a ploy to make people buy heart-shaped stuff.” / “what’s that in your hands?” / “none of your business.”

jibeom isn’t anti-valentine’s day, not exactly. it’s just that he doesn’t entirely care for the way capitalism has decided to commercialize love through chocolates and teddy bears when a handwritten card would mean more to him than the most expensive candies in the world. 

which is why he teases daeyeol when the older boy comes into the flower shop where he works part time, even as he wraps up the bouquet of pink and red roses. “still a slave to capitalism, i see.”

daeyeol just snorts. “you think i didn’t see the flower crown you were making when i walked in?”

“yeah, well, i made it. i didn’t buy it.” jibeom ties the last ribbon in a large bow. “i’m not going to be a slave to the machinery of this shitty economic system. valentine’s day is just a ploy to make people buy heart-shaped stuff.”

“what’s that in your hands?”

jibeom shoves a heart-shaped box of chocolate under the counter. “none of your business.”

"yeah, right.” daeyeol snorts, taking the bouquet of flowers. “well, enjoy your date later. hope y/n likes the chocolates.”

jibeom sniffs. “you enjoy yours.” 

with that, daeyeol walks out to meet his partner. jibeom averts his eyes (it’s so weird seeing someone he thinks of as his older brother kissing or hugging something else, even if it’s sweet), but then the door opens again and a wide smile spreads across jibeom’s face when you walk into the shop. 

“your shift is over,” you announce, hopping on a nearby stool so you can lean your elbows on the counter. “time to go!”

“y/n, for the last time, i can’t just end my shift when i want to,” jibeom says. he’s still smiling, though - he knows you don’t mean it, knows that you’ll just hang around and bother him until his shift is actually over and the two of you can go to whatever reservation you made this year. 

you groan. “come on, that’s no fun.”

jibeom snorts. “here, maybe this will keep you busy.” he hands you the chocolate he bought early that morning from a dead-eyed jaehyun (thank god for the flowers his partner brought him at the start of his shift or he probably would’ve keeled over at that point). “happy valentine’s day.”

with a delighted screech, you tear into the box. jibeom watches in amusement. “i thought you didn’t like participating in the valentine’s day capitalist commercialization of love?” you ask, mouth full. 

“i don’t.” jibeom shrugs. “but if it’s for you...”

he doesn’t get to finish before you yank him down by the neck of his shirt to press a full kiss to his lips. “jibeom, i love you more than you can imagine,” you declare when you finally pull away. 

you look beautiful, lips slightly swollen, eyes sparkling. jibeom lifts the finished flower crown from behind the counter and puts it on your head. “there. perfect.”

“hm?” you look up, smiling when you realize what he’s given you. 

“you looked beautiful before,” jibeom explains. “but now you look even more perfect.”

“are you saying that because of your flower crown, i look nicer?” you frown in mock disapproval. “jibeom, that’s awfully egocentric.”

“well, am i wrong?”

your frown splits into a wide grin as you shake your head. “no, not at all.” you squeeze his hand. “anything from you makes me feel beautiful, no matter what it is.”

21. “for me?”

“don’t mind them, jibeom and his partner won’t suck face too much.” the worker rolls his eyes as he walks forward, leading joochan further into the store. “you said roses, right? red roses?”

“yeah.” joochan takes a deep breath, trying to stop himself from screaming internally. “red roses.”

but even as the worker - seungmin, his name tag says - leads him to a selection of deep red flowers, joochan’s starting to second guess himself. what if flowers come off too strong, roses no less? it’s only the first date - and by god, he’s lucky you even accepted, you’re the wittiest and most amazing person he’s ever come across, he never imagined you would actually say yes - and joochan has no idea what to do, how to act, least of all with flowers. 

dimly, joochan becomes aware of seungmin deftly tying the roses together before handing him the bouquet. “come up to the front, you’ll pay there.” he snorts. “hopefully jibeom and his partner aren’t being idiots.”

“i heard that!” comes an indignant shout from the front. despite his nerves, even joochan cracks a smile when seungmin forcefully elbows jibeom out from behind the counter, forcing his partner to stop him from falling over. “yeah you heard that, you think i would’ve said it if i didn’t want you to hear?” seungmin snaps, fingers flying on the register. “that’ll be -”

“joochan?!”

what.

what the fuck. 

joochan spins on his heel to see you standing not three feet away from him, a bouquet of flowers clasped in your own hands as someone else rings up your purchase. for a moment, you two only stare at each other. 

god, joochan wants to melt into the floor. 

“i -” you swallow. “sorry. hi, joochan.”

“hi,” he squeaks, fingers clutching roses in a vice grip. “uh... didn’t expect to see you here?”

“i wanted to get flowers for you,” you mumble, staring resolutely at the ground.

joochan’s brain makes the windows shutting down noise. “for - for me?”

“yeah.” you half-smile, laughing a little as you point at your bouquet. joochan wants to immortalize the sound of your laugh forever in his ears. “wait - here.”

suddenly, joochan has two bunches of roses in his hands and he doesn’t know what to do with either of them. your fingers brush his skin as you hand over the flowers. joochan can feel himself getting redder by the second as he finally figures out that he should also hand over his bouquet to you. 

seungmin’s voice stops him. “you still need to pay,” he says, eyes screwed almost shut with suppressed laughter. 

“oh - right. sorry.” joochan hands his card over, face flaming. seungmin swipes it, gives it back, and joochan finally passes his roses to you. 

for another two seconds, you two just stare, but then you smile (and joochan subsequently feels like his brain is leaking out of his ears, you’re too amazing to look at). “shall we?”

you’ve extended a hand. joochan looks at it dumbly, uncomprehending, but then he realizes you’re asking to hold his hand. gingerly he nods, pressing his palm into yours as an involuntary smile splits his face. “okay,” he breathes. “let’s go.”

25. “i love you.”

“that was... something.” you turn to seungmin, second-hand embarrassment written all over your face. understandable. even if seungmin found it funny, the awkward romantic tension in the air before joochan and his partner left was enough to make his insides curdle. of course, being a perfect worker, he didn’t show it, but...

“were we ever like that?” seungmin wonders aloud, tightening his apron.

jibeom snorts from where he’s taking off his own apron, finished with his shift. lucky bastard. “no, but you’re worse.” he pulls off the green smock, hanging it on a nail in the back. “you’ve been in love since you were like, five. disgustingly mushy.”

“you two suck face in the back whenever you have a spare moment,” you snap, throwing a small handful of discarded leaves at them. 

jibeom’s partner shrugs. “better than being overly romantic and making everyone want to puke on how adorable you two are.” they wave as jibeom drags them out of the shop and down the street. 

you sigh. “sucks that we got the full shift,” you mumble, slumping over the counter. “wish we were doing something better.”

“hey, we get to avoid the crowds tomorrow when we go for our late valentine’s day dinner.” seungmin sits next to you, pulling a bit of leaf out of your hair. “isn’t that better?”

“yeah.” you sit up, leaning against your elbow to smile at him. even after so many years together, the sparkle in your eyes still makes seungmin’s heart flutter. “kinda works out. i just don’t want to work.”

“lazy,” seungmin teases, kissing you briefly. 

despite the insult, you smile against his lips before pulling away. “asshole.”

“hey,” he whines. “an asshole wouldn’t do this, would they?” he picks up a discarded rose - still perfect, really, the stem just got snapped a little too short for a bouquet - and tucks it behind your ear. “would they?”

you laugh. “no, of course not.” you rise from your seat and glance from side to side. when nobody enters the shop, you wrap your arms around his neck. seungmin’s hands automatically loop your waist as you kiss him long, full, deep. 

“i love you,” you murmur against his lips. “i love you every day, regardless of whether or not it’s valentine’s day.”

“same here.” seungmin raises a hand, cups your cheek. you lean into his touch. “i love you too, y/n.”

3. “what, no roses?”

when sungyoon walks into the flower shop, a tray of coffee in hand, to see two of his friends locking lips just behind the counter, he only sighs. at least they aren’t trying to eat each other’s faces like some other couples he saw in the cafe today. and not much could be worse than that one time daeyeol forgot to hang a sock on the door before sungyoon got back home. 

seungmin and his partner of well over five years (they’re cute. disgustingly cute and so in love it makes sungyoon want to retch sometimes) break apart, thankfully, when he puts two cups of coffee on the counter. “enjoy,” he deadpans to a nonplussed seungmin and his equally unbothered partner. 

"oh, thanks.” seungmin takes one, draining half of it in one go. “oh my god, this is so good.”

“of course, it is, sungyoon made it.”

sungyoon nearly jumps. how is it that you always manage to sneak up on him? he can’t figure it out. but even though his heart is pounding, he turns around with a smile on his face to catch you when launch yourself into his arms for a hug. “hey, sungyoon,” you murmur into his skin.

“hey, yourself.” he smiles, pulling away to take you in. “you look beautiful.” as always. 

“you don’t look too bad yourself,” you tease, pulling a bouquet of flowers from behind your back, smiling widely. “for you.”

sungyoon smiles, taking the delicate stems between his hands. “what, no roses?”

“nope,” you reply, popping the p. “our shop ran out. and i’m not about to buy from my competitors.”

a scoff sounds as sungyoon laughs. you narrow your eyes at seungmin and his partner, who are both replying to your gaze with mock glares of their own. it actually used to be a real point of contention, the fact that sungyoon had started dating a worker at the rival florist a few streets away, but now it’s all fun and games.

tulips and carnations, pink and red, fragrant and delicate. sungyoon breathes in their scent before turning back to the counter to hand you one of the last two cups of coffee in the tray. “your favorite.”

“thanks.” you take a long sip before leaning in to kiss him with coffee-tasting lips. “ready to go?”

“absolutely.” he takes your hand, squeezing your palm gently. “come on. we’ve got a long evening planned, don’t we?”

11. “it’s so cold! why can’t valentine’s day be in summer?!”

bomin collapses on the floor as the music turns off for the last time that evening. “oh my god,” he gasps, staring at the ceiling. “y/n, i literally hate you.”

“not my fault you aren’t flexible enough,” you snip, effortlessly folding your legs as you sit down next to his prone figure. “now get up. i got you coffee from that place you like.”

in a flash, he’s sitting, making grabby hands for the cup between your fingers. “did sungyoon make it?” 

“yes.” you roll your eyes but hand him the coffee anyway, smiling. “sometimes i think you love him more than me, you know?”

“impossible.” bomin pouts at you over the cup. “i love you more than anything.”

“i know, i’m just teasing.” you stand, reach out a hand, and pull him up. “gross, you’re all sweaty.”

“i just danced for an entire hour and on our anniversary no less, valentine’s day, the most romantic day of the year -”

“yeah, yeah.” you nudge him with your shoulder as you two leave the studio. “you’re the one who told me to make sure you do your stretching exercises every day, right? valentine’s day is no exception. we did so much earlier in the day, too - you can’t say we didn’t have fun.” a smirk rises on your lips and you nudge him again. “besides, whose fault is it that our anniversary is on the cheesiest day of the year?”

bomin groans as the two of you walk out into cold air. “listen, daeyeol and everyone else was giving me extremely bad advice and i couldn’t wait and i just wanted it to be romantic, okay -”

“i know.” you pause in your step, reach up, and press a soft kiss on his lips. “i know, bomin. you’ve told me this before.”

“then don’t tease me,” he grumbles, dodging donghyun and youngtaek as they run, screaming about cold, into the dance studios where it’s warmer. “it’s so cold,” he continues grumbling, burrowing his head into his coat. “why can’t valentine’s day be in summer?”

a laugh sparkles from your lips, and against his grumpy will, bomin finds the corners of his mouth lifting at the sound. “can’t exactly control when a saint dies,” you reply, linking your arm with his. “and isn’t it kind of sweet? holding hands to keep each other warm?”

bomin sighs, allowing the smile to full spread across his face. “i guess,” he concedes, unlinking your arms so he can hold your hand in his. “still doesn’t mean i don’t want to get back to the dorms and cuddle you right now.”

“well, the faster you go, the faster we get back!” you fling his hand away, sprinting forward onto the path. “last one back is the bigger idiot!”

“hey!” bomin complains, trying to follow behind on legs still shaky from exercise. “hey, slow down!”

“hell no!” you yell. “running fast will get you warm!”

(bomin does catch up to you in the end, grabbing your hand just outside the dorm and spinning you around to press a laughing kiss against your lips. he’s warm, now, warm from the exercise, but he feels far warmer from the feeling of your arms wrapped around him.)

5. “30 roses, one for every cat you’re gonna have when you’re old and alone.”

at first, donghyun doesn’t notice when you appear in the dance studio. you come in quietly, the noise of the door opening and closing overpowered by the music blasting from the speaker in the corner. he’s too focused on youngtaek and his partner, making sure every one of their movements is perfectly in sync. 

when the music fades, clapping sounds and donghyun turns to see you standing just inside the studio, smiling behind a large bouquet of roses. he can’t help the grin that spreads across his face as he bounds up to you and crushes you in a sweaty hug. “hi.”

“hello to you too, sweaty.” you push him away playfully. “don’t crush the roses!”

donghyun pouts but obediently wipes his face off on a towel youngtaek hands him. “you value the roses over me,” he whines. 

“not so.” you laugh. “i value the roses because they’re for you, and when i actually hand them over, i want them to still look nice.”

donghyun melts into the wooden studio floor. he really does. youngtaek takes advantage of his whipped™ moment and shoves him out the door with his belongings, leaving you to follow behind as fast as possible before you’re trapped in the studio. 

once outside, you take donghyun’s (now dry) hand. “flowers for donghyun,” you announce, pressing the bouquet into his other palm. “thirty roses, one for every cat you’re gonna have when you’re old and alone.”

“old and alone?” donghyun stops in his tracks. “what about you?”

“oh shit.” you laugh. “i didn’t think about that. i’ll be there with you, of course. just us and our thirty cats. unless you get tired of me before then.”

you say it with a joking tone, but donghyun still pouts at your words. “i’m not going to get tired of you,” he says, squeezing your hand tighter. “never, y/n.”

a small, shy smile spreads across your lips and donghyun revels in the feeling of making you feel flustered on this lovely day. “all right, donghyun.” the smile grows wider. “i could never get tired of you either.”

he kisses your cheek, kisses the corner of your lips. you start whining for him to give you a real kiss and he laughs, dancing out of the way. “only if you promise not to say stuff like that anymore,” he bargains, dodging your lips. “promise!”

“i promise!” you trap him between your arms, leaning in close as your eyes sparkle. “i promise, donghyun.”

“okay,” he breathes, pulling you closer. “okay.”

against your lips, he smiles. 

2. “happy valentine’s day.”

music blasts in the background as you and youngtaek begin cleaning up your studio. even though you both are exhausted from hours of dancing, the music seems to work its way into your veins again as you pick up the last few things from the floor. twirling once or twice in time to the beat, you put them back in your bag before spinning, arms held out wide.

youngtaek catches you, pulling your hand as it flies out and dipping you down. his eyes crinkle as he smiles, face just inches away from yours. he braves the small chasm to kiss you briefly before holding you closer, losing himself in the feeling of his arms wrapped around you. 

for a few blissful moments, you only stare, smiling into each other’s eyes. the pounding music fades, soon replaced with a slow, soft song. 

youngtaek breaks your silence. “hey, dance with me?”

you laugh. “we’ve been dancing for hours, youngtaek. you’re not tired already?”

he kisses you again. “never tired if i’m with you.”

with that, you twirl him around, giggling as he spins dramatically before wrapping his arms around your waist once more. you put your hands on his shoulders and sway slowly, gently, peacefully, as the music rolls around you in waves. 

youngtaek likes it like this, likes it peaceful and quiet and calm. for others, valentine’s day might be about big displays of love, over the top shows of romance, but even though those are nice every once in a while, it’s possible to show so much love in a soft look, a gentle touch, in the feeling of his head resting against your shoulder as you sway gently to the music. 

he doesn’t need roses, doesn’t need chocolates or jewelry to know that you love him and he loves you. he’ll treasure the handmade card you gave him this morning, just as you’ll listen to the song he composed you for weeks, months, and hopefully years. head tucked into your neck, he presses a soft kiss to the skin, smiling at the way you shiver slightly against him. 

“tired?” you murmur, running a hand through his hair. 

youngtaek’s eyes close in bliss. “not yet.” it’s not quite a lie, he still has strength in his legs, but he wants to stay in your embrace just a little longer. just a little.

“if you say so.” your fingers continue carding through his hair. “we can go whenever you want.”

“okay.” youngtaek’s smile widens. “i love you, y/n.”

“i love you too, youngtaek.” you pull away slightly, kiss his forehead. “happy valentine’s day.”

#kpopscape #nsnvalentine #golden child #golcha #gncd #golden child scenarios #golden child imagines #golcha scenarios #golcha imagines #golcha x reader #golden child x reader #lee daeyeol #choi sungyoon #lee jangjun #son youngtaek #bae seungmin #bong jaehyun #kim jibeom #choi bomin #hong joochan #kim donghyun #fluff #drabbles #tw cursing #tw sex #valentine's day blurbs #university!au #scriptura-delirus

[sytco]

common blessings [joochan]

pairing: childhood friend!hong joochan x reader

word count: 3.5k (!)

requested: "toothrotting fluff ft. joochan"

dedicated to @sahiflowers.

a/n: im SO SO sorry this took so long and i hope u like it even a little and that it makes u smile thank u for being so patient ily!! ily!!! reminder im always here for u!!

In which you find that time is meaningless when Joochan is not by your side.

~

wonderboy.

-

Sometimes, you speculate whether Joochan has some kind of genius for finding you as soon as the school bell rings, signalling the end of another day.

Today, he surprises you behind the auditorium where you lean against a maple tree, hugging your bag to your chest, because you’ve skipped your last period (Introduction to Psychology) in favor of lying on the grass so you can watch the clouds in peace. And Joochan smiles a fond, fond smile because you have that look on your face again that you only get when you’re lost in thought.

“Missed me?”

You tense from shock before relaxing at the sight of your boyfriend who widens his arms so you can walk right into them.

“How’d you find me?” Your voice is muffled in the fabric of his vest and Joochan reaches up so he can play with the back of your collar.

“Just had a little hunch you might be here.” And this is the answer he always gives, accompanied with the same smug smile each time.

You pout even if Joochan can’t see it. “That doesn’t explain anything.”

“Well now,” he says in an affected voice that sounds like the narrator from that National Geographic documentary on penguins the two of you watched last week, “I can’t afford to have you getting your hands on all my secrets, can I? I’ve got to keep some things to myself so that in ten year's time, you’ll still think I’m the most amazing and magical boy in the universe.”

It’s ridiculous, you think, how it’s nearly winter but the way you can feel the laughter that starts in his chest and electrifies you to your fingertips is more than capable of keeping you warm and making you feel like you’re really alive.

“Doesn’t matter if I find out all your secrets or not,” you mumble, “you’ll always be the most amazing and magical boy in the universe to me.”

From the courtyard around the corner, you can hear Jaehyun shouting a loud “Oi Joochan!”.

Joochan ignores him and instead casually pecks your cheek with a kiss that feels like a blessing. “Always?”

You tilt your head as though unsure. "Well… for at least fifty years, probably.”

“Fifty?!” Joochan echoes in mock outrage, and you playfully poke his side to which he flinches slightly.

“I was lying. I meant for all of time ever.”

And despite him doing his best to hide it, your boyfriend melts instantly, burying his face in the crook of your neck where he’s probably smiling his brilliant smile that feels like the sun against your skin.

Jaehyun’s voice interrupts the peace and quiet once again with a noticeably louder and more panicked tone.

“Hong Joochan! We’re going to be late for soccer practice!”

Joochan groans exaggeratedly and you can’t help but giggle at his theatrics. “Wish I didn’t have to go to stupid practice,” he grumbles.

“You know, I’ll wait for you in the library until you’re done,” you offer and Joochan perks up - if only slightly because your arms still feel like heaven after years of loving you, and two hours of kicking a ball around (while Donghyun and Jibeom brainstorm inventive ways to trip each other up, much to Coach Lee’s chagrin) just can’t compete. He tells you as much in the way his arms tighten around you.

“You’re the best,” Joochan declares suddenly, “I might be the most amazing and magical boy in the universe, but you’re the best.”

You snort. “Go to practice already before Jaehyun starts going spare, wonderboy.”

Joochan kisses your forehead one last time before he detaches himself from you with a dejected sigh and picks up your bag, slinging it over his shoulder despite your protests. “Walk with me to the oval?”

You slip your hand into his hand only to find it a perfect fit and wonder briefly if there is anywhere in this world you would not walk to with Hong Joochan, the boy who has a smile like sunlight and a personality like a billion shooting stars.

“Of course.”

*

fm.

-

There is the occasional moment in which you wish that your boyfriend wasn’t so exceedingly talented in nearly every field he tries his hand at, because the various extracurriculars that Joochan (being the naturally energetic and enthusiastic person he is) involves himself with have an awful way of making tremendous demands on his time towards the end of the semester.

Right now is one of those moments when Joochan trudges into your room and dives face first onto your bed without even bothering to shake his coat off. “So what was it today?” you ask in a voice that betrays your concern and Joochan can’t help but smile at it.

“Theatre rehearsal,” he yawns, “then string quartet practice. Also an hour of soccer drills with some of the boys. Even though it’s a Saturday.”

You get up from your chair at the desk so you can sit on the bed where Joochan immediately moves his head onto your lap, lifting your hand and resting it on his hair. You absentmindedly start stroking it, staring out the window at a soft grey sky.

“Did you eat?”

Joochan shakes his head. “No time. My dumb E string broke again so I barely managed to have half an apple before we went straight into a new Mozart piece today. Think we might perform it at the next concert. You’d come, right?” And he asks that in a self-assured tone, because he already knows what your answer is going to be.

You give it to him anyway because there’s no point in hiding your blatant admiration for all that he does. “No matter what.”

“And just to see me, right?”

You fake a pause that has Joochan peering up at you suspiciously.

“You do know I have friends who aren’t you that are participating in the concert, right? Like Jangjun and Sungyoon?”

Joochan scowls. “But none of those hooligans are your boyfriend, who - in case you forgot but I do know you’d never - is me.”

“That’s quite true,” you concede before leaning down to kiss his cheek with a smile that makes Joochan’s stomach fill with butterflies which are probably colored pink and green and blue. It never gets old, he thinks: your talent for turning his world upside down in a look or a word or an action. And you don’t even know you’re doing it most of the time.

“Mean,” he accuses but in a half-hearted manner and your smile only widens because you know that Joochan is supremely happy despite his exhaustion, if the way his brow has smoothed completely and he has started drawing little stars on your knee is anything to go by.

There’s a gentle lull in the conversation while you continue to run your fingers through Joochan’s hair, and especially his fringe. It’s almost as though time has passed you by, leaving you together in your own little reality where things like hazy futures and big concerts and broken violin strings do not dare draw near.

“Wanna order something later on for dinner?” you ask quietly.

“Maybe,” he grins through closed eyes, “but nap first.”

Your radio continues to run, and you drift in and out of listening to the DJ duo while watching the rain finally fall outside.

“It’s been pretty cold recently, hasn’t it?” one of the DJs opens the conversation after a small stream of ads.

“Sure has, pal. And speaking of the cold, apparently our first snow of the season is scheduled for next week Friday!”

“So do you have any plans lined up with a special someone?”

“Just had to remind me of how single I am, didn’t you”- rambunctious peals of laughter crackle from the speakers - “but maybe some of our lovely listeners will send in their plans for next Friday.”

“I sure did - and wow, they’re already pouring in! Do you wanna read one out?”

“Let’s see… Listener ha_miii_ran says: ‘I’m planning on confessing to my crush of two years. I’m pretty nervous about this so I’m hoping the two of you will wish me luck!’ All the best of luck to you, Ha Miran-nim, from the both of us. I don’t know how you’re planning on it, but hopefully the first snow will act as a good luck charm for you!”

“Yeah, good luck Ha Miran-nim!” the other DJ chimes in. “Be sure to update us on how it goes!”

“Well, we’ll be back with some more stories after this excerpt from a famous piano concerto - maybe some of our more classically-inclined audience will recognise its globally renowned composer.”

A beautiful melody begins to play and you’re on the cusp of losing yourself in the music when you are most abruptly interrupted by a sleepy, but decisive, “Gershwin.”

You blink down at Joochan. “What?”

“It’s Gershwin. The composer. Don't you think your boyfriend's clever for knowing that?"

“I thought my boyfriend was asleep, actually,” and you narrow your eyes.

“I was,” Joochan protests, “I only woke up when they were talking about the snow or something. And then they talked about that person who’s confessing to their crush of two years - got me thinking about how I can relate because I vividly remember having a crush on you for at least three before I could muster up the courage to confess. Which ended up working out for the best, you know,” he adds in a thoughtful tone, “but sometimes I’d get so nervous just thinking about it that I couldn’t sleep at all. Anyways, I’m really hungry now, so can we order something soon please?”

Maybe it’s the way he so nonchalantly wears his heart for you on his sleeve, or maybe it’s the way he looks at you as though you have strung the Milky Way itself together and made a gift of it to him. Maybe it’s the way you simply realize that you might not be able to live with yourself if you were to lose your boyfriend, ever. But for whatever reason it is, a thousand smiles bloom in your heart and you lean down to give Joochan a kiss that hopefully tastes like everything you cannot possibly put into words.

“Anything you want,” you whisper, and Joochan draws a heart on your knee in response.

*

enchanted.

-

You’re outside the auditorium again but in front of it, this time, and not behind. The post-concert hubbub has died down, mostly owing to the fact that much of the audience has left already whether it’s to a late congratulatory supper or down to the boardwalk where fireworks are scheduled to go off at midnight. The bouquet of lily of the valleys in your hand trembles slightly as you use your other hand to fumble around for your ringing phone.

“Hello?”

“You’re waiting outside, right?” Joochan asks.

“Yeah, I am.”

“See, Donghyun, I told you I was right about - wait. Wait! Don't move!”

And then you have less than two seconds to process exactly what is happening before your boyfriend catches you up in a running embrace that sends the world spinning in a flurry of snow and stars and kisses that Joochan plants all over your cheeks. He remains blissfully unaware that somewhere in the vicinity, Donghyun has started making gagging sounds at your very public display of affection, punctuated by Jaehyun’s giggling. (You pay them no mind.)

“Did you enjoy the concert?” he asks, fond expectation twinkling in his eyes.

You nod too much. “You were incredible,” you tell him honestly, and Joochan beams.

“I was, wasn’t I?” he says in a satisfied voice as he pulls you closer. “Guess all those hours of practice paid off.”

“It’s almost like that’s the whole point of practicing,” you tease.

“It’s lucky you’re cute and I’m hopelessly in love with you,” Joochan crinkles his nose in contrived distaste for your little jab before hugging you again so he can hear you whisper just how proud you are of him, right into his ear.

And the two of you stay like that for a little before you remember the gift you brought with you.

“For me?” And the look in his eyes reminds you of how he looked at you when you first told him that you loved him too - or maybe of every time you’ve told him that you love him too.

“Who else?”

He snaps up the bouquet, pressing it against his nose and inhaling deeply with a smile. "This is a nice surprise."

"They mean 'return to happiness'," you say, gently touching a little white bloom that looks like a star against the backdrop of Joochan's black school blazer. "Thought it was cute. And the florist was sold out of roses anyway."

Joochan laughs with the warmth of a thousand sunbeams and puts your hand in his so he can start gently tugging you away.

“But your violin”- you begin protesting.

“But nothing,” he shushes you as the school gets smaller and smaller behind you in the distance. “I don’t even want to see that thing for a week. Hey, and guess what - I found a secret place for just you and me so we can watch the fireworks without being pressed up against everyone else like sardines in a tin can.”

“You and I are going to watch the fireworks?” you echo, surprise colouring your voice.

Joochan’s exhale turns into a giggle. “Who else?” And you dig an elbow into his side, hiding a smile at his antics.

The two of you stroll down quiet streets and you lean into your boyfriend’s comforting warmth. Most shops are closed with the exception of some fast food chains and convenience stores, but you notice almost none of them now as Joochan picks up the pace, his excitement bleeding into the quiet song he sings that floats up in the air and is lost somewhere in the stars above.

“Here we are,” says Joochan proudly and he helps you up into the little gazebo at the top of the hill you hadn’t realized you were climbing. “Take this,” he adds as he tosses you a torch that brightly illuminates the space you’re in as soon as you switch it on. You turn to the rustling sounds on your left, finally seeing the wooden bench that Joochan is busy spreading a rug over.

“You planned this beforehand?” And there’s a note of wonder in your voice - the same kind that only Joochan ever seems to be able to evoke. “I thought we were going straight home.”

He gestures for you to sit next to him with a charming smile and you do so immediately. “Told you I can’t give up all the secrecy. Not yet.” Or, he thinks privately to himself, not when you look at him like that.

The golden light from the torch casts long shadows over the grass and gives Joochan’s face a nearly ethereal glow that reminds you of summer sunsets despite the cold. You slip into a soft and easy silence - one that comes from memories built upon memories, resulting in a code made up of gazes and touch that only the two of you will ever understand. And so when he squeezes your hand gently, you instantly open your arms for him to sink right into.

There’s only a few minutes left until midnight when you finally speak.

“Joochan,” you murmur.

“Mm?”

“You ever think about where we’ll be this time next year?”

Joochan shifts his posture slightly. “Often, actually. Especially when I go to sleep at night and think about tomorrow - then I’ll wonder if it’ll even remotely go the way I want it to.”

“And how do you usually want it to go?” you ask.

“Someone has a lot of questions today,” Joochan remarks with a droll look on his face that makes you laugh briefly before his expression sobers. “But usually I want it to go safely. You know? Everything in its proper place and things like that. And more importantly, I want to know all the time that I’ll be able to see you.”

You’re silent for a moment, looking out over the view of the city. If you squint, you can just make out the boardwalk by the beach and the crowds of people who have gathered there, young and old alike. “I’m scared sometimes.”

Joochan frowns. “Scared of what? I’ll fight it off for you,” and he waves a threatening fist at nothing in particular.

“The future, I guess. It sounds silly but… sometimes I don’t know if we’ll always be okay. Like this, the way things are right now. Whether it’s tomorrow or next year or even after that.” Your voice fades in volume until it’s nearly lost against the threads of your scarf, and Joochan’s heart breaks a little when he hears it: the genuine uncertainty and timid fear that seeps past the smile you give him in an effort to hide it.

“Why do you think we might not be okay?”

You look down at your feet, almost embarrassed by your own honesty. “Well, people… change, Joo. They move places, and have goals to achieve and dreams to chase down. And we’re not immune to that either.”

It’s Joochan’s turn to be silent for a bit as he mulls over your words before he straightens in your hold, turning his face towards you so he can affectionately bump his nose against yours. “You’re right,” he says in a voice that mirrors your sadness, “and it would be a lie to say I don’t think about the same things you do. But”- and he leans in to give you a quick kiss that’s shaped like a smile - “it’d also be a lie to say that every dream doesn’t feature you in it. Because every dream of mine that I’ve ever had places you centre stage.”

He kisses you again, a little longer - a little more wistfully.

“You see, the real problem here is that you have me perpetually thinking that I can’t do any of this without you,” he says simply. “Whether it’s late night phone calls or early morning messages; or maybe we’ll find ourselves having to book flights for each other, holding bags full of gifts that remind us of us. And maybe it’ll be hard and maybe I’ll wake up some days, knowing I won’t be able to see you. But that doesn’t mean we won’t be okay.”

You swallow and Joochan watches you carefully, the urgency in his eyes prompting him to lift your chin so you can see it too.

“Even if we change,” he continues in a whisper, hoping you will understand the heart in his words. “And we should. And we will, and we’ll still be okay. You believe me, don’t you? Seeing as I’m the most amazing and magical boy in the universe?”

Somewhere, midnight comes and goes and the fireworks start, dousing you and Joochan in bursts of coloured light.

“Of course I do,” you smile with eyes that glitter with tears of relief and he pulls you into a tight hug, so tight you can feel every movement of his rib cage as he breathes in and out.

For once, you do not feel that fear deep down that threatens to taint your time with the only boy you think you cannot live without. And so you unreservedly hold him in return, fingers running through his hair as he tells you that he loves you, over and over again.

*

up, up and away.

-

There had been a time during your childhood when your one greatest wish had been to go see the stars.

So your friend Joochan, in all his clumsy sincerity, had done his best to make you a rocket out of a box he’d found at home. He’d then brought it to your house after he’d finished it, blue marker staining his fingertips and glitter shaped like stars lost in his thick fringe.

The two of you had sat in it together and looked up at the moon, holding hands from childish innocence and recounting thrilling tales of adventures you’d never had. And before having to go home to bed that day, he’d made you a promise that present-day Joochan complains about not being able to fulfill.

“I know I said I’d take you to the stars,” Joochan sighs in displeasure from where he lies on your bed, right next to you, “but while your boyfriend is exceptionally talented, you do know I’m no astronaut, right?”

You hold his hand in response and look into his eyes that sparkle with mirth and deeper in, shine with a love that always gives you peace.

It may be that Joochan will never be able to keep his promise of taking you to space in a real, functioning rocket. But, as you drop a kiss on his mouth that soon widens into a brilliant smile, you can’t find it in yourself to really care.

After all, it’s hard to miss the stars when for you, they all start with Joochan and end with him.

-

if u liked this please consider dropping a like and reblogging with ur thoughts because feedback is!! always appreciated thank you!!!

#SCREAMS IT'S FINALLY DONE WITH I'M FINALLY FINISHED #golden child #golden child scenarios #golden child imagines #hong joochan #golden child hong joochan #golden child joochan #joochan #ju writes #gncd #golcha #im now off to go cry. or nap. both

[2jaeh]

baby you are | joochan

a lazy day reading books with your boyfriend joochan, but his beauty is quite distracting.

genre: fluff, drabble, boyfriend!joochan

word count: 438

author lin

The yellowed and crisped page of the book on your lap had been held between your thumb and middle finger for about ten minutes now. Your back was against the plush brown couch, almost engulfing you, as your legs were bent, feet resting on the matching brown ottoman. You still had one last paragraph to read in order to turn the page, but your eyes were far more interested in the boy relaxing on the window seat in your living room. 

He was seated against the wall, a beige pillow behind him to support his lower back. His one leg was outstretched while the other was bent and being used as a stand for the book he was reading. He was wearing a snug brown sweater with a little orange fox embroidered on the front - a sweater you found so endearing as you always told him he resembled a fox. His eyebrows knitted into a frown as he remained engrossed in his book, the warm afternoon glow illuminating his skin through the window.

You and Joochan had been together for a while now, but his beauty and adorable quirks never failed to amaze you. You smiled to yourself before letting your eyes drop back down to the book in front of you. You mentally cursed yourself for getting lost in Joochan's presence as you had completely forgotten where you had stopped reading. 

"Am I more interesting than your book?" Your thoughts were cut off by Joochan's high and gentle voice. 

You looked up to see him now grinning at you, his book closed and placed next to him as his legs dangled over the edge of the window seat. You rolled your eyes at his comment, but nevertheless you felt your face heat up with embarrassment. 

"As a matter of fact, you are," you smiled as he hopped off his seat and made his way over to you on the couch, "you looked so… ethereal."

"Ethereal?" Joochan giggled, plopping down next to and taking your hand in his, "that's a new one."

"I'm running out of words to describe you Hong Joochan." You placed your book on the coffee table before cuddling up to his side. 

"Then you just need one word," Joochan had a mischievous grin on his face, "mine."

"Mine?"

"Yeah just say… I'm mine… wait no you're mine… no wait," Joochan brought his index finger up to his temple in confusion as he frowned, "mine… I'm yours?" 

"You're mine." You giggled at his cuteness and wrapped your arms around him. 

"Yes… and you're mine." Joochan laughed lightly before placing a sweet kiss onto your cheek.

#golden child #golcha scenarios #golcha #golcha imagines #golcha fluff #gncd #gncd scenarios #gncd imagines #joochan #hong joochan #golcha drabble #golden child fluff #golden child scenarios #golden child imagines #golden child au #gncd fluff #golden child joochan #golden child hong joochan

[angelic-jeonghan1004]

Sungyoon boyfriend texts

Request: Can you make a Y version of this? (Referring to Bomin boyfriend texts)

This takes me back omg the first ever Golden Child thing I wrote was Sungyoon boyfriend texts :') I hope you enjoy! Also sorry for my inactivity I had school projects, got into a bad car crash, mental slump and had writer's block but I'm doing better! I'll try to get more stuff out!!

Genre: fluff

Pairing: Sungyoon x reader

Warnings: none!

#golden child reactions #golden child imagines #golden child #gncd imagines #gncd scenarios #gncd fluff #gncd fake texts #goldenchild sungyoon #sungyoon x reader #sungyoon imagines #daeyeol x reader #jangjun x reader #youngtaek x reader #hong joochan imagines #donghyun x reader #seungmin imagines #bomin x reader #jibeom x reader #jaehyun x reader #golcha x reader #golcha #daeyeol imagines #jangjun scenarios #youngtaek scenarios #goldenchild seungmin

[iwillgiveyoumyhappiness]

Anonymous asked:

Would you make a scenario where fem reader is in a love triangle with her two best friends Bomin and Joochan?, Like they're super good friends but both of them like her... So they confess in different moments, she kisses both and she's confused. Both of them know about the others feelings but they still want to have the upper hand. You can pick the ending and write it however you want! It'll be great if we could feel the struggle... Maybe making her have her moments whenever she hangs with one of them, like she thinks she has decided but then they kiss and the same happens with the other and it's all messy?? Thank you beforehand i hope it's not too much to ask 🥺

Group: Golden Child (골든차일드)

Members: Bomin & Joochan

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

(A/N): Warning! This took on a mind of its own, and it is now a fic—not a scenario. This chapter one, y'all. Banner by @junjungsunwoo! Thank you so much, I love it! ^-^

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Chapter 1

Hong Joochan

Everyone falls in love in different ways.

For some, it's slow and gradual. For others, it's love at first sight. And then for the rest, they're not in love until they just... are.

That's how it was for me.

You see, I had a friend. She was pretty, though I didn't realize it when we first met. Sometimes people would ask me, "Yo, are you friends with the hot chick?" and my response would always be, "Who?"

I didn't understand back then how beautiful she really was, because all I saw was 'my friend'. I'd closed myself off to the idea of seeing her as an actual woman without even realizing it.

Until one moment, I did. It was just one moment. One moment of her smiling in just the right lighting, the glare through the window putting a halo over her head.

All my memories with her flashed through my head like scenes from a movie. All the times she'd comforted me, made me laugh, or smiled for me.

In that moment, I felt like we were meeting again for the first time. Like an idiot, I stuttered when I said hi. I'd never stuttered around her before, and I knew she'd noticed it too, 'cause she didn't skip a beat in teasing me for it.

I thought maybe—just maybe—I had been underestimating how much I appreciated her presence in my life.

And how much I'd come to rely on it.

It was overwhelming, scary and exciting all at the same time. When the wave of emotions first washed over, I thought, "I've gotta tell someone."

In situations like this, Daeyeol would usually be the first person I'd spill my feelings to. He was always good at looking at things objectively and helping me evaluate myself.

But in this particular case with this particular girl, there was a better choice.

And it was Choi Bomin. He was kicked back in a chair, reading over a script from a web-drama he was gonna be starring in, his brows furrowed with concentration.

"Hey, Bomin?" I said. I was annoyed (yet also giddy) over the way my voice quivered with anxiousness. It'd been forever since I'd liked liked someone, and I was excited to get it off my chest.

In true Bomin fashion, he made eye contact for a short moment before looking back down at his script. "What's up?" he asked, a small smile resting on his lips to show that he was ready and willing to listen.

A nervous chuckled slipped out of my mouth. "I think I've got a crush on someone," I finally said, trying to keep my grin at bay.

His eyes immediately ripped away from the pages, a mixture of 'wow! I'm so happy for you!' and 'are we even allowed to do that?' written across his face. "You do?" he asked. "That's..." He thought for a moment before he couldn't hide his smile anymore.

He was trying to be all straight-up and objective, but I could tell he was getting swept up in the real-life love story, seemingly stolen straight from the pages of his script.

"Awesome," he settled on. "It's awesome. I'm happy for you!" He set the stack of papers off to the side, sitting up properly and giving me his full attention. "So, who's the lucky girl? Do I know her?"

Just thinking about it made me smile, while also simultaneously making me feel like I was gonna throw up. "Yeah, you know her pretty well," I chuckled. His eyes were burning with curiosity. "It's (Y/N)."

I'll never forget the look on his face when I said that. The absolute betrayal.

The joy I'd felt just moments ago vanished, my heart dropping to the pit of my stomach. That's when I realized it.

He liked her, too.

For you to truly understand the significance of that moment, we're gonna have to go back by about 5 years.

Or is it 6?

I don't really remember. Honestly, I didn't even realize (Y/N) and I had become such good friends until I noticed, "Wow, I sure do spend a lot of time with you."

All the guys liked her and enjoyed her company, but none of 'em were as close to her as Bomin and I.

Now, just to clarify, I was friends with her first. It probably doesn't matter to most of you, but it matters to me. I'm proud of it.

I found a best friend that would stay by my side and support me until I die—and all before I turned 30! To me, that's an accomplishment.

We met at a pretty difficult time in my life. Well, in both of our lives actually. I'd been training for a long time, and my debut at that time was... How should I put it?

Uncertain.

I was scared. Like, really scared. And angry.

Maybe that's selfish to say when others had been training way longer than I had, but hey. I'm human. I can't help it.

People told me I was doing well and to hang in just a little longer, yet I had nothing to show for it. Lots of thoughts were running through my head at that point.

Is this what I'm supposed to do with my life? Just wait? It felt like a waste.

So, yeah. At that point, my mental health had taken a nosedive, and my physical health was following right after it. I was getting nosebleeds while practicing, I could barely hold down anything I ate, the mood swings were insane, and life was pretty much just kicking me in the ass.

I remember ditching practice one day 'cause I was just so tired of everything. I felt like if I didn't get outta there, I would either cry or punch someone.

I hopped on a bus from Mapo-gu to the Han River, but I don't remember anything about the commute.

In my eyes, the world was foggy and grey. I didn't see buildings and people passing by—just silhouettes; vaguely familiar shapes and blobs of faded color.

I couldn't even bring myself to try and decipher them.

Once I got to my stop, I wandered around the park for hours and hours until dusk had fallen and my feet were rubbed red with blisters.

As the sky started changing from purple to dark blue, I'd found myself a nice spot near the water where I could just sit in the grass, watching the boats pass by as the city-scape flickered to life.

The grass was dewy and I could tell my butt was gonna get wet, but I didn't care.

I'd been there for a whole two minutes before someone poked me harshly in my bony shoulder.

I'll give you a minute to guess who that was.

If you said '(Y/N)', ding ding ding! You win the grand prize.

That first time I met her, she wasn't smiling. In fact, she was glaring at me in a pretty threatening way, but whatever.

"You're in my spot," she'd said, voice dry, monotone and unamused.

I raised a brow. "Do you own the park?"

"No."

I turned away from her, folding my knees to my chest and resting my chin on them. "Then it's not yours," I said.

Usually, I wouldn't be so rude to a perfect stranger, but she started it. I was already in a bad mood—who was this chick to show up and make me feel worse?

My resolve to ignore her died down as soon as I heard her sniffling. It sent a pang of guilt running through my chest, but it also made my blood boil.

"Fine, take your damn seat," I groaned, scooting over a bit. "If you think I'm moving any farther though, you're dead wrong," I huffed grumpily, refusing to look at her. I didn't even look out at the water—just glared at a few innocent blades of grass.

A chilly breeze blew in that moment, making the grass shiver under my harsh gaze. The timing was almost comical.

I heard her plop down next to me, still sniffling a little. "Thanks..." she said hesitantly, dabbing her nose with her sleeve. "I'm sorry I made you move." She took a deep breath, chuckling at herself. "Honestly, I can be such an ass when I'm..." her voice trailed off.

Without really noticing it, I'd found myself listening to her. I turned my head a little. I still wasn't looking at her, per se, but now we were looking in the same direction.

"When you're what?" I asked, my voice considerably more gentle than before.

She sighed through her nose. Out of my peripherals, I saw her fold into the same position as me. "When I'm in state of not being okay, I guess," she said.

I laughed ironically. I could relate to that.

"How 'bout you?" she asked. "No offense, but you're not looking too hot. Somethin' going on?"

I finally looked at her, only to find she was already looking at me. "Even if there is something going on," I started, "what's the point in telling you? We're never gonna see each other again anyway."

"Now you see, that's the beauty of it," she said. "We're strangers who will never see each other again and have no emotional attachment to each other. Therefore, no matter how much baggage we unload onto each other, it won't drag us down."

She shrugged. "I guess what I'm sayin' is... We could be honest with each other and it's no harm, no foul."

I didn't say anything for about a minute, just letting the words ruminate in my head.

"That's only if you want to, though," she said, breaking the silence I didn't realize I'd let drag on for so long. "I just figured... If you're anything like me, you wouldn't have come here if you had someone to talk to."

And she was right. I didn't have anyone to talk to at that point.

So on that Thursday evening, I swallowed my pride and spilled my deepest inner thoughts to this random stranger—and she did the same to me.

We cried a lot, laughed like psychopaths, raged and yelled, ripped up fistfuls of grass—it was a rollercoaster.

But y'know what?

We both felt refreshed afterwards. And we thought, "Great! That's the end of it and now we can part ways and forget this ever happened."

But the universe had different plans for us.

I know South Korea isn't huge, but I thought it was at least big enough for acquaintances not to run into each other every other moment.

I started seeing her on the bus, at the cafe near the agency, that random hole-in-the-wall bakery that I thought no one else knew about.

It was almost creepy, and if I thought of myself a little more self-importantly, I might've thought she was stalking me.

Then it occurred to me.

Maybe she'd always been there, living her everyday life, and I just hadn't noticed her before. Maybe this was her everyday, and I was just passing through it every once in a while.

Despite having said we'd never speak to each other again, we exchanged the basic pleasantries whenever we bumped into each other. No pressure or expectations, just a random, "Oh! Mean Han River chick!" or "Oh! Depressed trainee boy."

Her sense of humor meshed with mine—in a weird, unexpected sort of way, and we quickly became the simplest way of relieving each other's stress.

We didn't try. And honestly, most of the time, it was just an accident. We'd always just happen to find each other when we needed to talk, like fate.

If you believe in that kinda stuff, I mean.

So there you have it! That's how a stranger became my best friend. And then, as time went on, my crush.

And, well... My other friend's crush.

#golden child imagines #golden child #kpop #kpop fluff #kpop imagines #kpop scenarios #request #requested #골든차일드 #joochan #bomin #for anon #kpop angst #hong joochan #choi bomin #주찬 #최보민

[tsunchani]

[04:34 a.m.]

completed - joochan

joochan huffed, entering the apartment after a day full with practice. he let out a cough after he closed the door and put the key house in the pot table beside the door and put his house shoes even it was dark.

continued to cough, luckily he wore his mask so it did not have wake you up as his hand went to his unzipped coat, shrugging his shoulder from right to left, took of his coat and put onto the hanger neatly. he nearly cursed inside, continuing to cough but loudly this time, it was not like second ago his hands were fine but now they were a bit shaking. joochan took a deep breath, steadying his hands to take off his gray jacket that covering his body to keep him warm. the light hall flicked warmly above him, he freezed for a second, second later his head looked up to the person who was with him.

"hey." you said, leaning to the stair wall after the key chain had woken you up. honestly, you were a light sleeper these days since the day Joochan went busy and not home to accompany you.

"hey" answering you through the mask following with coughed. your eyes were usually seeing joochan's black eye bags mixed with his tired eyes, you can see it even he was trying to hide it with his black cap. but now... not nonly just your eyes went to worried one but your heart after you heard Joochan continued to cough through his mask. walking to him, seeing he took of his gray jacket, you went to him took of his cap as his chocolate black hair spread freely. waiting him to give you his gray jacket as he fold into two and gave it to you. there was no talking from both of you but silent. four eyes talking to each other meaningful.

"how's my little peanut?" joochan asked, his hand trailed down from bicep to your arm.

"she had a fine day but still whining about his daddy not coming back the time she wanted." folded the jacket and your eyes went to look up at his. you could see the change Joochan's face bfore and after you told him about his peanut. tired to guilty one.

"we're fine, chan." free hand went to his left cheek and rubbed it. Joochan leaned to your touch, sighing loudly. he continued to cough as your right hand went down to his chest, slightly patted it.

"go wash first. i will make you a chicken and bring a medicine."  he nodded, kissing your forehead before went off to the bathroom in the living room. you went to the laundry room firat, put the dirty cloth onto the basket and went straight to the kitchen.

Joochan watched his peanut sleeping peacefully after he ate. figer went to his peanut bangs and let it back to see his peanut's closed eyes as the moon shining to her. his hand rubbed her cheek softly.

"joochan, come sleep." rubbing his shoulders from behind, leaning back his head to your stomach. continued rubbing down to his strong biceps.

"daddy.." joochan leaned down to his peanut level and smiled softly.

"hey my peanut" the little girl smiled widely and hands went to her daddy's neck to hug him.

"i missed you!" she cheered loudly, joochan smiled as his hands behind her small back. he put her on his lap and kissed her forehead.

"i missed you too peanut."

"are you gonna be at home today?" her innocent eyes looked up to his, her chin on joochan's stomach.

"i don't know pumpkin. i am sorry" feeling his shoulder slumped down, you rubbed his shoulder to encourage him up.

"well... can you sleep with me? mommy and daddy?" joochan looked up to you for answer, only smiling and he knew what's your answer.

"of course pumpkin, come."

he held his daughter as he leaned down to sleep, you went to other bedside, take the duvet under you body and helped to cover Joochan's and your daughter half body. joochan let himself comfortable first before his hands circling his pumpkin's small body who was on his chest.

"i love you dad." before her eyes closed  you put your hand on your daughter's hair and rubbed her hair softly.

"now sleep dear." you said quietly and softly as she leaned to your touch and Joochan's.

you closed your eyes after she closed her eyes, your hand on your daughter's now between yours, clasped with Joochan right now.

joochan kissed your forehead as he said goodnight and love both of you. he looked at your sleeping figure and smiled as his sighed before closing his eyes.

now he felt calm. completed.

#golden child #golden child scenarios #goldencollectors #golden child imagines #golden child joochan #joochan scenarios #joochan imagines #golcha scenarios #golcha imagines #hong joochan #kpop imagines #kpop scenarios

[babysubinnie]

choi bomin as your boyfriend

- i feel like as your boyfriend he would be always do romantic things for you because he’s a virgo

- like drive in movies, late night dates, movies at the theater with golcha sitting at the back (that would be so chaotic)

- he thinks about you a lot and cares maybe a little bit too much about you

- he has the vibe of being very trustworthy so you would tell him everything,, then he would worry if you had a lot on your mind 

- but after that it would be all cuddles with your head on his chest while he plays with your hair (oh my gosh i would die for that)

- cuddles during movies at the dorms with the boys, cuddled in the corner of the couch with you sitting on his lap with him making circles on your thigh

- he would whisper i love you when you’re half asleep then you’d wake up whispering i love you too 

-  you would be shorter than him so his head would be on top of yours with his arms around your waist and yours around his neck on your tip toes

-  i feel like fights with bomin wouldn’t last long because when you start crying it hurts him a lot

- golcha would make fun of him if he stared at you too long cuz you were singing go together but only his parts

#choi bomin #bomin #golden child #golden child imagines #golden child smuts #golden child fluff #kpop imagines #boyfriend #kpop #lee daeyeol #choi seongyoon #lee jangjun #son youngtaek #bae seungmin #bong jaehyun #kim jibeom #kim donghyun #hong joochan #i wanna date him-

[multiwendi]

Maybe, I've met my soulmate too | h.jc

pairing: Joochan x reader

genre: slight angst & pure fluff

word count: 1 481

warning: swearing

theme: enemies to lovers!au & soulmate!au

Joochan hates Y/N so does she. They did not find a way to behave normally, without cursing or arguing with each other. But then they need to find their way to each other.

It all started at the age of 17 when Joochan and Y/N have started their junior year in high school. They argued so much that they both ended up in detention several times. Joochan always teased Y/N, and she didn't like it, so she defended herself. When it was finally time to go to college, she thought she would finally get rid of him and never see him again in her life. Joochan thought the same thing. It was until today. They met as Y/N hurried through the campus to her shift at a cafe nearby.

"Oh my god! Not you again, Y/L/N," you heard Joochan shouting at you from behind.

"Shut up, man. Return to the trash you came from," she yelled at him, running on to work.

As the days went by, they met more and more, not only on campus but also in the cafe where she worked.

"You must be kidding. What a coincidence to meet you here, Y/N," his arrogant voice was like an injection for her ears. Pretty annoying.

"Can you just order and go to hell, please?" she rolled her eyes, annoyed.

"You shouldn't talk to customers like that. Maybe I'll complain about you to your boss," he smirked, folding his arms on his chest.

"Try it once, and I'll kick your ass so much you won't sit on it for a month. Now please, order something," the blood in her veins began to harden.

"Was that supposed to scare me? You're still funny tho. One americano, please," he finally ordered. Y/N nodded, taking money from him. She turned around to make him the americano, so he could leave quickly.

"Here's your order. Don't come back, bye," she placed his order and smiled.

"I'll come back soon, don't worry," he grinned at her and left with a cup in his hand.

The wheater was awful for a few days since it was winter. It was freezing and snowing. It was late at night when Y/N's shift was over, and she was on her way to her apartment on campus. She barely saw anything because of the snowing. She was just in front of her apartment as she slipped on a frozen puddle, falling backward. But she didn't fall on the ground but in someone's arms.

"Hey hey, watch out," his voice was startled. He helped her stand up.

"Thank you for sav-" she turned to face her savior with a smile, but when she saw Joochan, her smile faded.

"You again. You should finish it," Joochan's provocative smile made her want to punch him.

"Thanks," she snapped at him.

"Ohoho, you should act more polite to someone who saved your ass," he came closer to her, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. His smile was still the same.

"Don't touch my hair! Am I touching your hair? Now I do," she tugged lightly at his hair to move him away.

"I was thinking lately about us two. Perhaps we could make a truce, high school is over, and we are old enough to stop behaving like children. Don't you think?" he tilted his head to the side and smiled kindly at her for the first time in their acquaintance.

"Are you trying my patience, or are you serious for the first time in your life?" she frowned, analyzing his look.

"I'm deadly serious. So, I promise you I won't make any jokes about you. I am not going to act like an arrogant idiot anymore. Here is my hand to prove that I am serious," he held out his hand to her, which she accepted after a moment's hesitation.

"Same for me. I'm going home. I could invite you for tea or coffee, but we have only made a truce. So I'll invite you when we know each other longer. See you later," she smiled nervously, leaving him on the spot. Joochan waited for her to enter her building, and then he went to the dormitory.

The next morning Y/N was preparing to go to the lecture, looking in the mirror to see if she had a crumpled shirt when she noticed that one of her strands of hair was blond.

"What the hell?" she took the strand of hair between her fingers and stared at it for a good 5 minutes.

"Am I still dreaming or what?"  she pinched herself, whimpering with pain.

"I don't know what to do with this," she sighed. She ended up making a bun, so the strand of hair wasn't very visible.

"I'll try to dye it when my classes end."

On the other side at the same time

Joochan was sleeping peacefully when his roommate woke him up with loud noises coming from the kitchen. He growled, rising reluctantly to see what was happening.

"Ah, Hyung. I didn't want to wake you up, but the pan slipped out of my hand when I wanted to make breakfast," the younger boy bowed to him with a silly smile.

"Are you okay?" Joochan looked in the fridge at what he would have for breakfast. He found some yogurt.

"Yes, I am. Hey, have you been to the hairdresser?" Bomin asked him, looking at Joochan's hair.

"No, why?" Joochan looked at him with confused eyes.

"You have a blonde strand of hair there," Bomin pointed at the hair. Joochan put the yogurt on the kitchen isle and went to the bathroom to look in the mirror. Indeed there was one strand of blond hair.

"What am I suppose to do with you?" she talked to the hair. She grabbed the phone, searching for an explanation for why the strand of hair had turned blonde out of nowhere. She couldn't find much. When, after a long search, she found a forum where one girl had the same problem. At the end of her post, she wrote that it appeared when she met her soulmate.

For perhaps the hundredth time, she had tried to dye the strand of hair to black. But it didn't work like always. She was in despair. She didn't know what to do with it.

She sat on the bathtub, holding the strand between fingers.

"Maybe, I've met my soulmate too."

It was Friday evening, Joochan was coming to her place. It's been three weeks after their truce, they became friends and sometimes went out to eat together, but most of all, they had a literary project. She was waiting outside the building when her apartment was. Joochan finally appeared.

"Hey. I brought some chicken for us," he grinned at her, walking in.

"Thanks! I haven't eaten yet. Can we eat first and then look up at the project?" she asked him, closing the door behind him.

"Okay, that sounds fine," he nodded. Y/N noticed that he has a blonde strand of hair too.

"Have you been to the hairdresser?" she asked him, sitting on the couch.

"I was just about to ask you the same question," he sat next to her, placing the bag with chicken on the small table in front of them.

"I asked first," she winked at him, which made his cheeks blush lightly.

"I wasn't. The day after our truce, I woke up, and Bomin pointed that out. He tried to dye the strand of hair, but it didn't work. So I let it be. What about you?" he looked at her. He saw the shock in her eyes. She was silent, making Joochan a little bit worried.

"Y/N? Are you okay?" he asked cautiously.

"Uhm. I don't know. I am just thinking about something," she said, still looking shocked.

"About what?" Joochan tilted his head, waiting for her response.

"I have the same story as you. I have the strand of hair blonde from the day after our truce. I was wondering what could have caused it. So I searched and found one post about a girl whose strand of hair turned blonde. That strand

was touched by her soulmate," she said, looking at him to see if he didn't find it as strange as she did.

"Are you trying to tell me that you are my soulmate?" his eyes were shocked, as were hers.

"Nobody except you touched my hair. I am shocked because we used to be enemies, and now we are soulmates," she shrugged.

"Yeah, it's weird, but if that's the case, we should try it," Joochan leaned closer to her face, kissing her on the lips. She placed her palm on his cheek, deepening their kiss.

#request #anon #golden child #golcha #gncd #golden child fluff #golden child angst #golden child scenario #golden child imagine #golcha fluff #golcha angst #golcha imagine #golcha scenario #hong joochan #golden child joochan #golcha joochan #joochan fluff #joochan angst #joochan imagine #joochan scenario #gncd joochan

[thepixelelf]

@welllurkyhere said:

[troubled waters] "You can't be serious." Donghyun regards the ship with disgust, his head just far enough above the water to whisper into the air. His eyes follow yours again, and they find the young man leaning against the life lines of the ship, facing the sunset. "Him?"

Annoyed, you click your tongue and flick a splash of water at Donghyun's face, but he doesn't flinch. The two of you are safely hidden in the shadow the ship casts upon the surface of the sea, so you don't fear the man above catching the movement. "He's cute."

"But he's got--" Donghyun scrunches his nose in distaste. "--legs."

"What's wrong with legs?"

Donghyun shakes his head, like the thought alone is enough to make him shiver. "They're like... tail arms. Freaky."

You look up at the man again, whose profile is haloed by the setting sun behind it. "Legs let them move about on ships so easily, though," you muse wistfully.

"Yeah, and they only have ships because they can't swim in the first place."

"They can swim!" you argue. "I've seen them."

Donghyun raises an eyebrow at you. "Just how often are you human-watching? Every day?"

You dip half of your head back in the water so that your eyes are just above the surface, peering sheepishly at Donghyun. "Not every day..."

Letting out a sigh, Donghyun shakes his head and looks away, his eyes landing on the man on the ship again, who still has taken no notice of either of you. "You're lucky I like you." He floats back a little, arms treading water. "Let's go. You might be Daeyeol's favourite, but he won't like if both of us are hanging around human ships."

"It's dark..." you complain, but you start to follow anyway. Donghyun is right; it's not safe for merfolk to be this close to humans no matter the time of day. Hunting is still a fear engraved in all merfolks' hearts, and you must be grateful that you have the advantage of merfolk intelligence. A fish will not hide from a fishing boat. It doesn't know any better.

Donghyun knows better. Daeyeol knows better. They both wish you held the same sentiment.

You look at the man on the ship once again, with his sweet profile and his dark, windswept -- dry -- hair. You wonder for a moment what that feels like.

You can smell it on the ocean. "I think a storm is coming..."

Already turned the other way, Donghyun says only one thing before submerging to better swim home. "A sunken ship is not our business."

You suppose it's not.

Though, hours later, while Donghyun sleeps soundly on a coral bed, you break above the rocky surface of the ocean once again. The waves of the ocean are alive, thrashing and thriving and throwing a tantrum because they can never get along with the sky when it pelts down rain and strikes lightning upon its white froth. The ship is nothing but a silhouette in the distance, backlit by the moon, but your tail carries you to it in haste.

You see it when the man is thrown off the ship. The large vessel nearly upturns itself, but it straightens within moments. You pry your eyes away from the wooden beast and frantically search the hungry waves for the man, eyesight adjusted to the dark and yet hard-fought to find him with the waves fighting against you. More confident in spotting him under the waves, you submerge yourself beneath the water. You spot his legs just as he fights his way to the surface, and, without thinking of the repercussions, you emerge beside him.

Still sputtering as he struggles to stay afloat, he only glances at you for a moment before looking at the ship that is quickly moving further and further away. He curses. "You fell too--?" He waves a frantic arm in the air, but even you can barely see it. "Maybe we can get their attention--"

The ship sails further off, and the man curses again. He thrashes around in the water, searching desperately for a solution -- for a way to save his life. His movements become harsher and stiffer. You can tell his body is succumbing to the cold.

"Why aren't you--" He finally faces you, and you can only blink back at him. This is the closest you've ever been to a human, after all. You can barely see his face, the moon behind him, but yours must be lit just enough, because a flash of recognition appears in his eyes. Not recognition in that he knows you, but in knowing that he doesn't know you. It's fear that paints his face now. "Who--"

He bobs in the dark waves, causing him to sputter and choke on salt water. You shake yourself back into clarity then, swimming closer to him. Your tail is still hidden under the water, but the panic in his eyes is clear. Just the fact that he knows you're not from the same ship he fell from is enough to make him fear you.

"What-- who are-- stop!" He tries to swim backwards, away from you, but he is slow and shivering, as humans are apt to be. You reach out to him. "No! Stay away!"

Still, you place your hands on either side of his face, his cheeks blazing hot compared to the water. Oceans Great, Daeyeol is going to be so mad at you for this.

Even as the man squirms, you pull him close and slot your lips over his. He tries to press his mouth shut, but before he can, your magic breathes through your body and into his. It glows a bright white, and you can feel it in him. His thrashing limbs slow, and his shivers cease; he calms down as he feels the magic of the sea flow through him, though you are sure he doesn't know why. If it weren't for his legs still kicking to keep him above the surface, he'd be frozen still, his lips unmoving against yours.

You remove yourself from him when you're sure the magic has passed onto him completely, and he gawks at you with wide eyes.

"What in all the stars..."

Thunder crashes nearby, and you both flinch.

"Troubled waters," you mumble, removing your hands from his face as you look out over the ocean. You can hardly see the ship now with the pouring rain. "Come." His hand jerks when you go to take it, but he doesn't attempt to pull it out of your grasp. "I'll take you to shore."

The man laughs, a scoff almost, and then looks surprised at himself for even being capable of laughing in such a situation. "Shore?" he echoes. "We're days from shore by boat, and all we have is our feet!"

It's your turn to laugh now.

When you pull him beneath the surface, he holds in a scream with his breath, and he screws his eyes shut. He struggles against you, legs fighting with a strength they did not possess before you passed on some of your magic to him. You are stronger, though, even more so under the waves, and you drag him deeper and deeper until the water is calm and he has no choice but to let his burning lungs go.

And he breathes. Just like you do.

He opens his eyes, and you can see on his face that your magic has allowed him better vision underwater too. His eyebrows rise on his forehead, which is haloed by the short hair floating around his head. Your tail shimmers in the water, and he can only gawk at it. He goes to speak, then gasps, pulling himself out of your grip and covering his mouth and nose with both hands.

"It's okay," you tell him with your mouth closed, sending your meaning to him through your magic. "Underwater, it's easier to talk like this."

"How--" His eyes widen further. "How am I--" He recoils a bit, and tries to swim backwards, his arms held out as if to block you from him. "Are you going to kill me?"

You look around in the dark water. Nothing swims near you, or anywhere close according to your senses. The surface of the sea during a storm is most unpleasant, and residents like yourself generally stay much deeper on nights like these. Still, the darkness and lack of motion concern you. It's almost... too quiet.

"No," you say. "But the ocean will, if we stay here. It's not safe for creatures like you. Come." You hold out your hand. "I'll take you to shore. Do you trust me?"

The man shakes his head. Profusely.

"Well, it's either me, or..." You make a show of looking around, where there is nothing but black water surrounding you both.

He decides he does trust you.

At least, more than the sea.

#golden child scenarios #golden child imagines #golden child x reader #hong joochan x reader #joochan x reader #hong joochan scenarios #hong joochan imagines #joochan scenarios #joochan imagines #golcha scenarios #golcha imagines #golcha x reader #gncd scenarios #gncd imagines #gncd x reader #kpop imagines #kpop scenarios

[eternallyhyucks]

1:23am | hong joochan

pairing: bf! joochan x fem! reader

word count: 300

genre/warnings: fluff, mentions of feeling like a burden

summary: joochan calls late at night asking to meet up

—note: based on ‘a song for me’ by golden child + has some lyrics from it included!

𖤐 ྀ

after finishing your last piece of homework left for classes, you began getting ready for bed when you heard a light buzzing sound from your bed: a call from joochan. worried, you pick up.

“joochan? are you okay??” you hear a sigh from the other side of the phone “i guess ?” thinking about how you could understand him better you say, “do you wanna talk about it?”

he immediately replies, “can we meet up? you contemplated whether you wanted to wait until morning to meet up, but as it seemed urgent, you gave in and agreed.

“sure, see you in 15?”

“tysm y/n”

“of course” you smiled.

15 minutes later the two of you were at a small park in between your houses.

“so whats going on?”

“i feel .. like a burden”

a bit startled you reply, “how so?”

“well, it just feels like no matter how hard i try to be good, no one knows my effort, like it’s meaningless. i dont know why im feeling like this now because i wasnt like this when i was young. im not confident and now i want to find my better self,” he says.

“joo :( you couldve told me!! i know exactly how you feel. there was a time in my life where i felt that way, but do you know how i got out of that rut?”

“how? is there actually a way?” he asked in disbelief.

“you. i met you and finally felt like i could be myself. i felt like somebody understood the effort i put into everything. i felt loved for the first time in a long time.”

“y/n?”

“yes joochan?”

“will you be the joochan to my y/n?”

“the joochan to-” you laugh as you realize what he’s saying and reply, “of course.”

©eternallyhyucks

#golden child #golcha #golcha images #golden child images #hong joochan #joochan imagines #joochan #hong joochan imagines #eternallyhyucks

[golchaworld]

[11:29am]

Joochan has so many eyelashes. You find yourself counting them in the late morning sun, each individual hair illuminated in a golden haze. They cast a soft shadow over his high cheekbones, and as you look at them, you find yourself falling deeper in love.

“Only creepers watch people sleep,” a gruff voice mumbles.

Instantly a smile adorns your face, cheeks scrunching up in pure bliss. “Then I guess I’m a creeper.”

Joochan smiles, finally opening his eyes. The eyelashes you love to count flutter for a moment before settling. Your boyfriend’s eyes are still glazed from sleep, yet they hold an insurmountable amount of adoration.

“Wrong,” Joochan protests. “You’re my creeper.”

You don’t have time to protest about his corniness before he wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you further into his embrace. A soft kiss is placed on your forehead before your boyfriend pulls back to gaze down at you. For a moment, his eyes widen.

“Woah, you have, like, so many eyelashes.”

#hong joochan #hong joochan imagines #golcha imagines #golden child imagines #golden child #golcha #escritos

[blossom-hwa]

To Bloom in the Night - JOOCHAN

I accept half the blame for this fic but the other half has to go to one casey @thepixelelf​​ both for coming up with the title and for convincing me to make this angst instead of the original pure fluff it was meant to be.... anyway casey this fic and the universe as a whole is dedicated to you because without your big brain I would not have been able to figure out all the storylines

(This is set in the same universe as weaver!Bomin, whose masterlist is linked below!! Also if you want a visual for Joochan think wannabe era like in the gif) 

Pairing: Joochan x gender neutral!reader

Genre: fluff, angst, fantasy, royalty!au

Triggers: cursing, brief mentions of death and blood (nothing graphic), one implication of abuse, asshole parents

Word Count: 24.4k

Death cannot exist without life, which is why Joochan can’t exist without you.

To Spin a Yarn | Golden Child Masterlist

Once upon a time, in a kingdom far, far away, there lived two princes bestowed with magic. They were beautiful, kind – even their parents’ hardened hearts could not break the bond between them. This was fortunate, for in one prince lay a secret that would set a rift in the family for years to come.

The second prince was blessed, a golden child. His charming face and smiling lips drew attention the second he walked into a room, and the mere sound of his voice made all those present swoon. His song was rapturous, magical – his music possessed the ability to heal the deepest wounds and soothe the coldest hearts. He was useful to his parents, the perfect heir, especially when they decided to pass over his brother, the first prince, for claim to the throne.

For this brother was said to be cursed, cursed with the magic of death rather than the blessing of life. His beauty was darker, eyes piercing where his brother’s were soft, and his song, though achingly beautiful, cleft the very wounds his brother healed and wrought pain on the soul. Despite being first born, despite having a kind heart that never wished a single person harm, the king and queen looked upon him with fear and disgust, lavishing their favor on his brother instead.

Yet despite their differences, the brothers loved each other to the fullest. The elder did not resent the younger for his freedom to sing and only encouraged his art, while the younger saw beyond the sorrow woven in his brother’s voice and into the goodness of his soul. All those who saw the pair marveled at their friendship, in the way their eyes shone whenever the other was near, and many whispered that the royal family was blessed, even if the king and queen themselves refused to see it – these two young princes, blessed with handsome looks and gentle hearts, were more than the cold-hearted rulers truly deserved.

But love, the brothers would learn, meant more than simply staying together. Sometimes a love born of shared blood was not enough to keep one by the other’s side. In time, the first prince would wither under his curse of death, unable to smile even with his brother’s golden light glowing upon his face, for not being free to use the voice he was gifted by the gods cut gashes in his heart deeper than even his brother’s song could heal. Music lived in his soul, song shimmering in his blood, but so long as he was a pariah in his own home, he could not exercise his gift for fear of bringing death upon an innocent.

(It had happened once already.)

So he sang at night, music confined to the corners of his room. His voice echoed between the thick stone walls, lachrymose, sorrowful even with the happiest of songs. He sang for only himself to hear, never daring even to open the windows unless he knew no one stood below on the blank patch of stubborn grass that somehow still managed to grow, even under the curse of his song.

Then the gardener came with their night-blooming roses, petals of the darkest midnight blue blossoming under shimmering stars. And when the first prince stepped onto the balcony to perform for a crowd of what he thought was no one, he heard, for the first time in his life, someone wholly, fully alive, singing words of healing back.

From then, night by night, the prince began to unfurl his withered leaves, darkened flowers reaching for the moon as starlight glinted on his petals. For in this duet with his night-blooming rose, the first prince learned the lesson of the gods, imparted to mortals in centuries past but lost to fear of the unknown, of the darkness beyond the sun.

Death cannot exist without life, as life cannot exist without death. They are opposite and the same, two sides of a single coin. And in this gardener of the night-blooming roses, the first prince had found the life to his death, a second half in ways even his brother, loving though he was, could not yet hope to contest.

This is the story of the first prince, marked as a curse from the age of five, who grew to learn the gift behind his melody of death when it first twined with the harmony of life.

. . . . .

Joochan’s stomach roils as he stands in front of the mirror, silently waiting for the half dozen servants scuttling around his feet to finish the last adjustments to his suit. It fits him perfectly already – he doesn’t understand what they’re still doing to the hemline of his pants or the shoulders of his shirt – but Joochan doesn’t have much knowledge about clothes. Only music.

And curses and death.

His stomach doesn’t flip this time, only sinks as he closes his eyes briefly against reminders of the magic that flows unused through his veins. They don’t fade, though, only come to the forefront of his mind even as he tries to beat them back. His magic is the reason he’s wearing this suit, after all.

“Please turn left, Your Highness,” a soft voice says. Joochan doesn’t argue, just shifts in front of the mirror, and someone goes to work on his left pant leg.

Can’t show up looking sloppy today, not when he’s about to meet the princess his parents have promised him to for the rest of his life.

Joochan bites his lip hard, probably ruining the delicate lip stain applied to make his mouth appear softer, pinker, sweeter. Already he can see one servant frowning in disapproval as she dips a brush into the pink color before swiping it lightly back over his lips. She doesn’t say anything, but Joochan bows his head in apology regardless. It softens the tightness in her lips.

It seems Joochan can’t do anything without apologizing, really. Walking too loudly, biting his lip, breathing, living, being born…

He’ll probably do something and have to apologize to the princess today, too. Trip over her skirts, maybe, or spill his drink. He’s known to be clumsy, much more so than his brother Bomin (though in his defense, he never had the same lessons in posture and deportment that Bomin did, not after they erased his claim to the throne). At least this kind of thing is easier to apologize for than the reason they’re being married.

If Joochan wasn’t so cursed, after all, his parents wouldn’t be this eager to have him shipped off so early.

And he wouldn’t be stuck in this stupid suit.

A careless needle pricks the back of his shin. He flinches. Someone murmurs an apology and he ducks his head briefly in acknowledgement. A needle in his skin is less of an issue than his tiny breakfast threatening to make an appearance on the floor –

With effort, Joochan reins himself in. Just in time, too – the servants have finally stopped crouching around his feet and begun filtering out the door, leaving only Jaehyun behind to help him into the matching coat. “Ready?” he asks, settling the fabric over Joochan’s shoulders.

Joochan relaxes a little with the warmth in Jaehyun’s voice. He only ever speaks when they’re alone for fear of someone seeing him overstep his station (which would not end happily, especially if word reached his parents), but he’s still one of Joochan’s oldest friends in the palace and Joochan knows Jaehyun cares for him, feels it in the light touches, the subtle looks, the brief nods and smiles that the servant passes him when the time is right.

With only a handful of people whom Joochan can say truly know and care for him, he treasures every spot of comfort any of them can give.

“No,” Joochan replies honestly, shrugging his shoulders under the coat. He’ll have to take it off once he reaches the tearoom, what’s the point of putting it on in the first place? “You know I don’t want this. But…”

But a lot of things, all of which Jaehyun already knows.

Jaehyun’s lips turn in sympathy. “She’ll probably be nice,” he says, dreamy voice reassuring. “I mean, she’s Donghyun’s sister. Even if you haven’t met her yet, you know he wouldn’t speak so highly of someone he didn’t care for.”

Joochan swallows. Jaehyun has a point, the same point Joochan has made to calm himself many times over the past few weeks. “Yeah,” he breathes. “I hope so.”

Before Jaehyun can say any more, a knock sounds at the door, heavy and light all at once with an energy only Joochan’s personal guard can muster. “Time to go!” Jangjun calls through the stone.

Deep breaths. Joochan clenches his fist once. Lets go. Tries to relax himself as he stares at the door.

“Joochan?”

He blinks, registering Jaehyun’s concerned face. His lips tilt into a brief smile. As bad as this might be, at least he’ll have Bomin and Jangjun there, even if Jaehyun has to stay behind. Donghyun, too. Three friends out of four will have to be enough for today.

“Sorry,” he apologizes. “I’m fine.” Reaching forward, Joochan opens the door to Jangjun’s carefully stoic face.

Jangjun raises an eyebrow at Joochan’s countenance but says nothing about it. “Ready, Your Highness?”

No.

“Yes.” Joochan bites the inside of his lip so as not to ruin the makeup again. “Let’s go.”

. . . . .

Joochan’s hands ache by the time his parents have had enough of his playing and Bomin’s voice, motioning for them to sit down and take some of the refreshment they’ve been nibbling at during the hour of music. He gladly does, settling himself on the soft chair as he nurses the tension in his forearm. His fingertips have hardened after years of playing the violin, but even after nearly two decades of playing the piano, his muscles still tense after he plays too long.

He looks to the side and his stomach flips unpleasantly, remembering why he’s here.

Donghyun’s sister sits next to him, eyes carefully fixed on the small plate placed in front of her. There isn’t much there – similar to Donghyun, then, in his bird-like appetite, unless it’s just nerves – and she doesn’t look up to face him, even when he almost meets her eyes.

Something curdles in Joochan’s stomach. She’s Donghyun’s sister and Donghyun is one of his good friends. If it were anyone else he’d been promised to, Joochan might be inclined to raise a bigger fuss, but the fact that she’s a member of Donghyun’s family keeps his lips tightly shut.

Bomin wordlessly passes him a plate of cookies. At a warning glance from his brother, Joochan takes one, breaking off a piece and putting it in his mouth. Sweet frosting crumbles between his teeth but all he tastes is sawdust.

At the other end of the table, Donghyun’s mother begins lavishing praise on Joochan’s and Bomin’s talents. She’s a sweet woman, to be sure – if Joochan were normal, he wouldn’t be so opposed to being her son-in-law – but all Joochan can think of as he gives thanks for her kind words is that his parents are forcing him to inflict his cursed little self onto Donghyun’s happy family just so they can be rid of him once and for all.

Well, it’s not as if they’re completely blameless either. The princess isn’t actually royal, just the orphaned daughter of high nobility whom the palace took in when she was young. A match like this is advantageous for them, too – the first prince of a powerful kingdom, even one passed over for the throne, is a good match indeed for one who doesn’t even have royal blood. Even the insult of marrying someone barren of magic can be overlooked.

Children are only pawns for their parents, pawns on a little chessboard where their parents play. They’ll forever be pawns until their parents die, and then they’ll become the players, using their own children as pawns in the new generation’s game of royal chess…

Joochan moodily stirs sugar into his tea. The silver spoon scrapes lightly at the bottom of the cup and he flinches slightly at the grating sound. If Donghyun’s parents knew the truth – hell, if Donghyun himself knew the truth – they probably wouldn’t be pushing this marriage so hard. They probably wouldn’t be pushing it at all.

Not for the first time, Joochan ponders the consequences of telling Donghyun or his sister the real story, the one where he isn’t devoid of magic. The one where he can sing, beautifully, even – it’s just that anything alive will drop dead after the first few bars of his song.

Well, except the grass beneath his balcony window. Joochan doesn’t know how it keeps growing, but he appreciates the effort.

Bomin pokes his side. Someone said his name.

Joochan looks up, almost spilling his tea. The cup rattles in the saucer and he winces, already feeling his mother’s subtle glare out of the corner of her carefully blank eye. “Yes?”

“Why don’t you take your fiancée for a walk in the gardens?” she asks. “Our gardens are always lovely on such a clear day.”

It’s a demand shaped as a question and Joochan doesn’t bother to dispute, only nodding briefly before taking his fiancée’s arm as they stand. “Of course.”

On his other side, Bomin makes a small fist in encouragement. Donghyun smiles from across the table. Joochan does his best to return the gestures before walking out of the tearoom with his fiancée – gods, he hates that title – on his arm, Jangjun following silently behind.

“Do you actually want a tour of the gardens?” Joochan asks when he’s sure they’re out of sight. Jangjun won’t say anything, and his parents probably don’t actually care where he really goes – they just want him away for a little, presumably to get to know his future wife. Bitterness fills his mouth – future wife – but he swallows it down. “We could go somewhere else, if you want. Anywhere, really.”

She only raises a curious eyebrow, jerking her head slightly towards Jangjun where he stands, a silent presence. Joochan understands her unspoken question and smiles, this time genuinely. “Jangjun won’t tell,” he says, glancing back at his guard. He receives a wink in response.

Something in the princess’s expression cracks with relief. Her lips curve, gaze turning brighter with careful amusement. “I almost thought you were going to be one of those suck-up princes,” she says, eyes cautiously teasing. “Thank you for proving me slightly wrong.”

Joochan raises an eyebrow. “Slightly?”

“Only time will tell the full truth.” She shrugs. Joochan appreciates her honesty. “And I wouldn’t mind seeing the gardens, actually, Your Highness. Your gardeners sing to the flowers, don’t they?” Her gaze turns curious.

“Please just call me Joochan, we’re of the same rank.” We’re going to be married soon, anyway. “And yes, they do,” Joochan confirms. It’s wondrous to watch them coax withered leaves into brightness, wilting petals into bloom, even if he himself will never be able to create such beauty. “The gardeners might be on their break right now, but if they are, I’ll see if you can listen to them sing before you leave next week.”

“Thank you.” She smiles, and in another body, in another universe, Joochan thinks he could have fallen in love with her. Donghyun’s sister seems bright for the most part – intelligent, kind, curious, with a pinch of much-appreciated mischief. Her dance was captivating earlier, and she certainly has the same appreciation for music that Joochan and Bomin do.

But Joochan would always have to hide around her, hide his song and his curse. For that reason, he can’t bring himself to contemplate even the notion of truly falling for someone around whom he’d always have to pretend to be a different person.

They walk quietly for a while, stopping under larger trees every so often to admire the flowers from the shade. She compliments his skill at violin and piano, and he admires her dance. Neither of them speaks of his supposed inability to sing. Joochan dutifully picks a small bouquet and presents it to her – all different types of tulips, her favorite (his are roses, but he doesn’t mention that) – and they keep making small conversation, all the while keeping an eye out for any gardeners tending to the blossoms.

It’s a good thing Joochan knows how to talk, because as the half hour mark ticks past, there hasn’t been a single gardener in sight. The grounds are large, of course, and many are probably still on their afternoon break, but words become harder and harder to find and Joochan is almost ready to suggest turning back when they round a corner to see a solitary figure bent over a bush of roses, softly singing to the blooms.

No matter how many times Joochan has listened to those with healing music breathe their magic into plants, the scene never grows old in his mind. Listening to your song, watching the pink roses unfurl their petals under the sunlight, Joochan almost forgets the lady on his arm. It doesn’t matter, anyway – Donghyun’s sister stands just as still as he, gaze fixed on the sight.

If only he could inspire such life.

Too soon, the song ends. Joochan blinks, clearing himself of the daze of your music, and Donghyun’s sister sighs softly at his side, eyes sparkling with rapture. He’s about to suggest quietly that they move on so as not to disturb you from your work, but you turn around first.

Joochan balks as your eyes widen, taking in his dyed pink hair just before you sink to one knee, respectfully bowing your head. “Your Highnesses,” you murmur softly.

Your spoken voice is as beautiful as your song.

“Please rise,” he replies, smiling. The ever-present ache in his heart seems to have relaxed slightly with the sound of your music. “We were only listening to your song. You sing beautifully.”

“You really do,” his fiancée echoes. “Wondrous.”

A flustered smile lifts the corners of your lips and you duck your head, bowing once more. “Thank you, Your Highnesses. I am honored at your praise.”

“Are you new?” Joochan asks on impulse. “I apologize, I just haven’t seen you around before. What is your name?”

You nod. “Yes, Your Highness. I only began work a few days ago. My name is Y/N.”

“Well, Y/N, I hope you have been properly welcomed into your employment.” Joochan smiles. “My fiancée and I should be going so we won’t disturb you further, but thank you for gracing us with your voice.”

The smile on your face grows wider. “The pleasure was all mine. Thank you for gracing me with your presence.”

Joochan turns away, Donghyun’s sister following on his arm. Grass rustles behind them as you presumably get back to work. “That was amazing,” she whispers, eyes still rapturous.

“I know.” Joochan shakes his head. “Every time I see it, I still can’t believe my eyes.”

They lapse into compatible silence once more, quietly admiring the flowers on all of their sides. Joochan peers at a new bush of roses, studying the white petals, when Donghyun’s sister stops beside him. He looks up. “Is something the matter?”

“Oh, no.” She smiles, pointing ahead at an empty patch of grass underneath a tall balcony.

Joochan’s heart freezes. How did he not realize they were coming through this way, under his own rooms?

Too late, he realizes Donghyun’s sister is waiting for a response. “I’m sorry, what did you say?”

“I was just noticing that the garden was slightly empty up there.” She points again briefly. “Is there a reason for it?”

The lie, though bitter, falls quickly from his lips. “Oh, for some reason, things don’t seem to grow well over there other than the grass.” He shrugs, hoping his words don’t tremble. “The gardeners can’t figure out why. They’ve tried everything.”

His fiancée looks mystified, but she accepts the explanation without further questions. Silence falls again and stretches until they return to the tearoom, ready to face cautious siblings and eager parents once more.

. . . . .

“So?” Bomin raises an eyebrow as he and Joochan enter their shared hallway, pausing in front of his room. He looks around, but no one’s there. Jangjun got held up a couple minutes ago, and Bomin has carefully placed himself where no other guards will hear him if he speaks quietly. “What did you think of her?”

Joochan studies a crack in the stone wall. “She was nice. I liked her.”

Even without looking, Joochan can tell Bomin’s second eyebrow has risen. Why they don’t look strange against his brother’s ashy dyed hair, Joochan doesn’t know, but Bomin somehow looks good in everything. Even dark eyebrows against grey-white hair.

“Not in that way, though.”

Joochan doesn’t refute Bomin’s statement. His brother is even more perceptive than he despite his younger age – after so many years growing up alongside each other, Bomin picks up on Joochan’s nuances of language and action more easily than Joochan himself realizes. He just shrugs.

Bomin sighs. He doesn’t say anything, but one look at his carefully schooled expression reveals the apology coating his tongue. It doesn’t fall, of course, because Joochan told Bomin to stop apologizing years ago, but the impulse is still there.

Joochan almost smiles. At times like this, even Bomin isn’t so difficult to read. “It’s not your fault,” he says, words slipping off his tongue with deceptive ease.

“Still.” Bomin bites his lip, smudging the thin sheen of lip stain that’s somehow still there after the entire day. “I just…” He sighs. “I don’t know. I just want you to be happy.”

“I am happy.” As if to prove it, Joochan widens his lips into a smile and forces his eyes to crinkle in a way that sometimes (rarely) manages to fool his brother. “At least, I might be. In the future. You know.” His lips curl in mischief. “Might fall madly in love with Donghyun’s sister after she saves me from an assassin’s knife, like those –”

A hand covers Joochan’s mouth before he can go on. He smiles behind Bomin’s fingers anyway, a real smile, because Bomin’s ears are red and nothing delights Joochan more than flustering his younger brother.

“We don’t mention those books,” Bomin hisses, face flushed. “Right?”

Joochan licks his hand and laughs at his brother’s cry of disgust. “I didn’t mention them,” he teases, mouth free. “I only hinted.”

“I hate you.” The way Bomin’s hiding a smile, though, confirms that his words are just a lie. “You absolute insufferable menace. I’m going to suffocate you with a pillow.”

“That is, unless a brave princess saves me from my evil brother –”

Joochan dodges Bomin’s swipe, cackling, before skipping over to his door and darting inside. After a second, he pops his head back out. “Goodnight!”

A grumbled “goodnight” follows with the sound of a second closing door, and then Joochan is left to feel the smile slide off his lips as he faces the stone walls of his room.

Alone.

Joochan swallows, staring at the darkened night outside his windows. The stars glitter, moonlight just beginning to seep onto the cold floor.

Already he knows it will be a sleepless night.

He goes through the motions, answers the door to Jaehyun’s light knock and allows his servant to help him undress. Jaehyun doesn’t ask much – maybe Joochan’s expression isn’t as neutral as he thought – but squeezes his arm slightly before he heads back out, closing the door behind him with a low thud. Joochan blows out the lantern on his desk with a practiced puff of breath, crawls into bed, and closes his eyes even though he knows it won’t do anything.

Sure enough, when the palace clocks strike midnight, Joochan is still wide awake. He heaves a sigh, rolling over one more time in a last ditch effort to fall asleep.

No use.

Joochan swings his legs out of bed. Using the moonlight as a beacon, he feels his way over to his desk and picks up the violin and bow sitting on top of all of his books and music. He plays a few quick scales before settling the instrument more firmly beneath his chin and turning to the window.

He wants to sing. Aches to. The longer he stands by his desk, staring out the balcony, the more he feels the urge as though the moonlight itself tugs at his heart, the way it does to the tides.

So he does. The walls of his room are thick for a reason – if no one can hear him playing his violin so late at night, no one will hear his voice, either. He draws the bow over the strings, fingers plucking in practiced motions as he raises his voice with the highs and lows in a wordless melody, achingly beautiful even to his own ears, a song of sorrow and pain under the darkness of night.

When he finishes, he’s somehow migrated to the balcony window, staring out at the barren garden below. The hand holding his bow reaches out, touches the cool glass.

No one will be out so late, not tonight. In just four days, there will be a grand ball celebrating his engagement – everyone will be catching up on sleep tonight before three days of rapid preparation. Guards have never been posted under his balcony for safety reasons (their safety, not his – Joochan honestly thinks his parents would be fine if he dropped dead), and gardeners don’t work at night until they’re tending the night-blooming flowers, none of which are in this stretch of garden. So Joochan shifts the glass aside, letting in a cool breeze that rustles his abandoned blankets and ripples through his nightshirt, and steps into the night air.

Joochan raises the bow once more, bringing it to the strings as he lets his voice loose, singing to silent audience as he leans into the violin like a lifeline. His song carries in the soft breeze, fading beyond the trees, but Joochan doesn’t care if his song merely disappears into the air instead of echoing in a tearoom, in a shrine, in a concert hall. So long as he can convince himself there is an audience listening that isn’t just him, convince himself that people can hear and love his voice as he draws his bow over the violin strings, he will be content, at least in this moment.

His song begins a crescendo and he closes his eyes, sparkling stars and the waxing moon splashed like a mural across his eyelids. His throat strains to keep the melody and he reaches the highest note, slowly, slowly climbing back down as a smile spreads across his face –

The violin almost falls from his hands when a voice begins singing back.

Someone is singing back. Meaning – someone heard his song – and they are not dead and somehow singing back –

Joochan stumbles backward, almost falling into his room. He catches himself on the side of the balcony window, shoulder throbbing where he hit it against the stone, but he can’t even register the pain because someone is down there and heard him singing and gods, maybe they’re about to die and Joochan will have killed a second person in his short life, two people, two people too many –

The song continues. Softer, yes, but deliberately so, not weakened by a failing heart or incoming death. It continues, smooth like starshine, coaxing, beautiful…

It doesn’t stop.

Step by step, Joochan walks forward and peers over the balcony edge. In the moonlight, he catches a glimpse of roses beneath the stone platform – yes, roses, midnight blue roses of Joochan’s favorite variety that only blooms at night – blossoming under his balcony which means they somehow survived the curse of his voice.

And not just them.

Someone steps out from directly under the balcony into Joochan’s line of vision. A vaguely familiar figure with a vaguely familiar voice – no, not vaguely, an entirely memorable voice from just hours before –

Y/N.

Wide, shocked eyes meet Joochan’s directly in the moonlight, confirming his suspicions. His heart leaps into his throat and stays there as you stare at each other, a prince and a gardener, one with a cursed voice and the other seemingly unaffected by it – unaffected by it, which should be impossible –

Too late, Joochan remembers that his face is memorable if not for the fact that he is a member of royalty, then by his head of dyed pink hair. Which means you can recognize him. His feet stumble back into the room and he all but crashes into the side of the balcony before managing to shove the window in place. He nearly crushes his hand and violin between glass and stone before he slides to the floor, head thudding painfully against the stone wall.

You know.

You know.

You – a simple gardener, wholly new to the palace – know now from his stupid face and pink hair that he has a curse that wilts flowers and kills people and yet somehow – somehow your voice is strong enough to make withered roses bloom once more and even more importantly, somehow you didn’t die upon hearing his song.  

Joochan doesn’t get a wink of sleep that night.

. . . . .

Jaehyun walks into Joochan’s room the next morning and upon seeing his face asks, “What happened to you?”

Joochan just groans and covers his face with a pillow. It’s day two of Donghyun’s family’s visit and he has to be up for meetings and showing his fiancée around and whatnot, but he knows he has to look like death after an entire night of racing thoughts and zero sleep. “Do I look that bad?”

In reply, Jaehyun goes and finds a small army of servants skilled in the underappreciated art of makeup who spend over an hour dispelling the gray from his skin and bringing back the slightest shade of color to his face.

It probably helps, at least somewhat. But even Jangjun, who normally can keep a neutral expression during the worst situations, makes a face when Joochan walks out the door. “Did you sleep at all last night?” he asks quietly as they set off down the hall.

“Some,” Joochan says truthfully. He did drift off sometime toward dawn. But there was less than an hour between then and Jaehyun waking him up again, so it doesn’t count for much.

Jangjun raises a disbelieving eyebrow but only follows Joochan down the hall to breakfast.

All day long, Joochan itches to run away. Not from the palace, not exactly (he’s been wanting to do that since he was a teenager, that’s nothing special), but to the garden grounds where he knows he has the best chance of finding you.

But of course there’s no time, no time at all. Immediately after breakfast he’s whisked off to Sungyoon for the morning lessons Joochan can barely pay attention to. Lunch is barely a moment in passing before Soojung takes him for his afternoon classes, then Jangjun is depositing him in front of the grand ballroom for a special partner dancing lesson with Donghyun’s sister because of course, at their engagement ball, they will be expected to dance. Together.

Joochan tries, he really does. He keeps his hands in place on his fiancée’s waist, doesn’t twitch when she puts her hand on his shoulder. He’s a fair dancer – of course Youngtaek will find areas to critique, but he’s literally a court musician and the dance instructor – but today he trips over skirts and feet and who can blame him when every unexplained sound is a knock at the door summoning him to his parents, who will then ask how he was so careless as to let a simple gardener learn his secret?

And then what would they do to you?

“I’m sorry,” he apologizes over and over to his fiancée as he finally walks out of the ballroom, Youngtaek sick of dealing with him for the day. “I’m sorry, I’m really so sorry about everything –”

“Relax, Your – Joochan. It’s fine,” she says, smiling lightly. He feels even worse – somehow, she can still muster the strength to give him a smile while he can’t even focus on an hour or two of dance. Dance is her magic, her calling, just as Joochan’s is his voice, and she’s already toning down her skill for him – why can’t he concentrate enough to respect that?

“Hey, I’m serious.” Her voice pulls Joochan out of his thoughts again. “Did you sleep at all last night? From what Donghyun said, it isn’t like you to act this way.”

A bitter laugh almost leaves Joochan’s lips but he swallows it away, opting to just sigh instead. “I sometimes have trouble sleeping.” It isn’t a lie. “Last night… was just a little worse than usual.”

She falls silent, then, lips turning down as she undoubtedly tries to process the meaning behind Joochan’s words. He panics. “It’s not – not anything to do with you!” Stupid, stupid, stupid! “I just – sometimes I start thinking and I can’t stop –”

“Joochan!” Two hands fall on his shoulders and Joochan shuts up as Donghyun’s sister stares him dead in the eyes. “Joochan, really. Calm down. It’s fine. You’re fine. I’m fine. Okay?” She smiles again. “One bad day doesn’t mean anything.”

He swallows. “Sorry.”

She waves his words away. “Stop apologizing, I already said it’s fine.” Her gaze is full of concern. “Maybe take some time to rest and relax this evening? I think you need it.”

This evening. Joochan blinks. There’s nothing planned for this evening, at least as far as he knows. Just dinner with Donghyun’s family, then nothing…

This might be the only time he can go to see you.

“Rest,” Joochan echoes. “Yeah.” He swallows, knowing full well he’ll be doing anything but that. “Thank you.”

. . . . .

The minute the excruciatingly long dinner is over and he’s excused himself to rest (even his parents don’t argue, which says a lot about his appearance), Joochan takes off down the halls, walking fast, fast, faster until he’s running –

“Your Highness!”

Why did he ever think he could outrun Jangjun?

Joochan stops because there’s no point in trying to leave his guard in the dust. Jangjun catches up quickly, barely panting, and fixes him with a stare. “Asshole,” he hisses, eyes crinkling with slight amusement. Then they turn serious. “Where are you going?”

Jangjun knows. When he was given the position of Joochan’s personal bodyguard, he was fully briefed on everything about Joochan, including his curse. Joochan trusts Bomin above all, but Jangjun is a close second. For this reason, he considers telling Jangjun the truth.

No. Joochan clenches his fist, nails biting into his palm. Not now, at least. He needs to clear this up first – it’s his fault, after all. He’ll only consider bringing Jangjun into this if things grow exponentially worse.

Hopefully, they won’t.

“The gardens,” Joochan says shortly. “Don’t follow me. Please.”

Jangjun’s eyes narrow. “You’re not being blackmailed, are you?”

“No!” Joochan shakes his head quickly. “No, not at all.”

“No secret meetings, no rendezvous with anyone other than the princess?”

Joochan groans, face turning pink. “No, Jangjun.”

“I’m following,” Jangjun decides. Joochan opens his mouth to argue, but his guard cuts him off. “I’ll stay far enough that I won’t hear what you say, if you end up saying anything. You won’t see me either. But if you think I’m going to leave you alone when you’re acting like this, you’re crazy.”

Well, it’s better than it could’ve been. Joochan nods tightly. “Fine.”

They exit the palace and Jangjun slips into the shadows, unseen even though Joochan knows he’s there. He tries not to sprint into the gardeners’ sheds, but he still gets there too fast.

One of his hands rises to knock on the door of the largest shed. He prays you’re inside.

A gardener – Joochan thinks his name is Seungmin – opens the door. Immediately his eyes widen and he swings the shed fully open, sinking down to one knee. “Your Highness.”

Joochan tries to peer around Seungmin into the shed, but a few large tables piled high with plants and tools block his vision. “Please rise,” he says quickly. “I’m sorry to interrupt you as you all are leaving for the night, but I just wanted to speak to one gardener. Privately. Um, their… their name is Y/N?”

Seungmin blinks. “Of course,” he says quickly, though his eyes burn with suppressed curiosity. He ducks back into the shed. “Y/N!”

“Just a moment!” you call back from further inside.

Panic rises in Joochan’s throat at the sound of your voice, so sweet and smooth and healing, everything his isn’t. What if you’ve already told someone? What if you run away just on seeing his face?

What if you’re afraid of him?

Footsteps pad on the floor of the shed and then you push past Seungmin, looking around in apprehension. Your eyes meet.

And you freeze.

Seungmin dithers by the door, looking unsure what to do. Joochan does his best to give him a smile. “Please leave us.”

He disappears into the shed. The door shuts.

Alone with you, Joochan is struck with two realizations.

One: you look about as haggard as he does. Which means you know or at least suspect something is up with him.

Two: he has no idea what he wants to say.

Oh, gods. Joochan fights the urge to bury his face in his hands. Why did he ever think this was a good idea? Why did he even think to try and find you? If he’d just left you alone, would you have just lost your suspicion naturally? Why did he confirm things by coming here? What does he do and what does he say?

You cut his thoughts off by dropping to your knees. Joochan steps back in shock.

“Please, Your Highness.” Your voice, previously so sweet and clear, now trembles with anxiety and fear. Joochan swallows, shame and repulsion building in his heart.

Since when did he learn to inspire such terror?

“I apologize.” Your words shake as you prostrate yourself on the ground. “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have been there, I shouldn’t have been trying to plant the flowers at night – I didn’t know, I won’t tell, I swear by all the gods –”

Joochan falls to his knees on impulse, reaching out towards you. You flinch away. Hurt blooms in Joochan’s chest but he lowers his hand – he is repulsive, after all, a prince marked by death itself. He shouldn’t be surprised you feel the same way as he thinks.

Even if it hurts.

“I’m not here to punish you,” Joochan says, voice surprisingly steady. “Not at all, I swear. I just –” he swallows – “I just need to know how much you know…?” He winces at the uncertainty in his tone. Even now, he still doesn’t know what to say. “Actually, is there a more private place where we can speak?”

Your eyes widen. Joochan balks. “No – I – I’m not trying to take you somewhere else where I can hurt you,” he frantically explains. “It’s just – I just –”

You cut him off by pointing to a small copse of trees. “There,” you suggest, still looking like your heart wants to beat out of your chest. “We can speak… there? Your Highness.”

Joochan almost holds out a hand for you to take before he remembers that would probably make you feel even more uncomfortable. Instead, he lowers his half-raised arm before standing and following you to the trees. “Thank you,” he mumbles.

Hidden in the foliage, you look a little more relaxed, as though in your natural element. Joochan envies how easily you shift between the trees. “Is there… something more you wanted to say to me, Your Highness?”

Your voice still shakes. Joochan tries not to cry. How can he convince you that he really has no intention to do you any harm, that he just needed to come and see for himself how much you knew?

He takes a deep breath. “Did you tell anyone?”

You shake your head vehemently. “Not a soul. And I was alone that night.”

Relief replaces a touch of the anxiety welling in his heart. “May I ask why you were there?”

“I just saw that that part of the garden was more or less empty,” you say. “I thought it would be nice to plant something there, and night-blooming roses are my favorite, so I…” You trail off. “I didn’t realize there was a reason for that. No one – no one told me I wasn’t supposed to be there –”

“It’s not your fault,” Joochan says automatically. “If no one told you, then you can’t be blamed. I’m at fault, mostly.” He looks down. “I shouldn’t have opened my window, I just didn’t think anyone would be outside that night.” A lump rises in his throat. “I can’t sing around most people, you know.”

Silence falls. Joochan starts to panic again. He said too much, definitely said too much – why did he even say that last bit, what was the point –

“Most?”

He lifts his head. “I’m sorry?”

“You said most people.” Your eyes brighten slightly with curiosity. “Are there any who can…?”

Joochan swallows as his earliest memory surfaces. His breath catches and he shoves the recollection away. “No, just you,” he whispers.

“Are you sure? It could just be that your magic only withers plants, I might not be –”

“It’s just you,” Joochan snaps.

Silence falls. Joochan takes a deep breath. He tries not to think of his disastrous first and only singing lesson but that just makes the image more vivid – his instructor’s smile freezing, legs buckling, hand coming up to clutch his heart as blood trickles from his lips –

“Your Highness?”

With effort, Joochan jerks himself out of his daze. He looks at his hands, almost expecting to see his instructor’s blood dripping rivulets down his palms, but there’s nothing. “I’m sorry,” he chokes hoarsely. “Please don’t press it. It’s just you.”

You bow your head. “I apologize.”

Quiet fills the air once more. Joochan is pretty sure the conversation is over. “I’m sorry for taking up your time when you were probably getting ready to go home.” He tries to smile. “I’ll leave you now, I know you must be tired after a long day. I apologize for any anxiety I have caused you. Just please, don’t tell anyone, because then I don’t know…” Panic crawls up his throat. “I don’t know what would happen to me or you.”

“Never.” You shake your head. “I’ll keep my silence. And I apologize for any anxiety I have caused you, Your Highness.” You look down. “I should have asked before deciding to do what I did. Speaking of… would you like the roses to be taken away? I could –”

“No!” Joochan flushes with his sudden outburst. Check yourself, Joochan. “No, please don’t,” he continues more softly. “I like them there, if you have the time to keep tending them.”

The small, genuine smile that creeps up your face nearly makes Joochan take a step back. Even as the sky grows darker, moonlight replacing the last rays of the sun, your eyes seem to glow in the deepening night, sparkling softly almost like the night-blooming roses you’ve planted beneath his balcony. “It’s my job, Your Highness.” You bow slightly. “I am honored to serve.”

Joochan feels a smile widen his lips slightly, glowing in the light of your own. “Thank you.”

. . . . .

The rest of the week comes and goes. Joochan puts on a blithe smile, escorts his fiancée anywhere they need to go, dances with her at the ball like a dutiful future husband. He tries to enjoy his time with Donghyun, who’s the only person from the delegation that he’s really happy to see, and when his family eventually leaves at the end of the week, there’s a little bit of genuine sadness at their departure.

It doesn’t match up to the utter relief at not having to pretend anymore, though.

So Joochan settles back into his normal life, deciding to make the most of the next few months alone without fiancées or future in laws, just his blood brother and two friends. His parents seem satisfied with how he conducted himself during his engagement bar the first couple of days, and Joochan slowly slips out of notice as their attention returns to Bomin’s upcoming kingship.

That’s one side effect of Joochan’s semi-exile from royal life that he doesn’t mind. The pressure of being the crown prince, having to act the perfect child even when he wants to do nothing but scream… sure, Joochan doesn’t actually scream when that happens (not until he can bury his face in his pillow, at least), but he has a little more freedom to act out than Bomin does.

Good thing Bomin has always been a good actor.  

But with Bomin’s busy schedule, Joochan has less time to talk to him. And he has so much he wants to talk about – mostly about the marriage, yes, which still turns his stomach every time it’s mentioned, but also other things. Inane things. Stuff like how Soojung could be a little less sarcastic when he’s forgotten a math concept or how the flowers in the garden have begun to fully bloom.

More specifically, the flowers just under Joochan’s own balcony.

They’re growing well. Joochan doesn’t know how many nights you’ve spent tending to them over the past couple of weeks, but the bushes of midnight blue seem to be growing even faster than they usually do. The last time he took a walk through, the buds were just appearing. That was a week ago. He didn’t see you then. In fact, he hasn’t actually seen you since the night you two spoke.

Which is normal. Gardeners don’t usually interact with princes, and Joochan himself doesn’t spend as much time as he’d like walking through the grounds. Besides, not all gardeners have shifts at the same time. But Joochan kind of wishes he could hear your voice again, if only for your song to soothe his mind.

He doesn’t dare go out onto the balcony anymore, though. If you’re working on the roses, it’s entirely possible that someone else might be with you on any given night, singing to the blooms. The flowers would die. And just because you’re somehow immune to his song doesn’t mean anyone else will be.

Joochan does not want to test that out.

So he keeps singing to himself within the thick walls of his stony room to an audience of his furniture and books. He sings more often these nights – life feels a little more barren with a lack of Bomin’s presence and the knowledge of his marriage hanging over his head – but he won’t go out onto the balcony. Not again.

Until a bouquet of roses is delivered to his room.

Once every week or two, gardeners and servants switch out the flowers around the palace. Joochan likes to keep a vase on his desk, usually some variety of roses, and it’s always nice to see a new bouquet replacing the wilted flowers of the past week, their faint scent perfuming the air.

When he walks into his quarters after a long day to see a bunch of midnight blue roses streaked with white sitting on his desk, clustered in a delicate vase, Joochan doesn’t think much of it. He smiles a little – of all roses, the night-blooming ones are his favorite type – but they don’t seem to signify anything deeper until he sees a tiny piece of something white poking out from behind the petals.

It’s a bit of ripped paper. Eyebrows furrowed, Joochan unfolds it.

You are still welcome to sing, you know. No one comes with me - they all seem to think I have some magic touch.

Then, almost as an afterthought:

You have a beautiful voice.

The note isn’t signed, but only one person could have sent it.

Joochan’s chest tightens the longer he clutches the note. You sent him roses, roses from the bushes underneath his balcony – maybe you were even the one who placed the vase on his desk – and left a note, too, a note that welcomes him to sing during the night when you are there.

You have a beautiful voice.

His stomach flips when he reads the line again, but not in the same way it always flips at the mention of his engagement. It feels lighter, sweeter, nervous but almost playful.

It feels nice.

But he still doesn’t dare go onto the balcony and start singing unannounced, so that night, he heads to the garden instead of standing above. Jangjun doesn’t stand guard at night, and it’s much easier to get past the night guard than to get past him. He waits by the rose bushes nervously, knowing there will be many questions if someone somehow catches him.

You appear after the moon has risen. From the way you start, Joochan gathers you didn’t expect him to actually be here on the grass, waiting for you on land instead of on his balcony above. Still, you take it in stride, bowing low as you approach. “Your Highness.”

“Y/N.” He nods slightly. “Thank you for the flowers.”

At that, you smile. “I thought you might like them.”

“I did, very much.” Joochan looks away, fiddling with his shirt sleeves. “I… saw your note. I appreciated that too.”

Your smile grows more hesitant, but it doesn’t disappear. “I apologize if I was too forward, Your Highness.” You swallow visibly. “It’s just that… forgive me for my presumption. I couldn’t live without my song. I can’t imagine how it feels for you.”

Pain, a pain that cuts even deeper than Bomin’s ability to heal. It can be soothed by another’s song, but only singing himself can truly heal it. Joochan barely knows how to describe the feeling – it’s been present ever since he can remember. But he doesn’t say any of that. “Thank you for your sympathy,” he says, trying to smile. “And for trying to understand.”

“Of course, Your Highness.” Your smile heals Joochan almost as much as your song.

The conversation lapses into silence, then. You turn to the flowering bushes, pruning some of the longer tendrils and singing softly to the growing buds that have begun to open slightly under the influence of your magic. Joochan sits down against the palace wall and closes his eyes, listening to your soft melodies fill the air –

“I gave you the note with the intention of you singing, Your Highness.”

Joochan’s eyes fly open to see you looking at him, a teasing smile lifting the corners of your mouth. “You came here to sing, didn’t you?”

“But the roses,” he protests. “They’ll die.”

“And I can bring them back,” you counter. “Sing, Your Highness.” Your gaze softens. “It will help.”

Joochan doesn’t know how you know his pain, or even a semblance of it. Your magic heals, doesn’t kill – that means something else must have happened for you to understand a fraction of what he feels. Somehow you do know, though, and Joochan feels more compelled to listen to you than his own doubts when you say that it will help.

He leans back again and hums a brief melody, warming up his throat. Immediately the leaves closest to him begin to shrivel at the edges and he almost stops, but you hum a bar of your own, perfectly mixing your voice with Joochan’s song. You nod, still clipping leaves, and Joochan continues with your encouragement.

The song starts and finishes quietly, Joochan not wanting to disrupt your work too much, but his heart feels lighter by the time he closes his mouth around the last bars. The roses look no worse for wear – your soft humming, barely audible beneath Joochan’s quiet song, seems to have sustained them – and you wear a soft smile on your face that fairly glows under the moonlight. “That was beautiful,” you praise.

Joochan feels blood rush up to his ears. “Thank you, but I never had any formal training,” he says, dipping his head. “I’m nowhere near your level.”

“I know.” Your eyes twinkle when he looks over at you in surprised confusion. “I can tell you haven’t had lessons. It’s something in…” You pause, contemplating a rose. “Something in your technique. It’s a little lacking.” You look up from the bloom. “But regardless, your voice has a very raw power. That can’t be learned. If you had any training at all, I think you might sing as well as your brother, Your Highness.”

“You’ve heard him sing?” Joochan tries not to feel jealous.

You hum a short melody to a bud, which eagerly responds to your song. “Once or twice, at festivals.” Your gaze turns to him, still teasing. “I watched you play your instruments at those same festivals too, you know.”

Joochan flushes again. Was he that obvious?

From the glint in your eye and the restrained smile on your lips, the answer is yes. Thankfully, you don’t push it. “Would you sing again?” you ask instead. “Your voice truly is wonderful, Your Highness.”

Courage bursts in Joochan’s chest and he opens his mouth. “Will you teach me to sing?”

You blink. “You already know how to sing? Your Highness.”

“You said my technique was lacking.” Joochan plays with several blades of grass nervously. “Could you give me pointers? Or at least tell me what you think is the problem?”

“I – Your Highness, I’m not a professional.” Moonlight shines on your face, uncertainty now painted across your lips. “I mean – I just – I don’t want to say anything wrong –”

“If you really don’t want to, you don’t have to,” Joochan cuts in, already feeling regret for asking. His fingers wrap around a blade of grass. It comes away in his hand. “But…”

You cock your head, listening cautiously.

His voice grows small. “You’re the only one who can listen to me without dying.”

Silence falls after his admission. Joochan doesn’t dare look at you for fear of pity or rejection in your eyes.

“I… will try.” You meet Joochan’s wide eyes, uncertainty still present in your own. “I mean, I’ll do it, Your Highness.”

Joochan almost reaches out to touch your arm, touch your hand, anything in thanks, but he restrains himself. You’re already probably uncomfortable enough. “If you really don’t want to, I won’t force you,” he repeats, despite the hope filling his chest.

“No, I want to.” Uncertainty fades in favor of a gentle smile. “I’ll do it, Your Highness.”

“Thank you,” Joochan breathes. “Thank you so much.”

“It is my honor,” you reply, dipping your head. When you raise it, there’s a twinkle in your eye. “Now sing, yes? I can’t critique you without a song.”

Joochan has never opened his mouth faster.

. . . . .

With you so uncertain, Joochan wasn’t honestly expecting too much from you as a vocal instructor. You seemed so hesitant about the whole affair – he only really hoped for a few basic tips every now and then. Maybe, as he just got more used to singing, he would get better naturally.

But that first night, you give him a lesson, a whole lesson like the ones his paid instructors give. Open your mouth a little more, Your Highness, close it here. Hey, try a falsetto – see, it sounds much better like that, right? Don’t strain your throat too much, Your Highness. Your voice doesn’t only come from the throat, it comes from the body. Use your chest – yes, that’s it. You’ll have to practice this more on your own, but don’t be discouraged if you don’t get it in one night. It took me weeks to master it.

You’re a good teacher. Really good. Joochan would even hazard to say you’re better than some of the royal tutors and instructors he’s had over the years, and by the time the moon has fully risen and you decide it’s been long enough, Joochan feels like he’s soaring among the stars.

“Remember to practice,” you remind him before you part that night. “I may be the instructor, but it’s your voice.”

He does. Night after night, on those evenings he doesn’t steal away to the gardens to meet with you, Joochan runs through his scales and the vocal exercises you gave him the last time. He scribbles notes, questions, reminders on scraps of paper that he hides in his drawers but shows you on those lovely nights under the moon and stars, singing for you and the roses to hear.

“You’re dedicated,” you say one evening, smiling. “If I were a full-time instructor, I think I’d be blessed to have you as a student, Your Highness.”

Joochan colors at your praise. It makes him feel like one of the roses you tend, blossoming under the sound of your warm voice. “I have a good teacher,” he replies, focusing hard on one of the blooms to avoid your eyes. It’s fully open, silky petals spread wide under the moon. Little stripes of white sparkle like stars on the midnight blue. “How are you so good at this? Who taught you?”

For several seconds, you don’t reply. It’s long enough that Joochan looks up, heart beating uncertainly in his chest. Did he say something wrong? “I’m sorry, you don’t have to answer if it’s not something –”

“No, it’s okay.” You swallow, not even noticing you interrupted him (the first time you did, Joochan had to reassure you over and over that it was completely fine). Joochan stays still as your lips thin, eyes trained on the bud you’ve been coaxing open. “My father taught me.”

Your father. From the forced flatness in your tone, Joochan gathers there’s something more behind your words. He stays silent, waiting to see if you’ll continue.

You do. “My mother died giving birth to me, so it was just me and my father for as long as I can remember.” Your smile doesn’t look like a smile, more of a pained gash across your face. Involuntarily, Joochan shudders. “He was a real vocal instructor. Taught me most of what I know of healing, and all that I know of singing.”

Snip. Joochan flinches as a leaf goes fluttering to the ground, cut off by your shears.

“He died when I was eighteen,” you say bluntly, shears held in a vice grip. “Without him, I came to the capital to… you know. Try my luck. I was always a better gardener than a physical healer, so I worked at some of the noble estates before someone recommended me here.”

So that’s the pain. Joochan clenches his fist. That’s the pain that helped you understand even vaguely how he feels, unable to release his song. Different types of pain, yes, but similar in intensity.

He tries to imagine what it would be like to lose Bomin, Jangjun, Jaehyun. Knives seem to dig into his chest.

Your pain is probably even more intense.

“And, well.” Your voice interrupts Joochan’s thoughts. He looks up as you shrug, smile sardonic. “Here I am.”

Joochan swallows, picking at the grass. He knows how empty his words will sound before he even says them. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize, it wasn’t your fault.” Your smile is understanding, though, even in its sadness. A bit of a teasing tone finds its way into your voice. “You sure apologize a lot, don’t you, Your Highness?”

Hearing the mischief in your words, Joochan would normally feel a smile beginning to creep up his own face. This time, though, a little needle wedges itself into his ribs, deep enough to wound even if not enough to kill.

You’re right. He does apologize a lot. It’s kind of hard to stop when he’s been made to apologize for his entire existence.

“I apologize.”

Joochan looks up at your words. You hold his gaze, unflinching. “I apologize,” you repeat again. “I assumed a level of familiarity that we haven’t reached yet.” This time, you look away. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

“It’s not –” Joochan swallows. “It’s not about familiarity. It’s… other things.”

He catches the exact moment your eyes widen, the exact moment you understand. Your mouth twists and you look away again, though Joochan sees shame in the thin press of your lips. “I understand,” you reply softly. “I’m sorry, Your Highness.”

“It isn’t your fault,” he says automatically, the same way he does to Bomin. The words leave a bitter aftertaste – it never gets easier, absolving people of blame they never even incurred. His mind searches for a way to change the topic. He’s good at that. “As for familiarity…”

You raise an eyebrow. “Hm?”

An idea pops into his thoughts, an idea he’s been toying with for a while but that he was too shy to suggest. “Don’t call me Your Highness anymore,” he says boldly. “Just call me Joochan.”

It takes a moment for you to process, but then you scoff. “You’re funny, Your Highness.”

“Joochan.”

“Your Highness.”

Unconsciously, he pouts. “You were the one who brought up the topic of familiarity,” he points out. “Shouldn’t you be happy about this?”

“Ever heard of too much of a good thing?” you retort, putting down your shears. “Too much familiarity won’t mean good things for either me or you, Your Highness.”

“Joochan,” he corrects. “And does that mean you think us being familiar is a good thing?”

You groan. “Walked right into that one,” you mutter. Joochan grins, but you’re not done. “Your Highness, there’s a level of respect I have to maintain for you and your position. I’m sorry, but me calling you by your given name is not something I see myself doing in the foreseeable future.”

Joochan’s pout deepens. “We’ll see about that.”

“Is that a challenge, Your Highness?”

“And if it is?”

You pinch a bud between your fingers, scrutinizing it under the moonlight. Your head turns just slightly so Joochan can see the twinkle in your eye. “Then, Your Highness, I’m afraid you’ll be fighting a losing battle.”

. . . . .

Joochan thinks you might have underestimated his stubbornness.

“Your Highness, don’t you have better things to be doing than bothering me all night?” you ask, pausing in your humming to face him. “Royal duties and whatnot? Or, I don’t know – sleeping?”

“I feel like we’re becoming more familiar even if you refuse to call me by my name,” Joochan says obnoxiously. “What happened to propriety? Speaking respectfully to a prince?”

You pat some soil into place. A few nearby blades of grass seem to perk up when you hum briefly. “Calling you by your title is about the last mark of respect I’m still giving you,” you point out. “Do you really want that taken away, too?”

“Why not just let it go, if we’re already that far?” he counters. “Jaehyun calls me by my name when we’re alone. So does Jangjun.”

“Jaehyun…” You frown, then snap your fingers. “Is he that servant? You know, the puppy-eyed one?”

Joochan blinks. Jaehyun does have large eyes like those of a puppy. “… Yes? I think so.”

You look sidelong at Joochan. “If it helps, I like your eyes too, Your Highness.” Your gaze narrows teasingly. “They’re sharper. Like a fox.”

Joochan’s cheeks burn. “What –”

You burst into a peal of laughter. “Work on not pouting when you want attention,” you say, grinning.

Too late, Joochan realizes his lips have unconsciously turned downwards into a pout. He lifts them immediately, cursing internally – no wonder he’s so easy to read. “Don’t change the subject,” he says, catching himself again before the corners of his lips fall. “Why can’t you just call me by my name like Jangjun and Jaehyun?”

“You’ve likely known them far longer than I’ve known you and you’ve known me, Your Highness.” You put down your small shovel. “It makes perfect sense that you could convince them to bow to your whims, if you’ve been friends for as long as you say.”

Joochan gives up on suppressing his pout. “It’s not a whim,” he says. “I really do want you to call me Joochan.”

“Be that as it may, it isn’t proper, Your Highness, and I’d rather not get scolded for accidentally calling you by something above my station on accident.” Your eyes narrow. “Actually, is something wrong, Your Highness?” you ask, the teasing bite fading out of your voice. “You aren’t usually this forward about just your name.”

Something tightens in Joochan’s chest. He knows you’re perceptive, has known it ever since you rooted out that little bit of jealousy at the mention of Bomin’s singing, but as admirable as it is, he sometimes wishes you couldn’t read him so easily. “What, you don’t like it?”

“You’re deflecting.” Leaning forward, you fix him with your gaze. “What’s bothering you, Your Highness?”

Lots of things. There are only a few months until Donghyun’s family comes back for the second round of forced courtship. His parents are giving him more unwanted attention – asking about his studies in their cold, uninterested voices, reminding him of his duties every time his lip so much as twitches in rebellion.

And earlier in the day, he had the first fitting for his wedding clothes.

Joochan shudders, remembering white silk sliding over his arms, pins poking all over his body as the fabric tightened against his skin, smooth, cold, cloying around his throat and shoulders and torso. It was only the shirt for today – there are still the pants and coat and jewelry, not to mention different hairstyles and makeup combinations to try, all so his parents can get him out of the palace once and for all – and just thinking of how much there is left to do makes Joochan want to throw up.

“Your Highness?”

Your voice, full of concern, brings Joochan back to earth. “Sorry.” He blinks the memories out of his eyes. Gods, he has another fitting in a week, even though the wedding is still months away. “I – yes. Some things are bothering me.” He curves his lips into the imitation of a smile. “I’ll be fine, though, if you would just stop being stubborn and call me by my name.”

By the look in your eyes, you don’t believe him, but thankfully you don’t push it any further. “I’m the stubborn one?” You scoff lightly. “Who’s the one who’s been pressuring me to stop using your title this whole time? I didn’t bring it up.”

“Please?” Joochan asks, making sure to pout as fully as he can. “Please?”

Something breaks in your expression and you shake your head, suppressing a smile. Joochan’s heart lifts in victory –

“No.”

His jaw drops. “You –”

“I’m kidding.” You turn back to him, eyes sparkling. “If it really will make you happier, I’ll stop calling you by your title, Your –” You catch yourself. “Joochan.”

Something bursts in Joochan’s heart when he hears his name from your voice, sweet, clear, songlike in the melody of your tones. A rose in bloom, perhaps, petals unfurling from the bud at his name on your lips…

“See? That wasn’t so hard, was it?” His words tremble slightly despite his attempted bravado.

You smirk. “Almost sounds like it was harder for you, Joochan.”

Damn your perception. “Am I going to regret this?”

Your smirk deepens. “Whatever happens, just know you brought it on yourself.”

. . . . .

“You look happier,” Bomin remarks one afternoon.

Joochan looks over. “Do I?”

“Yeah.” His brother nods. “There’s more… something.” Bomin waves his hands around aimlessly. “Something in your face. And in the way you walk.”

“Something.” Joochan snorts. “Is that what all of those literature and speech lessons are teaching you to say?”

“Shut up,” Bomin snips, pushing him away. His gaze turns more serious. “I’m glad.”

Joochan blinks. “Glad about what?”

“You being happy.” Bomin smiles. “Did Donghyun’s sister finally win you over?” He shoves his face into Joochan’s. “Exchanging romantic letters?”

The grin freezes on Joochan’s face as visions of you flash through his mind. Dark nights, pale moonlight, stars shimmering on your eyes and hands as you hum a melody that twines with his, keeping the roses in a delicate balance between alive and withering away…

He could tell Bomin. His brother is a secret-keeper to the last and knows how to act. But something tells Joochan that he would disapprove is he said anything, and even if that wasn’t the case, there’s a selfish desire to keep you to himself.

Joochan doesn’t want to share this… whatever it is, between you and him.

“Something like that,” he lies.

And for some reason, Bomin looks like he believes it.

. . . . .

Except, apparently, he doesn’t.

. . . . .

There is no moon when Joochan steps onto the balcony, peering over the edge to see whether or not you’re there, pruning the bushes. You don’t often come out during new moons – something about the absence of light not inspiring your song – but Joochan checks anyway.

To his surprise, he sees a sliver of movement, a flash of metal just beyond the balcony that looks like your shovel or your shears. It doesn’t take long for Joochan to sneak out of his room and into the garden grounds, a smile on his face as he rounds a corner to see –

“Joochan.”

Jangjun?

His guard steps forward, arms crossed and eyes visibly narrowed even in the darkness. Starlight shines coldly on his face. “Who are you meeting out here every other night?”

Stall? Lie? Joochan keeps his mouth resolutely shut as his mind races for something to say. He can’t mention you, can’t bring you into this mess that you never asked for, but Jangjun has known him for so long and might even be more perceptive than you so what kind of lie will even sound believable when Joochan is right here in the garden like he was expecting someone –

Jangjun’s eyes widen with realization and Joochan’s stomach plummets. “You’re meeting that gardener. The one you were talking with when Donghyun’s sister was here.”

Joochan just stares. How did he figure it out so fast?

“Tell me it isn’t true, Joochan.” Jangjun steps forward, lips pursed. Any sign of his usual mischief has fled from his eyes. “Joochan.”

He stays silent.

“Gods.” Jangjun rubs his temples, the metal of his arm guards catching the faint starlight. Damn, that was what fooled him. “Joochan, seriously? What are you doing with them? You weren’t lying before, right – they’re not blackmailing you or anything?”

Joochan ignores all of his guard’s questions in favor of his own. “How did you know I was sneaking out?”

Jangjun sighs. “I don’t know why you still sometimes think you can lie to Bomin.”

Bomin?

A conversation from two weeks before flutters into Joochan’s mind.

“Did Donghyun’s sister finally win you over? Exchanging romantic letters?”

“Something like that.”

Bomin. Joochan shuts his eyes tight and takes a deep breath, trying to dissipate the flames of anger beginning to lick in his chest. Of course it was Bomin. Bomin sees through everything.

And right now, Joochan hates that.

“So Bomin sent you to figure out what was going on with me.” He laughs, short, bitter. “Even though he said I was happier, he still –”

“You lied to him, Joochan,” Jangjun cuts in. “You never lie to him and he never lies to you.”

“So maybe I lied for a reason!” Joochan snaps. “Seriously – why is it that you can’t just leave me alone like my parents –”

“Because we care about you!”

“Then why are you trying to cut off the reason I’ve been happy?”

Silence follows his outburst. Jangjun actually takes a small step back. Joochan clenches his fist and takes a deep breath. Calm down.

He closes his eyes. Breathes. Opens them again. “So what are you going to do now?” he snaps. “Report to Bomin about my actions? Report to my parents?”

“Joochan –”

“Actually, don’t.” He scoffs. “I’ll go talk to Bomin myself. And Jangjun, even if you won’t leave me alone about this, listen to me on one thing.” Joochan steps forward. “Do not bring Y/N into this.”

With that, he turns on his heel and storms back into the palace.

. . . . .

Bomin’s attendant, Sanha, opens the door with a confused expression. “Your Highness?”

“Where’s Bomin?” Joochan demands, brushing past.

His brother pops out from behind one of the doors, eyebrows furrowed. “Joochan?”

Joochan bites his tongue to keep from shouting right then and there. “Dismissed,” he says bluntly, barely returning Sanha’s low bow. The door shuts.

And Joochan snaps.

“You sent my own guard to spy on me?” he yells. “With all the spies our parents have in the palace, you seriously sent Jangjun after me – my literal guard and one of the few people I trust – because you thought I told one lie?”

“I was worried!” Bomin says, eyes wide. “Joochan, you never lie to me –”

“Don’t tell me that’s it,” Joochan snarls. “There’s no way this is the only time you’ve ever thought I lied – if you sent Jangjun after me every time –” his eyes narrow – “unless you did –”

Bomin shakes his head wildly. “No! It’s just – I’m worried about with you and Donghyun’s sister!” He steps forward, eyes pleading. “Joochan, if your marriage doesn’t go through –”

Joochan laughs into his hand. “You too?”

“… What?”

“It’s always my marriage, my stupid marriage,” he rants, voice rising. Thank the gods for thick stone walls. “Has anyone ever considered that I don’t want it, I don’t fucking want it –”

“It’s your escape, Joochan!” Bomin snaps. “It’s your ticket out of this palace, so you can be free from –”

“From what?” Joochan laughs, high and mirthless. “From what?”

“From us!”

“And you’d have me gain my freedom by forcing me from one prison to another?”

Bomin’s mouth snaps shut.

“I can’t do anything because I have this stupid curse,” Joochan snarls. “I’m the unwanted son – don’t argue with me, you know it’s true – it doesn’t matter that I’m the oldest, I’ve literally been passed over for the crown because of it! And I don’t even care about that – all I fucking care about is being able to sing and of course I can’t do that either because people will drop dead half a second after I open my mouth – remember my first voice instructor? You think that’ll change once I get married? You think that’ll change?” He scoffs. “Donghyun and his family don’t know for a reason! And even if they did, it wouldn’t matter because singing around them would make them drop dead too!”

Tears have begun to burn in Joochan’s eyes. He blinks furiously, trying to keep them at bay, but months of pent-up rage and anger only make them push harder. Bomin’s eyes shine – they look watery, too – but Joochan turns away with thinned lips. He doesn’t have the energy to apologize to his brother, much less comfort him. It isn’t even his turn to be comforted.

“You don’t understand,” Joochan manages when the silence has grown too thick. “I love you, Bomin, and I know you love me too, but just like I’ll never understand the pressures of being the crown prince, you won’t understand what it’s like not to be able to sing.” He swallows. “You couldn’t even heal that sort of pain. And just when I’ve found someone who can listen…”

When Bomin sucks in a breath, Joochan realizes what he’s said. He panics, mind scrambling for a way to cover up his slip of the tongue – Joochan, you absolute idiot –

But it’s already too late to take anything back.

“You – someone can listen to your song?” Bomin whispers, almost as though he can’t believe it. “How…?”

Joochan groans, putting his head against the wall. Why can’t he do anything right? “It was an accident,” he says shortly, brushing away the stray tears that have fallen.

“But how –”

“Don’t ask me about it,” Joochan snaps, whirling around. His previous anger comes back in full force – not anger at Bomin, at least not as much, more anger at himself for not controlling his mouth, but it’s easier to direct it at his brother. “And don’t send my own guard after me for any more answers. If you think I’m lying, say it to my face, Bomin.”

Before his brother can say another word, Joochan throws open the door and stalks out.

. . . . .

Joochan doesn’t know what to do about you.

Well, there isn’t anything to do about you, per se. He just doesn’t know how to convey that he let things slip and now both Jangjun and his brother have more knowledge than they need, and maybe you two should hold off meeting for a little while.

You aren’t supposed to come around for a few days or so – you and Joochan have worked out a rough sort of schedule based on when the roses need tending and how often he wants a singing lesson – which should give him a few days to work something out. Instead, all he uses the time for is to sulk.

He’s still annoyed at both Jangjun and Bomin. More so at his brother because Jangjun has less leeway when given orders (which were given by Bomin in the first place), but still both of them. Bomin stays quiet when Joochan is near and Jangjun doesn’t even attempt conversation, though Joochan catches him staring over sometimes with a strange look on his face. He doesn’t bother to question it.

By the time night has begun to fall on day three, Joochan still has nothing. He debated going to the sheds and trying to find you there, but that would draw attention from anyone else who happened to be present, and also Jangjun never leaves his side. He tried to catch you in the gardens on the off chance that Jangjun isn’t looking, but you seem to disappear when he’s there – it’s like you magically end up on the opposite side of the palace grounds when he’s looking for you on the other.

In the end, all Joochan has is a rolled up piece of paper and a long piece of string that he hopes will reach the garden from his balcony. He hopes you can read. It’s not that uncommon anymore for commoners anymore, but there are still some. You were the one who wrote him that first note, though, so he isn’t too worried about that.

He’s more worried you’ll be angry with him.

Night comes. You appear at the end of the garden. Joochan waits on the balcony, heart ready to beat out of his chest, and sings a brief note when you get closer.

You look up. The waxing moon glows on your face.

Swallowing, Joochan waves a hand in the air, the hand holding the rolled up note attached to the string. He walks to the edge of the balcony and lets it drop.

The string tenses slightly, then goes lax. You’ve pulled it off and are hopefully reading it. His explanation, his apologies, his understanding if you don’t want anything to do with him anymore out of fear of your own safety…

Nothing happens. Joochan’s heart keeps pounding. You make no sound, no indication that you read anything he wrote –

Then the first bars of a song wisp through the air. Your voice flutters up to the balcony, soft and warm and inviting, singing words of forgiveness, melody soothing to his ears. It’s a little thin, laid slightly bare from the distance separating you, but Joochan latches onto the notes, sitting against the balcony rail and closing his eyes to the sound of your voice.

Your song tapers away eventually. Joochan swallows around a lump in his throat when it ends, fully expecting you to pack up your things and go once you’ve finished tending to the roses (it shouldn’t take as long as usual today since he’s not singing), but the ensuing silence almost has an expectant quality to it.

Like you’re waiting for something in reply.

Joochan clears the lump from his throat. Opens his mouth. Begins to hum softly to wake up his voice, then starts singing back.

It’s strange, not hearing your voice meld with his. You must be humming a little to keep the roses alive, but from his balcony, Joochan can’t hear it. After so many nights of singing duets with you, changing your melodies to fit the other’s, it feels a little strange to listen to himself sing like this in the open air. But he continues until the end of what he has, voice fading into the night.

A beat of silence follows. Then you begin singing again, but it’s a familiar melody this time – one of those that you like to use as a starting point for Joochan to follow, letting your voices twist and harmonize until you’ve created something new together, something fleeting but beautiful in its improvisation.

“You won’t remember the melody afterwards,” you say, cutting off a branch. “But you’ll remember the feeling, and sometimes that’s more important. Music is about making people feel, after all.”

Feeling. Joochan feels a lot, day by day. It’s part of being human. Tonight, singing an ephemeral melody with you…

He feels at peace.

. . . . .

Weeks pass. Joochan tries to live on his biweekly duets on the balcony with you. It won’t fill the void of not being able to talk to you – it’s just more natural to moderate the volume of his song, whereas calling down from a balcony would be more of a hassle – but it’s enough to hear your voice. Or so Joochan tries to tell himself.

(You sometimes leave him notes with the new flower replacements, white paper nestled between dark green thorns and midnight blue petals. Joochan puts them in the box under his mattress where he keeps his most treasured belongings and threads a hair between the lock to make sure no one gets in.)

Jangjun apologizes. So does Bomin. Joochan accepts it – he can’t stay too upset at them for long – and they go back to normal, Jangjun snickering whenever Joochan trips over a rock, Bomin suffering through Joochan pinching his cheeks whenever he so pleases.

Yeah. Normal.

Until weeks have somehow flown by and Donghyun’s family is arriving at the palace gates once more for the second stage of courtship.

They arrive late in the night, so Joochan thankfully isn’t required to be awake to receive them. Their meeting will be at dinner the next day, giving the entourage more than enough time to freshen up, which just means Joochan has more hours to sit on the floor of his rooms after lessons and stare at nothing while he waits for his impending doom.

He knows he’s being dramatic. But he also knows that he really, really, really doesn’t want to go through with this marriage, even more so than before.

His gaze lights on the latest bouquet of flowers sitting on his desk. The roses are white this time, interspersed with light pink blooms. You probably didn’t choose them – there was no note – but they’re pretty, anyway, even if they aren’t the night-blooming roses growing under Joochan’s balcony.

Joochan walks over to the flowers. Contemplates them for a moment. Picks up one of the white roses, imagines it in his fiancée’s hands as she walks down the aisle…

Thankfully, a knock sounds on his door before he has enough time to imagine more. Getting overly dressed for dinner is preferable to locking himself within his mind.

But then dinner actually comes.

And Joochan literally does not know what to do with himself.

His parents keep up chatter at the other end of the table, of course, all polite greetings and inquiries about the trip and we hope your quarters have been to your liking despite the fact that Donghyun’s family stayed in the exact same set of rooms last time they came and liked them just as much back then. Not to mention that said rooms are the fanciest guest rooms in the entire palace. If they weren’t satisfied, Joochan doesn’t know what would work for them.

Meanwhile, at his end of the table, Joochan is trying very hard not to make so much as a single noise against his plate or cup because if he does, everyone will look at him and he’ll be forced to break the awkward silence.

It’s even worse than the first time. At least then, Donghyun was still smiling, and his sister attempted conversation with Joochan. Bomin was fairly able to put people at ease when even Joochan’s social tendencies failed. But now there’s a tense set to Donghyun’s jaw, a burning anger in his sister’s eyes, and Joochan can’t think of anything he might’ve done wrong considering he hasn’t seen them in months. He’s sent letters to both and acted (at least outwardly) like he was fine with this arrangement. He hasn’t done anything to his parents’ knowledge that would indicate he’s opposed to it – he knows that because if he had, he would’ve gotten a scolding and maybe something worse –

Joochan winces as an old scar on his back suddenly twitches with pain. Bomin looks over, concerned, but Joochan quickly schools his face back to neutrality. Damn the memories.

“Is anything not to your liking?” Bomin asks quietly, bravely breaking the silence. His gaze flits uncertainly between Donghyun and his sister.

Both of them blink in tandem. Donghyun’s face relaxes a little and some of the anger fades from his sister’s eyes, their lips upturning slightly in sheepish surprise. “No, not at all,” his sister replies. “I apologize. The trip was long, and some of our nerves are… frayed.”

Judging from the shadow that passes through Donghyun’s eyes, “frayed” is a weak way to put it.

The silence, lifts though, and they converse more normally after that. Joochan catches a flicker of relief in his father’s eyes when they meet for the briefest moment, and even his mother gives a tiny nod of approval when the excruciating meal is finally over.

Everyone splits off, then, to do whatever they have in their plans for the night. Joochan and Bomin take a walk in the garden. Donghyun and his sister disappear to who-knows-where. It’s peaceful. More or less.

Until Joochan and Bomin are returning (they didn’t see you) to their quarters for bed and they happen to pass by the guest rooms, where shouts echo faintly behind closed doors. With unspoken agreement, the brothers start walking quickly down the hall, trying not to listen to what the other pair of siblings is saying.

Then a door flies open and catches Joochan in the face as his fiancée storms out in a swirl of skirts and fury.

For a moment, there is only dead silence as everyone tries to comprehend what just happened. Joochan brings a hand to his nose. It comes away bloody.

Great.

“Gods above,” his fiancée whispers. “Your Highness – Joochan – I’m so sorry –” She turns to Bomin, who still looks like he’s trying to figure out what’s going on. “Where’s the infirmary?”

So Joochan ends up sitting on the edge of a white infirmary bed, pinching his nose between large bundles of gauze. Bomin has gone off, presumably to tell Donghyun what happened, and Joochan’s fiancée sits next to him, wringing her hands in apology even as he tells her over and over again that it’s fine – actually, it’s even a little funny.

Bomin will definitely be teasing Joochan about this by tomorrow.

“I’m so sorry,” she says again, staring into her lap. “I was just so angry – I didn’t see you –”

“I’m fine,” Joochan repeats, voice still slightly distorted by the residual pain in his nose. “If you were as upset as you sounded, I completely understand.”

She stiffens. “I – you heard us?”

“Not much.” Joochan winces in embarrassment. “I could only hear that you were yelling, neither I nor Bomin could actually make out anything. The walls here are thick.” For a reason.

Relief floods her face. Joochan looks at her for a moment, trying to see if it’s anything he should be worried about, but he turns away. He’d be alarmed if anyone heard any of his arguments with Bomin, after all, even if they were light.

One of the physicians comes in soon after. His nose doesn’t look to be majorly injured, so he sings Joochan a brief, warm melody that stops the bleeding (his voice isn’t as pretty as yours, though) and sends him on his way. Donghyun’s sister helps him wipe away the last of the dried blood, and then they walk back down to the guest rooms, where Joochan bids her goodnight.

She pauses before entering her quarters, though. “I just remembered – could we take a walk in the gardens tomorrow, Joochan?” Her eyes sparkle strangle, a mix of eagerness and muted anxiety. “I couldn’t forget watching the flowers bloom over these past few months.”

Joochan blinks. “Of course,” he says, even though his mind whirls with possible reasons behind the sudden request. The flowers are beautiful, of course, and there are new varieties blossoming with the change of seasons, but the anxiousness etched into the set of your lips speaks of something more than wishing to listen to some song. “In the afternoon? We can take a walk after lunch.”

“That sounds perfect.” She smiles. “Thank you, Joochan.”

He returns the smile. “It’s no problem.”

. . . . .

Everyone seems surprised when Joochan leaves together with his fiancée after lunch, citing a stroll in the garden, but it isn’t bad surprise. Bomin looks interested, Donghyun less annoyed, and Joochan even catches something like satisfaction in his parents’ eyes as they sweep out of the room.

It makes his stomach curdle a little inside.

Joochan starts the conversation, idly talking about the new season and which flowers the gardeners have begun putting into the ground. The air is crisper, cooler, and Joochan takes comfort in the breeze against his cheeks as he walks her around the grass, pausing every so often to listen to one of the gardeners sing. She doesn’t speak much, but at least the singing seems to make her look a little happier.

They pass by the stretch where Joochan’s balcony is, providing a spot of shade under the afternoon sun. Joochan tries to hurry past – he doesn’t want questions about the roses now stretching across the walls, blooming beautifully from your song – but then his fiancée gasps in surprise. “The roses!”

Something tightens in Joochan’s chest. He doesn’t know what it is – it doesn’t feel good, like a cross between fear and anxiety and… he can’t figure it out. None of it. But his fiancée is looking at him and he has to put on a smile so he curves his lips and nods, trying to ignore the feeling. “Yes, one of the newer gardeners managed to make them grow. You met them last time.” He tries to ignore the feeling in his heart, even as it tightens its hold. “Y/N.”

Y/N. You. You made them grow with your gentle hands and lovely voice. You made them grow despite Joochan’s cursed song, molded your melodies with his so they wouldn’t kill so easily, wouldn’t act so much the curse they were always meant to be…

He swallows, trying to banish all thoughts of you from his mind. For the first time on one of his walks in the garden, Joochan feels guiltily glad that he hasn’t seen you.

You and his fiancée don’t exactly coexist well in his thoughts, for reasons Joochan doesn’t have the time or energy to pick apart.

“They’re beautiful,” she whispers, clearly oblivious to Joochan’s internal conflict. She steps forward until they’re both under the shade of the balcony, marveling at the midnight blue roses streaked with white, galaxies in the night sky. “Do they bloom year round?”

“Yes, this variety does.” Joochan rubs a soft petal between his fingers, trying to recall just how many nights have passed since he last saw you face to face instead of just hearing your voice from up above. Too many, probably. “They wilt a little more easily in winter, but they can still grow if the snow isn’t too heavy.”

She hums in acknowledgement, still staring at the flowers. Her fingers twitch near a couple of the blooms, but she doesn’t do anything more than touch their petals.

Oh. She wants to pick one, maybe. Take it back to her rooms. Admire it.

For some reason, the thought of your flowers in his fiancée’s hands and in her rooms makes the feeling in Joochan’s chest intensify.

His lips fight hard to stay in a neutral smile as he reaches out, fingers trembling, to snap off one of the flowers just above the crown of five leaves at the base of the stem, the way you showed him how to so many weeks ago when he still met you under the moon and the stars, listened to your voice wash over the plants and his ears next to you, not from far away. Carefully, as his fiancée watches, Joochan pulls off the thorns, all the while trying not to feel like he’s betraying your song, your art, then nestles the bloom gently behind her ear. “For you,” he chokes, forcibly ignoring the tightness in his chest.

She touches the rose gently, fingers brushing against the petals. She looks beautiful in that moment, eyes shining, figure lovely against the green garden and sunlight, and not for the first time, Joochan wishes he could have just fallen in love with her. It would make things so much easier.

But the knowledge that he’d have no freedom in this marriage even if he was able to love, keeps his heart from racing too fast in her presence. He couldn’t fall in love with Donghyun’s sister, never – there are too many secrets and hidden agendas behind their match.

“Thank you,” she says, voice soft. For a moment, her eyes sparkle with true peace, true happiness, and Joochan feels a little happier for her. But then a shadow falls over her gaze and she looks away, hand falling limply from the rose to her side. Silence stretches.

“Shall we keep going?” Joochan finally says once he feels uncomfortable enough that he needs to speak. Thankfully, she nods, the smile reappearing on her face as he takes her arm once more, leading her out of the shade and into the sun.

He tries not to look at the midnight blue rose he tucked behind her ear as he forces conversation. “Do you truly like the flowers here?”

“I love them,” she says earnestly. Joochan can tells she’s speaking the truth. “My kingdom has flowers too, but for some reason, the ones here just… they’re so much brighter. Livelier.” She smiles briefly. “Maybe it’s the song.”

Joochan knows what he should say next. He should say something like, “when we’re married, we’ll have a garden of our own,” something that a fiancé in love with his future wife would say.

He’s not in love, but he says it anyway. Because he should. And he thinks maybe the thought of a garden for herself will make her smile a little more, even if the marriage he mentions isn’t anything she wants.

At least, he thinks it isn’t what she wants. She’s polite enough and hasn’t said anything to indicate it, but body language and silence sometimes speak more than words.

Her smile turns smaller, lips pressing together as she shifts away from him, ever so slightly. Joochan confirms his suspicions. “That would be lovely.”

The expression on her face indicates anything but. And even though she was the one who initiated the walk, was the one who seemed to want to talk, she doesn’t speak for the rest of the afternoon. 

Neither does Joochan. 

. . . . .

Several days fly by in a blur. There’s another ball next week, even bigger than the last – Joochan will present the second courting gift to his fiancée, as per his kingdom’s tradition (the first was sent on a long time ago), and she will engage him for the first dance, as per hers. On the one night you two are scheduled to meet, Joochan lowers down a note saying I’m sorry, Y/N, but I’m exhausted tonight – I can barely stay awake long enough to write this.

You’ve taken to bringing a stub of a pencil with you on these nights so that your communication isn’t only by song. This time is no exception, and Joochan quickly lifts up the string at your subtle tug.

Need a lullaby?

Your voice almost soothes him to sleep on the balcony.

He gets through the next couple of days, gets through the last minute fittings for new clothes (as if he needs more), opinions on the appetizer menu (shouldn’t they be asking the cooks?), what flowers would fit best the theme best (they bring in a vase of night-blooming roses and all Joochan can think of is you). Joochan tries to go through it with a smile on his face – he doesn’t trip over his fiancée’s feet or skirts when they have their lessons, which makes Youngtaek seem a little more satisfied – but when the night of the ball actually arrives, Joochan almost fights Jaehyun when his servant comes to drag him out of bed.

The flowers in his room were replaced about a week ago, yellow and red tulips forming a bright sunburst on his desk. Perhaps someone was just trying to cheer him up. Or maybe they somehow knew his fiancée’s favorite flowers were tulips and decided to make a little joke.

Joochan tries not to look at their slightly wilted stems. They only remind him of a certain night-blooming rose whose face he hasn’t seen in weeks.

He wears a dark suit, deep blue trimmed with silver embroidery around the shoulders and cuffs. Jaehyun puts a few last touches on his makeup and hands Joochan an earring, telling him to put it in – “You’re the servant, shouldn’t you be dressing me?” “Are your fingers that inept, Your Royal Highness?” – before taking the prince’s crown off the pillow it was delivered on, silver and jewels glinting in the evening light filtering through the window. The cold weight settles on Joochan’s head.

“There,” Jaehyun says softly. “You’re ready.”

Joochan lifts his gaze to the mirror. A young man stares back, faded pink hair swept elegantly off his forehead, an earring glinting just above his shoulder. Makeup around his eyes makes them darker, more piercing, and he wears a fine blue suit, slim silver chains draping over the shoulders and around the neck. The jewels in the crown sparkle brilliantly, even in the fading light.

He swallows hard. The young man copies the movement. He averts his eyes, clenching his fist.

This man in the mirror, the man Joochan knows is himself, looks fine and elegant and handsome, almost exactly what a prince should be. If he didn’t know he was cursed, Joochan might even dare to say he was the perfect model of royalty, second only to maybe his brother.

He’s never hated it more.

Jangjun’s characteristic knock sounds at the door before Joochan can take more time to hate himself. Jaehyun helps him out of the chair and squeezes his shoulder slightly, their previous teasing mood forgotten in the wake of what they both know Joochan has to do next. With a brief “good luck” and “thanks,” Joochan opens the door.

Both of Jangjun’s eyes rise the second he sees Joochan. “Looking good, Your Highness.”

Joochan scoffs lightly. “You just want me to say you look good too, right?”

He does look good. Few people are blind to the fact that Jangjun is actually very handsome, and Joochan has caught more than a few servants staring sometimes when he walks down a hall, his guard stepping along right beside him. With him dressed as a partygoer instead of in his usual uniform, Joochan thinks his guard will attract even more stares than usual tonight, but Jangjun doesn’t need the ego boost. He can live without it.

“Caught.” Jangjun’s eyes crinkle into a smirk. “But I know I look good, so I don’t need you to say it.” The smile fades, replaced with determination and concern. “Ready to go?”

No.

“Yes.” Joochan steps further into the hallway. Briefly, he wonders how people would react if he tripped while presenting the gift to Donghyun’s sister. “Come on.”

. . . . .

He doesn’t trip. The princess gets her gift without anything more than the usual fanfare, a circlet of gold with a moonstone set into the front that Joochan places on her head with hands shaking both from nervousness and just in general not wanting to be there. Whoever did her dressing left her hair devoid of accessories, thankfully, just some clips holding a few strands back, so Joochan doesn’t need to awkwardly remove things or try to fit the circlet around preexistent ornaments. One less thing to worry about.

He accepts his dances, too, sailing about the ballroom on feet much heavier than hers that seem to be made of air. No mistakes on his end, though – he notices Youngtaek nodding in approval somewhere in the watching crowd – and when they separate at the end of the ball with the last traditional song, Joochan feels satisfied, even if not happy, that he’s at least played his part well.

(It doesn’t matter that when he walks his fiancée back to her rooms and bids her goodnight, he sees the rose he picked for her standing upright in a vase, taunting him with memories of you.)

(It also doesn’t matter that when he returns to his own quarters, the wilting tulips that were on his desk have been replaced by a bouquet of midnight blue with a tiny note sticking out from behind the petals, almost blending in with a streak of starry white.

Sleep well.

Joochan lies awake for at least another hour.)

. . . . .

Because the gods have somehow managed to keep him from seeing you on his walks in the gardens, Joochan doesn’t feel too worried that you’ll meet when he wanders down to the flowers after another wedding suit fitting. He needs to feel sunshine on his skin, not cold silk and satin.

To his surprise, he meets Donghyun’s sister by a patch of roses, and at her suggestion, they continue on together, mostly keeping a comfortable silence. It chafes at Joochan a little – was there something she wanted to say last time, something that she can still say now? – but she doesn’t say anything about it, only admires the flowers. He follows suit.

Then Joochan rounds a corner, trailing his fingers along a vine that creeps up the stone palace walls, and sees a familiar figure kneeling over a small patch of tulips.

He freezes. No, there’s no way that can be you –

The figure’s head lifts, and Joochan catches their eye almost accidentally.

He’d know that face anywhere.

“Your Highnesses.” You bow low, stiff, formal. Joochan aches for even a bit of familiarity to bleed into your voice, your actions, but you keep your face neutral as he bids you to stand. He searches your eyes, your lips, for something, anything –

But there’s nothing. And Joochan understands. It isn’t just you and him, this time – his future wife stands at his arm, and you must maintain your composure.

His fiancée’s voice jerks Juyeon out of his thoughts. “I believe we’ve met before, haven’t we?” she smiles. “You sang beautifully the last time I was here.”

Your head dips in respect. “Thank you, Your Highness. Your words honor me.”

“Joochan told me you were the one who managed to make the roses bloom under the balcony where no other gardener succeeded,” she continues. Joochan hides a flinch when his name falls from her lips, startlingly casual and almost a slap in the face to you, who can’t use his name as you always do for fear of punishment. Something in your eyes flickers, too, but Joochan can’t do anything more than hope his silent apology reads clear in his gaze as his fiancée keep speaking. “Your gift is great.”

Again, you bow in thanks. Your eyes remain downcast, demure and humble, as you speak. The lightest hint of detached teasing colors your tone. “Perhaps the roses were only waiting for the right person’s song, Your Highness.”

Donghyun’s sister clearly thinks you meant to teasingly brag about your own ability and she responds accordingly, laughing with a brightness he rarely sees on her face. But as she laughs, you lift your head slightly, fixing his gaze with yours.

Perhaps the roses were only waiting for the right person’s song.

The right person’s song.

The right person…

Joochan stares into your eyes, watching them soften. You meant him, he’s certain, as self-centered as it sounds. By the right person, you meant him.

Oh. Oh, gods…

“I agree,” he replies softly. 

Only he thinks that the right person was you.

Your eyes widen for a split second as you take in Joochan’s meaning. Something cracks in your expression, something raw and beautiful and so, so sad, and Joochan tries to memorize it so he can pick it apart later on – why do you look so radiant and so defeated all at once as your eyes flicker to the laughing fiancée at his side –

The right person.

The right person…

No. No. Joochan swallows hard, breaking his gaze from yours as his mind races. Nights spent under the moon, talking, singing, laughing as you clipped roses and leaves and soothed him with your voice…

Joochan is not in love with you. He isn’t, he can’t be, not when his fiancée is literally standing on his arm –

Your gaze catches his once more, and Joochan barely manages not to lose himself in your eyes.

He’s in love with you. Completely, wholly in love with you –

In his mind’s eye, Joochan sees your gaze flicker over to his future wife, turning dark upon contact.

Oh.

Joochan is in love with you.

And you might be in love with him.

He almost falls with the realization. Only his fiancée’s grip on his arm keeps him from swaying forward. Joochan looks at you, drinking in the sight of your eyes and you let him, staring back with a fervor as great as his –

But Joochan’s fiancée has finished her peal of laughter and you both have to look away, your eyes clouding into something darker while Joochan fights the ache in his chest. “Well, we won’t disturb you further,” she says, seemingly oblivious to his pain. “Thank you for your time.”

You bow, and when you straighten, your eyes linger on Joochan for a second longer than it should. “The pleasure was all mine.”

. . . . .

Joochan lies awake that night and several more, still reeling with the sudden realization that he is in love not with the person that people would like him to love, but with a gardener whose voice makes him feel like a night-blooming rose, petals opening in the night, free to blossom and free to grow, free to sing without causing pain.

And this gardener is in love with him too.

He tries to hide it. No one really notices – he keeps up a joking banter with his brother and Donghyun, fights playfully with Jangjun, and performs his duties as a future husband without fail. But several times, he catches Bomin looking at him with a weird expression or Jangjun staring over out of the corner of his eye.

It might be easier if he could tell them what he’s done, how he feels. But both would probably disapprove – Jangjun already suspects something about you, and Bomin, though he now understands Joochan’s revulsion to the marriage, wouldn’t be happy about him having fallen in love with someone else. It will only hurt Donghyun’s sister, too, and she doesn’t deserve that.

When Joochan makes his way back to his rooms several nights later, debating whether or not to even go out onto the balcony because he still can’t think properly, he doesn’t expect Jangjun to stop him just outside the door, a strange expression on his face.

“Joochan.”

He blinks. “Jangjun?”

The guard’s eyes flicker. “Go see them.”

“I –” Joochan frowns. “What?”

“Go see them,” Jangjun repeats in a hushed whisper. “They make you happy, don’t they?” A faraway look comes into his eyes for the briefest second before it disappears. “And you can sing in front of them.”

Joochan’s eyes widen. “How did you –”

“Don’t get mad,” Jangjun says, holding up his hands. “Bomin told me what you let slip to him. I didn’t tell him anything about Y/N, I swear – I just put two and two together, and, well. It’s the only thing that makes sense.” He holds Joochan’s gaze. “Don’t get mad at him. He’s just trying to understand. He hasn’t said a word to anyone else, not even Sanha.”

Joochan leans against the wall, trying to process all of the information. “I – Jangjun, what in the world –”

“Listen, Joochan.” Jangjun steps forward. “I know what it’s like to suppress a part of you for so long it feels like you’re dying.” His lips twist in a grimace of pain that Joochan barely has time to decipher. “If you’ve found someone who is able and willing to listen to your song, I’m not going to stop you.”

I know what it’s like to suppress a part of you for so long it feels like you’re dying.

Joochan frowns. As far as Joochan knows, Jangjun is ungifted – he just doesn’t have magic. What part of himself would he have suppressed, and for what reason?

The look on his guard’s face convinces him not to ask.

Swallowing, Joochan takes a deep breath and tries to focus on the meaning behind Jangjun’s words. He wants him to go, to meet you in person under the moon and stars and sing to the roses until midnight. A sick feeling rises in Joochan’s stomach. If Jangjun had said this months earlier, maybe even weeks, he would’ve run out right then and there. But now that he knows what he feels for you, not just for your song but you as a person…

Joochan swallows. He does need to speak to you, though, even briefly. And if Jangjun is willing to cover for him in case something goes wrong, then he should take this opportunity, shouldn’t he?

He nods. “Okay.”

Jangjun gestures to the end of the hall, down the secret passageway Joochan always took to find you. He doesn’t bother to question why Jangjun knows about it. “Then go.”

. . . . .

When Joochan arrives, you’re already under the balcony, humming to some of the rosebuds. You look up at his approach, eyes wide with first fear and then surprise. No wonder – you probably expected him on the balcony again, not right in front of you on the grass.

Joochan’s heart thumps. Gazing at you now, ethereal under the pale moonlight, he has to wonder how he didn’t realize he was in love with you until just a few days ago. Every piece of him aches to reach out, to hold your hands in his, to walk with you around the garden like he does with his fiancée…

His stomach twists at the thought of Donghyun’s sister. Why did their parents have to arrange this marriage?

“Joochan,” you breathe, standing up from where you were kneeling by the bushes. “I –”

“I love you.”

You freeze. Joochan freezes. For a moment, all that hangs in the air is silence and the echoes of Joochan’s words in the wind.

He doesn’t know what made him say it now, so suddenly like this. All he knows is that when you turned around and he heard you say his name, the only thing he could think was I love you, I love you so much I can’t even say and then it all came spilling out.

Finally, you swallow. For the first time since he spoke with you that day in the shed, you look rattled, discomposed, hands shaking as you fight to keep your voice steady. “You – you love me?”

Joochan swallows. Dips his head. “Yes,” he whispers. “I love you.”

Your expression cracks the same way it did when you met in the garden under the light of day, speaking of the roses right by you with his fiancée at his side. Splinters appear in your eyes, a rose’s petals withered past the point of growth even with the help of song, and Joochan can’t help but step forward, try to take your hands in his –

You jerk away and Joochan falters, suddenly unable to meet your eyes. Did he read you wrong? Do you not care for him the same way he cares for you? Because if you don’t, hell, Joochan doesn’t know what he’ll do –

“Joochan.” You swallow. “I mean, Your Highness.”

Pieces splinter off his heart, ice shards shattering on the floor with the sound of his title and not his name from your voice.

“You can’t – you can’t love me,” you whisper, pointedly looking away. “You have a title, you have a fiancée, you have everything –”

“I don’t have freedom,” Joochan interrupts. “No one can hear my song without dying and for that I don’t live, breathe the same way other people do – do you know how much everything hurt before I met you?” His eyes search yours for understanding, but you blink them closed. “Y/N, please.”

“Is that all you love me for, then?” you ask, features twisted in pain. “Just that I can listen to you sing, despite your curse?”

“No!” Joochan shakes his head wildly. “No – I love you for everything you are, beyond your voice and song –”

You remain silent as he speaks, words stumbling over more words as he tries to articulate everything he feels for you, his night-blooming rose under the moon and stars, one of the few people he trusts, one of the few around whom he feels like home. He loves your wisdom, your gentle teasing and sweet song, he loves the way you care so deeply for every living thing around you bar the pests you see sometimes eating the plants, he loves you for you, everything that makes up you –

“I love all of you,” he finishes, tears pulsing behind his eyes. “Not a part of you. All of you.”

Your gaze glitters with unshed tears. You don’t say anything.

Joochan panics. “Please, say something,” he pleads. “Just – anything. If you don’t feel the same, I’ll go away and I won’t come back, I promise, just please say something – tell me if you feel the same –”

One hand drags across your eyes. You swallow hard, finally meeting his gaze. “I do,” you say roughly. “I do love you, but we can’t – I can’t –” An angry sigh bursts from your lips and you wipe your eyes again. “Joochan, this could never end well.”

The relief at you using his name and not his title softens Joochan’s sadness, but only barely. “Run away with me,” he says desperately. “Just give me the word, Y/N, and I’ll run away with you. I won’t look back.”

“No.” You shake your head. “Neither of us is going to run away, Joochan. You have your life and I have mine. What we feel…” Your lips curve into the barest smile, lovely, haunting in the moonlight, before it disappears. “It doesn’t matter. None of it matters.”

“It matters to me,” Joochan protests.

“And it matters to me, too.” You attempt a smile and more pieces shatter from Joochan’s heart at the sight of you trying your hardest to remain strong when he’s already such a wreck. “But it won’t matter to others. You have a fiancée and a whole life ahead of you. My life will stay here, with the flowers.” Your smile grows briefly. “It’s okay. Just knowing that I will see you in the gardens is enough for me.”

“What if it isn’t enough for me?” Joochan asks. “What if I want to marry you, not my fiancée? What if I want us to have a garden together, not just one where we’ll see each other periodically –”

“That life isn’t for us,” you say softly, voice cutting clearly through his desperation. “It isn’t for us, Joochan.”

And with that, the last of Joochan’s heart falls away, cracks to pieces on the cold ground. For a moment, you only stare at each other, a million silent words filling the still air.

“Can we just have tonight, then?” Joochan whispers. “Just tonight.”

You chew on your lip. Joochan’s heart pounds.

Then you nod, and within seconds, he’s folded you into his arms, memorizing the warm weight of your body pressed against his. You shudder into his shoulder – you’re crying, he realizes, just as tears begin to fall from his own eyes – and then wrap your arms around him too, pulling him even closer than before. “Sing for me?” you whisper, voice cracking with tears.

He opens his mouth, begins to hum a song he learned years ago from sitting in on one of Bomin’s lessons. It speaks of hope, a new day, love blossoming as flowers do in a garden, as a night-blooming rose does under the moon. It’s strange, singing alone without your faint humming in the background as you keep the roses alive, but even as the flowers wither, Joochan steadies his voice enough to sing softly, smoothly, knowing that this will be the only night he can hold you like this.

You pull back after his song and for one brief, terrified moment, Joochan thinks you’re going to leave. But you only stare at him, stars sparkling in your eyes, and brush a strand of faded pink hair out of his forehead before your gaze lowers, settling on his lips. “May I?” you whisper, sounding almost frightened that he will say no.

Joochan doesn’t deign you with a verbal reply, only closes the distance and kisses you.

Bitterness on his tongue, sugar on your lips, Joochan pulls you close, close, closer, tasting the bittersweet from your mouth as you kiss under the moon. You separate for air and Joochan gasps a little, dizzy from the taste of your lips, and then you kiss him again, deeper, sweeter, again and again until it finally feels okay to stop for a little longer and you end it with a last brief peck on his lips.

“I love you, Y/N,” Joochan whispers as you bury yourself against him once more. “I love you.”

Your voice shakes as you reply. “I love you too, Joochan.”

(Neither of you notices a shadow at the edge of the wall, disappearing into the night.)

. . . . .

By some unspoken agreement, you and Joochan don’t meet under the stars anymore, not even with him on the balcony. That last night was an ending to something bittersweet and beautiful, but you made it clear that that was where things had to stop. Joochan is just grateful you let him have those last hours with you.

At least, that’s what he tells himself, even as he stops singing to himself in his empty room.

It isn’t the same. Joochan can’t sing, doesn’t want to sing if there isn’t someone to listen, to smile, to sing back a melody of their own. It doesn’t feel right. It feels like a betrayal.

You still come under his balcony sometimes to check on the roses. Joochan sometimes sits under the railing so you won’t see him (at least not as clearly), straining his ears to listen to you hum your song to the buds. The seasons are going to change soon, spring turning to summer, and you’ve talked about the changes you need to make when tending to the blooms with the shift in weather. He listens to the faint sounds of your movements and your voice, and he thinks you know he’s there, too, even if he doesn’t join in on your song.

Jangjun begins to look more and more confused as the days pass and Joochan just looks worse. He knows his guard meant well and expected him to be happier after that meeting he encouraged, so Joochan doesn’t have the heart to reveal what actually happened. Jangjun doesn’t ask, but he knows something went wrong.

You disappear from the gardens again. Joochan doesn’t see you when he takes his walks, and even his fiancée remarks on how they never encounter you after a few weeks pass with no sign. For you, Joochan is grateful – it clearly only hurt you to see the two of them together, and he doesn’t want you to hurt at all – but selfishly, he wishes he could see your face just one more time.

“It’s okay. Just knowing that I will see you in the gardens is enough for me.”

What’s the use of that when you never let yourself see him in the first place?

But Joochan respects your wishes, and even when people start remarking on his pale face and the dark circles under his eyes, he doesn’t say anything. He just smiles, nods, says I’ve just been busy lately, don’t worry about me, and carries on. No sense in telling anyone about his broken heart.

He takes a walk in the gardens one afternoon, alone. Bomin offered to come, but Joochan wanted to be by himself (well, by himself with Jangjun, of course). Almost unconsciously, his feet take him under his balcony, where the night-blooming roses grow.

Joochan sits on the grass in the shade looking at the roses. Most of the buds have blossomed with the warmer summer weather, and he fingers a few of the midnight blue blooms, runs a hand over the soft white streaks on their petals.

Then he blinks. Scoots back. Takes in the scene from a farther distance, eyes narrowing in confusion, then widening in surprise.

They’re overgrown. Not by a lot, but still a noticeable amount. The branches that you kept so carefully trimmed now crawl up the wall, creeping past the shade and just barely into the sun.

Joochan frowns. There’s no way you would be this careless normally, but maybe you’ve been busy over the past week or so and haven’t had time to tend them. After all, the rest of the gardens are your main focus – this bush was something extra, since nothing is ever really planted here out of fear of his voice. Come to think of it, Joochan hasn’t heard your voice from the balcony in a few days – he thought it might’ve just been you singing too quietly, but maybe you weren’t there at all.

Busy. You must be busy. Joochan stands, casting one last uncertain glance at the overgrown rose bush before walking off, ignoring Jangjun’s look of concern. He’ll come back and check in a few days to see if they’ve been trimmed.

A few days pass. Then a week. Joochan waits on the balcony every night, straining for a single note that sounds like your voice. Nothing.

And the rose bush is out of control.

. . . . .

On the fifth visit, Jangjun finally says something.

“Your Highness –” he looks around before deciding they’re alone, then drops the formalities. “Joochan, seriously, is something wrong?”

Yes. Something is very wrong. Joochan has come to look at the roses five times and each time they’ve just grown even more out of control. No one is taking care of them.

Which means you haven’t been here. In weeks.

Joochan swallows, debating whether or not to tell Jangjun everything. He could help – Jangjun knows the palace almost better than Joochan himself does, and he has a way with words that lets him seek out the information he needs without giving away what he wants. Joochan might talk to Bomin, but his brother is both busy and in closer proximity to his parents. Plus, he doesn’t have as much freedom to maneuver as Jangjun.

He swallows. “Jangjun, can you find out if something has happened to Y/N?”

Jangjun frowns. “The gardener? Why?”

“They haven’t been here to tend the roses in weeks,” Joochan says helplessly. “Please don’t ask me how I know, but…” He gestures at the overgrown bush. “I think something’s happened to them.”

For a moment, there’s silence. Then Jangjun sets his jaw. “You’re not going to tell me anything, are you.” It isn’t a question.

“Not… not now,” Joochan allows. “If something happens, though…” He takes a deep breath. “I’ll tell you what you need to know. All of it.”

Jangjun nods. “Fine. Give me a few days, I’ll see what I can find.”

Joochan only hopes he isn’t too late.

. . . . .

Two days later, Jangjun grabs Joochan out of nowhere and shoves him into an empty room.

Joochan coughs on dust particles flying in the air. “Jangjun, what the –”

“Joochan, you need to tell me everything.” Jangjun’s eyes hold no mischief whatsoever. “Y/N is sitting in prison underneath us this very minute and I need to know how it could have slipped that they know of your curse.”

How it could have slipped.

Slipped.

How –

“What?” Joochan sputters, heartbeat rising. “I couldn’t – I don’t know how anyone would have – we haven’t spoken in a month –”

“Seungmin told me they haven’t been at work for at least two weeks and that they just disappeared. It matches up with the time a new prisoner was brought in,” Jangjun snaps. “Try to remember. Something, anything.”

Joochan closes his eyes. Tries to think. You’re in prison, in prison, because someone somehow found out that you know of Joochan’s curse even though no one has been around when you two sang together – that has to be true or else they would’ve died at the sound of his song, and no one died –

Was there a time when he wasn’t singing?

Oh.

There was – that last time –

His eyes fly open. “That time you told me to go –” he chokes, does his best to continue – “we met, and I told them that I loved them but –”

“But what?”

Joochan puts his head in his hands. “We agreed that it couldn’t work out so we just spent that one night in the garden – nothing happened, don’t look at me like that – but neither of us sang much and someone could’ve heard something and – they could have pieced it together?”

“Okay.” Joochan hears Jangjun take a deep breath. “Okay. That would… that would explain it.” Hands place themselves on Joochan’s shoulders and he opens his eyes to Jangjun’s serious expression. “What do you want to do about this?”

Joochan blinks. What does he want to do about this? What kind of question – “I need to get them out, obviously!”

“Then they’ll be on the run for the rest of their life,” Jangjun counters. “Granted, they’re just a gardener and they might be able to blend in somewhere on the outskirts.” He squeezes Joochan’s shoulders so hard it almost hurts. “Would you go with them?”

In a heartbeat. In a heartbeat.

“Even if it meant giving up living in the palace, bringing a lot of trouble on Bomin and possibly breaking your fiancée’s heart?”

Selfish, selfish, selfish.

“Bomin – Bomin will understand,” Joochan says, desperately trying to convince himself. “And Donghyun’s sister doesn’t love me. She doesn’t want this marriage any more than I do.”

“There will be political ramifications,” Jangjun warns. “I know you weren’t raised as the crown prince, but you have to know this much.”

Joochan scoffs. “My parents will try to pull it off as a kidnapping or something,” he says. “No way would they let it slip that I dared to run away.”

“Then they could send an assassin or a mercenary after you. Kill Y/N, bring you back. Force you to return to everything you tried to run away from.”

Fear bubbles in Joochan’s stomach, but he swallows it down. “If Y/N is willing to deal with it, so am I.”

Jangjun searches his expression for several excruciating seconds. When Joochan doesn’t flinch from his gaze, he finally pulls back and nods. “Prison break is the last resort,” Jangjun says. “Right now, you need to go to your parents and see if you can convince them to let Y/N go. Swear them to secrecy, keep them under watch in the palace or something – it doesn’t matter. Getting them out of here will be much easier if they’re not imprisoned in the first place. Tell Bomin, ask him to help you convince them if you think that’ll help.”

Joochan swallows, still feeling the burn of Jangjun’s hands on his shoulders. The residual pain clears his mind, helps him think. “Okay,” he whispers. “Okay.”

. . . . .

Bomin takes it about as well as Joochan thought he would, which is not as well as he would’ve liked but better than it could have been. After seemingly endless explanation, he agrees to back Joochan – you’re only a gardener, after all, this is kind of overkill, and Bomin is just a good brother like that. It almost makes Joochan cry again.

As the doors to the throne room open, Joochan’s heart feels like it’s going to beat out of his chest. He hates facing his parents, hates looking at them and speaking to them more than most things in the world, but for you?

He’ll do it.

Joochan walks into a silent room, boots thumping on the cold stone floor. Bomin’s footsteps just behind him give him strength as he looks up to his mother and father, sitting with blank expressions on their thrones. “I request that the room be cleared.”

His father searches his gaze. “Request granted.”

It takes a minute for all the guards and officials to filter through the doors, during which Joochan tries to calm his beating heart. Finally, the room is empty save for his immediate family.

Joochan swallows. “I ask that you take Y/N out of prison.”

Eyebrows raise. Joochan hates that they don’t even seem to recognize your name. “The gardener,” he almost snaps, reigning himself in only just in time when he catches Bomin’s warning look.

Faces clear. Eyes become stone. “They know the secret of your curse,” his father says, voice flat and cold. Joochan can hardly believe he has healing power – his voice sucks all the heat out of the room. Your voice always made him feel warm. “They cannot be left to wander the kingdom and spread the word.”

“So bind them to secrecy. Keep them under watch in the palace,” Joochan counters. “They shouldn’t have to be stuck in prison – there are already people outside our immediate family who know, and they’ve kept their mouths shut!”

“They have not been vetted by the palace,” his mother snaps. “They are liable to speak, and as such, they must be kept away.”

Kept away. Like an inanimate object, a toy from ages past, to be locked in a cupboard and never shown the light of day…

Bomin shoots him a sharp glance, but Joochan is sick of this.

“Are you serious?” he yells. “You – have one single ounce of sympathy, will you? Or is that impossible with the way you’ve been running your kingdom – your household – for so long?”

“You are marked by death,” his mother snarls. “It is imperative that no one know this beyond all those necessary.”

“Father, they’re just one person,” Bomin breaks in before Joochan can explode again. “It’s entirely possible to not keep them in the prison and just keep watch over them –”

“You clearly have much to learn before you become king.” Their father shakes his head, as though disappointed. “Just one person? One sick person can spread an illness to a city within days, and illness travels even slower than words. How fast do you think news of this would spread if your gardener decided to speak?”

Joochan scoffs. “You never have any problem paying people off to be quiet or do things you want them to do. What’s so different this time?”

“I? Pay off a gardener?” His father laughs. “Who do you think I am?”

Joochan explodes.

“You think so highly of yourself, don’t you?” he yells. “You think so highly of yourself just because you wear a crown made of some shiny metal and jewels – you think you have the right to rule because of your supposed royal blood even though there’s nothing but cold evil under the surface? We are the descendants of killers – your father wiped out the weavers and you have no sympathy, so how can you think you have the right – why do you think you can just play people as pawns and have them do whatever you want – even your children – do you ever think about what we want?” Angry tears brim in his eyes but Joochan keeps them back. “I never wanted any of this! I never asked for my gift, I never asked to be born, I never asked to be the evil, death-marked child you always made me out to be, I never asked for the arranged marriage, all I ever wanted was to be happy and to use my gift but I couldn’t even do that – and now you’re taking away half the reason I still want to live by shutting them in a prison because of something they found out by accident –”

“You have no gift,” his mother intones, voice icing Joochan’s veins. “You are cursed.” Her lip curls. “Your song is no gift to us.”

Bomin makes an outraged sound in his throat, but Joochan barely hears it. All he can register is the blood roaring in his ears, the cold look on his mother’s face, the abhorrence and disgust on his father’s –

And he knows it isn’t true. You’ve taught him otherwise. Death is a part of a cycle – some flowers you can’t even bring back from their withering, it is just their time – and life needs it just as much as death needs life. Just as much as he needs you.

But hearing the words come directly from his mother’s lips, the woman who bore him, hurts almost more than your words can heal.

Joochan swallows. He could end it all right now. Tell Bomin to get out, sing, watch his song wither his parents away like the petals of an old rose – no, not a rose, even a withered rose is a sight better than the two monarchs sitting in front of him –

But he isn’t a killer. Not by far. He can’t do it.

Joochan steps back once. Twice. His voice, though small, carries in the silence.

“You know,” he chokes, “for people who pride yourselves on your ability to heal, all you really do is cause pain.”

He doesn’t wait for Bomin to follow before he runs out of the room.

. . . . .

Jangjun finds him in his quarters with Bomin half an hour later, sitting on the floor and staring at the wall. “It didn’t work out.”

Joochan doesn’t need to say anything to confirm it.

“So what happens next?” Bomin asks, still rhythmically patting Joochan’s back. It helps a little.

“We break Y/N out,” Jangjun says. “And they run away with Joochan.”

Bomin doesn’t look surprised, but Joochan’s heart still twists. He doesn’t want to leave Bomin or Jaehyun or Jangjun behind – they’re some of the only people who’ve kept him sane since he was old enough to think – but at the same time, he’s been itching to just leave the scrutiny of his parents for years.

After so much pain, even brotherly ties won’t keep him here for much longer.

“I’m going with you.”

Joochan’s head snaps up. Bomin furrows his eyebrows. “What – Jangjun?”

“They might send assassins after you and Y/N.” Jangjun crosses his arms. “I know you’re good in a fight, but Y/N doesn’t know anything about that sort of life. I do. You need me there to lead people off track, plant evidence –”

“That’s not the only reason,” Joochan interrupts. His eyes narrow. “You’re hiding something.”

Jangjun’s jaw works. He doesn’t look angry, exactly, maybe worried –

No.

For the first time Joochan has ever seen, his guard looks scared.

Bomin casts Joochan a concerned look. “Jangjun, it’s fine –”

“I’m a weaver.”

Joochan’s jaw drops. So does Bomin’s. Jangjun just stares back, defiant, arms crossed to hide the shaking in his hands.

A weaver. Joochan’s guard is a weaver. His loyal guard is one of those his forebears tried to wipe out generations ago – so why is he here, protecting the descendant of those who probably killed his family, his ancestors –

All of a sudden, Jangjun’s words from so many weeks ago make sense.

I know what it’s like to suppress a part of you for so long it feels like you’re dying.

He’s a weaver. One of those who wove stories into clothes, one of those his grandfather tried to massacre.

“Why?” Joochan manages.

“I was decent at fighting and needed a stable roof over my head that wasn’t the orphanage,” Jangjun explains. An unreadable look flashes through his eyes. “Took the first opportunity I could get and thought I would hate it. But then I realized… neither of you are your parents. Not even close.” He swallows. “So I stayed. Longer than I expected to.”

“So why leave now?” Bomin asks. “You could still stay – I mean, if we’re the only people who know –”

“Daeyeol knows too,” Jangjun says. Bomin starts at the name of his personal guard. “He knows, and he told me that some of the higher ups have been getting suspicious of… things. My unknown parentage. Why I’m so good at sewing.” He scoffs. “Like only commoners can be good at sewing. But yeah. No one will care how loyal I am if they find out I’m a weaver, so I’m going to have to run off at some point.” His jaw sets. “I might as well go along with you.”

Joochan has to try hard not to cry. “Thank you.”

“Don’t be a sap.” A sliver of the old Jangjun comes back in the scowl that paints itself across his face. “Bomin, you could come with us, you know that right?”

He shakes his head. “No, I need to stay back. If both of the princes disappeared, there’s no telling what our parents would do.” Bomin swallows. “Who knows. Maybe one day, when they’re gone, you might be able to come back.”

That would be a dream.

“Thank you, Bomin,” Joochan whispers.

His brother squeezes his hand in response.

“Well, that settles it.” Jangjun snaps his fingers before Joochan can do something stupid like cry. “Get moving. We need to get out of here as soon as possible.”

. . . . .

Joochan does not like the prisons. He’s been there before, but every time, the mildew smell and darkness make him want to hurl.

The fact that you’re in here, though, spurs him on.

Jangjun makes quick work of the last guard, slamming the handle of his sword into his head. The man crumples to the ground. Joochan stands over another unconscious man, peering forward into the darkness. “Down the hall?”

“Yeah.” Jangjun looks down at his arm. “Oh, come on.”

“What happened?”

“Just a scratch.” Jangjun waves him off. “Go and find them. I’ll stand guard here. There should be one more left, two at most. You can handle it.”

Heart in his throat, Joochan turns towards the dark. Several torches flicker light onto the stone walls and he takes care to remain in their shadows as he creeps down the line of cells, eyeing the guard standing at the end.

One shot. One chance. Joochan takes another step. Another –

The guard turns around.

For a moment, they only stare at each other, eyes wide. Then Joochan leaps forward.

Metal clangs. Armor crashes. Joochan whirls, dodging a metal-covered fist before slamming his sword against the side of the man’s helmet. He crumples to the floor.

Joochan experimentally prods the body with his foot. Breathing, but unconscious. Good. He plucks off the ring of keys –

“Joochan?”

He spins around at the sound of your voice and meets your gaze, face thinner, eyes wider, but still you. Still you.

“Y/N,” he breathes, rushing forward. His fingers tremble as he tries one key after another, all the while trying not to cry. What did they do to you? “Give me a second, we’re getting you out.”

A key finally clicks and Joochan drops the ring, pulling open the cell door and letting you fall into his arms. He holds you close as you shake against his shoulders, chest heaving, not crying yet but the small sounds in your throat make it seem like you’re close –

“We need to go,” Joochan whispers, squeezing you one more time. “Come on, Y/N.”

You lift your head. “Where are we going?”

Good question. Joochan doesn’t even know. Just away, away from the palace, away from everything…

“We’re running away,” he says. “Both of us. And Jangjun.”

To your credit, you take it without question, only nodding and pulling back. Joochan wants to hug you again, but there’s not time. “I guess we should go, then.”

. . . . .

Bomin meets them as they emerge from a dark passageway, immediately pressing a bag into Joochan’s hands. Something rattles inside. “Money,” he says. “And hair dye. You need to get rid of that pink.”

He wraps Bomin in a hug. “Thank you.”

“Live a good life, yeah?” Bomin pats his back, hand steady even as his voice trembles. “I’ll see you again.”

Joochan blinks back a tear. “Definitely. Tell Jaehyun, okay?”

“Of course.” And with that, they separate.

Joochan only hopes that another meeting will come to pass.

Jangjun leads them down endless halls and passageways, some even Joochan doesn’t know. All the while he holds your hand, pulling you forward anytime it feels like you’re faltering, and in the end, Jangjun pushes open a last door and you burst into the early evening, a floral scent in the air. The gardens. 

He looks around. 

Meets a familiar face.

Shit.

“Joochan?” His fiancée takes a hesitant step forward, eyes flickering between the three. Your grip tightens on his hand. “What – where are you going?”

Jangjun looks at him. So do you.

He says nothing.

Her eyes widen. “You’re running away.”

No one needs to confirm it. Their clothes, the bag on his shoulder, the weapons strapped to his and Jangjun’s waists say everything.

“Yes,” Joochan finally says, lifting his chin. “I’m sorry.”

Her expression sinks, though she puts a smile on her face. “I understand.” Her gaze shifts to you. “You were never in love with me. It was obvious.”

The ache in Joochan’s heart grows even stronger. “I –”

“It’s fine.” Her smile takes on a semblance of mischief. “If it doesn’t hurt your ego too much, I was never in love with you.”

Joochan almost laughs. “I figured.”

“Glad we’re on the same page.” Her lips turn down slightly, a little wistful. “Shame, though. I think we could’ve been friends.”

“I think so, too.” And it’s true. If they hadn’t been forced into all of this…

“Well, I never saw you. Not even a glimpse.” His former fiancée begins to turn around. “Don’t mind me, just walking in the gardens.”

He calls her name, just before she fully turns. She looks back. “Hm?”

For a moment, Joochan falters. This could go very wrong.

But he decides to take a chance.

“Find Bomin,” he says. “Tell him I said he could tell you everything. Donghyun, too. And for what it’s worth…” He swallows. “I really am sorry.”

“Things rarely go according to plan.” She smirks. “Our parents should’ve thought of that first.”

They really might have been friends. Joochan tries not to think of what could have been as he follows Jangjun between bushes, helping you through trees, crawling under fences until they reach the edge of the forest that borders the palace.

Jangjun plunges in, but Joochan pauses. Looks at you. Even gaunt, thinner from weeks of prison, you are radiant under the rising moonlight that filters between the trees.

You smile at him, squeezing his hand. “Ready?”

So many times, he’s been asked that question before balls, before events, before arranged marriage meetings, and every time, though he said yes, his real answer was no.

This time, however…

“Are you two done being saps?” Jangjun hisses from further into the forest. “Hurry up!”

Nothing is certain anymore. He might now technically be a fugitive. But tomorrow is a new day, and though Joochan is on the run, he’s with you. 

And he’s free.

Joochan smiles at you, ignoring his guard. “Ready.”

Together, you slip into the night.

. . . . .

The palace called it kidnapping. There was a manhunt for months, search parties looking for a gardener and a royal guard, the prince’s alleged kidnappers. Many thought it ludicrous, however, that a mere gardener and a guard who had been known to be loyal to the prince for years would attempt something as ridiculous as this, and simply left the palace to fumble through its affairs in the wake of the disappearance.

The former prince himself dealt with assassins sent after his partner, bounty hunters charged to bring him back (dead or alive, he learned, it didn’t matter – if he were dead, at least no one would have to deal with him anymore). The guard lured them all away. Together, the three plunged further into the country outskirts until there was no trace left, not even of the last assassin who had been sent to take care of them all.

This is where the story should end, with two black-haired brothers and a gardener settling quietly at the edge of a forest. Yet though the words now come to close, the world still remains.

The end of one story, after all, is only the beginning of another.

If you enjoyed, please don’t forget to reblog and leave a comment to tell me what you thought! Thank you for reading and have a lovely day <3

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[sytco]

collision theory [joochan]

pairing: hong joochan x reader

word count: 1k

in which you meet a boy running from the rules and straight into your heart.

a/n: this joochan high school au drabble would NOT leave me alone until i posted it despite knowing i have 2 requests to finish + edit + post but i forgive it because it’s so cute even though i’m the one who wrote it LOL also in future i would be really interested in making this into a full blown fic!! but for now please show it lots of love!!! thank you!!!!!! -ju

~

The first time you meet Joochan coincidentally happens to be the first time you nearly set your chemistry class on fire.

In retrospect, the new burn you sport on your thumb is minor and will heal up after a week, except your chemistry teacher is also a frazzled worrywart who immediately frog marches you to the infirmary as soon as the panic has died down and advises the nurse to keep you in bed until lunch. It may also be because she’s scared you’ll cause some other big incident that really will cause a school evacuation this time but either way, you’re not complaining because it means you get to miss national history and nap instead.

Or at least, that’s the working plan until someone abruptly slides the curtain of your cubicle back and loudly clears his throat.

Your eyes shoot open and - instead of some random teacher - you see a rather sweaty-looking boy with a shock of light blonde hair, rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet.

He points to the bed you’re lying on. “Are you on the brink of death?”

“What?”

Something about his voice tells you that he is not joking but you are still dumbfounded.

“I said, are you”- You shake your head hurriedly as soon as you spot how his left foot has started tapping impatiently.

The boy breathes a quick sigh of relief. “Great. Okay. Just - don’t say anything, alright? You never saw me.”

And then without any further warning, he dives under the bed and rearranges the sheets so as to conceal himself entirely from anyone who might have been hunting for a boy clearly breaking the school’s regulations on hair color, and poked their head through the entrance of the infirmary.

All of this happens within the span of twenty seconds before you can hear your school’s discipline officer’s robust voice from across the room.

“Is anyone in here?”

You stay quiet as per Mysterious Blonde Boy’s request.

“Oi, you there”- and the discipline officer draws close to your bed - “have you seen anyone run by here? About this tall and sporting yellow hair?”

Despite not being a good actor, you hope the look of confused innocence on your face is enough to fool the officer and it apparently works because he then sighs in a somewhat defeated manner. “Alright. Sorry for interrupting your rest, anyway. If you do see him, come let me know, won’t you?” And he walks off, leaving you to lean back against the pillows you’d propped up.

Another ten seconds tick by.

“Is he gone yet?”

You jump, not accustomed to hearing a voice speak from beneath you. “Y-yes. I think. He’s not in the room, if that helps.”

“Hm. I’ll stay here just a few minutes more so he can put more distance between us, if you don’t mind.” You don’t really, despite how odd this entire situation is, but you worry about him having to hide all cramped up beneath your bed and you tell him as much.

“I’ve hidden in worse places,” he tells you nonchalantly. “So. What are you in here for?”

You subconsciously look down at your thumb, encased in a thick white bandage that you have already started picking at. “I nearly burned down my chemistry class.”

“Oh, that was you?” The boy’s voice sounds amused now and you flush at how the news of your mishap seems to have already spread so quickly. “My friend is in that class, by the way. That’s how I heard about it. You know Kim Jibeom? Tall and in the music performance club?”

You nod before realizing the boy can’t see you. “He gave a great presentation last week about the lab we did on recombinant DNA.”

“Yeah, Jibeom’s pretty smart,” he says. “But clumsy. And so are you, I guess. How’d you end up nearly committing arson anyway?”

It might be the fact that his voice is so comforting and soft that you find yourself focusing less on the fear that he will think you ridiculous like everyone else might. And so you tell him the whole story: from the way you just had to pick the only faulty Bunsen burner in the whole classroom to the way your partner had neglected to turn the gas off, and finally how your lab coat sleeve had caught on the lips of some test tubes containing Highly Inflammatory Materials to the detriment of your teacher’s sanity. He interjects at the appropriate intervals with funny quips about the whole situation that have you feeling better, like maybe you weren’t the world’s biggest embarrassment - and this is how you end up spending your time in the infirmary, swapping stories with the boy beneath your bed about all the times you’ve both been hilariously unlucky.

In fact, the time passes so swiftly that you both forget about the predicament the boy is in until the bell rings to signal the end of lunchtime. With a rustle, he slides out unceremoniously from his hiding place of the last twenty minutes. And this is when you get your first, proper look at him, at the bright smile on his face, at the name on his badge. 

Hong Joochan.

“Thanks for everything,” he says and now that you finally have a face to properly associate with the voice, you feel a little awkward again. You guess he does too because he clears his throat again but much more quietly this time. “Well - I suppose I’ll get going now.”

It’s strange, this feeling of disappointment that has suddenly lodged itself in your throat. “Okay.”

“I’ll see you around probably, seeing as you’re in Jibeom’s class.”

You nod.

He nods too before smiling again and turning on his heel to walk out of the infirmary just as suddenly as he’d run into it.

Left to stare dumbly out the window, you think back to his smile for a brief moment.

Oh. Oh.

You exhale a breath you didn’t know you were holding onto and place a shaky hand over your rapidly beating heart.

-

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#golden child #gncd #golcha #golden child scenarios #golden child imagines #golden child joochan #hong joochan #i know my writing is not very good but #i am trying my best. in future i will be a better writer!! #ju writes