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There are things that Jiwoong is slowly starting to realize. Little pleasures in life that no amount of riches or revere could ever afford.
He never thought it was possible. They said that being royalty means having it all without having to try. But this situation he's in proves him otherwise—that there are things that his status can never give him, less he works for it himself.
Last night, Jiwoong has come to know a simple thing: he's in love. So in love, in fact, that he doesn't know what to do.
He's a prince, for heaven's sake. An heir to the throne that has long been his since the day he was born. Falling in love wouldn't be much of a problem if the one he longs for is the same as the one his parents pick out for him. But his heart calls for someone else— someone so different that he knows his parents would rather behead their own heads than live with such shame.
Jiwoong has fallen in love with Zhang Hao; a Chinese busker, a wandering peasant, and most notably, a boy.
If he were to confess this to his majesties, they'd kill him. The question of it being himself or Hao is up to debate. But one thing is for sure: he would rather meet death than kiss someone else other than the boy in his arms
Last night, he longed for Hao after escaping his parents' endless talks regarding marriage, showing a roster of royal bachelorettes from neighboring kingdoms that they wish for Jiwoong to wed. Jiwoong, even prior to meeting Hao, had always hated the idea. But now that his heart is set, he's even more firm in declining the idea, becoming more stubborn than what his parents could have anticipated.
In his fit, he fled the palace, hoping the night sky was dim enough to camouflage his every move, making his way from the lavish streets of the nobles, all the way to where the roads would lead him to where he wants to be.
"Your highness?" he hears a surprised Hao greet him by the door, accent clear in his tone, as he wonders why the royal prince is at his door at such a late hour. Though they've established a comfortable relationship, Hao— even with limited knowledge of the local language— knew where they both stood:
Jiwoong is a prince. He is not. His status is nowhere near where Jiwoong stands.
And with those things alone, he knows that what they both have can't be. But Jiwoong pulls him in for an embrace, one that feels too much but not enough all at the same time. The prince, letting all of his frustrations translate into frustrated yearning, finally lets himself become real.
Hao doesn't know what to make of the gesture, a bit confused yet somewhat hopeful. He returns the hug after some moment of hesitation, even letting his head lay by Jiwoong’s oriented shoulder. It's comforting, something that feels real. But the fabric that makes of Jiwoong’s hanbok in which his head lays slowly crushes something inside of him, forcing him to remember the reality as he slowly backs away.
Jiwoong’s heart drops, wanting to reach out more but he lets Hao slip away, letting go.
Looking at the busker in front of him, it was clear Hao has things he wants to say but can't express because of their language barrier. So he kneels down on Hao’s dirt floor, drawing a question mark to show his confusion. Hao immediately kneels down as well, encouraging the prince to stand up, but Jiwoong shakes his head, holding Hao’s arm as he looks at the other intently, as if trying to convey everything in his gaze alone.
"Status means nothing"
"Don't look up to me"
"Don't look at me like i'm royalty"
"Look at me like i'm yours"
"Because i am yours"
"Hao," he calls him out for the first time, letting his mellow deep voice ring throughout the walls of the busker's straw house, "I-"
Hao covers the prince's mouth before he could say anything else, shaking his head.
"爱 (love)," he says simply, "别说 (don't say)"
Although he only understood the first word, the shaking of Hao’s head with the second gave him some sort of context.
"Oh." Jiwoong could only say, heart shattering at what he thought.
Hao realized what his words could have translated to on the prince's end. Panicking, he quickly took ahold of Jiwoong’s hand, thinking of how to say his own thoughts.
Quickly, he turns to the dirt floor beneath their knees. He draws a heart and a cross next to it before pointing to himself, shaking his head. Afterwards, he draws a crown before pointing to Jiwoong. Finally, he draws what seems to be a lady— a princess as indicated by the crown drawn atop of her head with a heart right next to her. Then he points to the drawing and then at Jiwoong, tears welling in his eyes, hoping Jiwoong understands what he’s trying to say.
“You can’t say you love me. You’re a prince. You need to be with a princess.”
And to Jiwoong, he understood that perfectly.
He turns to the drawing of a princess, erasing it by smudging the dirt. Jiwoong, in turn, draws a little stick figure with a violin and another stick figure right next to it but, this time, without a crown above it.
"爱 (love)" the prince says, clasping their hands together and reeling Hao closer.
“I won’t marry a princess. I love you.”
And Hao understood it perfectly too.
That night, they slept in each other's arms on the straw mat, neither wanting to let go. Jiwoong was the first to wake up, being woken up by the sun rays peeking through the worn-out wood of the house.
He looks on over to the space beside him, heart melting at the sight of Hao holding onto his gonryongpo tightly.
Hao looks so beautiful like this. The kiss of light pink on pale skin, moles mapped in all the right places, eyes shut peacefully, as his hand holds onto a piece of the prince as he sleeps.
It makes Jiwoong’s heart melt. It makes him realize how fallen he is. It makes him feel complete.
If he could, he would trade whatever riches he has to have a life with Hao. He wants to defy everything but, for now, he'll play by the royals' rules until his reign. The moment he's king, he'll take Hao in, showering him with everything he deserves. No one will ever look down on his beloved ever again. His beloved will never suffer anymore. He’ll make sure people bow down to him too. Until that day, he'll love him silently. For now, let the four corners of this worn out house be their solace, and let the moon be their sole witness.
As he hears the rooster crow, he knows he needs to return to the palace immediately before his parents realize he's gone. He doesn't want them to disseminate guards in every corner. Only trouble will come after Hao in that case.
So a heavy heart, he attempts to stand up, only realizing that a lower portion of his gonryongpo is being laid on by Hao. He doesn't dare to wake his beloved for a simple thing, not wanting to break his peace. He loves Hao too much for that. With a quick survey, he finds a broken piece of glass within his reach, slowly yet surely cutting the fabric to let himself stand up without disturbing the other.
He leans into Hao’s space, hovering, quiet, yet with a promise.
"i'll come back for the both of us"
He whispers like a vow, kissing Hao on the forehead and taking his leave.
[FIN.]