Work Text:
“Would it kill you to relax?” Taeyong teased. Somehow, despite his royal duties, despite this literally being his coming-of-age ball, where potential suitors would be delivered to him, like exotic fruits on silver platters, the elder boy had managed to escape, to meet Ten. They were huddled under an archway in some far corner of the palace, where Ten had waited for him. He forbade himself from becoming too hopeful – he knew better than anyone the responsibilities of a prince – but when he spotted his silhouette sneaking through the marble columns towards him, a small shiver whirled down his spine. Foolishly, the adrenaline coursing through his bloodstream excited him, even after all this time.
“Probably,” Ten replied. “It’s likely it would kill you too. That’s rather the point.”
A smile flashed across Taeyong’s face, the starlight glinting off his perfect teeth. “I’ll risk it,” he said and held out his hand. “Dance with me.”
Ten took his hand. It was soft – unmarred by his years of pampering. Ten couldn’t help but feel self-conscious at his own hands; rough, worn and almost leathery. He shivered a little at the touch. Being the winter solstice, it was undoubtedly freezing. The roaring fires in the majestic royal fireplaces could only do so much for the two boys. Absently, Ten supposed that this was the price of forbidden love – cold hands.
But Taeyong grinned at him and tugged him through the courtyard and out into the garden. The music was still audible, although slightly muffled by the chatter of the guests. Suddenly Ten felt nervous, looking up at Taeyong in all his regal finery. He dragged his fingers over his silken shirt tensely - he was nothing but a plain old kitchenhand, still in his flour-covered apron. Their eyes met – Ten noticed how Taeyong’s dark eyes shined in the moonlight. They almost looked glassy.
Taeyong must have sensed his hesitancy. “Don’t be scared,” he whispered, his breath hot on Ten’s skin. “They can’t see us here.”
“Won’t they notice that you’re missing?” Ten’s voice wavered slightly. “You’re kind of the main event.”
The elder boy snorted, pulling away to tip his head back and laugh. “It’ll be fine. There are so many people in there, they won’t even notice I was gone.”
Still unsure, Ten muttered a small “okay”. Taeyong’s hands grazed his waist, so painfully gentle he thought he might cry.
“Is this okay?” The elder boy asked.
Ten nodded. “I’m sorry – I just, I’ve never –”
“I know,” Taeyong said, smiling slightly at the light pink blush flowering on the younger boy’s face. It reminded him of cherry blossoms in the spring, and fluffy, clouded sunsets. “Neither have I. We’re learning together.”
“What?” Ten pulled away slightly.
Taeyong looked at him blankly. “I mean, there have been girls, but never –”
“Oh my God,” Ten’s face burned, and he covered it with his hands. “You –”
The elder boy giggled, prying Ten’s hands away and forcing him to look him in the eye. “I what? What is it?” He said playfully.
“You’re so good,” Ten uttered, so quiet he almost never said it. “You’re such a good boy.”
Ten noticed the way Taeyong’s eyes widened at that and tucked the information away in his brain for another day. But before he could comment, the elder boy burst out laughing. And not the polite tinkling Ten had overheard at tea parties and candlelit dinners – a full-throttled, genuine, hearty sound escaped his lips. He laughed as if he hadn’t done so in a long, long time, and was letting something pent up out of his soul via his mouth. He laughed as if he might never laugh again, letting himself go. He doubled over, catching his breath. “Ten, sometimes I truly can’t believe you,” he took the younger boys’ hands. “I’m such a mess, you have no idea.”
Ten scoffed. “Sure.”
Taeyong leaned in slightly, pressing a chaste kiss to the spot just behind Ten’s earlobe. “You make me a mess,” he breathed.
Ten felt the heat rising in his cheeks again, and gulped. “Are we gonna dance or what?” He managed to ask.
Taeyong smiled widely. And they danced. They danced until Ten was dizzy – they spun and spun until he couldn’t remember where they were, couldn’t remember they were supposed to be hiding, couldn’t remember his own name, and all he could think of us was the two of them. Him and Taeyong and Taeyong and him, touching each other, hands on waists and arms and lips, feet moving together until they were hardly two people – just one us, melding together.
“You’re so pretty,” Taeyong interrupted Ten’s thoughts as they twirled, tracing his jawbone with a slender finger. “My pretty boy.”
Ten had been told of his looks before – but his heart leapt at the word my. “Surely there was some girl inside who’s more pretty than me?” He grinned, raising an eyebrow.
Taeyong shook his head and smiled. “You’re the prettiest princess.”
Ten lowered himself into a deep curtsey, pretending to hold a ballgown as he did so. “My prince,” he mocked, batting his long eyelashes seductively.
Taeyong shrieked at that, pulling Ten up from his armpits and whirling him around. He stumbled and almost tripped on a nearby garden bed, and Ten wondered how many drinks he’d had.
“I need to sit down,” Taeyong slurred, smiling crookedly.
Ten gripped his shoulders and guided him to a bench, but he didn’t make it, and fell, nearly hitting his head on the armrests.
“Tae, are you alright? What’s wrong?” Ten felt the elder boy’s forehead as his head fell into his lap, expecting a fever – instead, it was deathly cold.
Taeyong looked at him, skin suddenly ghostly pale. “Ten –”
Suddenly, it all clicked into place. Ten knew the prince was sick – everyone did – but the realisation winded him, and his stomach churned. “Oh my God – why didn’t you say something? What on Earth, Tae, this whole time? You could’ve –”
“Shh,” the elder boy stuttered. “I didn’t want to worry you. I wanted you to remember us like this – happy.” He sat up slowly, pressing his lips to Ten’s. He cradled his back and let the elder boy kiss him, slow and soft and painstaking. He tasted like blood orange and cinnamon and warm moonlight. He tasted like goodbye.
“I love you,” Taeyong breathed, pulling away too soon. “Thank you.”
“No, no, no, no, Taeyong, we can fix this –” Ten cupped his hands around Taeyong’s face frantically.
“Baby,” he shook his head lightly. Ten could barely hear his now scratchy voice. “Don’t try. It’s too late.”
Ten watched as he became limp in his arms. “Please –” He didn’t realise he was crying until he saw the droplets land on the elder boy’s face.
“Don’t cry,” he said softly. His eyes were etched with sadness as they slowly closed.
His eyes streaming, Ten lifted the boy’s cold body and hugged him close to his chest. He sobbed until he couldn’t breathe, seeing the scene is his mind – a grieving servant with the dead prince in his arms – a forbidden romance bound to end in tragedy. He felt bile rising in his throat.
He realised, he never said I love you back. He supposed it was too late now.