Chapter Text
"She's been cursed," Taehyun said, his head held low. "The princess has been cursed."
Beomgyu could remember everything about that day, so, so clearly.
He could remember the way that his mother had fallen weak into his father's arms, the dry sounds of her silently sobbing into the crook of his neck, and the way that his younger brother had fled the room so quickly that nobody had been able to get a read on how he was feeling, gone just like a feather in the wind. He remembered the gasps from his sisters' ladies in waiting, the wall between them not thick enough to shield the sounds of absolute horror as they soon fled the tower, busy footsteps taking them down to the palace kitchen where the word would be sure to spread.
It was funny, the way that the only things he couldn't remember were his own feelings; he could remember the feeling of his Yeonjun's hand on the small of his back keeping him upright, so he must have looked a little green in the face and about to topple. It was a sentiment he held dearly and was much grateful for.
“But it can be broken, right?”
“Of course it can, without a doubt," Taehyun said. "All curses can be broken.”
"You just have to figure out which one it is?" Beomgyu asked, his voice quiet.
"Precisely," Taehyun nodded. "There's not many, so it should be fairly simple to figure out which one has been used, and then figure out how to break it."
The words themselves seemed hopeful, like there was a definite light at the end of the tunnel, but Taehyun's tone was anything but. It should have felt positive, as though they were just experiencing a little bump in the road that would soon be over, but the way that the words were spoken made Beomgyu feel as though he was teetering over the edge of a cliff, taking in the view before someone pushed him off.
"You say that like it's a bad thing."
Taehyun paused for a moment, eyebrows furrowing as he searched to find the cleanest way to phrase what he needed to say.
"It's just that sleeping curses are not so easily broken, Your Highness," he said, head held low. "They're outlawed for a reason— the strongest of them have only been broken a handful of times throughout history..."
At those words, Beomgyu felt his throat instantly dry up, all of the moisture instead welling up in his eyes, and he furiously blinked it away. He figured that at least outwardly, somebody had to be the optimistic one in the family, the one that made sure they didn't lose hope, but it was proving much harder than expected with every answer that he received.
“Do you think that’s what’s been used to curse her, then?" he said. "One of the stronger ones? Or even the strongest?”
He could see it in Taehyun’s eyes that that was exactly what he was thinking, but that he’d rather die than say it out loud with the King and Queen in the room, with the Queen still verging on inconsolable, having not once raised her head through the entire exchange. Taehyun's pupils darted around the room, flying from person to person and then to the door as though he were considering a quick escape, before finally clasping his hands in front of himself so tightly that his knuckles became bone white.
“I don’t want to make false promises about things I have yet to confirm, Your Highness. We’ll just have to try our best to identify the curse as soon as possible, and…”
He paused to sigh and grit his teeth, and yet again Beomgyu could feel the nuance behind it so strongly that he almost felt like he'd been slapped in the face; it was as though he already believed in it being a lost cause, but would never dare voice the opinion out loud.
Not that he had to, with Beomgyu staring him up and down like a hawk and seeing right through him.
“...And hopefully wake the princess up as soon as possible.”
Silence fell upon the room as they all paused to let those words seep in. Beomgyu waited and he waited until he couldn't take it anymore, and then finally took a step forward, not expecting to feel like his legs and brain had been replaced with lead and wool, leading him to stumble, verging on falling over. He hadn't quite realised just how much the presence of Yeonjun's hand on his lower back had been grounding him until it was gone, he supposed.
But of course, it wasn't gone for long. Yeonjun reached for him almost immediately, his grip firm on his upper arm and his waist as he held him upright, waiting for him to shake off the dizzy spell. Beomgyu did so with a burn in his cheeks, though he could barely even feel the embarrassment layered on top of the weird, sinking feeling that he refused to call grief already dwelling in the pit of his stomach.
"Is she in pain?"
Beomgyu directed the words towards Taehyun, his voice much smaller and meeker than he wanted to be, especially considering the time and effort it had taken for him to push them out. However quiet they were, he was glad he had spoken them. He needed them out more than anything.
Because if Wonyoung never woke up, which God forbid that be the case, then not a day would go by in his life that Beomgyu could rest easy without knowing that at the very least she was sleeping peacefully, not just laying in agonising pain for however long this curse would keep her conscious for.
"No pain," Taehyun spoke quickly, his voice laced with certainty. "I can't promise many things, but I can promise that she is not in pain. No known sleeping curses cause pain."
Beomgyu ignored the use of the word known. He wasn't sure if it was meant to be comforting, but he didn't enjoy the implications of there being a curse even stronger than the ones that Taehyun was already feeling less than hopeful towards breaking, one that even the most studious and scholarly of wizards was clueless against. He tried to cling to the good intentions, nonetheless; Wonyoung wasn’t hurt, she wasn’t in pain. That, at the very least, was a little bit of good news he could cling to.
The room was yet again filled with silence, and each one of them let it settle like thick fog. It weighed heavy on their lungs, keeping their lips sealed firmly and their palms sweaty, eyes refusing to look any further than ten inches in front of them.
"Son," Beomgyu's father said eventually, his own voice just as hoarse and small as Beomgyu's had been, "I think it’s best if you stand outside for a moment.”
Beomgyu considered arguing, even raising his voice to say that he deserved to be part of that conversation too considering that they were talking about the life and future of his sister, that he was the one who was closest to her out of everyone in the family so it hardly seems fair, but he felt Yeonjun's arms yet again, ushering him out of the room with an even firmer grip on his arm as he closed the door behind them.
If he were feeling more like himself, Beomgyu would have stayed, stubborn as always. He would have pressed his ear against the door and tried to hear every last little word of what his mother, father and Taehyun were saying, but not that day. He was nearly a shell of himself, a ghost being herded through a castle that now felt completely hollow as he was led further and further away from the top of the tower spire and down the staircase.
The route was a familiar one, the castle halls forking into two pathways: the left, which led to his own chambers, and the right, leading to his sisters. He felt Yeonjun pause behind him, brisk footsteps drawing to a halt as he sensed Beomgyu's urge to just stop. Beomgyu turned around, giving Yeonjun a slight little nod, and then walked down the pathway on the right, the sound of heeled boots echoing against the floor.
It only took thirty seconds or so for them to be faced with Wonyoung's bedroom door; out of habit, Beomgyu raised his right hand, ready to rap his knuckles against the wood. His palm froze halfway, not yet curled into a fist, and then fell limply to his side.
“Is she in there?” he asked, his eyes still locked on the door.
“I wouldn’t think so," Yeonjun spoke softly. "They moved her to the castle infirmary this morning, I believe.”
Beomgyu swallowed dryly, still staring straight ahead of him with his heart in his throat, eyes stinging. Staring was all that he felt he could do; his leg didn't want to move and neither did his arms, limbs feeling far too heavy to carry out simple actions. He didn’t know how long he had been standing there, but it had been long enough for Yeonjun to verbally nudge him several times to gently say that he didn’t have to go in there if he didn’t feel like he was up to it, and that Wonyoung’s chambers were going nowhere.
As true as that was, he couldn’t help but feel drawn to them, drawn to the other side of her closed bedroom door. It was that draw that gave him the strength to push it open— slowly, almost painfully so— and finally step in.
Perhaps it hadn't quite kicked in yet, not without seeing her for himself. Without seeing her, Beomgyu could convince himself that none of it was real, that it was nothing but a rumour spread in poor taste among the castle grounds.
He could tell himself that he was going to step into Wonyoung's chambers and see her just as lively as she always was, perched on her window seat with a needle and thread in hand, silk blanket across her lap as she embroidered little flowers barely even the size of her little fingernail into the fabric. She would greet him with a smile, and tell him about the new shipment of books that had come in from overseas, with tales of dragons and knights and faraway lands beyond one's own imagination.
When Beomgyu walked into her bedroom, no such warm voice greeted him.
There, in the middle of the bed, laid atop the cover with a book open beside her, almost as though she'd only fallen asleep mid-read, was Wonyoung.
Beomgyu felt Yeonjun's hand leave his shoulder, presumably flying to cover his own mouth as he took the sight in just seconds later.
“Your Highness, I—”
He could hear the panic in Yeonjun’s voice, the sheer horror seeping into every single word.
“I’m so sorry, I could have sworn that I’d been told she’d been moved to the infirmary—”
He was mumbling expletives left right and centre, muttering to himself in broken sentences about how he should have checked before he let him enter the room and how he should have been absolutely certain when he'd said Wonyoung had moved to the infirmary. While Beomgyu's gaze hadn't shifted, he could tell that Yeonjun was pacing up a storm behind him. He held up his hand, and with it Yeonjun's steps came to a halt.
“It’s okay,” Beomgyu said. "I won't tell anyone, I'd never say anything that could get you in trouble, you weren't to know. But..."
He held his breath, wondering if the request he was about to make was really something he wanted.
"Would you mind stepping outside, just for a moment? I just— I'd like to be alone with her, if that's okay."
"Are you sure, Your Highness?" Yeonjun asked hesitantly, keeping his gaze firmly at Beomgyu's eye level, avoiding looking at Wonyoung at all costs.
"I'm positive. I won't be long, I swear."
There were more words on his tongue, words that he didn't want to say. I just want to say goodbye, were the ones burned into the forefront of his mind, but he hated them.
"Thank you," Beomgyu said, watching Yeonjun close the door behind him. His voice was scarcely above a whisper, and the steps that he took towards the bed were even lighter.
Looking at her, you wouldn't have been able to guess that she was under a curse. The tops of her cheeks were still pink, her skin still glowed with life; if he were to only glance at her for a moment, then he easily could have mistaken her for being asleep. But she was still. Eerily so.
He leant in closer, head tilted so that his ear was just above her chest, and while he could most certainly hear her heartbeat, there was none of the rise and fall that should have come with it, none of the movement that came with life.
Feeling like a fool as he did, he nudged at her shoulder with his finger, whispering her name as though he believed such a small little thing would wake her up— of course, it did no such thing. He felt his throat clench as he reached for both of his shoulders, shaking her gently in the same way he would when they were children, all for it to make no difference.
"Wonyoung-ah?"
No response.
"Wonyoung-ah?"
He tried again, his voice wobbling. He knew what the outcome would be, and yet he kept calling her name, over and over again until his throat was so dry that it physically hurt him to speak another word. As much as it pained for Beomgyu to admit it, she was as good as dead this way.
And dear God, did it pain him.
Beomgyu didn’t know if he’d ever felt a pain so sharp, so all encompassing and overwhelming that it brought him to his knees and left him unable to do anything but cry. He had no idea what to call it, but maybe the closest thing he could liken it to was grief, and he hated calling it that. He’d do anything to not call it that, absolutely anything to have her back and never associate that word with her again.
The word was sticky on his tongue, keeping his jaws clamped shut as he choked on his own breaths, fire in his lungs as he furiously wiped his eyes, sinking to his knees by her bedside. He clasped one of her hands between his own, now wet from his tears, and felt his stomach churn even more at the fact that she was warm to the touch, so close and yet so far away from him.
He cried until his tears ran dry, until talking made his throat feel so hoarse that he could have sworn he was tasting blood, until his face was swollen and blotchy almost beyond recognition, his words an incoherent mess of begging and pleading with any higher power he could think of to sway fate to lean their way. He could hardly even hold his head up anymore, vision blurring and eardrums pounding as his head hit the mattress with another choked breath.
Laying there, he felt his eyes droop to a close, and when they did, he didn't fight back.
♚
On the day that the news of the princess' curse was broken to the rest of the kingdom, it felt like everyone fell into disarray. Beomgyu had been the one tasked with doing it; his mother was still in a state, unable to string a sentence together through the sobs whenever somebody brought it up, and his father had insisted that he must stay by her side, and that this was, however unfortunate, an opportune moment for Beomgyu to practise for when he was to become King.
Kyuwon, the youngest prince, hadn't even been considered as an option it seemed, hovering gloomily a few steps behind Beomgyu as he read the little script he'd written for himself aloud, the gloves that Yeonjun had picked out for him that morning doing nothing to hide the tremours in his hand.
Beomgyu felt his lip wobble as he repeated the same words that Taehyun had spoken to him the day before, and he watched the faces of everyone in the town morph into a wide array of expressions. Most were in shock, some seemed absolutely mortified. Some started crying, pulling out embroidered handkerchiefs reminiscent of the ones that Wonyoung would make at her windowsill, others yelling, demanding answers that Beomgyu wished he could give them.
It was chilly on that first day, far too cold for early September.
On the fourth day, word had already spread to the neighbouring towns. There were people travelling by night to arrive the next morning, forming their own makeshift memorial for Wonyoung, bouquets of fresh flowers and baskets of fruit lining the edges of the fountain where she would often be found every weekend. Beomgyu watched from afar as young children approached the ever-growing heap with a single rose or daisy between their little chubby fingers, eyes lined with red as they sniffled, laying their little offering atop all the others.
His breath fogged up the window as another sob lodged itself in his throat, and he choked it down with a dry gulp. Yeonjun hovered by his side, a coat draped over his arm as he beckoned him away from the glass.
"Are you sure you want to head out, Your Highness?" he asked, voice laced with concern. "The kitchen staff have said that dinner will be served shortly, I'm afraid that you'll miss it again if you leave now."
Beomgyu insisted that it was fine, scurrying away before Yeonjun could question him further, his footsteps brisk and his mind well too aware of Yeonjun being hot on his tails as he made his way to the castle gates. He winced as he finally stepped outside, the crisp air sharp against his face.
Even all of Yeonjun's thoughtfulness and planning towards dressing him in the warmest of their fine wools and fur lined boots had done nothing to abade the biting wind— but Beomgyu was grateful nonetheless as Yeonjun clipped yet another layer around his shoulders, pulling a hood over the top of his head.
"Then your ears won't be cold, at least," he muttered shyly. "You stubborn thing."
He offered Beomgyu a solemn pat on the shoulder as he watched him walk away, blowing air into his palms and then shoving them into his own pockets to warm them up. Not that Beomgyu would ever say a word about it but he hadn't been worried about his ears being cold. They burned red from Yeonjun's gentle words and touch, hidden by his cloak as he walked further and further away from the castle, a small warmth in the middle of a frosty autumn.
On the tenth day, Beomgyu missed dinner again, much to his mother's dismay.
He tiptoed through the dark castle hall, hoping he wouldn't disturb her as she sat working by candlelight in her study, embroidering handkerchief after handkerchief; that was her own little way of coping with everything, it seemed. Beomgyu had found one of them tucked into his cloak pocket when Yeonjun had dressed him that morning, and he was sure that his mother had been the one who had put him up to it.
Beomgyu closed the door behind him as he finally approached his own chambers, his back flat against the wall as he sank to the floor. Somehow, a plate of that day's supper hand ended up on his bedroom table, paired with a flagon of the wine that everyone knew was Beomgyu's favourite, the one that they would only ever break out on special occasions. That day had hardly been special, if anything it had been more ordinary than usual, so its presence puzzled him above all.
Beomgyu got back up on his feet, walking over to the table to tentatively pour himself a glass, inspecting the liquid at close range and trying to make any sense of it. He supposed maybe his mother or father could have been the ones behind it, but it seemed rather out of character for them, so he quickly ruled it out. He picked at the food on the plate, picking things up and raising them to his mouth, then putting them back down just as quickly. He took a swig from the glass he'd just poured for himself, and he sighed.
It was full-bodied and smooth, a familiar comfort on his tongue, but that feeling quickly evaporated; finding joy in little things did nothing but spark brief relief followed by heavy guilt. Beomgyu didn't want to smile, not with the knowledge that Wonyoung still laid unconscious in the infirmary burned into the back of his mind at all times. He kept drinking it, even though each gulp was void of the comfort he'd initially felt and did nothing to fill the empty ache in his stomach.
He downed glass after glass, only coming back to ponder just why it was there in the first place when he was faced with the bottom of the flagon. It was all so confusing, especially now that he was just ever so slightly inebriated, until he remembered that Yeonjun owned a key to the castle wine cellar, keeping it safe at all times in the hidden pocket he had sewn into the back of all of his garments.
Beomgyu still wasn't hungry, eating was still the last thing on his mind, but he made sure the plate was empty by the time Yeonjun came back to collect it the next morning.
It rained on the twelfth day. It absolutely poured it down, and Beomgyu didn't feel like moving a muscle. He stared vacantly at the wall, he didn't know for how long and he didn't care. He'd have locked his bedroom door if he could, but for the life of him he couldn't remember where he'd put the key and he was far too lethargic to spend any energy searching for it.
When Yeonjun stepped inside with Beomgyu's fresh clothes for the day, the same way that he always would, Beomgyu pulled the covers over his head and pretended he was asleep. Yeonjun was the last person he felt like snapping at, but his sadness had grown horns and the tail of a devil and was starting to taste more like bitterness on his sharp tongue. He didn't trust himself to give Yeonjun the grace and kindness that he knew he deserved, and therefore he'd rather say nothing at all.
Beomgyu listened out for Yeonjun's footsteps drawing closer and closer to him, and then held his breath as he felt a weight on the side of the bed. He tried his best to keep his breathing steady, pursing his lips as he felt warm fingertips against his forehead, lingering for a moment as though he were checking his temperature, and then threading through his hair gently, pushing his fringe out of his eyes.
"Poor thing," Yeonjun said softly, staying perched on the edge of the mattress while he patted Beomgyu on the crown of his head, his thumb ghosting circles into his hair. Beomgyu held back the urge to lean further into his touch, to tell him that he could come closer, to just drop the act and open his eyes and ask if it was okay if Yeonjun would just hold him, please, please could he hold him, even if only for a moment.
Instead, he kept his eyes and lips closed, hoping with baited breath that maybe Yeonjun would, by some miracle, be able to read his mind.
Of course, no such thing happened— Beomgyu's faith in miracles was maybe at the lowest it had ever been, so he hadn't been expecting much.
The weight next to him disappeared, Yeonjun standing up with an unceremonious crack of his knees. He wasn't even gone yet, and Beomgyu missed him already.
"Sleep well, little prince," Yeonjun said with a sigh, running his finger down Beomgyu's jaw; the unexpectedly tender action made Beomgyu's breath hitch, and he tried his very best to keep his face still so as to not alert Yeonjun even further. Despite his efforts, Yeonjun's fingers came to a sudden hold, stopping underneath Beomgyu's chin, and he quickly withdrew them, clearing his throat in a breathless, flustered manner before walking away and leaving him alone again.
As soon as Beomgyu heard the door close behind him he jolted out of the covers, his back pin straight. His hand came up to his chin, ghosting over where Yeonjun had so gently hovered, and he felt a red hot flush creep up the back of his neck. He squeezed his eyes shut, laying back down so that his head hit the pillow with a dulled thud.
He spent the rest of the day staring up at the ceiling, pondering over whether or not Yeonjun had truly believed that he had been asleep or not, over whether or not this was something Yeonjun did often, and he'd just never known because he'd been asleep.
They weren't the most productive of thoughts, he would be the first person to admit that, but they were happy ones, hopeful ones, and God, Beomgyu really needed something to be happy and hopeful about.
It had been twenty three days since Wonyoung had been cursed, and the kingdom saw its first snowfall of the year. It was sparse, barely even visible and it dissipated as it hit the ground, but it was snowfall nonetheless. Beomgyu held up his hand, watching as the snowflakes fell and melted on contact with his bare palms, his gloves discarded next to him on the wet grass.
It was quiet out there, so so quiet. There was none of the merry bustle of the castle out in the forest, no people to run into, to offer a fake smile and reassure that he was doing fine— only dappled frosty sunlight painting the floor in shades of gold, green and blue and shallow little stream, barely even deep enough to submerge his palm in.
He and Wonyoung had discovered it when they were children— a little hole in the castle wall that seperated the gardens from the forest, just the right size for a small child to sneak through when they wanted to run away from duties that they couldn't fathom. It was such a small little glade, and when their parents inevitably found out about it they couldn't understand why the two young children were so fond of it.
There was nothing special about it, especially in comparison to the castle gardens. No perfectly pruned trees, no sculptures, no elaborate fountains or rows upon rows of perfectly colour coordinated flowers, but that wasn't important. In the summertime, it was a mess of tangled wildflowers and gnarled oak trees, a sanctuary from stuffy etiquette lessons and endless royal pronouncements.
He stared at Wonyoung's handkerchief unfurled into a square across his palms, the same wildflowers growing in an unkempt pile embroidered onto the cotton. There was a sharp sting in his eyes, followed by a mist that he furiously blinked away, shoving the handkerchief back into his trouser pocket.
"Something told me that I'd find you here," a voice said, speaking softly so as to not startle Beomgyu. He didn't need to turn around to know who it belonged to, but he did anyway; there was Yeonjun, as expected, dismounting one of the palace horses in a clumsy, unpracticed manner, his steps unsure and wobbly. He pet the steed on the side of the head almost apologetically, and then walked over to where Beomgyu was sitting, shivering a little as his cloak slipped from his shoulders.
His mouth was open, as though he wanted to say more but didn't quite know if it was the right time. He clutched his cloak at the front, tightening it around his shoulders in a feeble effort to stay a little warmer, watching on as Beomgyu stared vacantly out at the brook.
"You're going to catch a cold out here, Your Highness," Yeonjun said eventually, looking at all of Beomgyu's discarded layers with a sigh.
"I'm fine, I promise," Beomgyu said, his voice a little dull. "I'm used to it now. Can barely even feel it."
Yeonjun nodded solemnly, like he wanted to argue but didn't feel like he was in any position to. Discomfort flickered on his face as he took a seat next to Beomgyu on the grass, the remnants of rainfall from the day before and the melted snowflakes making the forest floor even dewier than usual.
The sounds of the forest and the little brook they were seated by did nothing to drown out any of Beomgyu's thoughts in the way that he'd hoped they would, and how that he could feel Yeonjun's eyes on him, the chill on his bare skin was starting to become harder to ignore. He sniffled, wiping underneath his nose with his thumb and flinching at how cold his hands were against his face.
He heard a little chuckle come from Yeonjun's direction, but when he looked over to ask what was so amusing, Yeonjun started avoiding eye contact, looking anywhere other than Beomgyu's face.
"What am I going to do with you, my prince," he said eventually, taking off his own cloak and smoothing out the dry fabric over Beomgyu's shoulders. Beomgyu supposed his own cloak was a lost cause, now completely soaked through on the ground. Yeonjun's words were supposed to sound a little scathing, but they came out of his mouth being nothing of the sort. They were warm and they were gentle and Beomgyu couldn't help but melt a little. "Always running off without telling me."
"Needed to be alone," Beomgyu mumbled, the words muffled by the thick fabric of Yeonjun's cloak. He couldn't bring himself to look Yeonjun in the eye, slinking further and further into the fleece.
Yeonjun hummed in response, his gaze fixed on the trickling stream. Beomgyu stole a glance at Yeonjun's profile, watching as a lump in his throat bobbed up and down.
"If being alone is what you wish for, then I can grant that, easily," Yeonjun said, his voice steady. There was an odd tone to his sentence, as though he were leaving it open for him to come back to, but couldn't quite find the nerve. He let his words settle for a moment, but it seemed like he'd ultimately decided to leave the second half of his sentence unspoken.
Beomgyu's stomach gurgled slightly, an unwelcome reminder of how his body and his head weren't agreeing on what he thought he needed at the moment, and Yeonjun's eyes locked on him like a hawk, lips quirking up. He quickly smoothed them back out, maintaining a casual, nonchalant expression as he cleared his throat.
"It's almost time for your supper, Your Highness," Yeonjun reminded him. He was anything but subtle, and Beomgyu couldn't help but crack the smallest of smiles because of it. "I heard the kitchen is making beef today. I asked if they'd make it just the way you like it."
"I don't really think I can stomach a meal right now, hyung."
Yeonjun's breath hitched a little, still unable to be truly comfortable with the honorific when it was coming from the crown prince, but his face quickly melted into a cheeky smile, one that said to Beomgyu all too clearly that he had a trick up his sleeve to get him to return that night.
"You didn't hear it from me," he spoke in a low tone, as though they weren't in complete isolation from the rest of the kingdom, "but if the promise of beef wasn't enough to lure you into the dining hall, there's going to be a guest at today's supper."
Beomgyu's shoulders slumped a little at the news; he already felt a little queasy about facing the rest of his family and eating a full meal, and doing it in front of someone who he hardly knew didn't exactly sound like his idea of a good time.
"Hyung, I really think I'm just going t—"
"Master Taehyun has developments regarding the princess's curse," Yeonjun said, the words slipping out of his mouth like it pained him to keep them in any longer, his face brightening at the sudden, drastic shift in Beomgyu's expression.
Beomgyu had never mounted a horse quicker in his life.
♚
The table was already full by the time Beomgyu had finally gotten back to the castle, the meal fully underway.
"Beomgyu!" His mother said, rising from her seat to pull him into her arms. "You made it."
As his mother held him tightly, muttering words of endearment into his shoulder, Beomgyu frantically scanned the room for Taehyun, heart in his throat as it had been for the whole ride home, queasy with anticipation. Finally they locked eyes, Taehyun caught sheepishly in the middle of eating, lips wrapped around his fork. Beomgyu pulled away from his mother, muttering a quick apology as he took the seat next to Taehyun at the table, pulling out the chair in a way that was anything but graceful.
"So what is it?" He asked, hands gripping the table so tightly his knuckles turned white. "What do we need to do? How do we fix it?"
Taehyun stared back at him, and then glanced over at the king, as if he was asking for permission to give him the answers.
"Son, patience," his father said. "We'll be speaking about it over dinner."
Beomgyu made a little noise of indignance, an incredulous scoff that he couldn't have held back if he tried. He couldn't make sense of their casualness; wasn't it eating them alive? Didn't they also want to know, more than anything else in the world, what it was they could do to help her? What if Taehyun was sitting on the cure right now and Wonyoung's curse could have been lifted, maybe even in time for her to join them for dessert?
The words never left his mouth, only short, sharp little starts to arguments that died on his lips under their stern gazes, telling him to take his seat and finish his meal, wait patiently for all of their stomachs to be full before they started tackling the elephant in the room. Coerced by their pleading stares, Beomgyu took his rightful seat at the table, trying not to look sullen as he pulled the napkin over his lap.
The meal went by painstakingly slowly, in Beomgyu's eyes. He ate at his meal the best he could, swallowing down the food at reckless abandon with none of the grace or ettiquette that he'd been raised to eat with, polishing off his plate in mere minutes, much to the chagrin of his parents.
It wasn't as though Beomgyu was that large or quick of an eater on a usual day, in fact he was so unused to it, especially after two weeks of barely eating scraps here and there because he could hardly keep anything down, that he'd given himself a stomach ache. He ignored it, coughing pointedly, eyes flitting between their mostly full plates and his empty one. Jiwon was picking at his food in a way that Beomgyu found all too familiar, and his mother and father were eating with the leisure and poise that one would expect of a King and Queen.
Outwardly at least, none of them shared Beomgyu's sense of urgency about the situation. He didn't doubt that they were all desperate, he knew just how deeply Wonyoung was adored, how heavy the sight of her empty seat at the table weighed on all four of them— but he couldn't, no matter how hard he tried, understand their willingness to wait. Taehyun was looking at the king with pleading eyes, almost as if he was begging him to let him speak and put Beomgyu out of his misery. With a sigh, the king conceded, offering Taehyun a slight wave, urging him to go ahead.
Taehyun nodded in understanding, pushing back his chair and standing up, somewhat sheepishly dusting off his clothes before locking eyes with Beomgyu, staring at him dead on. Of course, he was speaking to the whole family, but he could sense that Beomgyu was close to clamouring to find out, unable to understand his parents' will to prolong the experience.
"There's three," Taehyun said, the bags under his eyes more than evident. Despite all his impatience, Beomgyu couldn't help but feel a little apologetic. He muttered out an embarrassed little apology, looking over to Taehyun from the other end of the table. "I've managed to narrow it down to three."
"Three?" Beomgyu said in a voice so hopeful that it was almost shrill.
Three was hardly anything, in the grand scheme of things. Three seemed doable. Three, to Beomgyu, looked like the light at the end of the tunnel.
"We can work through the antidotes for three curses in no time, surely? Just tell me what you need and I'll bring it to you! Even if you can only find it kingdoms and kingdoms away, I'll make sure you can get your hands on it."
"I don't doubt that you would do that for even a second, Your Highness," Taehyun smiled at him, all too wary of the watchful eyes of the King and Queen. "But—"
"Even if I need to go and get it myself, I'll do it. No matter what, I'll make sure it happens."
"Beomgyu, honey," his mother spoke up, her voice gentle. "Let Taehyun speak, please."
Beomgyu once again sunk back into his seat, apologising sheepishly for the disturbance. His grip on the table tightened even more, all of his energy focused into not opening his mouth and interrupting again.
"The simplest antidote to make should be for the first curse. The Kiss of Night," Taehyun said, his hands clasped together. "It's not a very powerful curse, it's more of a hex, really— easily broken with the right equipment. I've been preemptively studying it before coming here, and I'm hoping to be able to attempt using the anti-hex before we reach November."
November. November was two weeks away at the very most. Wonyoung could be awake in two weeks.
The thought tugged at the corners of Beomgyu's lips, pulling them into a grin that he couldn't hide. He knew he couldn't get too ahead of himself, that two weeks was a maybe, not a definite— but having things that could be answers laid out right in front of him, he couldn't help but be a little hopeful.
"Okay, how about the second one?"
"Sleep of a Thousand Dawns," Taehyun said. "I hesitate to call this a bright side, but it may be a comfort for you to know that should this be the curse that was used, the princess is guaranteed to wake up, even if we are unable to make a successful antidote. Not that I don't believe I'm capable of making a successful antidote for this curse, rest assured that it is well within my capabilities—"
Beomgyu didn't think anyone in the room doubted Taehyun's ability to craft the antidote. Nobody who knew anything about Taehyun would dare to question it.
"— This curse does exactly what it says on the tin. It's the sleep that lasts a thousand dawns. Once they pass, the curse is broken, and the princess will wake up. Or," Taehyun dragged out, "there's an antidote. It requires a few ingredients that are a bit harder to get your hands on, but again— with time, and patience, I'm sure we will find them all."
Patience was something Beomgyu severely lacked, where this curse was concerned.
He wasn't speaking empty words when he said that he'd do anything so long as it meant the curse was broken. If it was a rare algae that Taehyun needed, Beomgyu would sleep by the shore every night just on the off chance that it would show up. If Taehyun needed moss that only grew in the Northern regions, Beomgyu would take the week-long trip twelve, twenty, fifty times over if he had to. If it was precious geodes and crystals that the antidote called for, Beomgyu would forgo any and all of his material possessions to get his hands on it.
"That's two," Kyuwon said. "What about the third one?"
Taehyun pursed his lips, eyes glazing over with what could only be described as panic.
"I think it's best we exhaust our options on curing the first two curses instead, Your Highness," Taehyun said, his voice and smile a little strained. "I believe that would be the most productive thing to do,"
"But what about the—" Beomgyu blurted, confused at Taehyun's avoidant behaviour towards the question.
"It's best that all of our energy is focused on the possibility of it being one of the two curses," he repeated, an air of finality about his voice so stern that Beomgyu doubted that even the King could challenge him.
Something about Taehyun's insistence about leaving them in the dark unsettled Beomgyu, stirring something in his stomach, an uneasy feeling that he couldn't quell. It wasn't that he had doubts about Taehyun's abilities, there were no other men of his calibre for miles around, and it wasn't that he believed that Taehyun would ever lead them astray— but it was like an itch he couldn't scratch, a phantom pain that he couldn't figure out.
He couldn’t shake it, even when dessert was brought out to the table and the overall mood in the room was lifted. The thought heavy on his mind, he ambushed Taehyun in the hallway, right at the foot of the staircase leading up to his tower, far away enough from everyone else to keep their meeting a secret.
“Taehyun-ah!" He whisper-yelled, hoping to catch his attention before he disappeared up the stairs. "Taehyun-ah, wait up!"
Taehyun stopped, composing himself with a short, sharp breath before turning around to look at Beomgyu face to face, his expression carrying the same tautness that it had at the dinner table. Beomgyu could tell that the polite smile on his face was merely a mask, that much was obvious.
"How can I help you, Your Highness?"
"I know you said it would be more efficient if we focused on the first two curses, but I'm really interested in the third one. Truly, I am. I just want to know if there was anything I could do, personally, to, I don't know, help prepare a little? In the event that it does end up being the third curse. Like, are there any rarer ingredients that we might need, or—"
"I'm still researching the third curse, Your Highness. I didn't want to speak on things that I don't know for sure. It would be most unprofessional of me."
With those words, he offered Beomgyu a small little bow and turned back around, ready to head back up the stairs to his own chambers.
"You're lying," Beomgyu said. Taehyun stopped in his tracks, freezing with one foot on a step above the other, his hands on the railings. "Taehyun-ah, you're lying to me."
Taehyun seemed to be at a loss for words; there were no rebuttals on his tongue, no polite dismissals, no ways for him to shake off the accusation other than stand there and let Beomgyu talk to his back, voice getting louder and louder.
"What are you worried about? Wasting the ingredients? Spending money?" Beomgyu fired off question after question, not caring if he was coming across as brash. "My father is the King. Money, or rather wasting it, is not an issue. Is it because you think we'll deduct the losses from your salary? Is that what it is? Because I don't think that thought had ever crossed my father's mind— and even if it had, then I'd make sure that it wouldn't happen."
"Nor had it ever crossed mine," Taehyun said calmly. "I never implied that I think that lowly of your family, Your Highness."
"Then what is it? Is my father not paying you for the overtime that you're doing? I can talk to him about giving you a raise, God knows that you deserve it, with everything that you're doing for us— how much do you want? I promise you that I can make it happen Taehyun-ah, just say the word and I'll make it happen, I just want to know what the thir—"
"Is... Everything alright?"
Yeonjun stepped into the hallway, a slightly bewildered look on his face as he straightened his back, gaze flickering between the two of them. Beomgyu hadn't noticed just how worked up he had gotten himself, just how red in the face and sweaty the exchange had left him, hands trembling by his side. When neither of them spoke up, Yeonjun cleared his throat again, shaking his head slightly so his fringe would fall away from his face.
"Your chambers have been prepared for the night, Your Highness."
Beomgyu thanked Yeonjun quickly, allowing himself to be slowly shepherded towards the door by Yeonjun's hand on the small of his back, further and further away from where Taehyun was standing. He didn't want to leave, not until he'd gotten the answers he wanted, and his steps were small and stubborn. As they approached the door, Taehyun spoke up, his voice heavy.
"Your Highness, I promise you that I am doing absolutely everything in my power to break this curse. I would never do anything that would put the princess in harm's way, or prolong this any further than it has to be. I just ask that you allow me a little faith, that's all. Please."
Beomgyu gulped, his heart clenching and dropping to his stomach. He squeezed his eyes closed for a moment, steadying his own breathing, and swallowing a guilty sob that was starting to choke him up. He willed the tears in his eyes to clear with so much strength that it made him feel dizzy.
It wasn't exactly the best time to be thinking about it, but Beomgyu truly wondered if a time would come where he'd be able to speak casually about the whole ordeal, to discuss it without being on the verge of tears and waking up either feeling numb or like he was about to burst from both sadness and frustration, whether or not grief had an end to it. Calling it grief still felt bitter on his tongue; he'd sworn off using that word in regards to Wonyoung, and yet somehow it kept creeping back up on him, surprising him when he least expected it.
He supposed it was the only word that fit, no matter how much he wanted to hide from it.
"Thank you, Taehyun-ah," was what he said when he was finally able to open his mouth without his lips trembling and his voice sounding like he was underwater. He wasn't even sure if his words made sense in response to what it was that Taehyun had said to him, but his head was simply too foggy to come up with anything else.
With that, he and Yeonjun were gone.
♚
"You look like you have something to say."
Beomgyu sat cross legged atop his duvet, watching as Yeonjun folded his clothes for the following day, a puzzled look on his face. His chin was propped up by the palm of his hand, eyebrows furrowed as he stared at him intently.
"Why do you say that, Your Highness?"
"Can't tell you that," Beomgyu said, stubbornly. "If you found out that I knew the telltale signs of you keeping something hidden from me you'd stop doing them."
Yeonjun clicked his tongue and turned his back to him, pretending to be fascinated by a loose string hanging off of a mannequin in the corner. Beomgyu could tell, even from where he was sitting on the opposite side of the room, that Yeonjun was smiling. His lips may well be capable of lies, but his cheekbones could not. It sent a spread of warmth across his chest, an accomplished flush that left him feeling something akin to bashful.
"Speaking would be overstepping," Yeonjun said eventually, smoothing out a nonexistent wrinkle in one of Beomgyu's shirts. "It's best if these are thoughts that I keep to myself."
"It's not overstepping if I'm asking you to tell me, though."
"But—"
"As your prince, I demand you to share your thoughts with me."
"Your Highness, that's not how it works, you can't—"
"Are you telling me what I can and can't do?" Beomgyu raised an eyebrow, eyeing Yeonjun sternly. Yeonjun held his breath, lips parted as he tried to gather his words together, flailing over syllables that he couldn't connect. Beomgyu's face fell out of its expression of faux scorn, melting into a disbelieving smile. "Hyung, I'm playing with you. I'm hurt. Don't you know me by now?"
"You can't keep calling me that," Yeonjun shook his head. "One day, someone's going to hear you, and they're going to start asking questions."
"Really?" Beomgyu asked, taking on a singsong voice that he knew got on Yeonjun's nerves in just the right way. "Why not? What kind of questions?"
"Never mind that, Your Highness," Yeonjun said, ears visibly getting redder by the second. Beomgyu could see it and he delighted in it, basked in it, even.
"But now I'm really curious, hyung. Super, super curious. What is it that you think they'll say?"
Yeonjun made a little noise to himself, something akin to both a chuckle and a sigh.
"There's the prince that I know," Yeonjun said, eyes glinting in the soft light of the lamp he was working by. "It's nice to see you in higher spirits, Your Highness."
His words caught Beomgyu off-guard, the cheeky smile that had made its way onto his face fading and the near brattish rebuttals he'd had ready to go dying on his tongue.
It happened sometimes, when he could feel his face stretched out into a grin, his eyes crinkling around the edges, that he felt as though his happiness was misplaced. Why should he get to feel happy, amidst everything that was going on? What about his sister? How could he possibly have moments of joy knowing what had become of her?
The more rational part of his brain knew that it was ridiculous, but Beomgyu had become less in tune with that rational side in the month that had passed since the incident.
He tried as best as he could to shake it off, to bring himself back to the headspace of carefreeness he'd found himself in just for that moment. He couldn't quite tap into it, the sad little rain cloud persisting over his head as he tried to carry on the conversation in the same way that it had been before his feelings had gotten in the way.
"I'm still most interested in your thoughts though, if you don't mind," were the words that he managed to push out. He knew that Yeonjun could tell there had been a change in him, it was clear from the way his eyes had narrowed, head cocking at the tone switch despite how inconsequential it may have seemed.
Yeonjun really had to stop doing that, Beomgyu thought— taking notice of the little things. More than likely, it was just him being very, very good at his job, attentive, as any good attendant should be. Maybe too attentive, too kind— or maybe that too, was just Beomgyu searching for meanings in things that had none. Yeonjun was simply a hard worker, and that was the end of it.
"I'm not sure if now is the best time to delve into them."
"Why not?" Beomgyu pushed. "Now is as good of a time as any, is it not?"
Yeonjun sighed, the breathy little sound letting Beomgyu know clear as day what he thought— that now wasn't a good time, evidently.
Lucky for Beomgyu, the one thing Yeonjun wasn't good at was denying him things.
"I think that you owe Master Taehyun an apology for what you said to him the other night at dinner," Yeonjun said. He paused after he finished, waiting to see if Beomgyu had any rebuttal— no such argument fell from his lips. He sat silently, waiting for Yeonjun to continue, tongue feeling too heavy inside of his mouth all of a sudden.
"I understand why you were angry, and I understand the fact that he didn't have all the answers was frustrating— and I know that emotions are high. Believe me, I do. I can see how much you're hurting, how much your whole family is hurting, and so can he. He has a lot placed on his shoulders right now, Your Highness."
"He does have all the answers," Beomgyu spoke up in a choked, stubborn voice. "He just won't tell me them all."
He knew Yeonjun was right. He'd felt guilty about getting worked up and letting everything out on Taehyun as soon as he'd been ushered onto the other side of the door, when his emotions had finally settled enough for his head to stop clouding and think clearly. He'd had no right, prince or not, to blow up at someone who was only doing their best to help.
"He wouldn't be doing it without reason," Yeonjun said, using the same calm tone that Taehyun had used on him before. "Forgive me if my words are misplaced, but I just believe that you could have afforded him a little more patience. I know how hard this has been on you, my prince. I've seen it maybe more than anybody else in this castle—"
Yeonjun paused, holding both of Beomgyu’s hands in his palms and shaking them slightly, as if he wanted to really, truly emphasise the words he was about to say. As if they came from the bottom of his heart, and he knew no other way of letting Beomgyu know it.
"And I know that you have a good heart, most of all. That's the reason you're hurting so much right now."
For the second time that day, Beomgyu was caught completely off guard by the words coming out of Yeonjun's mouth.
"You saw an ugly side to me that day," Beomgyu said, a lump in his throat. "And for that, I apologise. It shouldn't have happened."
"Your apology is appreciated, but it's not me that you should be apologising to, Your Highness."
Yeonjun's words weren't stern, nor were they cold. They held a quiet weight, though, a subdued sense of expectation that Beomgyu wanted Yeonjun to know that he could meet, that he could be better, he promised he could. He didn't need to be told to apologise to Taehyun, not really. Even before Yeonjun had brought it up, it had been playing on his mind.
Somehow though, it was a comfort to him that Yeonjun cared enough to call him out on it.
"I'll make sure to apologise to Taehyun the next time I see him."
Yeonjun offered him a small nod and a smile that, despite being only ever so slightly there, still reached his eyes. For a second, Beomgyu thought that that would have been the end of their conversation— it was only natural, considering that Yeonjun had moved away from him and had started folding clothes again.
"For the record—" Yeonjun paused for a moment, as though he were debating whether or not what he was about to say would negate everything that he'd said prior. His hands had stopped moving, a pair of Beomgyu's trousers hanging limply over his forearm. "I would be upset too. I hope you don't think I was demanding that you don't feel upset about it. If it were my family, I'd want all the answers straight away too."
"You were right, though," Beomgyu said. "About me needing to be kinder. If it wasn't for him, then Wonyoung would probably never wake up, he's the whole reason we have a chance. He's— he's our only hope, really."
Yeonjun didn't say anything in response, choosing to focus on the clothes in his hands, a sense of solemnness washing over him.
"Father says if it wasn't for me letting my emotions get in the way of my decision making all the time I'd make a good king," Beomgyu said to fill the empty space, his tone a little mournful. "I've got my work cut out for me, clearly."
The silence between them was far from uncomfortable— Beomgyu didn't think he could ever be uncomfortable with Yeonjun— but he couldn't help but wish that they were still talking. Perhaps he was becoming a little too reliant on the comfort Yeonjun brought, on how much having him there to go back and forth with settled him. He decided to just keep watching, zoning out slightly before the silence started to get to him a little.
"I'm just— I'm just going to go get some air."
Beomgyu made as subtle of a break as he could for the balcony, slumping against the railing in a pile of weak limbs that felt like jelly, his body further deflating as he let out a sigh. Then came a feeling he’d become all too familiar with in the past month, one he could sense coming from a mile away— the feeling of tears pricking at his eyes.
Warm, sharp and sudden, something he was helpless to fight even if he tried. It was a feeling that was so common to him that he sighed every time he felt it come about.
He didn’t cry often, he would swear by that— to whom he was swearing it to, he was unsure. There was nobody around him to argue with him over it. The crying was a new development, it had only come about in the past month; was crying really going to make him any less of a good King? His father definitely seemed to think so, and where his father went, Kyuwon definitely wasn’t far behind.
He envied them, sometimes.
His mother used to tell him it was a good thing, the fact that he wore his heart on his sleeve. She’d hold him gently, her little finger tracing down the bridge of his nose, her spare hand on the crown of his head, comforting him as he sniffled. You’ve got a big heart. You feel so much for people. That’s never a bad thing, you know.
Maybe that only rang true when he was a boy. He was an adult now, next in line for the throne— her silence when his father said he wasn’t fit for the crown in this state made a lot more sense, if that was the case.
Full of indignance, he wiped his nose on his sleeve, just in time for the doors of the balcony to open, leaving him in Yeonjun’s company once again.
"Mind if I join you, Your Highness?"
"Huh?" Beomgyu murmured, caught a little off guard, not expecting Yeonjun to follow him. "Of course not. C'mere, hyung."
Yeonjun shuffled over, unintentionally dragging his feet before standing next to Beomgyu at the balcony railing. He stopped in place, taking a moment to assess the distance between them— just a fraction of space, their elbows nearly touching— and then shuffling away, creating a more sizable gap.
Beomgyu had to force himself to not close it again.
"Your father is a good king," Yeonjun said, seemingly out of the blue.
Beomgyu turned to him, a little bewildered. He thought for a moment, wondering whatever it could be that Yeonjun wanted him to say in response to that. He furrowed his eyebrows, cocking his head slightly as he waited for Yeonjun to spell it out for him.
"He's a great one, even," he continued. "But..."
He paused, a typical thing for Yeonjun to do. He did this often, Beomgyu noticed, particularly when he was about to say something that he deemed possibly out of line. They never were out of line, not in Beomgyu's eyes.
"That doesn't mean you have to be just like him to be a good one too. You're not your father, and you don't need to be."
Beomgyu stood, completely frozen in place and unable to move. It was like everything was at a standstill, the world on pause so that all he could was stand and listen to what Yeonjun was saying to him; words that felt like he’d seen the innermost parts of Beomgyu’s soul and had tailor-made the perfect verbal bandage to heal the scratches.
"For what it's worth," Yeonjun said, his voice dropping a little. "I think you would make a great king, Your Highness."
Beomgyu didn’t know how many times it had been now, in just the past month alone, that Yeonjun had said something which had left him a little speechless. He’d long since stopped counting. Sometimes, he felt as though Yeonjun wasn’t real, that he was just a figment of his imagination, someone simply too good to be true, so attentive and truthful and loyal.
Or maybe he could just read minds. It wasn’t beyond the realm of possibility.
"It's worth a lot," Beomgyu said, his breath caught in his throat, making his voice hoarse. "Thank you, hyung."
It was worth more than Yeonjun would ever know, probably. Worth more than its weight in gold.
They both stared out at the sky, eyes flitting between the stars counting every single one of them to pass the time until speaking felt okay again. The silence stretched from seconds into minutes as Beomgyu traced the constellations with his finger. It wasn’t the clearest of nights, and he could only make out the brightest of the stars.
"Make a wish with me?" Yeonjun said. It wasn’t the most subtle attempt at an ice breaker, but it wasn’t as if Beomgyu had any better ideas.
“A wish?” Beomgyu repeated.
“Your Highness, have you never wished on a star before?”
“Of course I’ve wished on stars before, hyung,” Beomgyu said, a little disgruntled. “What do you take me for?”
Yeonjun held his hands up in resignation.
“Just didn’t think you’d have anything you needed to wish for, that’s all.”
Beomgyu felt his face drop, the image of his sister in the castle infirmary and all of the fruitless nights he’d spent wishing on stars plastered to the forefront of his brain, and before he could do anything to stop it, Yeonjun was already on his knees, hands clasped in prayers of forgiveness.
“Your Highness, I’m so sorry, I wasn’t thinking—”
“Hyung. Don’t apologise to me, please,” Beomgyu said, forcing the corners of his lips up into a smile. “Hyung, please get off the floor. It’s fine. I told you it’s fine.”
He wrapped his hand around Yeonjun’s wrist, yanking him back up to his feet in a way that would be described as ungraceful at best. Yeonjun still seemed mortified by the ordeal, but Beomgyu was eyeing him in a way that screamed all too clearly that he was not to bring it up again, and not to apologise for it.
“Well…” Beomgyu said, clearing his throat. “What are you wishing for, then? Are you gonna tell me?”
“Can’t do that, I’m sorry, Your Highness,” Yeonjun said, offering him as cheeky of a smile that he could muster, trying to flip the switch back to how they were. “If I tell you, it won’t come true. The stars are kind of stubborn. They’re sticklers for rules, apparently.”
“Don’t I know it,” Beomgyu muttered, disgruntled and jaded by all of the nights he’d spent trying to figure out just what those rules are, and why none of his wishes were working.
Beomgyu stared out at the sky blankly, his head a little vacant. He'd long since given up wishing on stars; he'd locked eyes with what felt like every single one in the sky ever since Wonyoung had been cursed, just praying to them that she would wake up and everything would go back to normal. Of course, all of it was to no avail.
He turned his head a little, over to where Yeonjun was standing, his full body weight against the balcony with his hands clasped and eyes closed, lips mumbling something that Beomgyu couldn't quite make out. There was something about him, maybe it was the moonlight, maybe it was the way his hair was pushed back with a slight curl from the day's sweat, unlike the way he usually styled it, pin straight and impeccably neat— but Beomgyu just couldn't tear his eyes away.
Perhaps he'd been staring for a little too long, considering the way that Yeonjun opened his eyes, offering Beomgyu a little flustered smile, pink blooming at the tops of his cheeks.
"Did you already finish making your wish?" Yeonjun asked, to which Beomgyu shook his head. "Oh? Are you not making any?"
"I think I've run out of stars, hyung. I've basically exhausted the sky at this point," Beomgyu shrugged. "Haven't had much luck."
"Are you sure you've tried every star?" Yeonjun said, his voice lilting a little bit as he teased.
"Oh, definitely. I counted."
"That's impossible, Your Highness," Yeonjun scoffed, waving away the notion with his hand. "How about that one? The one right there, at the tip of the fir tree."
Yeonjun pointed out to the far distance, but truthfully, even if Beomgyu did his due diligence to follow his line of sight, he wouldn't have been able to guess which star out of the hundreds of thousands up in the sky Yeonjun was referring to. Even with his verbal directions, he could have been pointing at any old star for all that Beomgyu knew.
"Tried that one," Beomgyu said, woefully shaking his head a little, playing along.
"How about this one, then?"
Once again, Yeonjun's gestures were vague. While Beomgyu couldn't be certain that they were even thinking of the same star, he decided to keep at it, even if only for Yeonjun's amusement. He shook his head, a slight pout upon his lips.
"Tried that one too, I'm afraid."
"Come on. there's got to be one you haven't tried," Yeonjun cajoled him. "Look, we'll find it. Even if it takes all night. It's probably just hiding somewhere."
"I don't know..."
It wasn't as though Yeonjun's enthusiasm wasn't contagious, and the last thing he wanted to do was put a damper on his mood, especially not when he could tell that he was doing it to cheer him up— but Beomgyu didn't know how much more wishing on stars he had left in him, praying with his eyes closed hoping that one day they'd notice his desperation and take pity on him.
"What if it wants to stay hidden. What if it just doesn't want me to find it?"
"Then we'll find it anyway. It can't have gone far," Yeonjun said, as though it were the most simple thing in the world. "This may very well be the last hurdle. I'd hate to see you give up now, Your Highness."
Beomgyu swallowed another sigh, once again staring out at the night sky in all of its navy, inky black glory. The little clusters of stars stared back at him, twinkling even brighter as if to tease him, taunt him for the wishes they'd turned a blind eye to.
"Fine," Beomgyu said, wrists hanging limply over the balcony edge. "One more time. I try one more time, and then I give up. Do you have any recommendations?"
"For wishes?" Yeonjun asked, his cocking in genuine confusion. "I don't think that's something I can pick for you."
"For stars, silly," Beomgyu said, his ears burning red. "Pick one for me."
"That's a lot of pressure you're putting on me right now, Your Highness," Yeonjun said, his voice laced with apprehension. Beomgyu waved his concern away with a similar wave to the one Yeonjun had used to dismiss his distrust in wishing on the stars.
"No pressure," Beomgyu said. “Just pick one. I trust you.”
And he meant that. Wholeheartedly. He could tell that Yeonjun knew it too.
Yeonjun leaned against the balcony, wrists dangling over the edge in a way that mimicked Beomgyu’s as he scanned the night sky. His eyes narrowed as he focused in on one star in particular, his hand coming up to rub at his chin before pointing at it, straight on.
“You see that one there?” he said. “The super bright one, you’ll see it when you look dead on.”
Beomgyu furrowed his eyebrows, following Yeonjun’s finger. It was, without a doubt, the brightest star in the sky, the first one you noticed the moment you looked up.
“You want me to wish on that one?”
Yeonjun shook his head.
“Not that one.This one, right here. The second star to the right of it.”
Beomgyu followed his gaze, and eventually managed to find the star that Yeonjun was talking about. If he wasn’t looking for it, then it definitely would have been lost amidst all of the other stars, its light too dim and dull to stand out. Even Beomgyu, who had been so insistent that he hadn’t missed a single star, was forced to admit to himself that he’d almost definitely glossed over it.
“Why that one?”
Yeonjun shrugged.
“I just have a good feeling about it.”
A little wary of the way that Yeonjun was watching him expectantly, Beomgyu closed his eyes in a hurry, holding his hands together, interlacing hi fingers and making sure the last thing he saw was the little flickering star that Yeonjun had picked out for him, so feeble compared to that of its bigger, brighter companion.
There were two wishes standing at the forefront of Beomgyu's head; they were staring each other down, both wanting to be the one that won out in the end. There was an obvious answer, the one that he knew without a doubt should be his utmost priority— but there was a small part of him, a selfish part, that wondered what would happen if he made the second wish instead.
If he, by some kind of miracle, had the opportunity for another wish, Beomgyu considered wishing for the guilt he felt about being momentarily torn between the two wishes to go away.
That night, with more desperation than ever before, Beomgyu made the same wish he’d been making for a month straight.
Please, let Wonyoung wake up soon. Let this curse be broken. I don't need anything else, I'll never wish for anything ever again, just make sure that Wonyoung is okay. Make sure that she'll wake up.
I'll do anything to make it happen. I'll go anywhere.
Beomgyu's eyes opened; just a crack, just enough to catch a mere glimpse of Yeonjun, his skin silverish under the moonlight, face softened by the gentle smile tugging at his lips.
If it means breaking the curse, I'll give up everything.