i. don’t let me go, i’ll be alright

“I’ll be coronated soon! Just one last! Let me go, father. I won’t cause you any trouble.”

This promise should’ve never been made, Minhyun thought back, tears running down his face as he was being dressed, the crowd’s cheers echoing throughout the palace, the banging of the drums and roaring of the trumpets making his head throb.

—

The deal was that Minhyun were to have full freedom but zero support from the palace for a month, given that it was the Prince who suggested him regaining a sense of freedom before his coronation at the end of the month. It was a daunting reality he had to face, but he didn’t want to face it before being able to say he knew the people, for all they are, and knew his work, for all it is.

He always wanted to be the ideal leader, always strived for the betterment of his people. His heart is golden and has always been in the right place. Except this time, his father tells him. Not this time.

—

The first day was hell. Unsurprising seeing as he was literally evicted from the palace for his month-long freedom with nothing but the clothes on his back and a small bag with one set of clothes to change into and a hundred bucks. Now, one would think that the people knew their Crown Prince’s face and would recognise him immediately, but Minhyun’s only been showcased to their people thrice: during his birth, when he turned 7, and when he turned 16 when his position as the Crown Prince was officially announced and set in stone. Now that he’s in his mid 20s, no one could recognise him.

Not being recognised, he thought, was a blessing. He wouldn’t be mobbed and questioned about his position and upcoming coronation. Not being recognised, he corrected, was also a curse. He let out a sigh as he surrendered his bag to a bunch of kids wielding small knives who cornered him in an alleyway. He felt bad for them and he wasn’t willing to hurt a bunch of teenagers—the oldest was 16 at best—his self-defence, he mused, not to be used for this particular sort of defence.

“Pathetic,” someone huffed, not all too impressed with how he handled the situation. The man who judged him so walked over, arms crossed and brows furrowed. “If that’s how you’re going to handle every situation, you’ll be out of clothes, limbs, and organs before the end of the week. You won’t survive the streets like that,” he comments further, rolling his eyes.

“They were children,” Minhyun reasoned, huffing back, puffing his chest out as he, too, raised a brow at the man. If he saw the entire thing, why couldn’t he help him rather than spit out spiteful comments after he’s been mugged? “They were street rats,” the man retorts, sighing as he looked at the street rats’ latest victim, lips pursed in thought. “And now you’re one, too.”

—

Given that he’s been sheltered as a child, growing up in the palace, warming up to the spiteful man, whose name was Jonghyun, he later learned, came oddly easy. It’s only been two weeks and he didn’t quite understand why it was so easy for them to talk; maybe it was due to how similar they were in age? Or rather, how comfortable Jonghyun made him feel? It was a sight to behold, if anyone from the palace saw him now. His nose wasn’t in the books and his words weren’t stiff and, if he were to go by the words of his young niece, boring . He was finally able to talk to someone without all of the formalities the palace-life imposed, a smile never leaving his face whenever he spoke to (or was in the vicinity of) Jonghyun.

Jonghyun introduced him to a small band of friends he’s come to call his family after being abandoned by his real ones as a child, the streets being his home for the longest of times. This was when he found out that the economy of his country, though beautifully written and tabled on paper, made it hard for people whose backgrounds weren’t the cleanest to find work, which only resorted to their backgrounds becoming more and more… dirty .

“It’s true! Seongwoo couldn’t stand not speaking for more than five minutes and ended up muttering while in tears. He really needs to learn how to be quiet,” Jonghyun snorts, shaking his head as they all huddled around under one of the city bridges, their makeshift home made out of boxes and scrap junkyard parts settled prettily; they called it their castle, challenging the one in the middle of the city, the five of them making small jokes on royalty and the government here and there. This only made Minhyun more determined to give him and everyone a chance for a better life. It wasn’t his job to give them happiness, but it was his to at least give them the opportunity to attain it. Minhyun laughed along with them, telling Seongwoo he should learn how to shut up, only to be met with echoed groans and Jonghyun telling him he needed to learn how to as well.

—

His month was nearing its end and it’s his last week with them. He didn’t quite know how to tell them he was leaving—in fact, a part of him didn’t want to. It was hard, especially when the warm body next to him, curled up into a ball, held his hand as he slept as though telling him to stay. Jonghyun had become such a special person to him over the course of three weeks; they spent their time earning below minimum wage to afford bread for dinner, skipping over every other meal most days and sharing stories about how their day went and how they lived before they became a family (the latter mostly for Minhyun to better understand their dynamic). Jaehwan had accompanied him in singing the group a few lullabies before they were forced to shut up, their lullabies then turning into noise. Seongwoo had accompanied him for most of their market runs, the group telling them to use their faces to their advantage and haggle like their life depended on it (it did). Daniel kept him company throughout work, the two of them doing heavy lifting by day and small town patrols at night—who better to patrol the night than those who rule it? Hyunbin was the little brother he never had (nor wished for, depending on how clingy the boy was at certain hours). The two of them spent their days idly chatting about their future, Minhyun silently cheering him on and praying he could achieve each and every one of his dreams.

Jonghyun, he….he was special. Minhyun didn’t just share their life stories (save, of course, his position—he had to lie a bit there, and Jonghyun never quite questioned it, either), but it felt as though they shared their everything, as though the two of them had this understanding of each other that neither could explain, and the only thing he could think of whenever he was with Jonghyun was that he was beautiful and their shared existence at any given moment had explained why he lived on this Earth for as long as he did. All of it was to meet Jonghyun, he mused, being smacked out of his thoughts as said raison d’être had told him to hand him the damn makeshift hammer thrice now.

—

He was so in love, and he knew it. The both of them did—all six of them knew. Heck, the entire town probably knew, since whenever they were seen together the atmosphere around them seemed to turn pink. He was so in love, and they had to part, and his heart was already readying itself for its metaphorical death.

It was the day before he had to go back, and he’s noticed a few guards in his surroundings the past week already. He let out a sigh before he was brought to the alley where they met (a coincidence, really. Their little walk wasn’t supposed to take them this far), Jonghyun shush-ing him as he looked around. “We’re being followed. Have been for about a week. Do you know any—oh wait, you let children steal from you, nevermind. I’ll try to distract them and—“ “Jonghyun,” Minhyun starts, cutting him off as he smacked away the hand on his mouth. “It’s fine, I know them.”

The confusion on Jonghyun’s face was so evident, brows furrowed in concern as a pair approached them, his face turning pale as he stood in front of Minhyun, the little self-defence he knows seemingly futile in the face of the two large men. “Stand down,” he heard Minhyun say, the boy taking his hand as he moved to step in front of him instead. “I’m not due to go back until tomorrow.”

“We are aware, Prince,” one of them start, Jonghyun fiddling with his fingers—a nervous tick of his—as he refused to look up, staring the floor down and muttering silent prayers for it to swallow him whole. “However, plans have changed. The King has summoned you back, and he requests your friend to come along with you.”

—

He should’ve said no. He should’ve told Jonghyun to go home. He should’ve had the power to save him.

“I’ve heard you’ve fallen in love, Prince,” his father starts, the two of them kneeling in his presence, the Great Hall devoid of anyone else besides the King, the two guards, and the two of them. The King’s voice echoed, his voice deep and stern. “We cannot have someone marrying your name before your coronation.”

“Father, he has nothing to do with it. I’m not—“

“The entire town you’ve settled into the past month has spread rumours of you two love birds. It’s reached my ears, Minhyun. We can’t have your identity being linked to that of a street rat.”

“Well my identity was safe before you sent the guards,” Minhyun bit back, raising his head and looking straight at his father, the grip he had around Jonghyun’s hand tightening.

“Everyone knew you, Minhyun,” the King snorts, looking down at his son before he looked to Jonghyun, motioning to his guard to tell him to look up. “Didn’t you?”

“I did,” Jonghyun confessed, Minhyun’s eyes growing large as he let his hand go. “His features were far too distinct to not know. No one’s sure of his identity, it’s all hearsay, my King. Even I was unsure until this.”

“And despite of these doubts on his identity, you went and bewitched him?”

“I wouldn’t say bewit—“ “SILENCE!”

“My son,” the King starts, shaking his head as he raised his hand, the guard behind Jonghyun unsheathing his sword. “You are still too naive. I hope this serves as your final lesson.”

Minhyun couldn’t even utter a retort, a plead , before his father had swung his hand down, the guard stabbing Jonghyun without a moment’s hesitation. A series of muttered ‘ no ’s under his breath was all he could say as he moved to hold Jonghyun, all bloodied and on the verge of death.

“A proper punishment for a street rat that used the Prince’s affections for his gain,” his father adds, before moving to leave the hall.

“Jonghyun, please,” he pleads, tears rolling down his face as he tried to stop the blood, pressing his hands and applying pressure to the wound. “I’ll get help, just hang in there,” he cries, sniffling as he moved to get up to call for help before his hand was grabbed, looking down and seeing Jonghyun shaking his head.

“The King is right. I used your affections to make you see the true state of your Kingdom, to make you taste the bitter life we’ve had to live under your family’s rule. I did everything out of spite. I made you work,” he coughs up some blood, eyes growing tired, his complexion paling. “I made you sleep in the streets. I ordered those kids to rob you the moment I laid my eyes on you. I did everything in the hopes to make you miserable,” he lets out a small chuckle before coughing up more blood, Minhyun shaking his head all the while, telling him he wasn’t miserable in the slightest and assuring him that it was for his own good that he’d come to realise the state of his country. “I didn’t mean to fall in love,” he smiles, reaching up to cup Minhyun’s face, the other holding onto his hand as he continued to shake his head.

“Don’t do this to me, Jonghyun. I’m sorry, I’m so so sorry. This is all my fault, I’m sorry. I’ll get you help, you just have to let me go and get some help first, alright?”

“Minhyun,” he starts, shaking his head as he muttered out no’s as the other spoke, smiling up at him. “I love you. Next time, in our next lives, maybe try and find me first?”

“I can’t believe you still have the time to joke at a time like this,” Minhyun sniffles, wiping his face with the back of his hand, letting out a small chuckle.

“Who said I’m— cough —joking?” Jonghyun smiles, running his thumb across Minhyun’s face. “Be the best King there is, Minhyun. For me, for my family. Please,” he pleads, letting out one last breath before his hand fell, Minhyun frantically calling out his name as he held onto his hand, forcing Jonghyun to continue to cup his face, tears streaming down his face as his screams echo the halls.

—

The coronation went smoothly. He was welcomed by his people with smiles, the rest of Jonghyun’s family shocked as the watched him rise onto the stage to receive his crown. He had sent them letters of apology, notifying them that Jonghyun had left on his orders to another country. They weren’t dumb, they knew what it meant but still refused to believe it. Their youngest refused to believe the news and instead spent his days working. The rest resumed their lifestyle, the smiles on their faces faded as they did so. Minhyun wanted to apologise personally, to bear the brunt their spite and agony (as he should, he thought), but he couldn’t. He was the King now, and his purpose is to serve his people. Now, he had to create a safe space for them to work and live, he had to draw inspiration from them and build a better country.

—

After years of hard work, his hear greying as he sat on his throne, watching his grandchildren running around the Great Hall, he thought to himself:I did good . He’s kept tabs on everyone and so far all of them had been able to build their own families apart from each other, except for Hyunbin who had gone off to another country to find better work there (he reasoned it was out of spite, he couldn’t stay in a place that had taken his sun away from him; Minhyun would’ve done the same, if he wasn’t who he was). He’s made it so that everyone, no matter who, is able to at least find work or an opportunity to attain their happiness. It took decades, but he’s finally able to sit and tell himself he did well.

Now, his next task: to find Jonghyun in their next life. The current tally: 1-0.

ii. it’s time to leave and turn to dust

This lifetime, he’s built a family for them. This lifetime, he tells himself he won’t break them apart.

—

It was his turn to build a family for him and Jonghyun—at least that was the plan as he set up the orphanage. He built it two years after the war, the shabby house he tried his hardest in fixing still looking like it’s about to collapse at any given moment. He brought in all of the children he could, guiding them and teaching them how to work.

Throughout the years, he’s fostered more than a hundred children, teaching him all he knew—with some added knowledge from what he learned in his past life as King—from self-defence to arithmetic and handiwork. Though he wasn’t the King and he had no means to secure them any opportunities to not only grow as a person but also grow their own wings and leave the nest he’s created for them, he made sure that at least when these children do try to do so, they were equipped with all the necessary instruments and knowledge they needed.

—

He was in the middle of dying his hair, some of the children telling him his white hair’s grown some more, teasing him about it during lunch time when a familiar face knocks on his door. “Mr. Hwang,” the voice starts, Minhyun turning around with his hair up and his hands stained, evidently making the person by the door chuckle.

“Ah, it’s been a while, Seonho,” he smiles, placing the bottle of dye down on the counter.

“It has. How’ve you been?”

“Good,” he hums, gesturing for the boy to take a seat. “Old, dying, but still handsome.”

“Yah,” Seonho huffs, crossing his arms across his chest. “Don’t say that! You’ll make everyone sad,” he grumbles as he takes a seat on the edge of Minhyun’s bed. The boy’s been attached to him when he first came, but seeing him now at the flourish of his youth, making a name for himself, Minhyun couldn’t help but gush about how proud he was.

“Anyway,” he tells him, cutting off his gushing fit, “it’s the cycle of life, Seonho. I’m past my prime. Been getting sicker by the day, too,” he adds, chuckling softly as he puts the tools for dyeing on the counter, leaning against it. “So, why the sudden visit?”

“It’s not sudden, I visit every other month,” Seonho reminds him, making Minhyun let out a small ‘oh’.

“Sorry, can’t remember much these days.” His dementia has been getting worse, his memories fading by the day. He passed down the task of teaching the children to volunteers, some of the previous batches of kids that have moved on coming back and helping him run the orphanage. This comment made him earn a concerned look from Seonho, the younger heaving out a sigh as he gets up and vaguely gestures for someone in the hallway.

“I wanted to introduce you to someone,” Seonho hums, bringing another boy in. “He just lost his parents, and I wanted to take him in but with how hectic everything is right now, I don’t think I can. So,” he starts, pushing the boy forward and gesturing for him to greet Minhyun, “do you have space?”

Of all the things Minhyun had started to forget—be it his daily chores, some of his close friends, the names of a few of the children he had taken in in the past—he could never forget the face of the person who gave him his reason for living. He looked like him, he was so sure it was him, even if he’s only seen Jonghyun in his latter years. The image of him as a young boy something even he was shocked by (and having lived for so many years, he’s seen quite the number of shocking things), the purity in his features alarming.

He gets down on his knees in front of the boy, wanting to pull him into a hug (but with his hands stained and his entire being smelling of dye, he couldn’t—not at the moment, at least) as he gets on his eye level. “We’ll always have space for new faces,” he smiles, though internally he tells himself, the tally’s 1-1 now .

—

He’s on his bed, resting and at peace. He could hear the children playing outside, the creaking of the floor boards echoing the halls as more children ran around the house. Minhyun thought back to how he was able to create this place with the thoughts of Jonghyun, how he was able to meet him once more—though given the circumstances, he couldn’t exactly profess his love or anything of the sort for the small boy—and how he was able to give him a proper family this time around.

“Say goodbye, Jonghyun,” Seonho hums, finally having the stability in life he wanted, coming back to take Jonghyun in. It took him three years, but his hard work had paid off. He’s continuously supported and taken care of Jonghyun, dropping by whenever he can to give him gifts and play with him.

“Minhyun,” Jonghyun hums, earning himself a small smack to the back of his head as Seonho tells him to add honorifics. He doesn’t, but that’s fine with him. “You may have won this round, but you won’t win any others. See you next time, okay?” He smiles, Minhyun’s eyes growing wide in shock. They’ve never talked about their past lives before—he’s never been able to bring it up and given their circumstance, he never planned on doing so. He let out a soft chuckle as he waved goodbye, the boy giving him a hug instead before going back to Seonho’s side and leaving the nest he’s made for the both of them .

He’s at peace now, and though he may not remember all of the faces he’s helped, all of the deeds he’s done, and all of the days that he’s lived, he’ll remember him. He always does. Until next time , he thinks, closing his eyes.

iii. this is how i live now

He’s lost count of how old he was by then, the red stone at his core keeping him alive for far longer than he wished. It was hard, he only wanted this life so he could search for Jonghyun longer; he only wanted this life so he could be with Jonghyun forever.

They promised forever, and forever ended in the blink of an eye.

—

Jonghyun was 10 years old when he first saw him, he supposed, the young boy being taught how to ride a bike by his peers in the park where he had taken a short rest. He was just as handsome as he saw him in his past life—just as bright and full of hope. The boy was filled with the warmth of home, smiling and laughing as he tried and tried, again and again, to ride his bike. I hope he doesn’t get kidnapped , he thinks, blinking repeatedly in nervousness, earning himself a few concerned looks from the passersby.

He couldn’t bring it upon himself to approach the boy, thinking he’d look far too suspicious, eyeing the ‘beware of kidnappers ’ sign beside the park entrance. It’s still too early to meet, he supposed, his body having stopped ageing during his mid-20s. He’ll keep an eye on him instead, he tells himself, he’ll watch him grow and make sure he stays happy.

—

Minhyun feels like a stalker. It’s been a decade since he’s started watching over Jonghyun, attending all of his graduation ceremonies thus far and clapping to himself in his little corner by the entrance of the University when Jonghyun went to check if he had passed (and he did). He’s happy, he assumes, if the prevalence of friends and lovers over the course of the other’s 20 something years of existence were anything to go by. Minhyun always sees him smiling, the number of times the boy cried he can count on one hand. So far, so good, he supposed.

He’s wanted to approach him for so long now, his heels itching to take that one courageous step. But then, what if Jonghyun’s forgotten him? What if his presence in his life would only lead to more misfortune? The boy he loves is happy now and more importantly, he’s alive.

—

Minhyun’s continued to watch over him throughout the years, watching him struggle with obtaining work, watching him get on one knee, watching him make a family, watching him smile all the while. The sharp pain in his chest and the butterflies in his stomach that emerged whenever the thought of ‘ that could’ve been us’ passed through his head was soon flushed out at the sight of Jonghyun’s smile.

It wasn’t directed at him, never has been, in this lifetime, but he was happy nonetheless.

—

It’s been 10 years and he’s made it a ritual of his to visit his grave every year during his birthday.  His stone was deteriorating—it seems like eternal life truly cannot be obtained. But the thought of death approaching his doorstep made him feel a sense of comfort; he would finally be able to be free from this prison he made for himself.

He was in the midst of cleaning the gravestone, kneeling in front of it as he felt someone pat his shoulder, looking over and seeing a small boy smiling at him. The smile was familiar; it was bright and it made him feel warm all over. “Yes?”

“Here,” the boy hums, taking out a small envelope and handing it to him. “My grandpa told us,” he nods, looking at the woman a few feet away he presumed to be the boy’s mother usher him to continue talking, looking back at Minhyun with a smile. “He told us to give this to the man who  would visit his grave during his birthday. We usually go later than usual so we’ve never seen you—we even thought grandpa was just making you up! But now you’re here and we can finally give this to you! I’m sorry it took so long, Mister.”

Minhyun’s eyes went wide as he took the envelope, getting up and dusting off his knees as he did so, bowing to the little boy and giving him a small and almost inaudible thank you. The boy ran back to his mother, Minhyun excusing himself from the both of them, finding himself back in the park where he’d first met—or rather, saw —Jonghyun.

He opened up the envelope, his entire being starting to morph into a ball of anxiety as he took out the small piece of paper inside.

Just so you know, the tally is 2-1. You didn’t approach me at all so this is your punishment for taking too long. I don’t know what you did—did you drink dry the entire fountain of youth? But anyway, you look great. 10 year-old me was amazed at how pretty you are: I almost forgot how much I loved your face.

See you next time,

Jonghyun.

PS: thanks for all the anonymous flowers. My favourite were the sunflowers, remember that for next time. Love you.

He didn’t know what to do with himself, his hands shaking and tears leaking. He felt like a broken faucet as he sat there in the park, letting out a bitter chuckle as he got up, covering his face with a cap as he walked back home.

The red of his stone was dulling, the smile on his face upon this realisation the brightest he’s smiled all decade.

iv. i’m jealous of the way you’re happy without me

Being born a beta means society has no expectations of you, no unnecessary constructs surrounding your being as you grow up. Being born a beta means there’s no such thing as a fated person for you, your entire existence stuck in a limbo. There’s no place for you in this narrative, Minhyun tells himself, there’s no place for you here.

—

They were best friends before they became whatever they are now—friends with benefits? Maybe, but Minhyun couldn’t be bothered with the labels. His ‘help’ strained their friendship, and now they’re only together during certain periods of the month, Jonghyun’s heat cycle erratic and irregular.

This lifetime was different from the last, the obvious social hierarchies constricting their relationship into something so dull and lifeless, with him being in a position that didn’t even allow him to love Jonghyun in the slightest. Was this how Jonghyun felt in their first life? When he was a prince? Maybe, but they never speak of their past lives much, the two only taking note of the tally once when they first met, Jonghyun running over to him to invite him to join his circle in their university, accompanied with a “ another win for me! That’s 3-1!”

The both of them have been far too preoccupied with trying to break down this wall of societal constructs, the years passing as they’ve kept up with appearances all the while, the two of them slowly realising that their hearts don’t beat as fast anymore whenever they’re with each other, that the warmth has