entered in district three • writing contest

prompt: 

thank you to exprod. | color lab for the poster/bg!

here's a handmade playlist that took a grueling five/six hours to put together, although still imcomplete. minor spoilers are in the annotations. 

“Milord, your tea is finished steeping,” the servant murmurs politely.

“Yes, I am aware.”

“Shall I pour you a cup then?”

“There’s no need for that. You may leave us, in fact,” Kyungsoo states, completely intent on continuing to read.

“As you wish, Milord.”

The prince does not see the boy lift from the couch and bow, but he does indeed hear the offended curse beneath his breath: “so unrefined, so impolite and selfish”. When the ca-chik of the door is heard Kyungsoo lifts his head briefly to address the man and woman sitting across the coffee table.

“You may leave as well. I saw no point in this meeting, as I am not changing my mind from my previous statement,” he says and turns a page in his book.

There’s a harried expression on the man’s face so he starts, “Prince Kyungsoo, please reconsider; you are exceptionally intelligent and keen, but I believe you are misguided and young for even this. Please take my considerings and-”

“Please leave Lord Junmyeon, I am confident in my decision. It’s a shame you aren’t, otherwise actions would have been taken many weeks ago; I hope this will be settled by the deadline,” Kyungsoo replies cooly. His stare is hard into the text and he thinks he does a very stunning job at appearing level-headed; he’s read the same sentence thrice.

Kyungsoo can feel Junmyeon’s exasperated gaze, heavy and boiling, and he subtly shifts in his seat. A quiet sigh falls from Junmyeon’s lips and he collects his maiden with a firm arm around her waist before exiting the room. The prince sits still, concentrated on the minute dot of an ‘i’, before a muffled bang rips through the silence and Kyungsoo’s running a shaky hand through his hair.

With firm, gentle tugs of a fistful of dark hair Kyungsoo exhales harshly. The leatherbound book lays askew on the coffee table, pages folded and crumpled beneath itself, and the teapot was successfully knocked over to leak lukewarm jasmine onto the surface. It shouldn’t get to him at this point - it’s a daily occurrence - but every time he has to engage with these gossipers a nasty feeling roils in his gut. They all act like their spoonfed praises muffle the rest of their smacktalk, and in the end it curdles the acid sitting in his stomach. Disgusting.

"So stubborn, so unfit to be king,” Junmyeon had muttered on his way out.