EPILOGUE

The first anniversary of Johnny's death marks the last fall of rain in the bid of November. Ten's robe rustles in the wind as they stand at the dock of the pier, watching white candles float on the surface of the sea. The sunset is breathtaking when it heaves the listless wake of night through the humble stretch of gray clouds. Ten can see the lips of the buddhist monk moving while he stands at the tip of the promenade, hands held in prayer over his chest. The monk's words are drowned out by the hum of the sea and the crash of the waves against the rocks littering the shore.

Ten swipes his tongue on his lips and tastes salt. He's staring at the  candle in his hands, a small kindle of fire blazing from the wick. The tiny rocks feel like a needlpatch against his skin when he kneels down to lay the candle in the water and watch it join the gathering of lights in the sea. There's a huge wreath floating in the middle, a small garden of white lilies and carnation. It's identical to the wreath tied to the gates of Siam's university that was rebuilt a few months ago and renamed in Johnny's memory. On top of the blooms, there's a white silk inked with the words "finis vitae sed non amoris".

"The end of life, but not of love," Ten whispers softly to himself before he feels a warm length of skin drape over his shoulders, pulling him back up on his feet.

Taeyong shines in his dark purple robe. Black lace covers the V below his neck before a bit of gold coils around the front in intricate patterns. He looks stunning with the parting rays of the sun glazing over his cheeks and making them glow. There's a soft smile on his lips when he trails his fingertips down Ten's arm before clasping their hands together.

"I miss Johnny," says Ten.

"I'm sure he misses you too." Gone is the roughness in Taeyong's fingerpads, callouses softened with Ten's care, when they brush over the King's cheeks. Ten returns the smile, pressing Taeyong's hand closer to his cheek and planting a kiss on his palm.

"Your Majesties." Lord Somchai's gray hair has grown a few inches along with the dark beard on his chin. He whisks his hand to the right with a bow. "The carriage is now ready for you."

Ten nods at the adviser before turning back to Taeyong. There's a light blush coaxing Taeyong's cheeks and Ten laughs softly to himself. Despite being King Consort of Siam for almost a year now, Taeyong's still not used to being addressed with such formality. Ten finds it oddly adorable when he shies away from royal life.

"Shall we?" the King asks before pulling Taeyong by the wrist and guiding them uphill and back on the main road leading to the Grand Palace.

It's quiet inside the carriage with just the occasional crunch and snap of the earth beneath its weight. The carriage is big enough to fit five people in it, but Ten slinks himself right next to Taeyong by habit and it doesn't take long before the latter draws his arm around his shoulders, pulling him closer. Ten will never get used to the surreality of living and breathing next to Taeyong. He sighs, resting his head on the Consort's shoulder and watching the orange in the skies bruise purple outside the windows.

"Ambhom," Ten calls at the coach a minute later. "Can you drop us off at the spot?" The man in front answers affirmatively and they hear the horse neigh in front before the vehicle makes a turn down the road. The spot refers to Ten's favourite place by the river where they get off before asking the coach to leave them there and proceed to returning the carriage to the Grand Palace.

Ten makes a hasty descent downhill before flopping on the bed of grass and spreading his arms to his sides. His head hits the emerald earth with a soft thud and he inhales deeply, smelling the fresh scent of perennials growing at the foot of a tree. When he cracks an eye open, Taeyong's face is hovering above his face, blocking the palette of colours in the sky.

The King pouts, "You're blocking my view."

It's not long before Taeyong's tackling him on the ground and they end up rolling around the heap of grass with Ten laughing (or more like screeching) in the midst of being peppered with kisses on his neck. Bits of grass cling on to his hair and clothes before he's back on his knees, pinning Taeyong under his weight. Taeyong's eyes are hooded and teasing when he sits up, cupping Ten's face in the palm of his hands and pressing their mouths together. Ten's laughter mellows out into a sigh against his Consort's lips.

"Hyung?"

Ten shotguns on his feet when he sees Mark standing on the main road with Donghyuk, a pile of books clamped in between their arms and waists. The two boys are looking at them with wide eyes, a cross between shock and mortification colouring their features at the sight of Siam's two highest royals making out on the side of a public road.

"Mark!" Ten exclaims rather belatedly. "Hi."

"Hey, Mark," Taeyong greets awkwardly with a wave of his hand.

The King freezes when he feels Taeyong's arms curl around his waist from the back. The Consort's lips stretch against the skin of his shoulder, hiding a teasing smile. Taeyong winces loudly when Ten digs an elbow in his stomach as quick revenge.

"Um, we were heading back to the university mansion. The school held a memoriam for Johnny-hyung this afternoon and I saw you," Mark says, toeing the grass underneath his feet. "I wanted to come up and say hi but there were so many people around you. You were like a celebrity, hyung!"

"You should have," Ten says with a frown, feeling Taeyong's hand settle in the small of his back. The truth is everyone was crowding around him to get a better look at Taeyong. Ever since Taeyong became a regular fixture in Ten's life, the spotlight had shifted to him with men and women throwing themselves at the Consort's feet at every public event. While Ten has made it perfectly clear that Taeyong is already taken (by the King, no less), that doesn't stop his legions of fans from sending him gifts and leaving "offerings" at the Grand Palace's doorsteps. Even Lord Somchai had received complaints about ravens flocking around the gardens to deliver fan letters for the Consort.