Ren and Jeonghan sat in a booth towards the back. Jeonghan could hardly believe what he was seeing. Ren simply sat there with a peaceful, almost sad look on his face.

“I don’t believe it.” Jeonghan’s lips barely moved as his fingers rose to touch Ren’s face. “I don’t… believe it. Minki… Minki!”

Ren gently held Jeonghan’s hand to his face, closing his eyes at the feeling of his fingers on Ren’s forehead. “…Jeonghan.”

The Prince clocked the name tag and choked a little. “You changed your name?”

“…after my family… I found it difficult. Being called by my name.”

Jeonghan just stared at the barista playing with his fingers for a long time. “…I missed you. When you left,” he whispered.

Ren didn’t open his eyes. “I missed you too.”

“You didn’t even say goodbye.” Jeonghan’s voice cracked on the last syllable, and he wanted to continue, but found that his voice was failing him in the thrall of emotion.

“I wanted to, but there was no time. You were out with the family that day, to some event. Do you remember? I said I would wait for you that night. But… we were leaving so soon. Dad was in such a panic to go. I barely managed to write you the letter. I-” Ren stopped in the middle of his sentence and let out a masochistic, sarcastic little chuckle, letting Jeonghan’s hand go and straightening out. “I guess it never mattered.”

Jeonghan stared at his discarded hand on the table, visibly upset. It took Ren a moment before he touched it again.

“I guess it wasn’t enough. I’m sorry.”

“Have you any idea-” Jeonghan had to stop, hand over his mouth, looking away. It took him a while to regain his senses, and even then, he couldn’t speak. He just stared at Jeonghan’s hand.

A hand that he had held. A hand that had been curled around his, around his waist, his thighs, fingers that had towed through his hair. The long, pretty fingers. They had felt so good when they held his face, when they played with his hair. Even lying on the table they were pretty. Minki was the most beautiful creature in creation.

“…I’m sorry about your brother,” Ren said softly.

“Which one?” the Prince returned with venom.

“You know which one.”

It was like he had been overtaken for a spirit: for a moment, Jeonghan couldn’t really see. His chest convulsed as if he was being hit in the sternum with a hammer, over and over: like the sacred whisper from Minki’s lips had physically racked through him in pain.

Joshua, gone. Wiped off the face of the earth.

Ren gripped his hands, and somehow, Jeonghan’s head was pulled above water. The overwhelming grief did not pull him down as it had so often in the past. There were fingers there. Fingers he knew. Fingers he loved. Fingers that pulled him out of the sea.

How long would they last? How long would Ren be in his life again? How long would it take before he was gone again? A few minutes? A few hours, when the Prince would no doubt be dragged back to the palace? Would he be able to come back someday? Would he have a few more days? Maybe a week? Or would heaven bless him again – would he have another fifteen years before the angel in his life disappeared and left him alone again?

If that happened, would Joshua come back to save him? It would only be fair. Jeonghan wasn’t very good at surviving without both of them. When one left, the other seemed to be there for him, whether by magic or not.

“Jeonghan… can I still call you that?” Ren’s vague, hurt little smile went all the way to his eyes. “I don’t know if I can still call you that after all these years. A little over a decade now. Should I call you Your Highne-”

Jeonghan bent his entire body forward in order to close his hand over Ren’s mouth. “No,” he whispered at the table, his entire body trembling. “Don’t say it. Don’t besmirch the one memory I have that’s as pure as angel’s songs. Don’t say anything if it’s not my name.”

Ren closed his eyes. He could feel Jeonghan’s hand on his skin. He leaned in to the touch. “Jeonghan,” he whispered.

If Ren had popped a halo and wings there and then, it wouldn’t have surprised Jeonghan. The sound of his voice, the feeling of his breath on Jeonghan’s skin was just like what it used to be. He could see himself in the back of the stable, reading dirty jokes from magazines to each other. He could see the little park they used to hang around at as teenagers around twilight, when the children went home and the world became quiet. He could see Ren’s face in the soft halo light of his room, smiling, laughing, holding onto him like he was the only thing keeping him grounded.

Jeonghan’s entire frame was shaking like he was in a storm.

“Jeonghan,” Ren whispered. He gently took Jeonghan’s hand off his mouth and kissed the back of it. “Jeonghan.” He kissed the knuckled softly. “Jeonghan,” he whispered, as if the word was the most sensual, sacred thing he’d ever uttered. He pressed the Prince’s fingertips to his lips. “Jeonghan. If you want me to stop, tell me now. Because I don’t plan to.”

Jeonghan’s entire body convulsed at the idea of letting Ren keep kissing his hand. Letting his perfect, beautiful most perfect lips touch his skin. Allowing Minki to kiss him again.

But neither of them spoke.

So Ren continued to kiss the Prince’s fingertips over and over: turned his hand over, and gently kissed his palm all the way down to the inside of his wrist, where he stopped, eventually just holding Jeonghan’s hand between his.

“…why didn’t you?”

Jeonghan turned to face him again.

Ren never looked up, simply holding the Prince’s hand in his. “I think, after all these years… I could forgive you for never calling, never texting. If I just knew why. Were you bored with me? Angry? Didn’t you like me anymore? If I could just know, I would let it go.”

Jeonghan’s eyes blinked, and he found that they were wet. “What?”

Something made a little thunk sound in Ren’s head as it sunk in. “…Jeonghan, you did read the letter I left you, didn’t you?”

Slowly – very slowly, but surely, Jeonghan pulled the small golden case from his pocket. When he opened it, a little tune began to warble.

“…the music box I bought you? You still have that?”

Slowly, one by one, Jeonghan pulled the items out of it. The ring. The handkerchief. The letter.

Ren sighed and leaned back. “Of all the stupid things you’ve ever done, Jeonghan, you never opened my letter.”

Jeonghan reached out for the small knife Ren had used to cut the pastry left untouched in the middle of their table. With it, he gently cut the envelope open and read the faded pencil scribbles there.

My darling Jeonghan,

My parents are moving to Jeju and I have to go with them to make sure they are safe. I’m not sure when I’ll be able to come back, but I will come back, I promise. I love you. I miss you already. We never exchanged numbers because we see each other every moment of every day anyway, but here’s my phone number. Please text me? I don’t have time to find your number.

Jeonghan, I love you. Forever.

I’ll be back. I love you.

Your Minki

Jeonghan stared at the words in complete terror. For the first ten minutes, the words simply didn’t sink in. Then he began to understand.

Minki was right. There had never been any reason to exchange phone numbers. They were never more than 20 minutes’ walk apart, anyway.

Minki hadn’t left him. Not willingly. Not without a trace. Minki had left him everything he had needed to hold on to his sanity, and Jeonghan had never even bothered to reach out and grasp it. The pain he’d gone through, the suffering of a burning soul, had all been for nothing. Minki hadn’t left him – not like that. Minki had loved him right until the very end.

Minki had loved him the way Jeonghan had loved him back. Unconditionally. Loyally. Until the very end.

“Minki.” The name burst out from between his lips as his hands shook so hard the words blurred. “Minki, Minki, Minki, Minki! Minki! Minki!”

“Shhhhhh.” Ren grasped Jeonghan’s hands. “I’m here. I’m here, my… do you remember what I used to call you?”

“Don’t say it.” For the first time, Jeongh