The royal family took their meals at the same time every day, without fail. Minho’s mother, the palace’s long-time head cook, was always a stickler for consistency, especially when it came to serving the royal family. As one of the doormen and the occasional guard, it made Minho’s job a little bit easier.

This afternoon, however, he was late for tea.

It was his own fault, really. he had snuck one of the books from the library up to his room and then proceeded to stay up all night reading it. He had almost been late for the breaking of the fast, but he had glanced out the window in time to see the sun had already risen. After the morning meal, he returned to his room – shirking his other duties, just for the moment – to finish his book. There were only a few pages left; he could read it fast and be on his way.

Or, so he thought.

Minho woke up way past noon, his face planted in the book. “,” he whispered, his heart beating out of his chest as he wiped the little bit of drool from off the page. “, , .”

Tea was already taken, by now, and his lack of presence at his post had definitely been noticed. He snapped the book closed and tossed to the head of his bed, straightening his uniform as he ran to the door of the dining hall. Breathing heavily, he peeked inside the crack of the slightly-open door and met eyes with Ki – no, the prince.

Gulping, Minho backed away from the crack and stood with his back facing the door, his posture rigid. After a moment, his breathing calmed and his heartbeat returned to normal. He scanned the wall opposite him, attempting to find the brick he left off on. “Ah, three-hundred-sixty-eight, three-hundred-sixty-ni – ”

A light rapping on the door behind him surprised him, and Minho turned to see warm brown eyes of the prince himself. His heart stuttered to a stop momentarily. “I need you to come in and taste this for me.”

“What…I mean,” he cleared his throat when the prince’s brow furrowed in either confusion or anger. “Yes, your Highness.”

The prince stepped away from the door to let Minho inside. Despite his many years roaming the palace, Minho had only been inside the royal dining hall once, and that had been years ago. Mother had been setting up for a banquet for visiting nobility and Father could not watch him for the day. As Minho stepped inside now, he looked all around, taking in as much as he could.

Three fireplaces roared with life, a cross of swords and the royal family crest hanging over the center mantel. A collection of other weapons hung on the walls around them, whether they were just for show or not, Minho wasn’t sure. Crystals gleamed in the candlelight on the chandeliers hanging above the long table, sending myriad tiny rainbows across the walls, table, and floor. Tapestries depicting the histories of their nation hung along the walls, dust collecting on their threads.

The prince coughed and Minho started, realizing then just how long he had been looking around the dining hall. He was already back at his seat, the first chair to the left of the king’s, and was watching Minho expectantly. He bowed, cringing as he did. “My apologies, your Highness. It won’t happen again.”

“I expect not. Now, come here.” Minho hurried to obey, folding his hands behind his back when he reached the prince’s side. He took his fork and cut off a bit of the cake that had been served with the afternoon tea and held it out to Minho. “Taste this.”

Minho blinked, his gaze darting from the cake to the prince’s eyes. There seemed to be an amused sort of twinkle in them, though that could just be Minho’s imagination. “Is there something wrong with it, your Highness?”

The prince huffed quietly and he squinted. “It could be poisoned, you never know.” Minho’s eyebrows shot up. They both knew that was a blatant lie. Kib…the prince was very much aware that Minho’s mother was the cook and had been for longer than either of them had been alive. Minho looked down at the cake and suppressed a small smile.

It was his favorite – a dark chocolate cake with raspberry mousse between the layers of cake and a rich chocolate ganache covering the outside.

He his lips and looked back at the prince, the cake wobbling a little as he shook the fork toward Minho. Bending forward a little, Minho took the fork from the prince’s hand and held his own below it to catch the cake in case it fell.

It – , it was so good – reminded him of his childhood, sitting at the servant’s table in the kitchens and eating the last piece of cake while his mother finished cleaning up for the day.

Sometimes, when Kibum…the prince…was done with his studies for the day, he would join him and they would share whatever Minho’s mother would give them to snack on. They were the best of friends, back in the day, before Minho moved to the country with his father when he and his mother split up. Minho had been back in the palace for a little under a month now, but he and the prince had yet to exchange words until, well, now.

“So? Is it safe to eat?”

Minho at a bit of ganache still on his lips and nodded. “Yes, Ki – your Highness.”

The prince’s eyes brightened as he took the fork back from Minho. He cut off a piece for himself, savoring it as he ate it. Minho looked back to the door, checking for movement in the sliver between the doors. The sound of tea being poured drew his attention again, and Minho bowed slightly again. “If that’s all you need, your – ”

“The tea might be poisoned, too.” Minho scoffed before he could hold it back, and the prince smirked. He waited for the prince to pass him the steaming teacup, confused when it did not happen right away. “One does not take tea while standing,” he nodded to the chair beside him, and Minho gulped. “Go on. Sit.”

“Is…is that all right?”

A laugh bubbled out of the prince, and Minho melted a little. “I say it is. Sit.”

The legs of the chair squeaked against the stone tiles as Minho pulled the chair on the other side of the prince out. He sunk into the plush cushion and wrung his hands in his lap. The prince cut off another bite of cake before he set the plate between them. He offered Minho the empty fork when he had taken his bite, shaking it a little when Minho did not look over right away.

“Something the matter, Min?” Minho blinked and met the prince’s gaze. He smiled – somewhat bashfully, for him – and held out the fork. “What? Did you think I would forget you?”

Minho almost choked on his own saliva and ended up having to grab the tea to clear his throat. Kibum poured him – or them, Minho wasn’t sure – another cup of tea, his brow furrowed slightly in what seemed to be concern. “I’m not sure what I expected, your….Ki…Kibum.“

"I guess I can understand that,” Kibum said, his cheeks dimpling and coloring as his smiled. “You’ve grown up since you’ve been away."

Minho could feel Kibum appreciative gaze, and he took the opportunity to indulge himself as well. The prince was now almost as tall as he was, he guessed, because they were both sitting. His hair was beautifully styled and scented with lavender oil. Kibum raised a scarred eyebrow when Minho met his eyes, and Minho quickly lowered his gaze to the table. He chuckled and twirled the fork between his fingers before he cut off another bite of cake.

"Yes, well,” Minho said, internally cringing in preparation for negative backlash. “That’s what happens when time passes.”

Kibum clicked his tongue before he exhaled lightly. “You still haven’t changed though. I like that.” Minho’s eyes widened as he looked up, and he relaxed when he saw the fondness in Kibum’s smile. “How is your father?”

“He…well, he died.” The prince reached out and rubbed his shoulder. Minho tried very hard not to lean into the touch. “I’m all right, really. We were all surprised that he lived as long as he did.”

“Is your brother tending to the farm, then?”

“Yes, for now.”

“Well,” Kibum dropped his hand from Minho’s shoulder and took up the fork again, dragging the tines through the ganache. “I am truly sorry for your loss, but I’m…glad you’ve returned.”

Minho froze, staring blankly at the cake as Kibum cut off another bite. Was…was it possible that…no, it couldn’t be…

Years ago, the night before Minho left, Kibum had stormed into his room and dragged him up to the tallest tower in the castle. He had brought blankets and they wrapped themselves up as they stared at the night sky. They talked of everything and nothing, both avoiding the subject of Minho’s imminent departure in just a few hours. As the night drew on, Kibum took his hand in his, interlocking their fingers.

Then – and this, Minho would never forget for as long as he lived – he kissed the back of Minho’s hand and whispered, “Please, don’t go.”

They fell asleep in each other’s arms, tracks of dried tears staining their cheeks. Once the sun rose, Minho helped Kibum back to his room and tucked him into bed. He had to pry Kibum’s fists off the front of his tunic, but before he left, he pushed the prince’s disheveled hair off his forehead and kissed him there.

Minho glanced up at Kibum, who was pointedly looking at the cake. Was it possible that his feelings hadn’t changed in all these years? Everything in the room seemed lighter now – the air, the lights, even his own heart.

Gulping, Minho reached out and took the fork from Kibum’s, their fingers brushing together. “I bet the, uh, the stars will be pretty tonight.”

The smallest hint of a smirk graced Kibum’s lips, and Minho’s heart skipped a beat. “They’re pretty every night.”

“I agree.” Minho took another bite of cake before he set the fork down. Kibum’s fingers twitched toward his hand as Minho pushed away from the table. He bit back a smile as he moved toward the door, and did his best to school his features before he faced Kibum again. Their eyes met before Minho bowed deeply. “If there isn’t anything else you need, I’ll be returning to my post.”

Kibum shook his head, his eyes wide in what Minho thought might be confusion.

“Will I be seeing you later, Your Highness?”

A playful smile curled the prince’s lips, and he raised his chin. “Yes, I think you will.” With that, Minho closed the door, his own grin spreading so wide that he couldn’t contain it anymore even if he wanted to.