“Donghae?”

“Hmm?”

“Thank you for taking care of me,” he fidgeted, blushing, “while I was sick yesterday. You didn’t have to do that for me... I’m just an apprentice.”

A soft smile. “You’re welcome. And of course I would do it, Hyukjae. You’re my friend” A warm hand, larger than his and yet so gentle, ruffling his hair. They were still both children, yet they were already so different. “Besides, you would do the same for me, no?”

He nodded vigorously. “Of course!”

Warm brown eyes, shining in happiness—all directed at him. It made him feel warm all over.

“Of course,” he repeated in a whisper. He looked earnestly up at his friend. His wonderful best friend. “I’ll definitely take care of you. I promise.”

xoxoxoxo

“Stupid.” Put in the nanare-bloom. Grind. Add redworm and grind. Grind and grind, until the paste is so fine you can’t see where green ended and red began—which took a surprisingly short time. He must be angrier than he initially thought.

Stupid Donghae, getting injured.

Hyukjae grinded the paste until his hand coloured red, and he had to stop and pull away, to run water over the blisters so the blood didn’t ruin the potion. Blood always ruined potion. And he had to make this potion fast, because even though Donghae had been pulled out of the danger zone it didn’t mean that he couldn’t degenerate again.

He gritted his teeth. He refused to think about it. Refused to think about his idiot best friend and his utter stupidity—getting deathly ill, and for what? A stupid, pompous princess! Hadn’t the man even considered the implications of his actions? He was the only heir of the throne of their kingdom, and the Queen wasn’t likely to birth another child at her age. And what about his friends and his beloved knights? They would be devastated if he had died. As it was, he had brushed with death already.

Didn’t he even think about me?

“Stupid Donghae, running off to save idiot princesses. Does he think he’s an invincible knight like in the legends?” Really, what had ever possessed the prince to do that? He snorted. Fancies her, probably. And he wished he hadn’t thought of that, because it tasted like his nastiest potion, bitter and hard to swallow.

A crash shook the room. He winced.  Sighing, he massaged his temple. At this rate, he was going to live a miserable life and kick the bucket early.

Then he turned, glaring at the perpetrator.

“Heebum.” Stupid cat was its paws innocently. Sure. The cat was as innocent as its master, which was to say, not at all. (Heechul, innocent? The whole kingdom would die from laughter. In fact, the assassins aiming for the King and Queen should just suggest exactly that to their face. The two would laugh themselves silly and probably keel over dead.) “I told you not to play around with my tools.”

“Meow.”

“Don’t give me that look, you insane cat. I know you did it on purpose.”

“Meow~”

“Don’t think I’ve forgotten what you did during Heechul’s last prank. See if I feed you today.”

“Meooooow~”

“Besides, I’ve got to take care of another idiot. He’s just like you, always doing stupid things. Now I’ve to take care of him.”

“Meow?”

“... And I just realised I’m talking to a cat.” Granted, it was a demon familiar, so it was likely to be intelligent. Though he had his doubts. Heechul doing anything the normal way was just as unlikely as him being innocent. He might have picked a normal cat just for giggles and laughs.

He sighed, turning back to his potion.

“Meow.”

“Shut up, cat.”

xoxoxoxox

The door to the room closed slowly. Almost quietly, but there was a soft creak still. Not that he minded. It was left like that intentionally after all—like every other door in the Healer’s Ward—to notify him of anyone entering or leaving.

He was the Royal Healer, just as likely to be targeted as the Royal Magician to cripple the kingdom. And he didn’t have an apprentice yet, which was probably a huge bonus in their enemies’ eyes.

Besides, it made catching foolish patients trying to sneak away easier.

Those ‘foolish patients’ would usually include the man currently sleeping on the bed, but not today. Or yesterday, or the day before that, and the day before that.

It had been four days since he had been brought in, yet he still hadn’t woken up.

Hyukjae sighed, putting the bowl of not-quite-hot water on the small table besides the bed. He pulled out the cloth inside the bowl and wringed it. The squelching of water sounded unnaturally loud in the silence of the room.

Seating himself on the edge of the bed, he turned to his patient with the damp cloth and slowly traced the contours of his prince’s flushed face with it. Cheeks, jaw, temple, forehead. He kneaded the spot between the man’s brows, slowly smoothing out the furrow there.

Was he reliving this latest painful experience, Hyukjae wondered.

“Well, he would deserve it,” he murmured, but even he realised there was no bite in his words. He was too worried about his prince to be properly vindictive.

He loved him too much to wish pain on him.

With a practised ease, he brushed the thought away. Silly unrequited loves was not on the agenda. He still couldn’t help the bitter scowl pulling at his lips, but no one was there to see him anyway.

Driving away all thoughts and emotions into a box where he could examine them later (or preferably, never), he made quick work of cooling the prince’s flushed skin and left the room to finish brewing the potion.

And if he ignored the clenching of his heart that was too alike to fear at the sight of the unnatural flush of his prince’s skin and the too-shallow breathing, well. No one would ever know.

xoxoxoxox

White, all around him. Or was it black? He didn’t know. Nothing quite made sense here, in this blankness he found himself in.

He hated it, though. It was too quiet. The silence pressed down on him, more like heavy lead than a soothing embrace. Unlike... unlike what?

He didn’t remember. Why didn’t he remember? But there was something better than this, he knew.

No, not something. Someone. A companionable silence, shared with someone. Who?

No matter. He wanted out of this place. Not this unnatural silence. Anything was better than this void.

Something penetrated the void. A voice, gravelly, like an old man’s. Shouting, he realised. “—let me take care of him, and go back to your room!”

“No.” Smooth. Young. Confident, and stubborn. “I shall let you continue with your work, but I will stay here with Hyukjae.”

Hyukjae? Was that his name? Yes, yes it was. He was Hyukjae.

“Please, Highness. This is a matter of—”

“I will take care of him.” The voice was frigid now. But it was familiar. A friend. A... good friend. Whose reasons for befriending him he never understood. Was the voice of a higher standing than him? “He is my friend.”

Unbidden, he felt oddly warm at those words. Friend. He was a friend, important enough to defy even the scary Royal Healer.

Royal Healer? Who was that?

...Why didn’t he remember anything?

“I will take care of him. That is an order, Royal Healer.” The voice was firm, decisive. He knew that that was not common, but he didn’t quite remember how he knew.

Who was the voice again?

They were saying more, but his thoughts were muddled. Thinking was too tiring—it felt like wading through mud. He drifted back to that empty void, ignoring the voices. But not forgetting.

Oh no, he never forgot.

xoxoxoxox

“So,” Sungmin, the Royal Healer of their sister kingdom Che-Ari and a good friend of Hyukjae’s, drawled from his seat on the bench, body stretched lazily. He was entirely too leisurely for Hyukjae’s liking. He firmly ignored the voice in his mind telling him that he had never thought like that before—except when Donghae was injured or sick. “The prince got in trouble again.”

“Yes,” Hyukjae answered, voice cold and clipped. His hands busied with picking the yellow leaves from the papiron tree.

Sungmin rolled his eyes. “No need to be so short with me.” He waved his hand. “His Highness will recover like usual. He’s a total cockroach. Really, why are you worrying so much?”

Hyukjae whirled around, incensed. He almost, almost shouted, “Well, what would you feel if your prince was the one in danger of dying?”

“He wouldn’t be. He’d just send his knights to face the danger and play his puzzle games while lazily lounging at the very back of the troops,” Sungmin said dryly.

“I’m serious here, Sungmin.”

The other Royal Healer sighed and stood up, walking towards him. “I wouldn’t know what to do, too,” Sungmin admitted, hugging him. Hyukjae didn’t relax in his arms. “But you need to relax, Eunhyuk. You know you might make mistakes during healing if you let anger cloud your senses.”

Hyukjae wanted to rail against him, shout that he was the Royal Healer; he wouldn’t make stupid, amateur mistakes. But Sungmin didn’t deserve that. He was just trying to comfort Hyukjae.

His shoulders slumped. “I know,” he said quietly.

“Besides,” Sungmin quipped, trying to lighten the atmosphere, “Prince Kyuhyun is a genius tactician. He should be able to escape danger, at least, even if he’s hopeless at sword-fighting.”

Hyukjae forced out a chuckle. If Sungmin noticed the strain in his laughter, he didn’t comment on it. “With the way His Highness annoy everyone from the servants to the High General, I doubt he’ll live much longer. Everyone’s probably waiting to kill him.”

Sungmin snorted. “He’s a brat,” he grinned, “but he’s our brat. Che-Ari loves him, even if they show it by shouting at him and pinching his cheeks.”

Hyukjae chuckled despite himself. “Well, it is rare to see a royal person who would let commoners do that to him,” he conceded. “No wonder Che-Ari adores him.”

xoxoxoxox

The night was quiet, Hyukjae quietly noted as he cleaned his worktable. Very quiet, especially after Sungmin’s cheerful presence, dutifully helping him with the potions he needed for Donghae’s treatment. His little, out of the way potions laboratory was his special sanctuary, but he could admit (if only to himself and after a long, long period of denial) that it was a bit too quiet and dreary. Lonely.

It was nice to have company. And even more fortunate for him that Sungmin’s chatter was enough of a distraction from more troubling thoughts, like a certain stupid prince.

No such distractions now though. Not for the first time that night, his mind wandered towards the bed-ridden prince and his hands quickened subconsciously.

Once he finished cleaning, he gathered a few vials—the finished potions—into his arms and strode towards the prince’s temporary room.

He had not expected anything besides the troublesome job of administering the potions to his patient (also known as: the job of shove-potion-down-the-poor-soul’s-throat-and-try-to-prevent-them-from-choking). He certainly did not expect the dreadful-sounding coughs, or the sight of Donghae’s body bent over and curled into itself, as if trying to protect itself from an invisible threat.

Quickly shaking off his shock, he hurried to Donghae’s side, dropping the vials as carefully as he could on the bedside table. He rubbed soothing circles on the prince’s back, hoping to ease the coughs. He sounds horrible, he thought miserably.

When the coughing ended, he immediately poured a cup of water and held it for Donghae to drink. The man took slow, careful sips and Hyukjae was reminded of how many times the prince had landed himself in this kind of situation, that the man was already familiar with the care he had to take with his less than healthy body.

Now was not the time for a lecture, though, so he bit his lip and stopped the torrent of admonishments pushing to spill out.

“Hyukjae?” Donghae said hoarsely.

He couldn’t quite stop the pursing of his lips, a clear sign of his displeasure. “You almost died.”

Half-lidded brown eyes searched his. “Ah,” the prince finally responded.

Hyukjae pushed down his anger, turning to grab the vials he had left on the table as he bit out, “It’s a good thing you’re awake. You must drink these potions.”

Donghae’s eyes flickered towards the vial and his mouth pulled into a grimace. “Must I?”

Hyukjaae glared. “Yes.”

The process was nasty, but Donghae fortunately managed to swallow and keep the potions down. Which he personally thought was a feat, because he’d had very little time to make the potions, let alone to improve the taste like he usually would.

He offered another cup of water, which Donghae gladly took. “You should rest,” Hyukjae said.

Donghae’s lips quirked up. “No food for me?”

Hyukjae rolled his eyes. As if Donghae didn’t know that his body would just vomit out any food he might have foolishly tried to eat. “Rest now. You’ll eat later.”

The man smiled easily and settled back on the bed, closing his eyes. His face was still flushed, so Hyukjae fetched the damp cloth from the foot of the bed (thrown forward during Donghae’s cough attack) and soaked it in water.

As he slowly dampened the prince’s flushed face, he remembered a memory of a time long ago—of a fever, and many, many promises.

A soft voice echoed throughout the room, softly singing, and it took a moment for Hyukjae to realise that it was his.

Warmth, he remembered. Warmth and a voice, softly singing to soothe him in his feverish state. You did this for me, too...

“H-hyuk...”

Hyukjae sat up, alarmed, as the faint whisper trailed off into severe coughs. He hurriedly placed a cup of water to Donghae’s lips, biting his lip as his friend gulped down the water.

He pulled the cup away. “Are you okay now?”

“Yeah... Hyukjae,” Donghae paused, coughing. His face was still flushed, and his voice hoarse. “Your singing . I couldn’t sleep at all.”

“...”

Donghae coughed.

“YOU—!” He slammed the cup down on the bedside table. “I was trying to comfort you, you dolt!” Hyukjae had taken care of him! And all he had to say was that?! He rose from his seat, eyes stinging from tears, fully intending to leave the room.

A hand caught his arm, and he looked down.

Donghae smiled. “I know.” His thumb slowly brushed the inside of Hyukjae’s wrist. Hyukjae’s breath caught. His smile widened. “I know. Thank you, Hyukjae.”

He brought the wrist up to his lips, giving a gentle brush against Hyukjae’s pulse. Hyukjae’s eyes widened, but his eyes were locked with Donghae’s. He watched, transfixed, as his wrist was slowly released, skin touching skin far too much to be accidental.

Donghae settled back into the covers. Hyukjae avoided his gaze, but it prickled his skin, leaving warm tingles dancing down his body. He sat down on the chair, knowing he was blushing—his cheeks burned as if hot coals had pressed onto it—and that was really embarrassing, but far better than tripping over his own feet if he tried to make it out of the door. His legs felt like jelly.

When he finally met Donghae’s eyes, his friend (wait, were they just ‘friends’....?) smiled. “Good night, Hyukjae.”

He watched as his friend closed his eyes, as his breathing slowly evened out, as the candle melted down to wax, bringing with its death the darkness of the night.

Finally, he whispered, “Good night, Donghae.”

His wrist burned where Donghae had kissed it.

xoxoxoxox

The voice soothed him, softly caressing his fever-burning skin. That, more than the nonsensical words whispered into his ears, comforted him. His friend had no magic, he knew. But more than anything in the world, this warmth running over him from gentle fingers and a gentle voice was magic.

“Donghae...?” he tried, but all that came out of his mouth was a hoarse whisper.

The hands and voice stilled, and he whimpered for their loss. Something pressed against his mouth, and he felt water running down his throat.

He tried to open his eyes, but a hand closed over them. A thumb caressed his brow. Another smoothed through his hair, rubbing his scalp gently. Despite himself, Hyukjae felt drowsy again. “Donghae...”

“Shh.” A mouth pressed against his hair. “I’m here, Hyukjae. I’ll be here.”

He fell asleep to the comforting hands and soft humming of that magical, warm voice.

xoxoxoxox

Hyukjae resolutely did not look at Donghae. Which was a bit difficult, considering that he was spoon-feeding the prince. He spoke coldly, “You’re always diving right into trouble, aren’t you?”

“I’m sorry, Hyukjae.” Donghae’s voice was contrite. “I’ll try not to do it again.”

He stiffened. “You’ve said that. Time and time again. Yet never do you hold to it.”

“I’ll definitely keep it this time, Hyukjae. I promise.”

The spoon clattered loudly in the half-empty bowl. “Don’t make promises you won’t keep! Don’t lie to me, Donghae!”

In his anger, he couldn’t help looking at the prince. Donghae looked healthier than he did last night, and he was frowning. “Hyukjae...”

“No! You’re always getting into trouble, always almost dying! Do you even care about your life?!”

“I do.” Donghae gazed at him seriously. “I try my best, Hyukjae.” A soft smile wiped away the frown. “Besides, I have a certain precious person waiting for me, so I definitely won’t die.”

The look Donghae directed at him was oddly intense, he decided. And he didn’t know what to make of it. He looked away. Coward, a voice in his head shot. He picked up the spoon again. The quicker Donghae was fed, the quicker he could leave this strange situation. He held up the porridge-filled spoon to Donghae’s lips, though his eyes were set resolutely on the bowl.

Donghae didn’t say a word, but his gaze remained heavy on Hyukjae.

xoxoxoxox

“I’ll definitely take care of you. I promise.”

Sometimes Hyukjae wondered if Donghae even remembered it. It was his job to take care of the Royals after all.

Maybe he was only the Royal Healer in Donghae’s eyes, memory of the childish promise already dead in his mind.

xoxoxoxox

 Grind. Grind and grind—a mindless work. He could focus on the mixture and the recipe, and nothing else. Good, because he didn’t want to think about Donghae. His anger was slipping away, but not the disappointment.

If anything, it was increasing.

Donghae was already healthy, and he had escaped the Healer’s Ward as soon as he was able to. He didn’t even make an effort to come to Hyukjae for his potions, even though Hyukjae knew he was aware of his still less-than-healthy condition.

He snorted bitterly. Royalty coming down to do something when their subjects could come up to them instead? He was thinking nonsense now.

Really, he couldn’t even lie to himself now. He just wanted to see Donghae... wanted Donghae to visit him.

Stupid feelings, addling his senses. Why did he have to go fall in love with the stupid prince?

Because he’s handsome, caring, kind, strong, and oh, did I forget handsome? His mind responded.

Great, I have a rebel in my mind.

“Hyukjae.”

He dropped the pestle, startled, and whirled around to face the door. Donghae was standing there, smiling in amusement. When did he get in here?

“I came to see you.”

“Ah,” was all he could say.

They stood in awkward silence.

“Um—” he started, at the same time Donghae said, “Hyukjae—”

Another awkward silence fell over them.

“Uh, would you like to sit, Highness?” He barely remembered to tack on the formal title. He wanted to rub his face in frustration. He couldn’t, shouldn’t forget his station, ever. And that was beneath Donghae.

He tried to ignore how cold that thought made him.

“Of course,” Donghae said. The prince followed him as he led them to a couch.

“Please excuse the... stench, Highness. I was working,” he said embarrassedly when he looked at his hands. They were stained a bit by the mixture he had been grinding. He was sure his robes were just as dirty.

“Ah, yes.” Donghae smiled. “Herin-toads, no? I’d never forget that smell.”

“Is there a reason for your visit, Highness?” Hyukjae tried not to flinch at his own cold tone. When did I become so bitter?

Donghae’s eyes were speculative, scanning him thoroughly. Hyukjae swallowed. “Yes, indeed I do.”

He stared in confusion as Donghae strode towards him. “Highness?”

Their bodies were close, close enough that he could feel the warmth radiating from his prince’s body. Donghae smiled, and then there was no space left, their breaths intermingled, and that warm body that he’d thought about so much was pressed against him. Dimly he realised a hand was tilting his head, but most of his mind was trying to get over the shock of feeling the lips on his lips.

Donghae released his mouth, and only the arms around his waist kept him from staggering back. “K-ki—what were you doing?”

“Kissing you, of course.” His eyes twinkle. The stupid prince was amused!

“What is this, a joke?” he bit out.

“No.” Donghae’s lips were set in a grim line. He murmured softly, “My love for you is no joke, Royal Healer Hyukjae.”

Love. Hyukjae’s mind spun. He croaked out, “Love?”

“Yes.” Donghae’s arms slipped away as he turned to seat himself on the couch. “I love you, my Hyukjae.”

His throat dried, and he couldn’t seem to form words. Finally, he said, “Yet you didn’t seem to think of me at all when you go off saving princesses to satisfy your chivalry. One would think that perhaps you’re more interested in those princesses.”

Donghae’s amusement was apparent from his smile. “Oh? And how would you know it was because of chivalry? Maybe it was some dastardly plan of mine to make you mine.”

He scowled, ignoring the warmth pooling in his stomach at the word ‘mine’. “Prince Kyuhyun, I can believe. But you, of all people—” He cut himself off, looking away. He just knew he was blushing like a tomato. Stupid Donghae.

“I am what, exactly?” The husky voice was soft, teasing. He peeked out of the corner of his eye to see an amused smile playing at Donghae’s lips. Which widened, when he caught Hyukjae’s glance.

Hyukjae blushed, but he didn’t look away from Donghae’s gaze. “You’re too nice to do that,” he murmured.

Donghae’s eyes twinkled. “I’m sorry for always worrying you,” he murmured sincerely and patted the spot beside him on the couch. “Come on, sit with me?”

Hyukjae slowly complied, making his way toward the seat. But before he could even turn around to seat himself, he was suddenly pulled forward and found chapped lips crashed onto his.

When they finally pulled away for air, Donghae smiled. “Sorry, I couldn’t resist. You’re too cute.”

Hyukjae blushed and looked away, but he did snuggle into the warm arms.

“I love you too.”