“Princess Sehun!”

Sehun flattens himself up against the palace corridor between his room and the garden, taking deep, silent breaths to avoid drawing attention to himself.

He is a man on a mission.

“Princess Sehun!”

The voice calling his name grows more and more urgent, and Sehun makes the snap decision to run for the door, silently blessing the fact that his turquoise-blue harem pants are extremely easy to run in.

Luckily, he manages to make it to the garden without much incident, and he breathes a long sigh of relief.

“XingXing!” Sehun calls softly, and the sparkly white tiger lumbers over, curling up next to Sehun’s gold-slipper-clad feet, purring contentedly while Sehun scratches behind his ears.

“How are you today?” Sehun asks, and XingXing Sehun’s ankle, causing him to giggle.

“You’re so lucky,” Sehun sighs, staring up at the sky. It’s a beautiful shade of blue, the occasional wispy white cloud drifting across. He lies down, his head resting against XingXing’s back, and watches the sunrise, sighing heavily.

He’d give anything to see what life was like outside.

“Princess Sehun!”

Sehun bites his tongue to keep himself from cursing at the attendant, a portly man who, Sehun thinks, looks rather remarkably like a rock, and has about the intelligence of one too.

“Princess Sehun, it’s time for breakfast. Your father is waiting for you!”

Sehun sighs, springing lightly to his feet and rubbing XingXing behind the ears. “See you later, Xing.”

Sehun follows the attendant back inside to the dining room, where an elaborate spread has already been set out across the long table. Although all the food has been meticulously prepared, and it’s some of the most delicious stuff in the land, Sehun isn’t hungry at all.

He takes his seat at one end of the table and waits for his father, the Sultan, to arrive—as the Sultan has always had a flair for the dramatic, and refuses to enter any room until everyone else has already arrived.

Sure enough, five minutes later, the Sultan of South Korea, Kim Heechul, sweeps into the room with a whirl of hot pink silk.

“Sehun-ah, how do you like my new outfit?” Heechul asks, twirling to his seat at the opposite head of the table.

To Sehun, his father looks like an overgrown bottle of bedazzled Pepto-Bismol, but he bites his tongue and smiles (well, attempts to, at least. He's never been particularly good at smiling).

“You look nice, father.”

Heechul sighs happily, holding up one of his bell sleeves up to his nose.

“Ah, the scent of fresh silk. Such a beautiful scent.”

Heechul continues on describing his outfit for the next five minutes. Sehun catches a few bits and pieces of it here and there (diamonds and gold trim!), but he’s just grateful the food is on heated platters, otherwise it would have all gone cold and nasty by now.

Heechul sighs again, only this time, he seems resigned to the fact that his son is probably not listening to him again.

“Let us eat,” Heechul says, far too loudly, given the fact that only two people will actually be dining in that room, and servants immediately rush to serve the two their desired meals.

Sehun waits as a piece of fruit is placed on his plate and sliced, and he wonders (not for the first time) why they don’t just serve each individual meal pre-cut, but he supposes that’s just part of the whole grandeur of being part of the royal family.

And, not for the first time, he finds himself hating it.

They eat in silence, save for the sounds of clinking silverware against plates and the sounds of chewing, and Sehun’s mind wanders.

He’s not really sure what spurred it on, but now he has an unquenchable thirst to see the outside of the palace on his own.

“Father,” he says, the first words spoken since the beginning of the meal, “can I go out tomorrow?”

Heechul pauses mid-bite and raises an eyebrow. “I suppose you could, although it may be a bit difficult to arrange an at this late notice.”

“No,” Sehun shakes his head, “I mean by myself.”

Heechul drops his fork. “What?”

“I want,” Sehun gulps, “to go out by myself.”

“Oh dear lord Shisus, why?” Heechul asks, throwing his hands up in the air. “There is nothing good outside! It’s hot and disgusting and you have such nice porcelain skin, Sehun-ah, why would you ruin it by going out into the sun? Not to mention there’s diseases and weird people and—”

“I get it, father,” Sehun sighs, “I’ll just… stay in.”

“And a good thing, too,” Heechul huffs, cutting another piece of food. “You need to stay in for the next few days, anyhow.”

“Why?” Sehun asks. He’s never been specifically told to stay inside before.

“You’re set to be married in three days!” Heechul says, beaming widely. “I’ve found a darling prince for you, Sehunna, his name is Chen! Actually, I’ve invited him to the palace today, and you will show him around the garden later.”

“Father, I—”

“No buts, Sehunna.”

And that is final.

Sehun pokes at the food on his plate a minute longer, then excuses himself, because he simply cannot stand to be in the same room as his father any longer.

He makes his way to the garden, swearing remarkably un-princess-like under his breath as he goes, deciding that if he’s going to meet this damn prince, he may as well do it now.

“Prince Chen?” he calls as he steps out into the garden, his eyes landing immediately on a figure dressed in an ostentatious flower-printed getup.

The figure whips around, revealing sharp cheekbones, a cocky smirk, and wind-tousled hair.

“Ah, Princess Sehun,” he says, his voice laden with smarminess as he takes Sehun’s hand and brings it lightly to his lips. “It’s a pleasure to meet you at long last. My name is Chen,” he announces proudly, elongating the e for absolutely no reason.

Sehun resists the urge to gag, plastering a vaguely amused smile on his face as he glances around the garden, looking for XingXing.

“So, tell me about yourself, princess,” Chen says, delicately rubbing a speck of dirt off his shoe. “It’s a very… nice place you’ve got here. Although I daresay mine is better. Thrice the size.”

“That sounds… wonderful…” Sehun deadpans.

“It is!” Chen exclaims, having evidently completely missed the sarcasm. “I can’t wait to see you there, really. Three days! It seems so far away, but so soon. How about we get to know each other a little better—”

Throughout his spiel, Chen edges closer and closer to Sehun, until he’s barely a centimeter away and Sehun’s staring straight into his eyes.

“Uh, thank you for your kind offer, but—”

Sehun’s cut off by a sudden tearing sound and an extremely manly yelp as XingXing lunges as Chen’s , coming away with a mouthful of flowery pants.

“Good lord!” Chen huffs, scrabbling at his behind for whatever scraps of fabric he can hold together as he runs to the main building. “Such uncouth animals, I can’t—hooh!”

Sehun laughs as he watches the prince run, ruffling XingXing’s fur behind the ears.

“Sehunna!” a voice booms, and Sehun looks up to see her father shouting at her from his bedroom window. “What on earth do you think you’re doing?”

“XingXing was just welcoming the prince!” Sehun calls, smiling. “No harm in that!”

The sultan huffs loudly and retreats back in through the window.

Sehun sighs, staring at the clouds as his hand petting XingXing stills.

The reality of the situation hits Sehun like a ton of buffaloes—he’s going to marry Prince Chen in three days.

He’s never even thought about marriage before, not seriously.

But he knows he can’t marry someone in good faith without loving them.

He can’t stay here.

Suddenly, he’s struck by a genius idea.

He can sneak out through the garden wall.

A wide grin spreads across his face as he bolts back to his room (XingXing gives him a confused look as he goes, but XingXing always looks confused to some degree, so Sehun doesn’t really pay attention to it anymore).

 He throws open his closet door and looks for the plainest outfit he can.

“Damn being the princess,” he hisses, tossing aside bright, spangled garments that would draw attention to him the moment he stepped outside the palace walls. “Do I even own anything that isn’t ridiculously colored?”

Clothes fly as Sehun throws the garments carelessly behind him in his search for something that isn’t completely ostentatious, when he finally comes across something balled up in the corner of his closet.

“What is this?” Sehun asks, reaching down to pull at the cream-colored cloth. “Is this a bedsheet?”

He shakes it to unfurl it, revealing a long cloak with a hood.

“Well,” he sighs, “I guess this will have to do.”

He sheds his turquoise pants in favor for some khaki-colored ones, and throws the cloak over himself, making sure that his body is covered.

“Drat,” Sehun mutters, staring down at his gold shoes. He glances around the room, looking for something else he could wear (because he’ll be damned if he goes barefoot. Even though he hates being a princess sometimes, he's still a princess through and through. And princesses do not go barefoot outdoors. Ever.)

Luckily, Sehun’s bedroom slippers are plain black, and he slips them on, giggling softly as he does. He peeks tentatively out the bedroom door, sees no one, and makes a run for it back to the garden.

He spots his favorite tree, directly adjacent to the garden wall and leaps up, thankful that his arms are strong from years of climbing it. He scales it easily, his feet gripping small nubs in the wood, when he feels a tug at his leg.

Fearful that he’d snagged something on a branch, he looks down, only to find XingXing looking up at him with baleful eyes.

“XingXing, I need to go,” Sehun whispers, waving at the tiger. “I’ll be back… someday.”

Sehun leaps over the wall easily, exhaling sharply as his feet hit the ground.

Adrenaline rushes through his body at the thrill of finally being free, but is quickly replaced with confusion.

Where the hell is he going to go?

.v.v.v.

Zitao wakes up to a hyperactive monkey jumping on his face.

“Dammit, Kris, get off!” he mumbles, swatting a drowsy arm at the crazy primate, only to receive an indignant squawk in response.

Zitao rises from his slumber slowly—he's never been much of a morning person. The morning sunlight is just beginning to stream through the store awning he’d been sleeping under, and he sighs, rolling up his thin blanket, knowing that he has to clear out before the shopkeeper opens up for the day.

“Come on, Kris,” he says, and the monkey leaps onto his shoulder, grinning in his strange monkey way as Zitao walks off to find his morning meal.

The rough ground cuts into his bare feet as he looks around, trying to find any open street vendors who aren’t watching their wares. It’s tough, to look around without looking suspicious, but eventually he manages to nick a bun from a bread vendor who’d stepped away to talk to someone else.

“Here,” he says, breaking off a small bit and reaching up to Kris, who scarfs it down quickly and whines for more.

Zitao scoffs. “Don’t be a greedy monkey,” he chastises, flicking the monkey on the forehead as he continues down the street. From his peripheral vision, he can see some of the street vendors’ daughters stealing glances at him, and he grins to himself, puffing his bare chest out a little more from underneath his threadbare vest.

Even if he’s poor, damn straight he’s going to try and impress the ladies.

He notices one of the girls giggle shyly from behind her hand, and he shoots a wink at her, only feeling a little bit sorry when her father berates her for looking at street filth like him. He makes his way down the street, nicking things here and there when he can.

“Well,” he sighs, once he reaches the end of the street, “looks like we managed to scrape together a decent meal today, Kris.”

Zitao sits down under the shade of a tree, nibbling on an apple, when he hears a loud noise.

“Let me go!” he hears someone shout, and he gets to his feet, curious as to where the noise is coming from.

As he rounds the corner, he sees a slim boy in a hooded cloak being tugged around by some palace guards, fighting valiantly, but still failing miserably.

“Hey!” Zitao yells, pointing at some spot in the distance. “What’s that over there?”

Luckily, Zitao’s prior run-in knowledge with palace guards still holds true—they're very strong, but exceedingly dumb.

All of them immediately whip their heads in the direction Zitao points, and while they’re distracted, he grabs the boy’s arm and makes a run for it.

“Hey!” the boy protests, but allows himself be pulled along, common sense clearly worming itself into his head.

“So,” Zitao breathes, once they’re a good distance away from the market, “mind telling me what went down there?”

The boy is silent for a moment, before he finally speaks. “There were some children by the road that looked like they needed food. So I gave them some apples.”

Zitao gives the boy an incredulous look. “You're either really stupid or just really sheltered. You have to buy that , you know?”

“I’ve never had to pay for anything before!” the boy huffs, pushing back his hood slightly, revealing a strong-featured, but incredibly pale face. Zitao hasn’t seen too many pale people in his lifetime, but he knows that it usually indicates someone of higher status who can afford to stay indoors all the time.

“Where are you from?” Zitao asks, raising an eyebrow. “You're definitely not from around these parts. And what’s up with the hood? Afraid your delicate little skin is gonna burn from the heat?”

“I,” the boy says, drawing himself up to full height, and to Zitao’s dismay, he finds the two standing eye-to-eye (he’s not used to people being as tall as he is), “am the princess of South Korea, Oh Sehun.”

“You’re what?” Zitao asks, his jaw dropping. “You’ve got to be kidding me! What’s someone like you doing out here? As a matter of fact, why were palace freakin’ guards attacking you? Aren’t they supposed to be protecting you or something?”

“Well… I… uh…”

Zitao and Kris watch the princess expectantly for several moments, waiting for a response.

And Zitao finds that despite the princess’ center-parted hair and rather displeased expression, he feels his heart beating a little faster.

Until he suddenly turns and bolts.

“Well, that was interesting,” Zitao remarks, straightening out his clothes and hair. “Guess you don’t meet the princess every day.”

He kicks aside some pebbles as he wanders, hands shoved into harem pants. Somehow, despite barely knowing Sehun, he feels a distinct lack of presence by him.

He’s so distracted that he doesn’t even notice that he’s bumped into a kid clad in all black, which is an oddity in and of itself. It’s burning hot out, and no one wears black unless they’re crazy.

Or evil.

But isn’t evil really the same thing as crazy?

It’s all the same to Zitao, really.

“Watch where you’re goin’,” Zitao says, dark eyes narrowing.

“I should say the same to you,” the boy says, his tone of voice betraying his youthful appearance. “I need you.”

“What the ?” Zitao asks, but he’s unable to get a word in edgewise as the strange kid grabs his arm and hauls him off.

“Shut up,” the kid says, “I need you to get something for me.”

“And why the hell should I do what you want? You’re just a kid.”

The boy huffs indignantly and trods on one of Zitao’s toes. “I am Lu Han, head advisor to the sultan himself. And if I were you, I’d watch your mouth.”

Zitao groans. What was up with royal people and bothering him today?

He lets the man-child drag him to a cave, where he stands expectantly at the entrance.

Zitao exchanges a long look with Lu Han, who gestures at the cave’s entrance.

“Well?” Lu Han says, “I haven’t got all day. Get me the lamp. It’ll be pretty obvious when you see it. It’s gold and probably on a pedestal thing.”

“You want me to go in there?” Zitao asks.

Lu Han gives him a pointed look, and Zitao sighs. It wouldn’t be the first time someone asked him to get something out of a cave for him.

“Oh yeah,” Lu Han says, as Zitao’s sticking half his torso into the cave opening, “don’t touch anything else!”

Zitao rolls his eyes. What did this kid take him for, an idiot?

.v.v.v.

Clearly, that Lu Han guy knew more than he was letting in on.

Zitao reaches the lamp with little issues, but a few moments after he picks it up, the walls begin to shake.

“Kris, what’s goin’ on?” he asks, looking around wildly.

The monkey growls.

That is so unhelpful.

Zitao feels something nudging at his side—it’s a rug, for some bizarre reason, and Zitao’s had enough crazy for one day that he leaps on it without question.

It’s a good thing he does, too, as the carpet flies easily to the entrance of the cave.

Lu Han is still waiting for them when they emerge.

“Thanks,” he says, plucking the lamp delicately by the handle. “I’ll just take this off your hands.”

Unfortunately, Kris has other ideas.

The monkey leaps up and grabs the lamp with a feral hiss, but the momentum pushes itself and Zitao back into the cave.

Right as rocks slide shut over the entrance.

Zitao is ed, and he’s not fond of that feeling.

“Dammit, Kris!” Zitao yells, ripping the lamp from the monkey’s hands and throwing it to the floor. “Now we’re stuck in a goddamn cave. Would it kill you to keep your hands to yourself?”

Kris at least has the decency to look a little bit sorry, twirling his favorite marker.

Zitao sighs, slumping to the floor and staring at the cave ceiling.

Suddenly, a blue mist materializes in front of him, and he screams.

“WHAT THE !” he yelps, scrambling to his feet as the mist solidifies into…

…a guy.

A blue guy with a trail of mist leading to a lamp, granted, but a man nonetheless.

“Jeez, feels good to be out,” the guy says, smiling at Zitao. “Well, I suppose you’d want to get on with it, right?”

“Get on with what?” Zitao asks. “I’m not really sure what’s going on, here.”

The guy’s mouth parts into an o, and he gasps. “Well, I’m a genie, you can call me Xiumin. And you get three wishes, except for anything you don’t think I’d grant.”

“So does that mean I can wish for more wishes?”

Xiumin frowns at Zitao. “And here I thought I’d actually get a smart one for once.”

“It’s a valid question.”

“And the answer to your valid question is no.”

The cave is silent while Zitao thinks.

“Well, I mean it’d be nice to get out of this cave.”

The words are nary out of Zitao’s mouth before he finds himself blinking at sunlight instead of stone walls.

Xiumin huffs. “Rude. You wished but didn’t wish. If you do that again, I think I’ll kill you.”

Zitao sighs. “Well, just for the sake of argument, if you could wish for something, what would you wish for?”

“Freedom.” Xiumin’s face turns dead serious, and Zitao decides that the expression really doesn’t suit the blue man one bit. “There are various reasons for that, of course, but none of which you need to worry your pretty little head over. Have you decided what your first wish will be?”

Zitao thinks of the slim boy with porcelain skin, and he sighs wistfully to himself.

“Oh, no,” Xiumin says, making an X with his arms. “Oh no you don’t. I don’t do love. I can’t even get my own love. Why the hell would I want to do yours?”

“I’m not looking for that. I wish to be a prince.”

“Your wish is my command… no matter how weird it may be.” Xiumin rolls his eyes and waves his arms around a few times, sending shimmering blue mist swirling around his body, cleaning years of grime off his skin and giving him new clothes.

A few minutes later, Xiumin procures a (blue) mirror for Zitao to inspect himself with. “Well?”

Zitao stares at his reflection for several minutes, adjusting strands of his hair until he’s pleased with the way they settle across his forehead. He hasn’t given himself a proper look in a long time, and he’s happy to note that he’s only gotten better looking with time.

“Well,” Xiumin says, sounding entirely disgruntled with Zitao’s primping process, “you’re going to have to arrive in style.”

He points a finger at Kris, who’d been doodling absently on a corner of the flying carpet, and the monkey makes a yelping noise before being transformed into a buffalo, complete with snazzy flying carpet--saddle blanket.

“Now go!” Xiumin cries, sliding himself back into the lamp and floating it so that it rested atop the buffalo. “Go claim the heart of the poor soul that’s going to end up stuck with you!”

.v.v.v.

Sehun sighs, leaning over the balcony.

Upon his return home, he’d had yet another marriage offer foisted upon him by none other than his father’s advisor, Lu Han.

He almost wants Prince Chen back.

Suddenly, a blasting trumpet cuts through his ears, and he winces. What are those stupid peasants up to now? he wonders, leaning farther over the balcony to try and spot a glimpse of what might be going on.

“All hail Prince Yehet of Qingdao!” a man yells, and a buffalo struts in, accompanied by a large celebratory procession.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” he mutters, putting his chin in his palm. “Not another idiot.”

“I have come!” the idiot prince yells, “to ask for Princess Sehun’s hand in marriage!”

“Sacrilege!” he hears Lu Han mutter, but to be perfectly honest, he’d rather marry the idiot prince than Lu Han.

“Bring him up!” Heechul yells, far too merrily than the situation should dictate, but then again, Heechul’s always been a strange one.

“I reject!” Sehun huffs.

“But you haven’t even met him yet!”

“I don’t care! I’ve had enough for one day! I’ve already gone through three men!”

“What a hoe.”

“Shut up, Suho, nobody asked you.”

The parrot atop Lu Han’s shoulder glares, but remains silent as it preens its feathers.

“In any case,” Sehun sighs, “I’ll be in my room. Napping. I’m tired as hell. Don’t wake me up.”

“Language!” Heechul sing-songs, but Sehun’s already departed back to his room.

He flops down atop his bed, letting the soft mattress soothe his tired body, and is asleep before he knows it, dreaming of mysterious men in street markets and stupid princes.

When he awakes, night has already fallen, and stars dot the night sky outside his window.

Sehun wanders out into the balcony, leans against it, and sighs.

He’s so sick of being dragged around on everyone’s whims.

“Hey.”

Sehun jumps, nearly falling on his . “W-who said that?”

A face appears in front of the balcony—the face of that stupid Prince Yehet. What kind of name was Yehet, anyways?

“Hey,” he says again, and the rest of his body soon becomes visible. “Wanna come for a ride?”

“What the ,” Sehun says, all princessly pretenses dropped. “Are you insane?”

Prince Yehet shrugs. “I can show you the world, and all that good stuff, y’know? Just trust me for one night, and I’ll drop the sheets and you can crank the bass.”

Sehun gives him a strange look, stepping atop the carpet against his better judgment.

“Take me away, Prince Yehet.”

“Go, flying carpet!” the prince says, and they speed off into the night.

Sehun shivers slightly, his torso clad only in a thin shirt for sleeping.

“Here,” Prince Yehet says, draping a blanket over his shoulders (but where had that come from? Sehun absently wonders.), and wrapping it securely around him.

“Thank you,” Sehun says stiffly as they ride over the Himalayas. “I appreciate it.”

“It’s one of those things, y’know,” Prince Yehet says, his language turning coarser as the air grows colder. “Y’gotta know how to treat a princess right if you're gonna survive in the world.”

“I suppose you’re right,” Sehun agrees, tugging the blanket tighter around his body. “So, Prince Yehet, tell me a little about yourself.”

“Well,” the prince says, clearly uncomfortable, “I’m… Prince Yehet. And I’m from Qingdao.”

“I already knew that.” Sehun rolls his eyes. “Tell me something interesting.”

“You have such porcelain skin,” Prince Yehet blurts, and Sehun’s mind immediately rushes back to that morning.

“You!” Sehun shouts, nearly springing to his feet before he remembers that he’s on a flying ing carpet that’s hovering over what he supposes is Russia. “You’re that dude who pulled me away from the palace guards!”

“I-uh-I-I have no idea what you're talking about!” Prince Yehet splutters, scrambling to the edge of the carpet. “You’ve probably mixed me up with someone else.”

“No,” Sehun says, pouting. “I haven’t.”

Prince Yehet seems to contemplate something for a moment before sighing theatrically. “Well, that’s because I am and I'm not.”

“You are crazy but you’re not psychotic?”

“Rude,” Prince Yehet scoffs, fixing his bangs. “Sometimes, I like to masquerade as a peasant, something which I'm sure you're well acquainted with.”

Sehun glares. Prince Yehet gulps and carries on.

“Well, sometimes I pretend I'm someone I'm not so I can hide.”

Sehun knows the feeling all too well, and he sighs heavily as they fly over Canada.

“Is that a moose?” Sehun asks, peering over at the snowy landscape.

Prince Yehet glances over, and he blanches. “I believe that is a buffalo and we should just carry on with our journey.”

Sehun shrugs. He’s got no idea what’s going on or where they're going, but it’s soothing and that’s all that matters to him.

That, and this journey gives him ample time to stare at Prince Yehet, and he’s rapidly coming to the conclusion that he’s pretty damn hot.

Not that he’d ever tell the man.

Far too soon, their journey is over, and Prince Yehet helps Sehun to his feet and back over the balcony.

“Will I see you again, princess?” Prince Yehet asks, his voice a husky whisper as his fingers linger on Sehun’s, his thumbs rubbing small circles into the princess’ hands.

“If I can make it happen, then it will.”

“Just the words I wanted to hear,” Prince Yehet says, pressing his lips softly to Sehun’s in farewell before the flying carpet takes him away.

Sehun’s hand instinctively comes up to his lips, which are still tingling slightly after the contact.

That was his first kiss.

And he’ll be damned if he said he didn’t like it.

.v.v.v.

Zitao sighs as the carpet takes him back to where Xiumin had told him to meet back, Sehun on his mind the whole time.

He’s stupid, he knows—there’s no way he’ll be able to have Sehun. He’s not even a real prince, and there’s no way he’ll be able to keep this up for the rest of his life.

“Welcome back,” Xiumin says as the carpet lands. “You look worse for wear.”

“I’m in love and it hurts like a .”

Xiumin’s face morphs into an expression that Zitao can’t quite read before it settles back into placid impassiveness. “Get some rest. You’ll probably have a big day tomorrow.”

Unfortunately, Zitao’s unable to fall asleep, and he ends up going out to take a walk to (hopefully) tire him out.

Somehow, he finds himself alongside the beach, his hands shoved into the pockets of his harem pants, staring out onto the water.

It’s tranquil out there, the water’s surface quivering only slightly in the still night. Zitao stares at his reflection in the water, but instead of a prince’s proud visage, all he sees is that of a poor idiot who’s hopelessly in love with no chance at winning.

Life .

“You!”

Zitao whips his head to the side, only to find Lu Han pointing at him, flanked on both sides by guards.

“You’re under arrest for impersonating a prince and generally pissing me off!”

Life really .

“Xiumin!” he yells, as guards grab him and begin to hoist him up. “Set me free!”

“Xiumin?” Lu Han hisses, and the blue figure materializes before him, snapping his fingers, and Zitao is transported…

…into Sehun’s room.

“Well, .”

The sudden noise awakens Sehun, who nearly screams.

He seems to settle on hissing venomously instead.

“What the ,” he whispers, “are you doing here?”

“It’s a long story,” Zitao replies, “but Lu Han just tried to throw me into the ocean and I can’t find my genie.”

“,” Sehun mutters. “I always knew he was up to something. He’s never been the same after Minseok left—”

“Minseok?”

“Not important,” Sehun says. “But we need to stop him.”

“How do you suggest we do that?”

“Well,” Sehun purses his lips, “if I’m right, this might actually be pretty simple. I’ve heard rumors that Lu Han’s lover turned into a genie, and the name is similar enough that it could very well be the same person…”

“Whatever. Let’s go do this.”

“Later,” Sehun says, slumping back into bed. “This can wait until morning. I'm tired and I need my beauty sleep, thank you very much.”

Zitao sighs. Of course there’d be a catch.

“You can sleep up here with me, Prince Yehet. No sheet dropping or base cranking, though. I’m cold and sensitive to sound.”

Then again, Zitao wasn’t a very picky man.

Most of the time.

.v.v.v.

“So what are we doing here?” Heechul asks.

It’s five in the morning and they’re all assembled in the main dining hall—Zitao next to Sehun next to Heechul, and Lu Han sitting across from them. Xiumin has taken up residence in the corner with the flying carpet, and Kris is nowhere to be seen.

“I’m not a prince and I want to marry your son!” Zitao blurts, eliciting simultaneous gasps from the assembled crowd.

“I knew it!” Sehun yells, “I knew you were that shady dude from the market.”

“What shady dude and what market?” Heechul asks, swaying dramatically in his seat. “Oh dear.”

“Arrest him!” Lu Han crows.

He is ignored.

Xiumin laughs from the corner.

Lu Han glares.

All is silent.

Heechul clears his throat. “Well, that was an… interesting way to start the morning.”

“I’m still in love with you,” Sehun says, leaning on one of Zitao’s toned arms. Zitao smirks, puffing out his chest a little more. Because damn straight he’s gonna look good, even if he’s probably going to die in the next five minutes.

“Well where does that leave me?” Lu Han moans. “I’ve got no power, no spouse, and I'm a sad miserable .”

“I wish the genie to be free.”

Everyone turns to look at Zitao like he’s lost his mind—except for Xiumin.

“Thanks, Zitao. I kinda love you. Even though I love this crazy idiot more.”

A shimmering mist envelops Xiumin’s entire body, and when it dissipates, he’s no longer blue.

In fact, he looks remarkably like an actual human.

“Minseokkie!” Lu Han shouts in a remarkably un-Lu Han-like fashion, shoving his chair back and bolting over to the man, wrapping his arms around him and pressing his face into the ex-genie’s neck.

Xiumin-or Minseok, rather, Zitao supposes, looks rather amused by the whole thing, Lu Han’s hair and slowly leading him outside.

Suho, having been abandoned by Lu Han in an instant, flies out the window in a huff, muttering something about finding flowery princes.

Heechul sighs dramatically as he watches the parrot fly away.

“I suppose I’ll leave you two alone to marry,” he says, wiping away nonexistent tears. “My only child! I’ll miss you so.”

“Uh, don’t worry dad, I’ll be fine,” Sehun says, awkwardly petting Heechul on the arm. “Zitao’s pretty cool.”

“Yeah, I’m pretty cool,” Zitao replies absently, staring out the window. “Hey, where’d Kris go?”

Sehun stands, his lanky body moving easily to the window, and Zitao thinks he can feel a nosebleed starting.

“He’s riding XingXing.”

“WHAT?”

Zitao stumbles over to the window, only to find Kris perched happily atop XingXing’s back, twirling his marker in the air.

“Young love,” Zitao sighs, clutching his hand to his heart. “I feel like it’s my child.”

“You're ridiculous,” Sehun says, pressing a soft kiss to Zitao’s temple. “But that’s ok. We’re head over heels for each other and we’re teenagers. What’s the worst that can happen?”

A loud moan is heard from somewhere above them that sounds suspiciously like it came from someone who just recently became un-blue.

“That, I suppose.”

still not sure wtaf this is but i hope you enjoy it?? LOL