"describing someone like you is impossible."
they’re squeezed between the hulking bags of rice and the bundles of dried radishes, in the dark, cool storeroom where no one will find them for tonight. the chefs and their kitchen staff have all gone to sleep, save for yoosung, still dirty from the day’s work in his cheap clothes. the only light is the dim lantern he’s set on a barrel of vinegar near to them; it casts odd shadows across areum’s face, sharp angles that make her look like an entirely different person from the princess he’ll sometimes glimpse in the daylight.
her words steal his breath, as always. he becomes conscious. yoosung animates into wiping smudged flour from his face, eyes glancing to the darkness around them, shoulder blades shifting against the wall. the gears are turning in his head now. he has to approach this so carefully; his secret is deadly in the wrong hands. his few supporters would like to strangle him for his train of thought now.
❝ i-it’s not really, princess. i’m just a kitchen boy, but you… ❞ his eyes wander back to hers ( the magnetism of her sweet face is a force he cannot fight ) and he knows he won’t tell her tonight. the moment passed—he’s fed her another lie, painful as it is. someday, he’ll be able to stop it. someday, maybe, he can protect himself enough to speak. for now, he brushes some hair from her cheek with royal-soft fingers, tucks it behind her ear. he takes her hand in his, eyelids fluttering shut to kiss each of her knuckles. his eyes, glittering amethyst in the lantern-light, meet hers over the crests of her fingers in his, hiding his mouth while he murmurs warm breath over her skin.
❝ you are so beautiful, even in half-light, areum. you are like the sun to me. i wonder how someone could be so full of fire that both warms to nurture and rages with fury. even what i’ve said could do no true justice towards your description. you needn’t worry about describing me, i… i would prefer not to be notable at all, like a mouse, if it means i can continue to see you. ❞
