Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“I-I’m a prince? Shut up!”

The Queen slammed her porcelain teacup to the table, slapping a hand to her chest as that unheard of (and highly offensive sounding) phrase bled through her ears, immediately painting a scowl over his once pleasant expression, “I beg your pardon, shut up?” 

“Oh your highness, the boy doesn’t actually mean to ‘ shut up’, it’s simply a hip term used within our age group these days … an obscenity if I may add,” one of the security guards covered up quickly and somewhat awkwardly, nearly three seconds close to quitting his job and calling it a day from the highly vexed look on his face — one worth a dozen pitiful gazes. 

Jungkook slumped back in his seat, eyes dazed and stars frolicking dizzily around the insides of his half-conscious brain as he tried to comprehend what in the fucking hell his grandmother had just told him. 

Because how were you, a seventeen year old boy in your junior year of high school, supposed to believe someone whom you haven’t seen in merely five or six years when they just informed you that you were going to become a prince? 

A prince as in a member of the royal family, attending duties, and taking up the throne of your now deceased father. 

As if dealing with the death of a person wasn’t enough for Jungkook’s plate already, now he had to deal with an entitled old, rich lady who just felt the need to arrive into town one day for a cup of tea — showing up without any prior warning, may I add. 

He was bamboozled, dumbstruck, horrified, the list can go on and on but no synonym or adjective could perfectly describe the clear disgust zapped across his face like a person hitting a fly with a fly swatter — and if the situation wasn’t as unfortunate as it was, one may even find it comedic. 

The Queen nodded hesitantly as she took in the information one of her security guards had given her about the modern day ‘lango’, “Ah yes, thank you Yoongi,” she whispered quietly, excusing him by waving a hand off towards the other direction where he went to go converse quietly with another. 

Jungkook paid no mind to them. In fact, he really didn’t care at all for what any snobby rich people had to say, regardless if it was about the fate of the Royal line or how the kingdom would continue to thrive without a true blood heir to the throne.

He tuned out three seconds in. Because in his seventeen-year-old-high school-mind, he was already much too occupied with studying for his math exam tomorrow rather than worrying about some faraway palace. 

Yeah, he’d rather get an A than take up a throne, because how was he to manage rock climbing on top of securing his grades? 

Jungkook’s grandmother breathed in deeply, eyes fluttering shut as she went to tuck a stray strand of black hair behind her ear — fatal wisp that had fallen out of her nearly tied up bun, “Jungkook, please try to understand why I specifically called out to you to take up this honorary role as the crowned prince, our kingdom can cease to exist without its rightful heir—”

“But you’re the Queen , aren’t you powerful enough to rule the kingdom without someone by your side?” Jungkook asked, interrupting halfway without barely paying any mind to his absent manners. 

He couldn’t be too bothered with that right now, not when he was scheduled to meet up with his best friend after school today but had to cancel because of some distant family member’s surprise visit. 

The Queen, Ara, shook her head, lips pursed together firmly as if she had to keep herself from going too harsh on the young boy before her, “Only for a little while. The rightful heir is born into it. I’m only Royal by marriage, but you sir,” She began sternly, eyes burning fashionably into Jungkook’s skull as if the devil’s song wasn’t written into them, “are Royal by blood.” 

Blood or not, Jungkook frankly couldn’t give a flying shit. 

Nor could he understand as to why the hell a blood-related person was necessary to rule when the Queen looked to be doing perfectly fine on her own.

Maybe it was his low attention span in history class whenever learning about Europe’s monarchy, but he just couldn’t wrap his head around all the complex do’s and do-nots of royalty. 

He’d rather play Minecraft, and he was sure that his abandoned tamed wolf missed him a lot right about now. 

Just thinking about Fred put a small frown on his face. 

“I’m sorry but,” Jungkook rasped, batting his eyelashes sassily as his mouth naturally curved into a passive aggressive teeth-gritted smile, “I’m really not cut out to be a prince — and I’m not even sure what half of the stuff you just said even means,” he exasperated helplessly with both hands now placed on the outer rim of the residency’s garden table. 

The Queen, quite taken aback at the attitude and lack of intelligence (in her eyes), arched an eyebrow skeptically, already absentmindedly taking notes of what needed to be fixed about her grandson’s … charming personality. 

“But you’ll learn all of that,” She counterattacked reassuringly (though Jungkook wasn’t too reassured by the light pat she gave on his hand), eyes still very focused on his face like some predatory hawk, “I’ll teach you proper adequate, tutor you on our history, have you attend meeting and dinners, assign you books to read and languages to study. Oh, and I’ll even throw in a fencing partner and an equestrian to teach you how to ride a horse!” She chimed in cheerfully at the end, as if risking getting stabbed with a sword and falling off a six foot beast would convince him to accept such an offer. 

Which, really wasn’t an offer, but the Queen was only trying to ease him into this brand new lifestyle as easily as she could, despite it turning out rather ineffective. 

But none of it was working. None of it was going to work, and Jungkook was sure of it. 

Fed up, Jungkook leaned forward towards his grandmother, untamed bangs being rustled by the cool September breeze, and spoke with such a harsh, menacing and most importantly irritated tone in his voice that the Queen could barely distinct her grandson from a serpent’s hiss. 

“I’m afraid you’ll have to find someone else to be your beloved prince, because I for one am not leaving my hometown just to go to some faraway fucking fairytale la la land for the sake of a country that’s failing economically, alright?” He tutted, sitting himself quickly up off his cushioned chair and grabbing his backpack off the ground beside him and swinging it over his shoulder, before turning around once again and bellowing lowly, “I’m sorry I’m not my dad.” 

And before his grandmother or the two guards standing a couple feet behind her could chase after him to catch him in time, the boy was off — dashing back through the front yard and ignoring all the intercom shouts that told him to get off the grass, which was heavily monitored for the sake of the wealthy, prestigious lifestyle the Queen lived. 

Ara sighed heavily, eyes despondently following her grandson as his figure slowly disappeared out of sight and into the bright, sunny warm autumn afternoon. 

But regardless of how peeved or agitated she was at the situation as a whole, or how little she understood a teenager’s far from positive feelings about leaving his entire childhood behind for another country he had barely even ever heard of before now, she knew she couldn’t entirely pin the blame onto him; because after all, Jungkook was dealing with problems of his own and she had once been in his shoes too even if it was four whole decades ago when she was warped into royalty. 

“Yoongi,” The Queen called solemnly, ushering the security staff member over towards her, which he followed quickly in suit, “I’d like to make some arrangements.” 

Yoongi broke himself away from Namjoon and leaned down towards where the Queen was still sat on the chair, legs criss crossed and mind seemingly elsewhere that was far behind the security’s comprehension level, “Specify on what kind of arrangements, Your Majesty.” 

She hummed to herself quietly in thought before tilting her head slightly upwards, “Arrangements with his mother, Lee Chohee. We’ll discuss further about this with her, and perhaps having his mother there would … help ease him into it.” 

“Of course,” Yoongi agreed calmly, mentally jotting that down and returning back to his original standing position beside the other guard, Namjoon. 

Ara sighed satisfyingly to herself, a storm visibly brewing in her inattentive eyes that dazed in and out of reality that already seemed so faraway — so hopeless. 

This wasn’t just any ordinary request. It wasn’t like asking a teenage boy to take up the role as a prince was ordinary or considered normal to begin with, hence as to why it was far from optional to accept. 

If the kingdom, the Queen’s citizens, and everyone else saw a future worth working for in their land, then change was necessary. There wasn’t much time left before the decision would have to be secured and sealed determinedly, thus why she already felt like she was crumbling under pressure — or being crushed by a clock’s minute hand that ticked persistently. 

But because the former Prince, Jeon Byunghee had passed away just a couple weeks prior, there was no other family member left of royal blood to properly take up the throne.

Other than for his only son, who was none other than Jungkook — the one descendent left that would keep the royal line of future kings and queens to follow. 

Unless he insisted on not taking up the offer, which technically (and legally speaking) the Queen nor government could force onto him without his proper consent. 

Why is why the Queen made it her goal to do everything in her power to flip the deeply hidden switch in Jungkook’s mind. Not only for her own seemingly selfish sake (that Jungkook saw it as), but for the sake of her people.

Her purpose lay in the heart of her people. 

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆

“Yeah! And then she was like, ‘you have to be crown prince’ like bitch I am three points away from flunking my ass out of high school and the way you help me mourn over my father’s death is by taking his place on the throne!? What kind of coping mechanism is that!?” 

“Maybe it’s her way of signing you up for retail therapy?” 

Jungkook’s face immediately fell, all emotion sunken away from his eyes as he stared at his friend disappointedly, “Chaeyoung, I love you and your dumbass but I’m pretty sure if that was the case she would’ve offered to go shopping with me, not an entire kingdom to rule!” 

Chaeyoung wavered her hand from side to side and squinted her eyes slightly, as if she was only considering Jungkook’s logic over hers, “Old people are weird man, they’ll do batshit crazy stuff in their lifetime and consider it the same as reading the Sunday paper.” 

But however many excuses, reasons, or explanations Jungkook was given, he would never be able to scratch the surface beneath his grandmother’s motive when randomly popping into town without any pre-warning beforehand. 

To an outsider’s view it may seem ungrateful or even selfish when severely opposing the idea as a whole, but it was fear more than anything that was holding Jungkook back. 

He just had too much on his agenda right now, especially with rock climbing, school, and making time on his schedule to hang out with Chaeyoung, who really was one of his only friends at their school (as well as best friend). 

He was terrified. Terrified to leave behind everything he worked so incredibly hard to achieve, he was petrified to the fucking core because he was clueless when it came to ruling — or even being a leader. 

He had always been a follower. Always sat in the back of the class and kept quiet during lectures unless told to speak up, always waited for instructions rather than wandering off on his own to figure it out himself, always depended on others for reassurance to make sure he was doing the right thing, and always always counted on others to carry the team effort as he gazed longingly from the side lines — secretly wishing it were him.

He was a nobody, and that was no secret, probably the only identity Jungkook had at their school that other fellow students mercilessly labeled him as. 

So how could he ever rule a country when he couldn’t even rule himself? 

“Right…” Jungkook mumbled almost inaudibly through a weary sigh, running a hand through his poofy brown, curly hair that was in desperate need of a wash, “it’s just weird she showed up out of nowhere, like all my grandmother ever did for us was send birthday cards once a year and that’s about it. Of course I knew she was like … you know … and I had some idea about my dad but — everything just kinda came at once and way too quickly.” 

And just like that, Chaeyoung had instantly understood the reference that Jungkook was making with his last few words, which were none other than targeted towards his father’s death.

She couldn’t even begin to wrap her head around how Jungkook hadn’t given out yet, or how his wings haven’t been plucked with this series of unfortunate events hungrily trailing after his every move — plotting a new, yet far from happy, event on his own timeline. 

But of course his wings still had their gorgeous fluffy feathers; because whatever happened, Jungkook would never submit to the universe’s attempts to make him fall and quit — no matter how many times, he would never lose hope. 

That’s one thing he promised to himself when he received the news of his father’s death two months ago. 

That alone made Chaeyoung livid, because how in the world could a family member — the mother of Jungkook’s father more so — selfishly use this opportunity to secure her wealth? At least, that was how Chaeyoung made the situation out to be, and sure the perception may be heavily influenced or biased since obviously she’d prioritize Jungkook’s well being above all, but to her it seemed awfully suspicious and she couldn’t help but get defensive about it. 

It was all very strange, but rest her feelings aside, Chaeyoung knew that Jungkook needed her more than ever, and she was willing to spare these thoughts for another time. 

Like when she was scoping out her murder plan for future purposes, if need be. 

But that was her little secret. 

But for now, the only thing at the top of her mind was her best friend — so quickly shoving aside those vile thoughts, she wasted no time before scooting over next to Jungkook and wrapping both arms around his side, letting herself lean into his relaxingly. 

“Are you mad at her for kinda just, announcing this on a whim? Like especially after your dad, I’d assume she’d at least wait a while before dumping something else on you,” Chaeyoung murmured, subconsciously letting her arms tighten around Jungkook’s torso, also not being able to ignore how her best friend’s heart beat sped off — as if it was a silent cry for help, almost similar to an ambulance’s siren sounding off in times of catastrophe. 

Jungkook evaluated the question a little more, having it circulate around the inside of his head as his palms unknowingly grew more sweaty — something neither of them really noticed, but a vital reaction that still emphasized how the boy secretly felt in that moment. 

And just like that, a piercing blade struck through Jungkook’s heart, spreading this black ink from where the wound had opened and allowed ghouls to sink into it. But no matter how many times life would try to poison his soul, he sucked it all in, swallowed it deep, and let it disappear for as long as he allowed it. 

“I—I mean yeah,” Jungkook stammered shakily, letting his head fall gently on Chaeyoung’s shoulder, “I never really got to know him personally because of my parent’s divorce and all, but he was still my dad you know? Even if he was never apart of my life, all those letters he sent me every year kinda made up for it, even if it wasn’t much,” he whispered dolefully, remembering all the times he received a pretty envelope in the mail, one that was always sealed with one of those thick, read stamps at the end of the flap. 

Because those beautiful, calligraphic (and sometimes gold) letters meant everything to him — and though his father’s absence had definitely drilled a hole into his heart and sewn up his life frailly with broken seams that could never be patched up no matter how many needles or thread spools where thrown at him, the letters managed to subside those longing feelings with temporary satisfaction. 

Even if it was all just an illusion written in the form of a thin piece of parchment paper, it still succeeded in winning over Jungkook’s heart — partially because he had been deprived off genuine fatherly affection all his life. 

Chaeyoung, who was much too afraid to say the wrong thing or accidentally overstep a boundary that she had never before experienced in her life, nodded slowly but understandably — combing her fingers through Jungkook’s hair soothingly in hopes that that would supply him some kind of comfort when she knew no words of hers would ever be able to tape together that unrepairable part of himself. 

“But,” Jungkook spoke up in the midst of their silence, also saving Chaeyoung before she accidentally slipped or said something she would end up regretting later, “I can't really blame my grandmother I guess, it’s not really that I’m mad about her asking after my dad’s death — just annoyed that she’s convinced I can do something as big as take up his place as the new prince. He was fit for that job, Chaeyoung, I’m — I’m not,” he admitted weakly, and somewhat embarrassingly, forcing his eyes to look elsewhere where he was sure they wouldn’t cross path with his friend’s, even if that was impossible considering their current position. 

Chaeyoung rose up an eyebrow quizzically, hesitantly preparing to say the first thing that came to mind, “How can you be so sure though? Obviously not every king or queen or whatever, is ready to rule an entire kingdom right off the bat. That stuff takes time. So I don’t think you should really judge yourself too quickly, especially when I know for sure how fantastic of a job you would do. That is — if you decide to accept in the end, I’ll support whatever decision you end up making either way.” 

Jungkook knitted his eyebrows together, not necessarily out of anger or annoyance, but out of curiosity as to why his friend thought that, “ You think I can rule a kingdom? Can you see me, a person who can barely form incoherent sentences around someone even decently attractive, can stand out on a balcony looking over their citizens and rule an entire fucking country!?” 

“Can’t know until you try, doofus,” Chaeyoung kidded jokingly, lightly punching Jungkook’s shoulder, “but seriously, if that’s the only thing holding you back then consider this: did you think you were prepared for high school? Or did you think you would survive your first day at the rock climbing gymnasium when your mom forced you to be somewhat athletic? No ones naturally good at anything, unless they’re some gifted kid or something, but when you really think about it every leader is just a coward in disguise.” 

At first Jungkook truly thought she had lost her shit. 

It all sounded ludicrous — because of course leaders aren’t cowards, if they were they wouldn’t be able to lead people down dangerous or scary paths safely, nor would they be able to guide lost spirits especially if they were among that lost crowd. 

But the more he thought about it, and before his mouth could blabber about just how stupid she sounded saying something like that, the more he realized she was right. 

Perhaps ruling a kingdom didn’t fall into the same exact category as enrolling into a highschool or engaging in extracurricular athletics, but the sentiment still stood — and validly at that. 

Because if Jungkook’s shy, rather unathletic self could obtain what he saw as the unimaginable and that everyone else saw as the ordinary, the same technically applied to this situation in particular as well, even if it was a hundred steps outside of his comfort zone. 

But then again, so was everything else in life that didn’t revolve around playing minecraft with Chaeyoung up until three am on a school night or binging the latest episode of Zumbo’s Just Desserts. 

He didn’t know if he was ready, and he probably wasn’t, nor if he was sure he’d ever be, but Chaeyoung’s perspective let alone did a lot in reassuring him that these endless cycles of doubts and insecurities were as normal as breathing. 

“I dunno,” he finally got out, not caring if it was coherent or not, “I mean — ruling a kingdom? That’s terrifying and I don’t think I’m mentally prepared for that, but I appreciate your wise words of wisdom madame,” he fessed, mimicking a deep, fancy voice just to conceal his sincerity that came with a bit more difficulty to admit. 

“I’m not saying to accept the offer. I’m just saying don’t hold yourself back from something just because you don’t think you can do it. I mean, no fucking fetus comes out of the womb thinking they can walk, but they learn anyways — some failed attempts yes, but the point is to just be confident in yourself for once. You’re good with people, you’re friendly, smart — or academically at least,” she chucked, ignoring the wide glare Jungkook sent her, “and I know you don’t think it, but you’re a great leader, seriously.” 

“Me? A leader? Right, that’s as likely as Jesus being a heterosexual cisgendered male,” Jungkook scoffed, including biblical references into his statement in hopes that Chaeyoung would be more realistic with her highly idealistic thoughts.

But other than for the brief confusion that morphed itself into her expression, she just chose to ignore it for now (although she did agree with Jungkook on the Jesus thing). 

With stoic features, Chaeyoung whipped out the most serious monotone voice she possibly could, “You don’t believe me?” 

“Nope!” Jungkook chimed, popping the ‘p’ like the little stubborn brat he is, but one Chaeyoung loved for whatever given reason. 

“Okay well,” she began, cracking her knuckles dramatically and tilting her head from side to side, “remember when you led all those baby ducks back to their mom because they were lost? Remember when you helped a girl clean off her white shirt because her date puked on it? Remember when you assembled that really hard puzzle in fourth grade for your teammates? Remember when that one time in fourth period history when you taught everyone the inside scopes of the new 1.16.0 update in Minecraft — even through we were supposed to be reviewing the French Revolution? Oh! And remember when—”

“OKAY OKAY I GET IT!” Jungkook yelled, cutting of Chaeyoung’s tangent desperately to save himself from anymore embarrassment. 

Because yes, Jungkook still hated being the center of attention or topic of conversation even if it was solely with his closest and most trustworthy friends. Personally, he just didn’t prefer it. 

Chaeyoung smirked proudly, aggressively slapping an arm around Jungkook’s shoulders as if she had just won the lottery, “Great! So you’re convinced?” 

“Not in the slightest.” 

Chaeyoung’s smirk immediately fell, lips flattening into a thin line as her eyes ran up and down Jungkook judgmentally. And honestly, Jungkook had never felt more terrified in his life — the girl’s duality and ability to quickly change her mood so fucking fast, faster than the flash even. 

“What did you say?” 

Jungkook’s eyes widened fearfully, quickly scurrying out of her hold and jumping onto his bed to get away from whatever kind of monster had possessed his friend, “Nothing nothing nothing at all! In fact, Chae is always right agenda is still going strong til this day, I now down to her queen shit legendary ass as a morning and nightly ritual! Hip hip hooray she has saved us all!” He whimpered, pulling a blanket over his head to protect himself from the devil. 

All joking aside, Chaeyoung let down her guard and hoisted herself up from the floor and plopped down right beside Jungkook, whispering softly, “All in saying is, choose whatever you want to, but if you’re more insecure about how good you’ll be as a prince rather than your total opposition to it in general, I think you should think about it more.” 

Jungkook slowly lowered the blanket off his head, Bambi eyes meeting his friend’s as a small, tender smile naturally blossomed on his lips from her consulting words. 

Sure, maybe he was ultimately terrified — but at least he had someone else who wouldn’t make him feel totally unseen or alone. 

And with that, he sealed it off with an answer of simple words, but one filled with a genuine promise to consider it. 

“Okay — I-I’ll think about it.” 

Chapter Text

With the days to follow, Jungkook and his grandmother (along with the help from his mother) settled on an agreement. 

Jungkook would fly out to the kingdom for the next few weeks, attending classes and various types of specified lessons just for him there at the palace leading up to the Independence Day Ball where his final decision whether he’d take up the throne or not would be made as well as publicly announced. 

So nothing was set in stone yet, but this compromise that they worked out favored all of their contrasting opinions to at least something that none of them were particularly mad about. 

Did it keep the Queen on the edge? Slightly, but she had to temporarily put aside her own biased feelings for the sake of her seventeen year old grandson — whom she, undeniably, really knew nothing about other than the fact that he was the son of her son. 

So with that slight roadblock now out of the way and all tension resolved, that leaves Jungkook here, packing his bags for a two month trip to wherever the Queen and the rest of her citizens lived. 

He didn’t really pay any attention to when his grandmother was informing him about the country, since the pronunciation sounded much too hard for him to say anyways.

Chaeyoung sat on the edge of his bed, hands stiffly sinking into the cushiony mattress below her as her feet hung off the ground — an indifferent expression masking away her dismal feelings towards all of this. 

It wasn’t like she was upset that Jungkook was leaving, after all that would be ridiculous and hypocritical since she was the main advocate for his departure — preaching that he shouldn’t let his insecurities get the best of him. 

It was something else, it was the fear of losing someone forever, especially if he did choose to accept the crown in the end and ended up never coming back. 

Though that decision was a long way away from now and Chaeyoung knew it’d be illogical to dwell on something that was undetermined, she couldn’t necessarily help her natural queasiness either — a heart wrenching feeling worth a thousand words. 

Sure, she could always fly and visit him, but who knows how expensive the plane flight will be? Especially when she didn’t even know the destination where Jungkook was voyaging off to, it was practically like going on a blindfolded mission. 

She was just scared of being lonely; something she hadn’t felt since grammar school before Jungkook stood up for her when her fellow classmates picked on her for carrying a stuffed animal around wherever she went. 

And the rest truly was — history . 

Who knew such a beautiful, wholesome friendship could blossom from the seeds of naive childhood innocence? Who knew that nearly ten years later they’d be the best of friends, doing everything and anything they possibly could before adulthood would tear them apart for good.

They just weren’t expecting to be torn apart a whole year early, and that was clearly shown in both their glum expressions and crestfallen eyes where all fleeting stars were absent from the sky that resided inside them. 

Her breath hung in the air, unspoken words crawling at the edge of her parched lips that begged to be publicized — but were too fearful that addressing the situation would only make time fly by faster. 

“Jungkook.” 

Jungkook snapped his head up at an instant upon hearing his friend’s voice call his name, immediately stopping in his tracks as his hands dropped the clump of t-shirts that he had been trying to stuff in the deep corners of his suitcase for the past minute or so. 

Slowly, yet apprehensively since Chaeyoung sounded abnormally tense, he turned his head around, yet was only met with her own head facing the ground with her hair swaying back and forth along to the movement of her feet. 

“Yeah?” He answered back, eyes determinedly trained on her to catch even the slightest moments of eye contact, or the quickest or faintest tabs of reassurance that she was still mentally here with him and not emotionally distant, but even so he couldn’t blame her for that either. 

And slowly but surely, he got exactly what he asked for (or wished for, since those hopes weren’t voiced outwardly for her to hear). 

Chaeyoung eventually lifted her head up and made eye contact with Jungkook, forcing the smallest of smiles to perch onto her lips like a ribbon perched upon a winter’s snow-covered tree branch, “I um, I have something for you. Before you go,” she spoke up quietly, voice barely even transferring through Jungkook’s ears but just by reading her lips he was able to tell exactly what she had said. 

He wasn’t sure if it was for the fact that she tucked a strand of grey curly hair behind her ear nervously, or how her eyes were peeled open like someone had sprayed them with fucking infecticides, but either way, Jungkook couldn’t help but let anxious tingles crawl up and down his skin — making them buzz with paranoia that was truly undefeateable at this point. 

Sure, gifts of any sort usually resonated with something positive, but departure gifts and receiving presents on Christmas morning were two completely different things and on the opposite end of the gift-giving spectrum, meaning that this could really be anything. 

Whether it be something nostalgic or sentimental or god forbid even embarrassing, Jungkook was scared shitless. His fault or not, that wasn’t all that important nor relevant right now. 

“Chae,” Jungkook swallowed, almost guiltily, as he let his eyes briefly widen with surprise before dimming down back to their neutral resting state, “you didn’t have to—”

“Abababa,” Chaeyoung interrupted sternly, cutting her hand through the air as an indicator for him to shut up, “listen dumbass, I’m not gonna act like I’ll be perfectly fine nor mentally stable without your emotional support for the next few months. Therefore, I decided to take remnants of our souls as a way to — hmmm bind us together even if we won’t be physically near each other.” 

“Take remnants of our what !?” He shrieked squeakily, praying to god that she was just kidding and hadn’t actually made amends with the devil for the sake of some going-away-gift. 

Rolling her eyes, Chaeyoung rummaged through her school backpack, pulling out a small white envelope tied in a pink ribbon prettily and handed it to Jungkook, who accepted it with shaky hands, “I’m kidding, you’ll see what I mean though.” 

“Okay…. but I’m not sure if I can trust you,” Jungkook murmured, fingers tearing delicately at the flap of the envelope before succeeding in ripping it open completely, leaving the pink ribbon discarded on his carpeted bedroom floor. 

Chaeyoung only raised an eyebrow expectantly, choosing to keep her lips sealed but still have a smug smile present on her face — clearly waiting for Jungkook to fully open the gift before saying anything. 

And thankfully, she didn’t have to wait much longer than that.

Because the second Jungkook unwrapped the ribbon, unsealed the envelope, and drew out what looked to be two matching charm bracelets, she barely had any time to register what was happening before he sprung up from the floor and tackled her into a hug — crashing both of their bodies against mattress below them. 

“Thank you thank you thank you thank youuuu!” He repeated over and over ecstatically, enthusiasm laced in every word and syllable that miraculously managed to sound coherent and not like some messily strung together keyboard smashing. 

Even if it wasn’t extravagant, even if it wasn’t an expensive bracelet from Tiffany and Co or Pandora, Jungkook didn’t and couldn’t find it in his heart to care — because whether it be store bought or homemade, ten dollars or one hundred, a gift was a gift and that would never be left unappreciated.

Plus, the fact that Chaeyoung had two charms very true to their inside jokes and personality just made it even more special. 

For Chaeyoung was a small, bright red strawberry charm, and for Jungkook was a tiny white bunny with a cute smile on its face and a carrot tucked beneath its paw — an adorable detail that left his heart practically melting inside his chest even with how tiny and simple it really was.

The rest was left empty, presumably for the rest to be filled in over time, but the two charms were already enough as it was and he couldn’t be more grateful.

“No need to thank me,” Chaeyoung chuckled, patting her friend on the back as a bright, exuberant smile bloomed on her face, one filled with roses and tulips that sprouted from the very root of her gleaming soul, “it’s the least I could do, and I’m not the one going to a foreign country for the next two months. So maybe these two charms can bring you good luck.” 

Despite the positive affirmation, Jungkook’s heartbeat sped up at the words ‘good luck’.

Good luck with what? What could possibly go so wrong that he would need the universe’s guidance to help with? Could something so bad happen to him that it was only repairable by a miracle? 

Perhaps he was overthinking it, he had to be. 

Charm bracelets had charms, and charms were correlated to good luck charms, which related back to its core root: luck. 

Chaeyoung was probably only making that reference because of the gift itself, not the actual feeling that Jungkook would need luck to survive whatever kind of procedures he would have to go through at the palace or the kingdom in general.

But now matter how positive he tried to stay or how many reassuring words he pep talked himself into, the never ending shivers confined to cripples along his body — electrocuting each standing hair on fire with a newborn suspicion that now seemed impossible to get out of. 

“Um— yeah! You’re right, thanks,” he coughed, clearing his throat as his grip on Chaeyoung naturally loosened, hands unknowingly becoming sweatier and more unsteady by the minute. 

Chaeyoung must’ve sensed the unease in his voice, therefore following up with a concerned, “Dude, you good?” 

“Huh!?” Jungkook snapped back into his thoughts, scrambling out of the embrace as he slowly but surely came back to reality — a swift change in behavior that caught Chaeyoung off guard and even made her somewhat terrified, “oh yeah sorry, I — never mind, but thank you for the charms again, I love it and I’ll be sure to never take them off.” 

Ignoring the slight confusion, Chaeyoung simply brushed that detour off and smiled tenderly, leaning over to pat Jungkook on the top of his head, “Like I said, don’t thank me. These were cheap anyway.” 

Jungkook matched her smile as he let his eyes drift towards the discarded bracelets on the floor left near his backpack, one that matched his best friend’s glowing on perfectly — two identical hearts that morphed into the shape of joyous souls that celebrated the last few moments of their childhood together, before they’d go back to being strangers for god knows how long.

Yet until then, Jungkook kept one promise to himself.

To never lose contact with Chaeyoung, and never take off or lose the bracelet, no matter what . 

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆

Leaving was much harder than he thought it would be. 

And that was saying a lot, considering that Jungkook had been mentally preparing himself a week in advance towards this trip, but no infinite amount of time, therapeutic meditations, excessive visits to Chaeyoung’s house (and vise versa) or extra distracting rock climbing sessions with his mom could have prepared him for this. 

Tears were already streaming down his cheeks, the dewy drops that seemed to drizzle down in the form of pure gold crystals from his royal blood that caused this all, stained his skin with an irreversible curse. 

With arms tightly strung around Chaeyoung’s neck and chin resting just above her head, both of them rocked back and forth on their feet — cherishing every last moment they had together before Jungkook was scheduled to take off in the private jet that the Queen apparently owned. Even so, he was barely paying any mind to that detail nor could be very excited about something as extravagant as that when he was leaving his best friend and mother for the first time in his life, and the longest time he had ever been without them.

The last time he was away from home was when he had been sent off to a summer sleep away camp back in middle school, but one bite from a snake and an itch from poison ivy sent him back home about three days into the trip — so that didn’t even count. 

So here he sobbed, cried, bawled, wept, and reminisced in every flashback and memory he had with Chaeyoung before her physical presence would be forced to leave him forever, and only an imaginary apparition to stay. 

His mother watched with sad, fond eyes at the hugging pair, her curly hair loosely tied up into a clip at the back of her head as she pulled a shawl closely around her frame to protect her skin from the early morning bitter air that nipped at it mercilessly. 

And though she didn’t show it, she was going to miss him too. 

But for now she let the two high schoolers have their moment, since knowing Chaeyoung for nearly ten years had obviously shown her just how much the girl meant to her son — and it broke her heart to see the two being separated from each other already, even if it was just for a little while. 

Jungkook sniffled, careful not to get any nose residue in Chaeyoung’s hair, but that proved to be difficult when the tears would continue flowing nonstop, of course making an open gateway for other bodily fluids as disgusting as that sounds. 

“By the time I come back, you better have a girlfriend for yourself alright?” Jungkook teased through his choked up sobs, which in return made Chaeyoung giggle (or gurgle more so) since it was quite funny to hear her friend make lame attempts at speaking when his airway was basically clogged with his own sad little self. 

Chaeyoung tightened her arms around Jungkook’s torso, head leaning against him as her head turned to the side so that Jungkook wouldn’t be able to feel the  smile that naturally blossomed on her lips at the mention of possibly getting a girlfriend. 

A dream that had yet to come, but one not too faraway when her fingertips were brushing up against the angel’s cloud that would eventually bless her with one. 

“How can I do that when my Cupid’s gonna be gone though?” She murmured — trying to make it as lighthearted and joking as possible, but when her voice cracked and a tear rolled down her cheek at her very own statement, that’s when she knew it backfired. 

And wow, Jungkook had honestly never felt himself breakdown any faster. 

It was true, as more tears began to gather in the bottom of his eyes and spill over the little barrier that kept them from spilling down his face like some messy mascara, he realized that the only times Chaeyoung came close to scoring a date with a girl was when he had set them up.

Of course it never really worked out in the end, one reason being that Chaeyoung still had to overcome her initial fear of dedicating herself to someone and that she was just extremely shy in general but especially when it involved locking eyes with a pretty girl. 

Still, she appreciated it every single time, all the way from seventh grade to junior year where Jungkook never gave up, since he also had to deal with her constant yapping about how nice it would be to have a girlfriend of her own someday. 

Maybe not now, but hopefully sometime in the future the stars would bless Chaeyoung’s gay ass and give her what she wanted. 

“You don’t need me,” Jungkook affirmed, slightly offended that Chaeyoung didn’t feel confident enough in herself but also incredibly endeared that Chaeyoung had just referred to him as her Cupid, “you’re perfectly capable of finding someone on your own, and plus people usually meet their significant others in like, really random ways so maybe setting up dates wasn’t the best approach anyways,” he chuckled, all the memories of Chaeyoung going on dates coming back to him — some horridly scarring and others not so much, but even the few good ones didn’t have the outcome she ever hoped for. 

Though he did had loads of fun doing it, he did eventually come to the conclusion (that slightly hurt his ego) that letting Chaeyoung find her future partner naturally would probably be the best way to go about things — not hunting down his next victim after school until talking them into how Chaeyoung was a good match for them. 

Fear worked, is what he learned. 

But Chaeyoung couldn’t disagree more, roughly shaking her head against her friend’s chest before lightly punching him in the arm to show that he couldn’t be anymore wrong, “But—”

“No buts Miss,” he chided, briefly pulling away from the hug with both his hands flying to Chaeyoung’s shoulders — both of their tear stained, glistening faces on display, “believe in yourself, you’re a walking pride flag and you’re an amazing person! I’d be surprised if no girl ever tried asking you out before senior year hits, so don’t use the ‘ ahhh no one likes me snndksksnsj’ excuse anymore because guess what? You’re a bad bitch, understood?” 

Ah yes, the classic pep talk about how she’d get a girlfriend no matter what the universe had planned for her, because it was all written in the gay gods’ plan. 

Chaeyoung loved it.

Which is why she immediately burst into laughter and collapsed onto her knees, ignoring the judgmental stares flown her way from some of the fellow royal staff that waited for Jungkook to board the mini plane. 

Jungkook furrowed his eyebrows together, mouth naturally scrunched up distastefully as he witnessed his friend act like she was on laughing gas, “What’s so funny?” He asked, clearly stumped because he had meant every single word he said and none of it was meant to be humorous even if that’s how Chaeyoung seemed to interpret it.

“Ah nothing it’s just,” she slowly stood up, getting out the last of her airy, suffocated laughs as she wiped her fallen tears, which became a mix of sad and happy ones, “I’m gonna miss you saying stupid shit like this.”

He scoffed abruptly, slapping a hand to his chest as his mouth became agape at the indirect insult thrown at him and his inspirational speech, “It is not stupid!” 

“No,” Chaeyoung beamed, patting Jungkook on the shoulder solemnly like they were casted in some TV drama, “it’s not, but you are, so.” 

And before Jungkook could get back at her or retaliate with some weak, absurd comeback like some boomerang, his mother called for him — motioning him over with her hands as Chaeyoung got the memo and walked away to give them some space. 

Their flight would be leaving in a few minutes anyways, so there was still some time to say some final goodbyes afterwards. 

When Jungkook finally pulled away from Chaeyoung and spared her one last teaseful glare, he slowly walked over towards his mom — who had an unreadable look written in her eyes, perhaps one of pride, but also like a nostalgic longing that was pulling farther and farther away from him as every second on the clock ticked away. 

And for some odd reason, his throat burned, maybe it was from all the salty tears that had already cascaded down it, or maybe it was because of how tight and suffocating his lungs felt when reality came crashing down onto him that he would be without the very person who raised him all his life for the next few months. 

It was an underwhelming feeling, but one that also felt overwhelming at the same time — maybe both, who knows. 

“Jungkook,” his mom, Chohee whispered softly, ushering Jungkook closer towards her as she wrapped him in a hug, blinking back the tears that she felt accumulating and getting caught in between her eyelashes, “be careful alright? If there’s any problems then call me and I can schedule a flight over or send you back home, or anything really, I mean this is your first time flying alone so —”

“Mom,” Jungkook spoke up amidst her rambling, appreciating how much she cared nonetheless but still found it a tad funny to watch since this was the first time he’s ever seen his mother act this way before, “I’ll be okay, and if anything comes up I’ll call you just like I already said, so there’s no need to worry when I’m sure grandma knows what she’s doing.” 

It’s almost miraculous how Jungkook didn’t hear, feel, nor see how Chohee’s breath hitched in her throat, almost like she heartily disagreed with every word that her own son had just said — ones he was confident in. 

Though she had no doubt in her heart that Ara was a lovely person, since she was the mother of her ex-husband after all, it was just natural to double guess or worry about these types of things, especially when Ara had rarely ever visited except for Chohee and Byunghee’s wedding. 

But she had to put faith into it. She had to. Chohee knew in her heart that Jungkook was going to be just fine, it was just the matter of believing it herself when a thousand anxieties flew at her from every direction, contradicting that thought that she worked so hard to accept. 

Quickly ridding all of those thoughts since this wasn’t the time to be rethinking of sending your child off to live in some palace for the next two months was actually a dumb idea or not, Chohee cleared her throat roughly and placed a gentle kiss on Jungkook’s forehead before saying, “Ah yes you’re right — just I want you to enjoy yourself while you’re there. It’s not like you get this experience handed to you on any other day — so take time to appreciate it and maybe it’ll help you feel more connected to Dad.” 

Jungkook sucked in a sharp breath at the mention of his dad, eyes briskly meeting his mother’s when that last sentence was powerful enough to tear his insides to shreds and replace every intestine inside him with a blooming rose garden — a mix of grief and ecstasy hitting him all at once before his mind could barely even distinct the two feelings from each other. 

With eyes staring intensely into his mother’s, they eventually fell despondently yet determinedly, as if he was already making a pact of himself to do just that, to prove his dad that he was the person he wanted him to be. 

No words, no combination of letters or even syllables could form on his lips. All he could do was smile adamantly, pride and determination swelling over his eyes and lips as he pulled his mom in for one last hug, letting it last longer than he initially planned for it to. 

And with one deep breath, sucking in the last of his now whisked away childhood and high school years as he approached this new stage of his life that was spontaneously topped with a golden and diamond-rimmed crown, Jungkook separated from his mom and went to bid a last farewell to Chaeyoung — which ended with her planting a quick kiss on his cheek and them clinging their charm bracelets together just for the good times sake.

And with that, with his cat carrier and suitcase in hand, Jungkook cautiously boarded the small plane, letting his carrier drag behind him and make that notorious sound with its two back wheels; turning his back to his best friend, turning his back to his mom, turning his back to everyone who filled in the last seventeen years of his life with fresh new memories that he’d never forget no matter how many new ones he’d make at the palace.

That was, if anything good or worthwhile came out of the experience anyways, ones that expanded beyond the finest cuisine or the most breath-taking extravagances one could imagine. 

But for one last time, just in the doorway of the plane before he’d disappear behind it forever, Jungkook briefly turned around and waved at the two people in his life that meant the world to him — wishing that he could go back and rewind time so that they’d get even longer goodbyes than what was given. 

But as it always is, that’s just another unrealistic hope, especially when one of the security guards carefully led him towards the white cushioned seats on the plane and dragged him away from them before he could backtrack in his steps and run down the short flight of stairs like a fallen Angel making its way back up to its heavily missed home, which was none other than heaven. 

He was a fallen Angel, except he didn’t actually do anything supposedly bad to be torn apart from the people he loved the most, or thrown off the clouds of the heavenly vicinity in which they spent their whole lives in. 

All it was, was his name randomly put into a bowl with many others; and by chance, it was picked declaring him as the raffle winner. 

Except in his mind, in his mind where he had already lost three people (even if it wasn’t the exact same type of loss), he didn’t really see himself as that much of a winner. 

Chapter Text

A plane ride had never felt so … quiet before. 

Jungkook had been on a plane a couple of times in the past when travelling over summer vacation and occasionally the holidays, but this time it felt off — like something was missing, and obviously something was missing.

When you really think about it, he was on a plane with a bunch of strangers.

His grandmother, whom he had never met in person before and with their only form of communication beforehand had been annual birthday cards, as well as two other security guards (who looked awfully familiar though he couldn’t exactly pinpoint as to why that was), and of course other necessary staff members who operated and patrolled the plane were the only ones to accompany him. 

It was … another kind of awkward. Not the small talking-to-a-classmate kind, nor was it really an I-don’t-know-what-to-say kind, but more like he felt like he was restricted from speaking at all — just because he didn’t know any of these people.

He felt out of place. With his white, slightly dirty sneakers and grey sweatpants and plain purple hoodie combo compared to the elegant style of his grandmother and the well put together tuxes of the two security guards; it just felt like none of them had anything in common, and Jungkook almost felt embarrassed with the way he was dressed especially with how much fancier the plane seemed. 

It wasn’t all that different from a normal plane, but it was much smaller and cleaner, and magazines and small meals with beverages were frequently offered to him by the airplane staff as well as his persistent grandmother who was insistent on him eating something during the ride. 

Of course, he denied all of it profusely with a polite shake of the head, one that his grandmother dismissed distastefully like he had committed a federal crime of some sort. 

But perhaps he should’ve taken into account how some people get offended when others deny food from them — but honestly, at that point where it had already been two and a half hours since he had last seen Chaeyoung and his mother, food was the last thing on his mind right now. 

Music played through his headphones as he silently bobbed his head up and down to each individual beat of the song, something minor yet something that would fill in for the lost presence and emptiness he now felt sink into the deep pits of his stomach. Which was ultimately replaced by queasiness. 

Not necessarily a sickly kind, but more of a nervous and fidgety kind of queasiness — one that had his intensities tied into tight binded knots and twisted upside down until he felt it way up inside his sensitive heart, which already ached dearly just from recent events. 

Jungkook sighed lowly, almost hopelessly even, letting his head rest against one of the small, square plane windows as he let his eyes gaze along the terrain below him; one that mainly consisted of green patches of forest land and urban cities that sparkled in the afternoon sunlight. 

Nothing seemed interesting anymore, nor purposeful — it was like each grain of sand that held meaning in his life was slipping away from him through the very crack of his hand until —

“Your highness, I hate to interrupt your … peaceful session but I must ask you,” a sudden, yet deep and calming voice spoke up, one that instantly made Jungkook snap his head towards the anonymous person and briefly take out his headphones so he wasn’t struggling to hear someone speak over Prince’s discography, “are you situated all right so far? Our flight will be landing in a few hours, and the Queen would still prefer you to eat something small before then.” 

As dumb as it may seem, Jungkook could only let his mouth open slightly as he finally focused in on the person speaking to him, whom was none other than one of the security guards that accompanied his stay at the residence just a few days prior. 

He was fairly short, most likely (definitely) shorter than Jungkook himself, and he had his hair trimmed quite nicely into an undercut style with a more relaxed fluff at the top of his head. Even the voice was familiar, a deep soothing one that was quite relaxing to listen to, almost like a lullaby and not at all spiteful or strict at all, which went against many of Jungkook’s biased assumptions since he had presumed that every palace staff member would either sound completely monotoned or prissy. 

Thankfully enough, that didn’t seem to be the case with this one. And the guy must’ve picked up that Jungkook was still rather nervous since he did offer a small, reassuring smile to him — one that made his cheeks rise slightly and accent them with little smile lines. 

Obviously Jungkook didn’t want to make it look like he was ignoring the poor guy especially when he was just doing his job and taking orders from the Queen, so Jungkook quickly averted his eyes towards his name tag, which read “ Min Yoongi” in fancy bold, cursive font. 

“Uhhh it’s alright! Thank you for asking though, uhhh—” Jungkook stammered nervously, suddenly forgetting how to address people properly under pressure, even when that counted as the kindest eyes, “sir!” 

That’s the correct way to address him right? He thought to himself, since Jungkook didn’t think it was very appropriate to use another person’s first name during the first official meeting, or at least interaction. 

Especially when they were your … well, it was a professional relationship of sorts since Jungkook wasn’t all too keen on the idea of being above someone by any means even if he was closely affiliated with the Queen in some way. 

But what really caught him off guard was how Yoongi (per say) addressed him as “highness”, and while it did make sense to a certain level Jungkook was still quite thrown off since he hadn’t even reclaimed the throne yet (nor was he sure if he’d ever end up doing so). 

The phrase was associated with royalty, with a hierarchy, and sure perhaps Jungkook was a prince-in-training but he was by no means prince yet, just a normal teenage boy living inside a huge palace until he’d have to make his final decision. 

In fact, he felt more uncomfortable than anything, especially when the security guard looked only a couple more years older than him — presumably early twenties or so. 

Not wanting to make a big deal out of it, Jungkook just shrugged it off and slumped back in his seat with his cat carrier beside him, where it held none other than the infamous Rumpelstiltskin, a white and black tabby cat. 

“Is that a cat?” 

When Jungkook registered that someone, or more specifically the security guard which he assumed was named Yoongi, he quickly looked back up and hurried with a response, one that came out in incoherent and slurred together words purely run off of nervousness and the desperation to have the conversation over and done with for his own sake.

“Umm yeah! His name is Rumpelstiltskin and he kinda looks like you!”  

Now if this was any other situation, Yoongi would’ve without a doubt collapsed onto the ground in heaps of laughter or at least do something to acknowledge the joking remark. 

However, unfortunately, that was not the case since the Queen was only a few rows of seats in front of where Jungkook was sat peacefully in his own headquarters and for the sake of professionalism and with his job (as well as paycheck) on the line, Yoongi could only flash a gummy smile towards Jungkook and clear his throat against his fist to at least show the boy that he found it funny. 

He assumed it was a joke, but with the way Jungkook’s face remained completely neutral and then morphed into one of terror after realizing what he had just said, Yoongi got the memo and realized that he was just spewing complete nonsense. 

Still, it was endearing, and being associated with a cat in the looks department wasn’t necessarily a bad thing, since surpassingly enough Yoongi already got loads of comments like that already. 

“Ah, yes I clearly see the resemblance,” Yoongi joked in return, stifling another laugh before gradually making his way towards the front of the plane, “if you need anything your highness just wave me or any other attendant over and we’ll be pleased to assist you.” 

Jungkook nodded, thanking Yoongi quickly as he left his small space and prayed to god and the lords above him that the red on his cheeks wasn’t as visible as it felt — because that certainly would not do any justice to his easily embarrassed self. 

And that’s when Jungkook whipped out his phone to cope with all of his problems, using it to contact none other than the one person who was always there when needed. 

le uglé

I just said this random guy looks like Rumpelstiltskin and now I feel the urge to defenestrate my entire body out the plane window 

I got a window seat so like easy access 👦🏻👦🏻👦🏻👦🏻

catgirl chae 

DUMB BITCH

suddenly a man hops on a private plane and doesn’t know how to act 

le uglé

LEAVE ME ALONE

IM NOT GOOD AT THINKING OF THINGS ON THE SPOT

catgirl chae 

I’ve noticed unfortunately 

Just to be clear ur talking about the cat rumplestiltskin not the tiny old elf dude who made ppl spin gold right🧍‍♀️🧍‍♀️🧍‍♀️🧍‍♀️🧍‍♀️🧍‍♀️🧍‍♀️🧍‍♀️

bc that would be tragic 

le uglé

OKFG YES ofc it was my cat

Why would I compare someone to a little old man who is like the brothers Grimm version of today’s capitalism 😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😄🤣🤣👦🏻👦🏻👦🏻👦🏻👦🏻👦🏻

catgirl chae 

bc you’ve done it before 

le uglé

THAT DOESNT COUNT BC THAT GIRL WAS BEING A BITCH BY DEMANDING MY CHOCOLATE GOLD COINS

catgirl chae

dude, she was five 

le uglé

does that /MATTER/ ?????? 

catgirl chae

well when she probably can’t tell apart letters for numbers then yes ,,,,, yes it does 😕☝️

le uglé

not u being mean to the gay kid, homophobic asshole 

catgirl chae

I’m lesbian 👦🏻

le uglé

and what happened to mlm and wlw solidarity ? 

catgirl chae

you’re right that’s my bad😦😦😦but u still called a random girl Rumpelstiltskin😨

le uglé

🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣I’m ignoring u 

catgirl chae

I doubt that considering u sent crying selfies five minutes into your plane right saying how much u missed me 👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩

le uglé

😐😐😐😐😐😐blocked . 

Jungkook smiled to himself, eyes trained on his phone which was held out in the palm of his hand as he reread the texts over and over again — simultaneously feeling his heart getting punctured by needles and blown up of pure ecstasy at the same time. 

But while a boy was stuck in his own little dreamland beside a sleeping cat who was lowkey the reason behind his short-lived embarrassment and downfall, two others (still keeping an eye on Jungkook since it was their job after all) chatted … elsewhere. 

“You know Yoongi, you kinda do look like that cat.”

“Oh shut it Namjoon,” Yoongi hissed (ironically enough), slyly sending a side glare towards his best friend and co-security guard while making sure that the Queen was out of the way for now, just in case she caught a glimpse of their little side conversation. 

Namjoon smirked, taking one more peak at the cat carrier before turning to the side to dramatically examine Yoongi’s facial features once more, genuinely spotting several similarities that may or may not have made him nearly melt into a soft puddle of mush right there on the spot. 

“But you do!” He teased, snickering mercilessly to himself while once again ignoring the delightful yet quite menacing look on Yoongi’s face, though Namjoon couldn’t pay too much mind to that right now. 

And whether he wanted to admit it or not, heat rose to Yoongi’s cheeks — filling his chest with that god awful feeling that only proved his humiliation to the fullest and did in fact succeed in making Namjoon’s pride fly through the roof, as well as grant him more teasing privileges for situations like this to come. 

With his face scrunched up stubbornly, yet adorably, Yoongi quickly kicked his shoe into Namjoon’s toe and walked off towards one of the other flight attendants — pretending as if nothing had happened at all and that he had much more important business to attend.

When really, his best friend just knew he couldn’t take the heat. 

Though the toe stub did hurt quite a bit, since surely no one had more feistiness than Min Yoongi himself as it known all around the palace staff, Namjoon still couldn’t even resist the grin that crawled up his lips from it all, even if it was something as small as comparing his co-worker to the young “prince’s” cat, who was apparently named Rumplestiltskin as Yoongi informed him. 

Namjoon personally didn’t have too many opinions about the kid yet, but he already made a great impression on him. 

“Um sir! Are you alright?” 

And coincidentally enough, there it was — that same soft spoken, quiet voice but one still loud enough so that Namjoon could hear from a couple of rows away from him. 

Quickly abandoning his place, Namjoon scurried over towards Jungkook with his hands folded behind his back as a welcoming smile naturally blossomed on the corners of his lips — pulling them up into a graceful smile. 

“Sorry your highness, could you repeat that for me?” 

And fuck , there they go with that stupid nickname again. Honestly, Jungkook appreciated the gesture but he’d rather be called a two-faced rat eating slut than any royalty-associated term. It made him feel fancy. Gross. 

Jungkook shivered visibly, which Namjoon just pretended not to see since this certainly wasn’t the tundra or North Pole, “I was just wondering if you were alright since I saw the other guard kick you in the toe.” 

And for a split second, Namjoon’s cheeks dusted a faint cherry red before he eventually got ahold of himself once more and fixed his posture so he was no longer eye-level with Jungkook before him, “Ah yes don’t worry. I appreciate the concern but Yoongi is a good friend of mine and this is very normal for us.” 

Well that was concerning if physically torturing your friends while on duty was considered the norm over here, hence the aghast expression on Jungkook’s face. 

However, before he could let himself accidentally snap back with something condescending or snarky, he cleared his throat and stretched his mouth out into a wide boxy smile — to conceal the clear worry that briefly flashed through his mind when Namjoon proposed such a thing. 

“I’m glad to here! Umdks— thank you!” He chimed perhaps a bit too cheerfully, speedily returning back to his music and shoving the headphones back into his ears as if nothing had just happened, or as if he hadn't just had the two most weirdest first encounters with people in his life. 

Though a bit confused himself, Namjoon smiled and bowed briefly before backing away into the aisle, walking backwards towards Yoongi (who thankfully returned back to his original spot after gaining some composure after that). 

But what he wasn’t at all expecting to hear, especially not when his friend spoke with such an endearing or amused tone laced through his voice, was this; 

“The prince … he’s a strange one.”