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In a years time, Prince Zhong Chenle is to become the king.
You could certainly say he’s led a fairly sheltered life.
Nearly two decades has he spent within the walls of the palace, secluded from the norms of society. Any prince was sacred, of course, but Prince Chenle was an outlier. His father had strictly ordered for anyone outside of the kingdom, anyone outside of the palace, to not know of him. Chenle knew why, though the man had never outright explained to his face.
His father, the King, ruler of all, was cruel and corrupt. Which surely wasn’t a rarity for men in such high power, but his father, much like himself, was a special case. The man thrived off of his own greed and selfishness, wanted every dime of the land to be his. Treated the commoners as if they were nothing but dirt beneath his feet, even did so with his own men. Perhaps Chenle was the only soul other than himself that his father truly cared about, and even that was something a thought he found so often laced with doubt.
Many would risk their lives to attempt to assassinate the king, and by relation, the prince. Long had his father known this, and preemptively decided that his first and only son would live a closed-off life, where no one without a royal status would know who he was. Of course, since his birth, rumours had plagued the air regarding a prince hidden within the palace walls, yet never a name, never an accurate speculation of when he would take the crown.
And for the first time in his life, if asked, Chenle would have an answer to such a question. In a year, the crown, the status, and the power would all be his. He would be king, ruler of all.
He assumed such a thing wasn’t what his father wanted so early on— But the man wasn’t in the best of health, and risked further problems if he weren’t to take things easy. And so, with what Chenle had imagined to be great reluctance, he had agreed to let the prince take over in a years time.
There was, however, a condition he hadn’t been made aware of until the news had reached him.
Zhong Chenle, soon to be king, was to spend a year amongst the commoners, away from the palace and living far from his royal status. His unknown identity to serve as a mask, and to fulfil the purpose of comprehending the inner-workings of the kingdom he would in a years time rule. To learn how the mundane person worked and thought, to gather an understanding on how he was to govern the population.
He’d frowned upon receiving the news— And yet not out of concern, out of worry for the year that was to come. He’d tightened his jaw, furrowed his eyebrows and shifted his weight, because somehow, the idea was appealing.
Nineteen years of living without another person his age, being treated as an adult since he could speak, of being granted every possible material possession he could ever desire; and yet never a friend, never the normal life of a child or teenager that he constantly pondered the experiences of, never an escape from the unpleasant atmosphere his father always brought with him.
And yet this offered just that. A year of freedom, a year of distance between himself and the terribly restrictive palace, the overbearing influence of his father, a year that granted him the opportunity to live as a normal person, to make friends and work and understand how it was to be anyone but a Prince.
His father had raised an at least half-decent liar, told him that was the key to ruling successfully; lying.
And if his only difficulty was keeping a secret, Chenle was sure he would manage just fine.
It’s a little bit of an adjustment, going from the lifetime of being dressed in only the finest of clothing, having men ready him to perfection every morning, to dressing as any other commoner. He isn’t to pack anything, bringing nothing from his ‘luxurious’ life along with him.
His father doesn’t bother to come send him off. Doesn’t want to draw any attention or suspicion in leaving the palace, he says, but Chenle knows it’s more than that. Or less, rather; nothing other than the man’s laziness regarding anything that doesn't relate to his direct gain.
He doesn’t allow himself to care, though, when guards drop him a ways away from the town he’s to find a temporary life in, away from where anyone may see. Instead of bidding a goodbye to the man who he believes barely cares for him, he bids goodbye to the Prince Zhong Chenle he’s lived a lifetime as, and greets someone who’s simply Chenle, a man like any other.
As Chenle enters, greeted with a town square bustling with life, he recalls the story he’d came up with for himself. Or rather, the lack thereof. He was Chenle, nineteen year old shoemaker who’d fled his town in hopes of starting a new life, and didn’t wish to further discuss anything prior to finding the town. That was that. His father had told him the more complex a lie was, the less likely people were to believe it. So he’d keep things simple, straightforward.
Though as he navigates through crowded streets, people transporting fruits and vegetables, wheelbarrows and horses, he begins to think he may have left out a key part of his very loose plan— What was he going to do? Who would he speak to, where would he go? He didn't even have a place to sleep, and certainly didn’t have any money to get him anything he needed.
That may be a problem.
But he can’t let it bother him too much, not when the atmosphere feels so new. So refreshing, so lively and informal, a complete escape to what Chenle’s always had as a familiarity. People chattering, moving in every direction, offering to sell and trade goods ahead of buildings.
In a way, it was almost magical.
So magical, in fact, that Chenle forgets to look where he’s going, and collides almost head-on with someone’s makeshift stall, knocking over a wooden bucket of apples in the process, sending them flying in all directions. Lips parting in surprise, he glances to the man behind the stall, already wearing a scowl. He appears Chenle’s age, perhaps a little older, yet wears years of stress similar to that of someone in his thirties, and stands shorter than himself.
“You gonna pay for the damaged fruits?” He questions, and Chenle can tell he’s searching his features, looking for recognition. He swallows.
“I don’t have any money,” It’s not technically a lie, in the moment, but it very much feels like one in the grand scheme of things. And stupidly, further words tumble out of him, as if to distract from his lie. “You can’t just grow more?”
The other raises his eyebrows. “Can’t grow more money to make up for the lost fruit, can I?”
“Right, no.”
“Who are you, exactly? Haven’t seen your face around here, and the first time I do you come knocking over my apples and treating me like—“
“Renjun!” A cheery voice interrupts the near-argument, and Chenle looks to the right to see another male approaching, with a broad figure and a contradicting eye-smile. “You seem more angry than usual. What’s the problem?”
He brings an immediately calm atmosphere with him, possesses more friendliness in a simple smile than Chenle thinks he’s ever seen from anyone throughout his whole lifetime.
The smallest male, Renjun, exhales, shifting his weight where he stands. He waves an accusing finger in Chenle’s direction. “This idiot knocked over my apples, no one’s buying them now.”
It’s only then that the other turns to look at him, seems to observe him head to toe for a moment. Chenle tries his best to appear as normal as possible. However that’s supposed to be portrayed.
But whatever he’s doing seems to work, because the male looks at him with nothing of suspicion or distaste. Instead, he just tilts his head in friendly curiosity. “You’re new around here?”
Chenle nods. “Name’s Chenle.”
“Chenle,” He echoes. “Got it. I’m Jeno, that’s Renjun. He’s always one for bad introductions.”
“Excuse me?”
“I’m just teasing you, Renjun,” Jeno hums. “Come to the shop tonight, I’ll sort something out for you, alright?”
“Fine.” Renjun seems to brush them off with that, putting his attention to rearranging the surviving fruit.
Jeno, however, appears not as easily distracted from Chenle’s presence, and watches him for a moment more, while Chenle idly stands, clears his throat. Maybe he should have worked more on mastering small talk prior to coming here.
“You heading this way, Chenle?” Jeno gestures the opposite way to where Chenle had come from, and once more, he nods, though not at all sure what ‘this way’ holds. “Come with me.”
There doesn’t seem to be much option about the matter, but Chenle doesn’t quite mind that, not when Jeno had managed to get him out of a potentially bad situation within his first few minutes in the town. So Chenle wordlessly agrees, slowly falling into step with the other.
“So, where are you from?”
The dreaded question. “Few kingdoms over, kind of far. Wanted a fresh start.”
“Ah, I see,” Jeno nods, glancing around the town as he walks. Chenle had observed how other commoners had looked around earlier, with frowns and grimaces, yet Jeno’s expression is quite the opposite; the male looks at the plain buildings, unamused passerbys, and generally bland surroundings as if it’s something to be proud of, something to marvel over. “Well, wherever it is you’re from, I assure you things are a bit different here.”
“Why’s that?” Chenle questions, following how Jeno’s gaze wandered over every sight the walk offered them.
“Short tempers. Shorter than you’re used to, I’m sure. People aren’t happy. Most, if not all, are struggling, some people can barely even eat everyday.”
A frown quickly burdens Chenle’s features. Sure, he’d known the life of those who lived in the town was nothing compared to the luxury within the palace, but this was something else entirely. “It’s really that bad?”
Jeno exhales. “Clearly you haven’t heard about our King yet. Taxes are terrible. And those paying rent for their land on top of that, and the amount of people working without pay— It’s rough.”
“Oh.” Chenle voices, a wave of guilt consuming him. Was his father really making life this difficult for so many innocent people who wanted nothing more than a peaceful life?
“Mm. Though, I don’t want to get too depressing on your first day here. I tell you because, well— You just need to be careful with people around here. We’re all struggling. Now, I assume you don’t have a place to stay just yet?” Jeno moves aside to allow two men leading a horse to pass.
Chenle too, steps aside. Was it that obvious? For his own sake, he hopes not everyone is as observant as Jeno, even if only for minimal things. “No, I don’t.”
After a moment, the two resume their walk, gradually moving into a less crowded area of the town. “My father owns a shop not too far from here. You’re welcome to stay for the time being, and I’m sure he won’t mind an extra hand if you want some work. Which I’m assuming you do—“
“You just met me,” Chenle finds himself noting aloud, before he can stop himself. “You’re really offering me that much?”
Jeno shrugs lightly. “Why not? Just because the circumstances here aren’t great, doesn’t mean I should refrain from making them any better if I have the chance.”
Jeno’s father, —Doyoung, as he’d insisted Chenle call him, dismissed any attempt at formality— had proved to be exactly what he’d expect from a shopkeeper around a town like this. Kindhearted, welcoming, and with a bright smile, despite the surroundings. Chenle could certainly see where his son got it from, and for the briefest of moments, wondered if people would say that about himself and his father too.
“There isn’t much to do these days,” Doyoung had told Chenle as they’d slowly strolled through the shop, and Chenle’s eyes eagerly scanned every item they had to offer; the majority of which furniture, baskets, a decent amount of clothes, all of which assumedly made by Doyoung and Jeno. Chenle found it fascinating, how much they were able to create with their own hands. He, of course, knew essentially nothing. He’d received the wealthiest home education there was, but never anything truly useful. “The less money people have, the less they’re able to buy, and so on. But we’re always welcome to help. Especially if you need a place to stay.”
And Chenle did, and had apparently found it with ease. If anything, it felt like it, and specifically, Jeno, had found him. Without the other coming across him, God knows where Chenle would be spending the night, or any of his time, for the matter.
The small family were more welcoming to him than he could ever have imagined anyone would be, offering him meals and clothing, a place to sleep, and work, even if working was nothing but idly standing around an empty shop, and on the rare occasion that someone would enter, try his best to convince them to purchase something— Which almost always failed. People simply didn’t have the money to go towards anything but food, if that.
Chenle had certainly expected at least some level of guilt upon coming to the town, but this was incomparable. Everyday brought a heavier weight on his chest, following him onto his sleep. Knowing that every problem was in some way or another brought upon by his father, knowing that he had the power to fix it all, yet at the same time, he didn’t.
Perhaps the closest he’d come to a breaking point had been a mere few days into his stay, when a tall boy had entered, a smaller, younger one in tow, —Maybe 11 or 12, Chenle guessed— and upon seeing Chenle stood by the wooden counter, he ever so slightly faltered in his movements, unmasked surprise upon his features for a moment. “Um, is Doyoung here?” The taller had timidly approached, a hand on the younger boy’s back.
Chenle frowned. Both boys had the same look of both physical and mental exhaustion, likely malnourishment, which was a sight Chenle was getting all too familiar with in his short stay so far. He nodded, made his way out to the back to grab the man in question.
Doyoung came quickly, abandoning whatever it was he’d been working on prior— A basket, Chenle speculated, one of the only things he’d seen frequently sold, mostly because more people were left with no option but to keep the entirety of their belongings in them.
“Sungchan,” He’d said once the two came into his sight, assumedly to the older of the two. “What’s wrong?”
“I just— Just need to talk.”
Doyoung nodded, pulling both boys aside. Chenle wasn’t sure whether his intentions were to be out of his own earshot or not, but from his place at the counter, he could overhear every word.
“I’m sorry, Doyoung, I know you guys aren’t doing much better than us, and I hate to ask you again, but— But Jisung hasn’t eaten in two days, and he hasn’t been well as it is, and I’m really worried about him—“
“Don’t apologise,” Doyoung quickly dismissed. “I’ll get you all the money you two need, alright?”
Chenle had heard Sungchan heavily exhale, as if the male were fighting off tears. “I don’t know how long we can keep living like this. Us, you, anyone— It’s not going to last forever, right?”
“No, no, it’s not. That king isn’t going to rule forever.”
“How do you know that?” Sungchan questioned, tone suddenly even more desperate. “I heard rumours that the prince could take the crown any day now. What if he’s worse, Doyoung?”
Chenle froze.
“Rumours,” Doyoung reiterated. “We don’t know that’s going to be the case.”
“But what if it is?”
“Look. If there is a prince coming anytime soon, I’m telling you Sungchan, he isn’t going to last. Not with the people out to get that family.”
The conversation follows Chenle, replays in his head constantly. Remains fresh in his mind every night as he lays down to sleep, as days within the town turn to weeks, and weeks to months. How does one live with the guilt of knowing his father is the reason children are starving, that people are losing hope, if they haven’t already lost it entirely? Not to even mention what Doyoung had commented— People out to get them? Perhaps he was being vague, offhandedly remarking about the day to day assassination attempts of royalty. But perhaps he wasn’t, and perhaps there well and truly were people out to get him and his father, who would get him...
Atop of it all, he knows he’s drastically worsening things for Doyoung and Jeno. While both will gladly insist that Chenle is earning his keep around the shop, and the tiny, one-and-a-half room house they live in behind it, Chenle is bright enough to see otherwise. He’s using their limited food and water, occupying space that should be taken by someone a thousand times more deserving than him. And yet, there isn’t anywhere else for him to go. The town is crumbling under the financial pressure, job opportunities are non-exist. That, or completely unpaid.
And even worse is that he knows he could fix it. Possesses practically all the wealth of the kingdom, could rid the town’s problems with a snap of his fingers, but he simply can't. Not only was it incomprehensible what his father would do to him for such a thing, but even more so what the townspeople would do if they found out the Prince, the son of the man who caused them so much pain and suffering, was living and working right amongst them.
It’s one night in particular that Chenle sits awake, arms rested on his knees. He can’t possibly sleep, can’t stop recalling everything he’s seen, considering all the people who’s hunger keeps them awake, right at that exact moment.
All too lost in his thoughts, he hadn’t initially taken notice of Jeno, who slowly lowered himself to sit beside Chenle. His presence had become something so familiar to him, sometimes it simply felt like another part of himself.
Neither really said anything, and that’s what Chenle so often liked. Jeno had every right to press subjects of Chenle’s past, or anything, really, but never once did, always respecting the things left unspoken.
There was a lot more to Jeno than just that, though, Chenle had realised. Jeno was so endlessly kind, so sincere and selfless. He was everything he imagined a good person should be, and everything that Chenle so desperately wished that he could be himself. Jeno was beautiful, inside and out, in such a blinding sense that it had taken Chenle all too long to realise that his attraction to him wasn’t just mere admiration.
At some point, they’d shifted closer to one another, and Chenle finds his eyes trained on Jeno, on his perfectly structured features, on the permanent laugh lines upon his face, on the eyes that never seem to stop putting the sun to shame. And so briefly on his lips. After living a life where he hadn’t even had the opportunity to make a friend, he doesn’t expect the desire to kiss someone to come so easily— But it does.
One of them had leaned in first, —Chenle’s mind was running all too fast for him to pick up on who, exactly— and that was that. They were kissing, soft lips against one another’s and his own fingers in Jeno’s hair, sparks throughout his entire being. Perhaps that moment had been the exact point where Chenle had fallen for Jeno, or perhaps it had been earlier. Perhaps in the moments where he watched the other so busily navigate around the shop, or when Chenle would catch glimpses of him out the window, trying his best to bring smiles to the faces of the people that passed, or perhaps even the moment in which they’d met, when Jeno had shown him, a mere stranger, more care than anyone sincerely had in his whole life.
Whenever it was, and however the process had been, Chenle now knew positively that he was in love with Jeno.
There had never been any official beginning of their relationship. It had gone unspoken. Rather than questioning it, they had simply fallen into a pattern of closeness, of late-night kisses and more than friendly touches throughout their days working together, of loving names and compliments.
Chenle loves it, and yet so equally hates it, because his time is so far from permanent.
Sooner rather than later is he to return to the kingdom, to take the status that he dreads having.
He hates to consider it, what the people he’s grown familiar with will think when they find out the young man working at the shop is their new king. What Jeno will think. He knows he’ll have to tell him, he knows, and so deeply does he want to, but he can’t. He’s terrified, a coward, and unfortunately, much like his father.
Chenle’s selfish. He owes it to Jeno, to Doyoung, to everyone that has ever shown him any ounce of the kindness they’ve never themselves received, but yet, he’s still so blinded by his worries for himself, for what will happen to him.
And as the months seem to become a melted-together blur, Chenle truly does try. Whenever the guilt becomes too much to bare, he pulls Jeno aside from whatever the other male is doing, tries, so desperately tries to will himself to do it, to find an ounce of courage to just tell him.
But then his mind falters, because what is he to say? How can he bring up that he’s spent every moment that the two have been together living a lie? That he’s the son of the cruel monster that puts them through every bout of suffering? That in mere months he’s to be the ruler of the kingdom they utterly despise?
Jeno, the man that Chenle has fallen in love with, will hate him. Will never again look at him with such a loving expression, never again press careful kisses to his forehead in the late of the night.
And he cowers away, dismisses it as nothing, makes up some excuse as to what he’d wanted.
He’s truly no better than his father.
Chenle purposefully stops keeping track of the days. Hoping, desperately wishing that somehow, if he pretends that he’s forgot, that the universe won’t put him through what he knows is inevitable.
Maybe his father will forget. Maybe he won’t care enough to come after him.
Maybe Chenle will somehow work up the courage to tell Jeno.
Maybe, maybe, maybe.
His life has become something of maybes, of wishes and hopes and dreads and anxieties, of confliction and unsureness.
Every kiss he shares with Jeno lingers, in fears it may be the last.
And yet, every one is followed with the immense wave of guilt he’s grown so familiar with. The painful, crushing feeling that weighs on his chest like a dozen bricks. He doesn’t deserve it, any kiss, any gesture or long-lasting touch, any kind word, anything he’s so unfairly gotten from his first day onwards.
And finally, the day comes.
From the front of the shop, Chenle hears mumbles about it. Mentions of seeing guards around, speculations of a visit from the king, and what such a thing entailed. His heart races, and his hands shake, and his mind becomes an incoherent mess. They must be here for him, why else would they be? His year is over, his time is up, his freedom, his love, his new perspective— They’ve come to take it all, to take him. People are going to see. Jeno is going to see, to realise, for everything of the last year to painfully process in one cruel moment.
He has to leave— To flee, to hide, something.
But he feels glued in place.
Stuck.
He stays unmoving as he hears the mumbles turn to loud chatter.
He stays unmoving when he hears the thundering of horses approaching, the demands of guards, shouted requests to be taken to the shop.
He stays unmoving when the noise draws both Doyoung and Jeno from the back, with questions of what’s going on, and Jeno calling Chenle’s name.
Only when the half a dozen guards and the three horses they bring come into sight, does Chenle will himself to move, to turn to Jeno and to grant himself a few steps of closeness. Their eyes meet for a flash of a second, before Jeno’s glancing to the scene outside, and back to Chenle, and he sees it, the exact moment where the other's expression shifts to reflect his realisation. “The prince— It’s you, isn’t it? You— Your father is the king, and you..?”
Barely is Chenle able to get out the apology he’s so desperately tried to form in his head all these months before he’s effortlessly whisked away by the small army of guards, and Jeno’s out of his view.
In three days time, Prince Zhong Chenle is to become the king.