☀️ JEAN ☀️

Did I like Prince Eric already?

As far as I remember, that early on in meeting Eric, I already had the urge to bug him with my foot, under the table. We were eating at the dining hall also known as the throne room.

He kicked my foot, annoyed. He mouthed, “stop it.”

I chuckled.

The servants brought braised pork with cauliflower and broccoli as entrée. The aroma was nothing compared to my excitement to serve as the ambassador for my kingdom, Anbeia, plus I would be with Eric. I love his company.

I had been more focused at him for hours. Weird.

"Hey! What's with you?" my prince asked.

I was perplexed and said it was nothing. I continued what I was thinking, and I could not ask for more than his company that I was away from my family.

I looked at him who was eating slowly. He added then removed meat veg from his fork then added again, until he was happy with it. Slid it against the porcelain to get more sauce before he put it inside his mouth to chew, chew, and chew his food. So after I had plates of food already, he was just happy with what he had and not really had eaten at all. Of course that’s a hyperbole. I wouldn’t want to get that fat.

After our lunch, I was led by Eric and a chambermaid to the right wing of the palace where my room was located. He opened the door for me, I entered the room after him.

It was nice. There was a receiving or study area before my actual bedroom, which consisted of carved-wooden sofas, chairs and tables. I also got my own bathroom and wash room. Everything was Baroque in style–– intricate details of patterns and ornaments which invokes extravagance.

"You can call for Hannah at the room to your right, my room is the next room after Hannah's. If you need anything, you know." He smiled uncomfortably. "We'll see each other at four later?"

"What are you gonna do now?" It's just almost two and I did not want to be alone here.

"I'm going to read, why?"

I smiled maybe to convince him. "Can I stay with you? I won't bother you, I promise."

To be with him alone in his room? Yes please.

"Okay, you can." he said.

The maid bowed, excused herself then disappeared through the door. Eric led me to his room.

The aesthetics of his bedroom was simple, compared with the usual lavish design of the whole palace, which is good I think.

He grabbed a book from the corner table of the receiving area. He left it there again and vanished to his washroom. Just a minute or two and he was back with circular glasses on. He smiled.

"Why are you just standing there? Please help yourself and be at home. I thought we're friends already," he stated then he sat on the couch and reached for the same book.

I smiled. "I don't want to be rude. You looked uncomfortable," I informed him.

"Oh, really? Don't mind me, please. I just want to rest," he tried to convince me but I wasn't buying his tone, with his awkwardness and the way he opened the book.

I giggled. "If you are uncomfortable, I'm just gonna leave."

"No. Jean, please stay." He sighed then placed his book on top of the center table.

"You're not bothersome. Okay?" His fingers fixed his glasses securely on his nose. "It's just that I'm stressed because my schedule will be drastically changed."

He smiled, like he was convincing me to stay, and he was okay with my presence. He was not a snob.

"You're staying right? If it was another person who'll stay here in the palace, for sure I am not going to adjust my schedule, which I planned for weeks already. I'm a little of a planner, you know... Convinced?" his tone was sweet.

The room smelt of burning cherry tree wood, reminiscent of my favorite firewood there ever was. I tried to distract myself with the pictures on the shelves beside the chiminea because his 'trying to be cute' face made me want to kiss him.

"Oh. I am sorry. I really––"

"I realized I didn't ask you if you would want to read as well. But thinking again, what do you want to do?" he inquired.

I grinned. I don't know what to suggest. Just like that, I looked at his intoxicating hands. Which stayed together in front of his 'you know what'.

"What do you want to do?" he asked, my mind was busy daydreaming of his hand, his fingers long and slender like candles, rubbing softly against mine.

"Jean!" he exclaimed.

"Wh- what?" I asked blankly.

His cheeks became pinkish. He scratched his head, being ashamed. It was possible that he realized I was looking at his hands which before calling my attention were placed just before his groin.

I forced a smile, disregarded my embarrassment. "What were you saying?"

He grinned, uncomfortable maybe. "What do you want to do, aside from reading?"

I was tapping my index fingers together. "Nothing in particular."

I saw his hands again.

"Oh! Oh yes! You can play the piano for me!" I announced merrily.

"Uh,”  He seemed to be unhappy. “I really can't. Not now."

"Let me hear you play. Please?" I tried hard to be cute for him. "Please. Please. Please. PLEASE!" I begged.

"I haven't practiced for a while now. Not now, please?"

"Please? I just wanna hear you play. It is not like you're going to play in a concert. Please?"

"The piano here may not be tuned properly," he confidently declared.

"I don't care about the piano. I want to see you play the piano. The piano is not a problem, as long as there is a piano. Right? Please?" I pointed out.

Being the most annoying and after a little begging and some reasoning here and there, I finally got him to play for me.

Eric led me into a chamber located at the other wing of the palace. It was a decent room. Beside the window there was a music stand. On the left side was an old-looking piano. The ceiling was ornate and vaulted. The room was spacious enough for a band of instrumentalists to practice in and perform for a small audience.

He opened a closet on the wall atop the upright piano, a shelf inside a shelf.

"Ooh." I was amazed. "A hidden cabinet."

He got a thin letter-sized boo,  he closed the shelf. He examined the book. He showed me the title of the piece in bigger, bold letters at the top of the page. He closed the book and placed it on top of the piano.

What a show off. He would play it from memory of course.

He sat gracefully on the bench, sighed heavily, breathed deeper and slowly for a few times. He placed his hands on the piano keys. A few seconds later, he started to play.

The first tones were calm and soft yet sad and depressing. It felt like the innocent pain when I was a child, aged five or six, and mother would be gone for days. The tune developed in that emotion more.

Then a few notes gave a feeling of happiness, which lifted me up for a bit. But then the sad and lonesome theme of the piece lingered again.

It was like the betrayal of all my siblings, while my mother and father loathed me for a mistake I never did. The music was slow, I freaked out because of the feeling of sadness it caused.

Little sounds of light and joy came back which gave lightness to my misery a bit longer.

Then it all became uncertain. Again.

His blue-green eyes widened and narrowed, his hands stayed relaxed while playing intense tunes. His neck looked soft and smooth–– that resting my face on them would eliminate all doubts and distrust. But the music was giving me loneliness which lingered longer than what I expected.

Soon those hurtful tones stopped.

I hoped for the ending to be happy. It only gave me hope that there will be joy.

Anguished, I enveloped him in a tight hug, to get rid of the sadness and pain. It took longer than I anticipated.

"Why are you doing this?" he sounded unsure of what my answer could be.

I released him and sat beside him at the piano bench.

"It is freaking. Sad. I guess you need a hug." I needed the hug.

"It is supposed to be sad. It is the second movement," he informed me. "It was my favorite."

I nodded, shaken by the experience. It was definite that I wanted to touch him, especially his talented hands. This time I would be forward with it.

"May I hold your hand, again?" I asked slowly.

He nodded. "Absolutely."

He extended one and I took it with both my hands. I looked in his eyes, pleasured in slightly brushing his hands, I smiled.

This was ecstatic. I held it like this was the last time I could possess it. I enjoyed the possibly last moments I would do this.

"What if I want to hold your hands like this forever?"

He was stunned.

🌺 🌺 🌺

Author's note:
This I dedicate to someone
whose hands I wanted to hold
forever.
I-tag taka kuta!
(I could have tagged you!)