Jungkook stood on his veranda, seeing the sun peeking from behind the clouds that thinned out over the days. Feeling the absence of his lover, he wanted to cry, scream and set the world on fire in rebellion, but all he could do was stand elegantly while breathing slowly. 

Two men stood behind him with heads bowed down, one carrying an aluminum tray with a kettle filled with tea. Taking a deep breath, Jungkook extended his hand towards the men and instantly felt the handle of the silver mug handed into his grip. Bringing it to his lips, he could feel the warmth and the strong herbal smell. Being told as a child that drinking a hot beverage helped calm nerves, every time he said goodbye after congregation, he drank cup after cup, but no amount of tea calmed him.

It had been over three weeks since they returned and Hamin went back home with his father. His insides seemed to claw and scratch against his skin. He was afraid of talking about it with anyone, frightened of being judged for his 'bad' reputation for taking a liking to the dark elements.

Unable to complain much, it was all in his head, badgering him. Being a prince, he understood what expectations were above his shoulders. He couldn't get himself to think of a happy ending for himself and it always made him lose his sleep.

"Leave." He mumbled, sipping the tea but tasting nothing.

The dry and barren voice made the two men immediately turn and disappear. The little light that was visible was replaced with a gloomy grey over the clouds. Jungkook often pondered, but he didn't consider himself a sick person, but a deeply unhappy, fucked up entity who was looking for his own peace of mind and failing miserably. He wondered if people have sympathy for every other organ in one's body when they fell sick, why not the brain? 

He didn't cry, but he also found himself crying for a week if somebody stared at him long enough with a questioning pair of eyes, pushing a sinking feeling, eating him up bit by bit and there was nothing he could do except wait for the seven happiest days of his year. Feeling sick and tired for twenty-five hours a day was a constant. 

It wasn't always like this. As he grew more, his thoughts evolved more, but with no direction and any shoulder-to-cry-on, he started losing sleep. He was half-awake, half-asleep all the time, wanting to reach out, but felt like being caged in a place made of frosted glass where he couldn't figure out a way, sick of unending wait.

He missed the way his voice used to sound during practices and used to reach even the highest floor of the castle when he was seven. He missed how he used to harbor his parrot over his sleeves and kept talking about the 'bad' stuff. He missed how he felt less scared with him on his lap when his mother used to argue with his father. Everything was simpler when he made the orange paper boats or kept the feathers in his notebooks. 

He missed the crooked smirk of the guy he had his first crush on. He missed the way he used to arch his eyebrows if he said something funny. He also missed the dead cactus tree and his dirty, yellow, nose-less teddy bear he carried with him to school. He missed sitting by the well and talking to the little fish he couldn't save. That broken wax sculpture with tiny mirrors on it now became all too familiar after he became the embodiment of it. With the looks on the outside, he was capable of bringing anyone to his feet, but on the inside, he didn't know himself anymore. 

Right now, he was also missing Jimin. He couldn't understand why the counselor suddenly bid adieu on only the second day of the congregation. He was jealous and insecure in front of the bizarre-haired man, not wanting him to sway his lover from him. But something about Jimin leaving so suddenly when he talked about staying and helping didn't quite add up.

On top of all that, when the man came to say goodbye, he all but spared any glance at him. The narcissistic side of the crown prince hasn't let him make peace with it ever since. However, he had greater worries and pain so he spent less time thinking about a man whom he'd never see again. 

Walking back into his bed-chamber, he found his eyes marveling at himself in the mirror of the dressing table. He looked flawless, even when his sufferings were astray in his head, gnawing at him. His fingers slid over his button-up shirt and they came undone in a few seconds. The soft silk glided off his upper body. His delicate and long fingers tugged at the pants before they fell down to the rug. 

Jungkook turned around, a hand softly touching the expanse of soft skin from his lower abdomen to his chest as he focused on feeling something, but he couldn't, not like when he did three weeks ago on the same bed. 

Carelessly leaving the clothes on the floor, he walked towards the door and knocked at it. "I need to take a bath, send help." 

Announcing the words and hearing them, he thought about whether he really needed help and leisurely strolled towards the basin. Two men immediately barged in, keeping their eyes on the ground and heads dipped low as though they were on the verge of falling off. They filled the tub with milk, adding lots of petals of roses from a nautical basket they brought with them. 

When they finished and stepped away, Jungkook strutted towards it, keeping his eyes fixed on the mirrors that allowed him to look at his body from every direction. A smirk was on his lips and a gleam of superiority was in his eyes as he gently put his right foot in, balanced himself, and then put the left foot in. The soft and slow splash emerged and doused as the crown prince slowly sat down on the tub, closing his eyes and resting his head on the soft cushion placed right over the tub on the level of his head.

The men now looked up, rushing quickly. One of the attendants took a silk and velvet rug to scrub the body of the prince while the other helped rinse his head. All Jungkook did was imagine the constant happy and wet nights, his erection getting prominent under the opaque, white, liquid. "Softer," his lips let out sweetly as he gulped, closing his phalanges shut to control himself. 

While staying at the school hostel, he lived a very ordinary life like any other kid. He learned a lot of things that any non-royal did, starting from taking baths by himself, making tea, and cleaning his own shoes. His laundry was still taken care of by an attendant who was assigned to live in a quarter near the school hostel. The man brought him necessities and took care of any last-minute chores, buying school supplies. Jungkook sometimes walked with him to the market and saw how the purchasing worked. 

Whenever he returned home on breaks, he admired all the luxury, of not having to do anything, but he always went back, no matter how convenient it was here. He had a reason to always find his way back to school. 

"I want to sleep now, set my clothes on the bed, and leave."

The men obeyed instantly, getting up and wiping the wetness from their clothes as they weren't allowed to use the prince's bathroom for any purpose. Jungkook got out of the tub after a while and thoroughly wiped his wet body with a feathery-soft towel suitable for his skin. 

When he stepped outside, a maroon shirt and pants were laid along with the accessories. Jungkook picked the body butter from the dressing table and raised his right foot to keep it on the edge of the mattress while keeping the left leg afoot on the ground. Bending down, he poured it over his hands, softly rubbing between his palms to finish its coldness before applying it slowly all over his leg. The motion of rubbing was vertical and then he kneaded his skin lightly around the thighs in clockwise circular soft motions. 

Evening out the application of both legs, he continued and applied the butter over his arms. Neck and chest followed soon and then he plopped down on the bed, causing the small piece of accessories to fall haphazardly all over the rug. 

Closing his eyes, his hand now gripped his aching erection, a soft moan ripping free from his soft lips. The voice didn't subside as he let it roar naturally. The prince's eyes fell shut as the wrist slowly started to flick, holding the shaft in a gentle grip. Jungkook always treated his body with tenderness. 

As he tried to think of the penetration, his mind conjured up a dark image and a few silhouettes of a few boys standing on the school terrace while laughing out loud. With a long gasp, he opened his eyes and looked down at his hand, feeling the cock going flaccid and lifeless. 

The prince grabbed the collar of the maroon cotton shirt and wore it quickly. In the next moment, he was in full clothes and walking bare feet with hair still dripping water towards his father's study. 

When the king looked at his son, he closed the book he was studying and patted the diwan. Jungkook slumped on it with a bit of weight that was more than required and pouted. "I want to travel, father. I need you to please arrange it."

"You know I can't allow that," Jeon Sun-Young outrightly denied the request. 

"Why?" Jungkook's face showed dismay and also defense. "There is hardly anyone from the kingdom who has seen me in my youth. No one would recognize me. I can dress meagerly and blend in with those poor people. 

"Underprivileged," the king raised his finger, correcting the son. "Besides, my boy can never look ordinary, no matter what."

Jungkook had adorned the same color of that as his clothes on his cheeks at the compliment. 

"Appa, please?" Jungkook begged. The desperation and the sincerity were sheerly paramount.

The king thought of something as he keenly scrutinized his boy. "How many days?" He at last asked.

"Two months?" Jungkook beamed while softening his eyes.

"One month with two guards accompanying you at all times."

"Okay, we have a deal," Jungkook immediately pulled his father into a hug. One month was more than he could have bargained for. He wasn't sure how he would end up saying months in place of weeks. Nonetheless, it caused a spasm of jubilance to burst through his heart. All he had to do was to get rid of the guards which, either way, he knew wouldn't impose on his plans in any way. "I leave in two days."

"No," as Jungkook stood up and began to hop his way out, the king's voice made his smile scrub off and he groaned, not wanting to wait a moment longer than required, already imagining being hugged in the arms of his lover. "You need to allow me a week so I can arrange everything for you."

"But father-"

The king tutted, stopping Jungkook from saying another word while raising his brows. 

"Fine. Do what you want to. I will be ready."

Once Jungkook departed from the study, the king immediately pulled out a royal envelope and a pen, quickly writing down a few things he needed to communicate with Jimin. Finishing the letter, he sealed it with a golden wax seal. 

Walking out, he handed it to the first guard his eyes fell on. "Leave this instant and deliver it to only Park Jimin."

As the messenger bowed and scurried away, the king recollected the conversation he had with Jimin and his little request. The handsome counselor asked for a few travel and stay arrangements for the next few months and he promised that once he returned to the castle, he would come back with all the answers the king had for him. The man asked to be trusted and he vowed to protect the privacy of the royal family with his last breath.

The only bizarre request he made had the king pondering over it for days. If Jungkook went to meet anyone or if anyone came to meet Jungkook, Jimin wanted to be the first one to know about it.