Bright was standing as straight and as tall as he could muster. He knew better than to hunch over or worse to sit on the grass. Anything less than perfect posture would embarrass his parents and by extension the Kingdom.
But the young Prince was hating every minute he had to stand ramrod straight. For one thing, his left leg was starting to itch. For another, he was deathly bored.
His eyes were the only parts of his body free to move and he was looking every which way in the hopes of seeing anything interesting.
That's when he sees him.
A young boy who was perhaps his age signaling for him to come over.
Bright very slowly looks around him to make sure that the boy was truly calling to him. When his eyes glance back at the boy, he was rolling his eyes and mouthing "YOU!"
Bright wanted nothing else but to run towards the young boy - he looked like he was the only person having fun at this gathering. His hair was tousled and blowing freely in the wind, his eyes filled with mischief, beads of sweat dotting his pink cheeks and in his hand a big blue kite.
But Bright wasn't allowed to just do what he wanted. His guards and advisers would have to be consulted and he doubted they'd approve.
So he shook his head no.
He did it with a heavy heart.
The boy shrugged and began running in an effort to raise his kite to the sky.
Bright held back a sigh of longing.
What he'd give to be as carefree as that boy.
But before he could wallow in his misery, something lands on his feet.
The royal guard nearest him turns, ready to attack. But all it was was a kite. A blue kite.
The guard motions to pick it up. But Bright stops him. "I will return the kite. I trust that if things go wrong , the royal guards can handle a twelve-year-old."
"Of course Your Higness," the guard says, giving a salute.
Bright picks up the kite and walks over to the boy who was grinning widely at him - and you could tell from the curve of his lips that he had tricks up his sleeves.
Finding out what those tricks were, was a very very bad idea. But Bright was too curious now to care.
He stretches his arm forward, kite secure in his fist - a motion of returning the kite. The young boy stretches his arm forward as well as if to receive what was being given - but in a blink of an eye, he grabs Bright's wrist and runs instead.
Bright is caught off guard and almost stumbles but he finds himself running to keep up, allowing the boy to pull him wherever he pleased.
He was giggling now, a sound he rarely makes. The boy glances at him briefly and starts to laugh as well.
They don't stop running until they are in the part of the gardens near the lake. There was a soft breeze here. And the tall trees around them cast big shadows, making the heat of the sun bearable.
They don't talk. Instead they wordlessly fix the kite together and take turns running to make it fly. It takes them so many tries before they could get it off the ground.
When it does, The Boy high fives Bright. But the prince thinks it's a handshake and so their hands collide so awkwardly.
That makes them laugh. They laugh until they run out of breath. Then they run until the inevitable happens and the kite snags on a tree.
"I could climb the tree and get it," Bright offers.
Instead The Boy plops down on the grass and pulls on Bright's arm. "Let's sit down."
"But your kite - "
"We can get it later. Or I can just make a new one. No biggie."
Bright hesitates for a brief moment, uneasy about an unfinished task. But after a few seconds, he sits.
They quietly catch their breath. The Boy fishes out a couple of candies from his pocket and they eat them greedily.
"I haven't seen you around here before," Bright says, breaking the silence.
"My father usually attends Palace meetings by himself. I was surprised that he brought me today."
"I wish my father would attend meetings by himself," Bright said wistfully. "I always have to go."
"Do you know what they meet about?"
"Today, it's peace treaties. And well, my betrothal."
"Bet? What?"
"Betrothal. That means they are deciding who I'll marry when I grow up."
"They can choose anyone?," The Boy asks, incredulous.
"Well, they have to be a royal."
The Boy scratches his chin thoughtfully. "Are viscounts royal?"
Bright nods. "Yes."
"Then maybe you're going to marry me someday."
Bright looks at him quizzically. "You?"
"Don't look so freaked out!"
"I'm not freaked out. I just don't know if that's allowed."
"You said the only rule was they had to pick a royal."
Bright pauses. That was true. There was no other rule except that - the monarchy could choose anyone, regardless of position or gender.
"You're right," Bright finally says, slowly. "But what makes you think they're choosing you? There are so many royals. I can't keep track anymore."
The Boy shrugs. "Why would my father bring me here today? He usually spends as little time with me as possible. It makes sense if that's the reason."
"I am sorry. That sounds awful."
"Being chosen?"
"Your father not spending time with you."
"Nah. It's not so bad."
The Boy gets up and edges closer to the lake as if to end the topic at hand. He begins to skip pebbles on the water, disturbing the smooth surface.
Bright approaches him and watches.
The Boy hands him a pebble and soon they are in competition.
They are laughing again, pushing each other with each other's shoulders, and distracting each other with silly faces.
Bright was no longer sure of the score when they plop back down on the grass, bellies aching with laughter. He thinks The Boy won but he really couldn't tell.
"When do you think we'll marry?," Bright asks - surprising even himself with his question.
"Your the one who knows the rules. I didn't even know what a betrothal was until you told me."
"Do you think we'd get to hang out before having a wedding?"
"I hope so. I mean how do we plan it if we don't meet, right? Like how would I know what kind of cake you wanted?"
"There are dances and ceremonies we need to practice too. So yeah, they would probably want us to hang out to make sure we know all of it." Bright smiles. He was feeling better about today. The betrothal seemed boring and stifling just an hour ago but The Boy was making him feel excited for it.
"Do you think- nah probably not."
Bright looks at The Boy whose ears were inexplicably turning red. "What is it?," Bright asks.
"Don't laugh."
"I won't laugh," Bright promises in his most adult voice - the one he uses when talking to heads of state.
"Do you think we'd need to practice kissing?"
"Kissing?," young Prince Bright repeats, his voice climbing an octave.
"Don't laugh, okay? I have never kissed anyone. And I've seen in movies that people kiss in weddings. So...I wonder if people practice that? Or they wing it on their wedding?"
Bright wasn't laughing. In fact, he wasn't doing anything but keeping still. The thought of kissing...of even practicing a kiss...it made his heart feel five times bigger, he swears he could hear it pounding.
"You think I'm a weirdo, don't you?," The Boy sighs. "You have probably kissed a lot of people. You are probably very popular."
Bright shakes his head. "I...I also need practice."
Bright musters the courage to look up. The Boy glances upwards too.
Their eyes lock. And everything seems to grow quiet.
Bright didn't notice until now how closely they were seated to each other. So close that he could see the faint mole under The Boy's cheekbone, less than an inch away from The Boy's lips.
As if operating without his permission, Bright gently touches the mole with his finger.
The Boy's eyes widen in surprise but he doesn't move away.
"When should we practice?," Bright finds himself asking.
"Isn't it too early to make a schedule?," The Boy kids but he doesn't break their stare.
"I like schedules," Bright replies, wanting to put his whole palm on The Boy's warm cheek.
But he didn't get to do that.
Because his advisers arrived along with his guards. He was in trouble and he knew it. The adults don't even pay The Boy any attention, instead they don't stop talking as they rushed Bright back to the gathering.
Bright looks back helplessly at The Boy who was looking at him with amused pity.
"I'll see you soon, okay?," The Boy says as Bright was practically dragged away.
"Yes!," Bright calls out as loudly as he can.
Except he never saw The Boy again.
It turns out, he was betrothed to Dara Kittiyangkul not some young mischievous viscount.
It has been more than a decade.
Sometimes Bright wonders if he imagined The Boy. Except, he still had the blue kite he rescued from the tree - and he didn't want to admit it but he keeps it in the hopes that he could still return it someday. Maybe then he could finally ask for The Boy's name.
- - -
Author's Note:
Sing it with me now:
I have died every day waiting for you
Darling, don't be afraid
I have loved you for a thousand years
I'll love you for a thousand more
And all along I believed I would find you
Time has brought your heart to me
I have loved you for a thousand years
I'll love you for a thousand more
One step closer