eldia

20 | city of stars

Jean couldn't really explain what he felt in this particular moment. He cranes his neck to look back at the castle you both slowly stray away from.

He had always thought the castle back home that he was so lucky enough to spend most of his time in, was the biggest he'd ever see. It almost pained him to walk away from one three times the size.

He didn't realize how his twisted posture dragged his weight and slowed his pace until he saw how many steps ahead of him you were.

When he looked forward, he only saw the back of your head. He tried to picture how your face looked on the other side, but he honestly couldn't quite tie the image down.

"Hey." He calls out to you.

You turn your head to look back at him. You say nothing.

That's not a good sign.

"You okay?" He asks, his eyes intently watching the way yours avoid his. Your head turns forward again and no noise comes from you except the heels of your shoes toppling over the loose gravel beneath you.

He figured you'd atleast lie. Whenever anyone asked if you were okay, you would always, no matter what, say yes. You'd smile brightly and say something along the lines of, "I'm great!" or "Of course. I'm just tired."

Even when he knew damn well there was something bothering you, you'd never admit it. He knew that from experience. It was the "princess" in you to lie and cover it up.

But was this a sign of you no longer caring to cover it up? Were you so comfortable to the point where you felt you couldn't hide it from him anymore? Or maybe no longer wanted to.

"It's okay to not be okay." He reminds you.

You turn, your mouth forming the sentence that never gets to come out because a ball flies right at your ankle. A beat-to-death soccer ball now rests by your foot.

"Be careful Gabi!" A blonde boy yells. "You almost hit her!"

A brunette girl, probably the same age as the blonde, comes running up to the two of you to collect the ball. "Sorry! I didn't realize I could kick that far."

She kneels down to pick up the ball and then looks up at you. "Whoa." She breathes. "You're even prettier up close."

You smile, a real one at that. A relief to Jean. "Thank you." You reply. "Although, you're much prettier."

The brunette girl who Jean assumes is named Gabi, waves over the rest of her friends. The blonde boy rushes over with two other kids the same age. One girl whose hair was almost like an ash blonde color and another boy with dark hair and glasses.

The boy with glasses pushes the lens on his face further up his nose. "We saw you leaving the castle. Are you a princess?"

Ah. So that's why the ball hit you. It was an excuse for them to come over and question you.

"She sure looks like one." The blonde girl, Zofia, says with stars in her eyes. Gabi frowns and points at the boots hugging at your feet. "Look at what she's wearing. Princesses don't dress like that."

Falco, the blonde boy, elbows her. "Don't be rude. What if she really is a princess but from a poor country or something?"

Instead of being insulted like many might've been in your situation, you laugh and squat down to be at their level. "I'm unfortunately not a princess." You lie straight through your teeth.

Jean felt a sense of relief when he heard you deny the very true accusation of being a princess. Telling a bunch of hyper-active children, who willingly come up to strangers, that you're a princess undercover was a sure fire way to ruin the entire plan.