The Prince's Tale (Suho and chorong)

Tranquility

"Beautiful, beautiful mmmhhmm...." I hummed quietly as I stirred the contents in the pan. Lowering the gas, I quickly washed the dishes and tied my hair back into a messy bun. Luckily, I had already cut the vegetables without my hair getting in the way but right now it really was irritating me. I peered my way through my fringes to look at my favourite tea pot clock which revealed that it was almost seven. That meant that he would be here in fifteen minutes. WAIT- I dropped the dish that I was tending to as my eyes wrenched to the clock again. I really had to hurry because this was to be the first time the Prince would eat something prepared by me.

"Calm down Cho... calm down." I muttered to myself again feeling the presence of someone entering the kitchen. "Miss, I really think it will be a good idea if I help you." My eyes fluttered open to that of the chef with his wide smile and chubby, wrinkled cheeks. Wiping my hands on my apron, I quickly ushered him out of the kitchen convincing him that I was capable of making a meal myself. After all, I was only making two dishes of food. Don't get me wrong, I really do know how to cook traditional meals which made my mother beam with pride- but clearly not so much under pressure. Taking my fringes in my hands, I watched as the pan full of soup finally looked like it had been cooked. My mouth watered looking at it, as I lifted the lid of my second dish- not so much a main course but rather a desert inspired by Indian rice pudding.

Footsteps approach me and I can't help but feel irritated at the chef who had come in five times already asking to help me. "Please, please leave me alone." I grunted and immediately regretted my words as the familiar scent of the Prince wafted into my nose. I turn and scream. His face was bent low right next to mine and my eyes instantly look towards his lips. He leans in closer and internally screaming, I remain rooted in my position. My eyes close shut as his nose traces my cheek and I feel my hair let loose around my neck.

"Is this your fragrance, or is something delicious cooking here." My eyes perk open to his smirk as the corner of his lips match near mine. I shift in the little space I have and glide awkwardly side wards. His arm blocks my exit and I turn the other way in an attempt to escape. Unsurprisingly, I find myself trapped in between the cooker behind me and the.... The Prince in front of me. "Son, what are you- oh" His head snapped to the direction of his father as my neck craned to hide my embarrassment at the position in which Abbonim found us. I pushed the Prince and bowed at his father who scratched his head and nodded in acknowledgement before walking off in a daze.

I turned to him with my eyes wide open to find that he was also scratching his head, looking at the pots with interest. "Hungry? I made some food for you." I looked up to his eyes which softened with emotion as I lifted the lid of the rice pudding. Grabbing a bowl, I poured some pudding and handed it to him to taste. I watched intently as he put the pistachio nuts aside- mentally face palming myself for not knowing that he doesn't like them. I found myself analysing each step he took whilst eating, from the spoon entering his mouth to the way his jaws moved rhythmically when chewing. My fingers unconsciously travelled to his lips to wipe off the piece of rice stuck there as I felt his fingers rise and intertwine with mine as he drew me closer murmuring "it's something I've never eaten, so for a first time I count this as delicious." I pout at him with my eyebrows raised, clearly indicating that he shouldn't say it just because he has to. He shakes his head about to reply when "Son, are you going to come out of the kitchen or?"

I watch the bowls of food being laid upon the table as he settles into a chair opposite my father. He shuffles awkwardly not sure of what to do and I find myself giggling whilst watching him from the balcony above the dining room. I suppose he hears for our eyes meet and he raises his eyebrows and motions them towards the empty seat next to him. I shake my head in an attempt to tell him I've already eaten- though he'll find out later that I haven't when I join him. My mother joins them and asks for them to start the meal. He squints up at me again and whilst covering his hand with the other, gestures which one is the one I prepared. I point to the vegetable soup and he does the same but to the dish three bowls away from it. I shake my head and his hand glides to the one next to it and I shake my head again and nod when his finger points to the soup. My father clears his throat and I hide from view, skipping to the stairs as he takes a sip and cheers his spoon silently at me as I reach the bottom of the staircase.