𝐏𝐎𝐒𝐒𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍

05 | Routines

—

♡

Misunderstandings.

The next morning, there was breakfast in bed. Servants came in with trays stacked to the brim with pancakes drizzled with honey and berries. Y/n had been gratified — and a little embarrassed, if he had to admit — to see that the pancakes had already been cut into small pieces, so he wouldn't have to spend too much effort cutting them. Y/n gave a small piece — a pancake bit pierced by a fork — to the prince, looking expectantly at Isidor.

"Want one?" Y/n offered, still rather drowsy. The blankets were messy — the bed was not yet made, for the occupants were still in it — and the pillows were flattened and soft. Isidor's hair was messy, his eyes slightly dazed as he stirred from his sleep. Isidor had awoken before Y/n, but Y/n could see that the prince was desperately trying not to fall back asleep. He must have a terrible schedule, Y/n thought.

(The prince had been kept awake by the...dreams he was having. Pleasant, but not exactly appropriate.)

Isidor accepted the pancake silently. He didn't bother to take the fork for himself; but instead simply reached forward and ate the pancake from Y/n's hand. Y/n startled; he blinked his eyes in confusion, before relief settled in him. Right, Y/n thought hastily, he was just...it was simply more convenient, after all.

Isidor did not have such innocent thoughts. It wouldn't just be an indirect kiss next time, he swore, the next time would be a direct kiss. A direct press of his lips against Y/n's soft, pink lips— Isidor would explore every inch of his mouth, as Isidor's tongue swept over Y/n's own tongue—

Isidor banished those thoughts from his head. Last night...the dream...it had already been had enough. Isidor had to physically take a few deep breaths before he chided himself for his lack of decorum. But being in such close quarters with Y/n — sleeping with him, technically — it was...

Was it not normal for a person to go into overdrive when their crush was basically intertwined around them? Y/n was the kind of person to snuggle into any kind of warmth — and in the case of poor Isidor (frankly, he was immensely lucky yet he prayed for his self control) — the prince had found Y/n reaching towards him; still deeply asleep, and burying his face into his chest.

Imagine, Isidor thought for the briefest second — imagine Y/n's small mouth wrapped —

Fuck.

"Does your family usually give you breakfast in bed? I heard some chatter downstairs." Isidor asked, before he stabbed a piece of pancake with the fork, feeding it to Y/n. It was his turn to feed Y/n now, and it amused and delighted Isidor greatly to see Y/n open his mouth — for his —

Again. Again.

...This was hard.

"Ah..." Y/n nodded his head. "Yes. I prefer it this way, and besides — there was this one time I got really sick, so I couldn't even make it downstairs. And I suppose even after those times, I never made it out of bed because of my sleepiness. It's new to me too, you know..." He paused. "Having someone here, at my home — to eat breakfast with me."

Isidor's eyes grew soft. "I see."

"It's pleasant," Y/n added. He set down the fork, picking up a berry and popping it into his mouth. "I don't usually eat breakfasts at the academy. It turns into brunches." He wrinkled his nose. Apart from the meals that Isidor was more than happy to provide, the academy food was not to his taste. Frankly speaking, they were designed for the elite; for knights; for the mages, for royalty — and though impeccably cooked, it was too...healthy for Y/n's liking. Yes, Y/n was a picky eater — but to him, textures were finicky and strange. Those few times Y/n had gotten sick, he had been forced to eat watery, sloppy food. And that made the rest of his meals later on in life less than appealing. He had a sweet tooth, and enjoyed cake, chocolates, and ice cream.