My Enemy, My Love

ℭ𝔥𝔞𝔭𝔱𝔢𝔯 𝔖𝔢𝔳𝔢𝔫

Prince Luka [Jimmy]

As I knelt before Thyme, I felt something stir inside, a strange mixture of satisfaction and confusion. Watching him -- eyes wet, lips tight in stubborn resistance -- it was almost too good. He looked like he wanted to disappear, cheeks flushed with embarrassment or anger, I couldn't tell. But I was enjoying this, watching the heir to Bangkok brought low, even as I felt an odd twinge of something incomprehensible somewhere beneath the amusement. I had found him like this before in school -- crying, hiding -- but that night was different.

Deep down, I didn't want to see him cry. 

"Go on, then," I murmured, reaching out to wipe away the tears. "Cry all you want, Your Highness. I'm sure the court would love to see this side of you."

His response was immediate. "Just leave," he muttered, voice hoarse but steady, swatting my hand away with a force I hadn't expected. "I don't need your... mockery."

My hand hovered in the air for a second before I pulled it back. "Mockery?" I raised an eyebrow, allowing myself a smirk. "I'm only offering a bit of... comfort."

He pushed himself up in a rush, eyes refusing to meet mine as he stumbled backward, brushing off his clothes like my touch left a stain. Then he tried to run, but instinct overpowered me; I caught his wrist in one quick move and yanked him back. He stumbled, colliding into my chest, and for a split second, we were too close -- close enough that I could feel his breath against my collar, see the vulnerability he was so desperately trying to hide.

"Let go of me," he said, voice barely above a whisper, his free hand clenching at his side.

"Or what?" I leaned in slightly, a challenge in my gaze, feeling my pulse spike.

But he broke away, slipping from my grip, his cheeks blooming with a fierce blush as he turned his face away. "Just... don't," he stammered, regaining his cold demeanor, though his expression was softer somehow. "I don't need anything from you."

I crossed my arms, watching him with a feigned indifference I barely felt. "Are you sure? You look like you could use all the help you can get."

"I don't want help from you," he shot back, bitterness edging into his tone. "In fact, you're the last person I'd ever want it from."

The words stung, oddly enough. They shouldn't have -- I'd earned that response, after all. But something about the way he said it twisted the enjoyment I'd felt moments before into something else. I watched him storm off, part of me wanting to leave him alone, but another part -- it was more than curiosity that pulled me along behind him, as he made his way down the hall and into the palace library.

"Can you please just fuck off, Luka?" he hissed, turning to me as soon as we entered. "I've had enough of you for one lifetime."

I shrugged, unperturbed. "I was just curious about this place," I said, letting my eyes drift over the grand bookshelves that towered from floor to ceiling. "Magnificent library. When was it built?"

He frowned, thrown off guard. "It... it was commissioned over a century ago, when the palace was rebuilt," he muttered, his irritation only partially hiding the hint of pride. "The Queen herself asked for it."

"She had good taste." I let my fingers trail along the edge of one of the shelves. "Do you come here often?"

"Why do you care?" His tone softened, caught somewhere between distrust and confusion.

"Maybe I'm interested in the place. Or maybe I'm interested in you, Thyme," I said lightly, trying to gauge his reaction.

He let out a sharp breath, his shoulders stiffening. "You've never been interested in anything besides getting under my skin."