Golden Hour | Mark Lee

5

You were taken aback by the sincerity held in the prince's dark eyes, feeling as if he was looking right through you, exposing all your secrets and dreams and desires.

"Careful, Mark." you replied, tearing your eyes from his. "Words like those could be easily misinterpreted."

He frowned, catching his bottom lip gently between his teeth. "I think you know what I meant." he whispered softly. "I've been hinting at it for too long, Y/N."

What?

You shook your head. "I don't understand."

He didn't answer you, simply drew you closer, until your head was resting on his chest. You could hear his heartbeat fluttering faintly beneath his clothes, and you closed your eyes and surrendered to the gentle rhythm.

After the song ended, you were drawn away from Mark, girls pushing you apart, eager for their portion of the prince's time. He gave you an apologetic glance, and you smiled, nodding slightly, before vanishing from the crowd into the shadows into a passage outside the ballroom.

It was dark, barely lit, and not a soul around. You leaned against the wall, slipping your hand inside your dress to press your palm against your chest, feeling the rapid pulse of your heart against your skin. Mark had an odd effect on you, you'd realized, in a way no boy had ever done before. He made your heart race, your cheeks burn, your palms sweaty, and when he was in the room your eyes were always instantly drawn to his figure. Mark Lee was your entire world, and you were terrified of what that meant for the both of you.

And within just a few minutes, it proved to be the most dangerous thing in the entire castle, more dangerous than poison, more dangerous than the scratchy rope of a noose around one's neck, as Mark suddenly appeared in the hallway. He strode towards you, and you barely had time to open your mouth before his lips met your own.

In your shock, he pushed you back against the wall, his knee pinned to the stone between your legs, and his hand firmly gripping your hip. It took a sharp squeeze of his fingers against your hipbone for you to snap out of your daze, and for you to finally kiss him back.

Mark wasn't a gentle kisser-at least, not then. His kisses were messy and open-mouthed and desperate, as if he couldn't wait to get a taste of your lips. They were hot, traveling dangerously down your spine and burning your skin wherever his mouth fell, whenever his tongue brushed against your own. He groaned against your mouth, a low, almost anguished sound, and then he pulled away, his chest heaving, lips swollen.

And you already knew what was coming, from Mark's tormented, soft brown eyes, the crease between his brows, and because you'd been thinking the exact same thing he had, and somebody had to say it, to end it.

"That was a mistake." he whispered, his voice hoarse, cracking at the end. "I'm so sorry, I shouldn't have done that. Y/N, I'm so sorry, we can't."

"I know." you replied, and you forced yourself to look him in the eyes, to ignore the tingling in your lips. "I know we can't, Mark. It's okay."

And then, to your horror, Mark began to cry. Slowly, tears welling up in his eyes, just the slightest wateriness, until one spilled over, marking a trail down his smooth, flawless skin.

"I want to so bad, Y/N. You don't understand, I've wanted to for so long. I couldn't wait any longer."

"I know, Mark. Me too."

Mark was running his fingers through his hair, and you jumped forward as the golden circlet resting on his head slipped off, grabbing Mark's arm for stability and catching it with the tips of your fingers. You stood back, feeling the cold metal against your skin, the dim light reflecting off the warmness of the gold, and casting a small sliver of golden light across your face.

"Don't let this fall." you whispered, and tenderly placed the circlet back to its place on top of the prince's head. "It's bad luck."

Mark stared at you, an anguished expression plastered upon his face. "I don't know what to do." he said softly.

"There's nothing to do." you replied simply. "We're friends, aren't we? We just keep going."

And that was the end of it, the only thing remnant of that night being the shadow of guilt passing across Mark's face, his regret for changing everything in the matter of mere seconds, just because of an uncontrollable urge to release his pent-up emotions and aching feelings. And you, the shock from realizing the prince's feelings in the few seconds his mouth was pressed up against yours, his chest heaving against yours, staining your mind and tainting your visions in the dead of night.

And oh, how it hurt, not to be by his side, to feel that unrelenting distance stretching between the two of you, the unspoken agreement to give each other time, just because of a single, reckless action. You still talked, you were still friends, but now there was a tangible restraint between the two of you, an emotional distance that you didn't know how to recover from.