the (not so) little prince | pjm

🌠 1

last week. y/n pov. hospital

no. it couldn't be. not today. not now. i clutched my grandfather's hand as his heart rate monitor sped up. he couldn't just die on me.

" grandpa, you can't go! i still need you! " the tears ran down my face as he smiled his same stupid smile. acting as if he weren't seconds away from the end of all ends. he let out a weak, breathy laugh and looked into my eyes.

" remember the little prince i told you of, y/n? " his eyes wrinkled shut as he laughed even more, as if rejoicing in the happiest moment of his life. why does he seem so happy? he only has a few minutes left... and he's laughing.

" y.. yes, i do remember.. they were always so realistic and charming. you're a wonderful storyteller grandpa." i sniffed, using my free hand to wipe away my tears, not wanting to dampen his mood.

" those stories, they aren't figments of my imagination! i met him occasionally when you were small, and i believe he's grown now. " i don't get it. what is he trying to tell me? " y/n, my dear flower, you must listen. the little prince came to me in a time of loneliness and pain... i know he can do the same for you. "

" look in the drawer next to my bed. " he gestured faintly to the dresser next to his hospital bed. " my aviators helmet and jacket are in there. wear the jacket wherever you go, and keep the helmet somewhere safe. "

he clutched my hand and winced in pain, his heart monitor spike significantly, and we both knew it. he was going to die. right here, right now. the tears could no longer stop flowing from my eyes as i held his hand tightly, begging and pleading for him not to go. my loud sobs and the beep of the heart monitor echoed against the dull, white hospital room. a doctor stood there helplessly, knowing he couldn't save the poor old man.

" flower, always know that this old ant loves you. forever and always, even in death. " he closed his eyes gently, the beeping only getting faster. even so, that silly old smile lingering, as if he was making his final joke. " grandpa... i- "

flatline.

present day. y/n pov. y/n's living room

i couldn't stop crying. the tears kept flowing and flowing. no matter how much i wiped away, how much i breathed, how much i tried to think happy thoughts, i cried. what happened to y/n de saint exupéry, the fearless grandkid of a famous aviator? what had turned me into such a hollow shell of myself? was i even the same person anymore?

i uncurled myself from the couch, trying to find another distraction from my misery. i suddenly thought of something, turning around and reaching to look at grandfather's aviation jacket. i threw it on and smiled weakly. " h-he knew how small i was. he knew i wouldn't fit this. " i rolled up the sleeves so that my hand were usable, and just as i finished, i heard my doorbell ring.

" odd, i wasn't expecting anyone. who could it be? " i wiped my eyes and put on my best fake smile, not bothering to take off the ridiculously oversized jacket off. i made my way to the door and opened it slowly. " h-hello, how can i- "

gorgeous. that's what i'd describe him as. what was this gorgeous man doing on my doorstep?

" i was looking for mr. antoine, could you help me? " he spoke in a gentle manner. i couldn't help but admire him.. he had fluffy tussled blonde hair and icy blue eyes that held a galaxy of emotion. he wore a green dress shirt made of silk and black skinny jeans. all of which hugged his form perfectly, slightly being able to tell he had muscle. he also had a yellow ascot, which weirdly, he wore on his wrist.

" miss? " oh god, i must have been staring.

" ah! i-i'm so sorry sir. and who did you say you were looking for? "

" mr. antoine. my friend, he lives here, he said his adult name was antoine de saint exupéry. " grandfather. he was here to see grandfather.

" o-oh... i'm s-sorry to tell y-you... " i tried to hold in tears, as i didn't want to break down in front of the beautiful stranger. " mr. antoine... passed away. who may you be? come on in. " i stepped aside, as he walked into my house.

" ah.. i see. he told me this would happen, silly adult. do you know where y/n is then? "

" that... would be me. and again, who are you? "

" park jimin. but your grandfather liked to call me the little prince. " the little prince...?

it couldn't be. those were just stories... but the blonde hair and the child like aura was there...

" he told me so much about you. " you both said it at the same time. both looking interrogating each other through gazes.

" little prince.. wait, i mean park jimin, why are you here? " i asked. i recall my grandfather saying he'd be here in a time of pain. but why is he here now?

" ah, that... " his expression faltered, his smile getting weaker and his head tilting down slightly, breaking the eye contact.

" my asteroid has crashed, my flower has wilted, and all my friends seem to have disappeared.. "

we sat in silence. my father had relayed stories to me of such things. his vain flower, b-612, and all the friends he met along his way. he must be in so much pain. he doesn't have anyone left, does he? he's lost his home too. i wonder if i could help him? let him stay for a little until he could figure something out.

" i'm so sorry. you could stay here at this house, and i could help out. "

" i could...? " i nodded gently at his inquiry, him looking up and smiling brightly. he had one slightly crooked tooth, but it only added to this boy's charm.

" anything for a friend of grandpa's. there's so much space in this house, and it gets so lonely. "

" thank you y/n. i hope i don't trouble you much. " he slightly blushed, placing his hands in his lap and chuckling nervously, his dulcet tone bringing life and color to every corner of the house.

this dreary and painful life of mine may be brightening.