and here we are (again and again and again)

1893: Life 77

***This fic is also on Ao3 and Quotev, just in case you're interested. Thank you for reading and I promise it has a happy ending!***

Minho is definitely sure that he's never seen him before, he's never even been in this country before, and he's certain he has never seen him in any other country, because why would he be there, he's the prince here. Prince Newton is nothing like anything Minho expected him to be; his eyes are icy blue but warm and kind, and Minho is simply dazzled by the way the prince's stoic expression is interrupted by the almost imperceptible lilt of his lips, the hint of an honest, humble smirk. 

Minho is a simple servant, as much as he hates it. He is the one to bring the prince his dinner and smooth out his bed sheets and toss rose petals on the ground His Highness walks upon. Okay, the part about the rose petals is a slight exaggeration, but Minho is just waiting for the order. 

Minho is handed a silver platter with a hearty breakfast laid out on it, along with tea, of course, at eight o'clock in the morning, the time Minho usually goes to bed. His schedule had needed drastic adjustments, but at the time, he had also needed appropriate living arrangements. 

Minho takes the breakfast up to the prince, keeping his head down and trying to avoid thinking about how good the food looks ( he hasn't eaten because who actually wakes up this early). He knocks quietly on the door to Prince Newton's quarters. He gets in return a loud groan, an even louder thump, and a glimpse of the prince unprepared.

"Too bloody early to be doing anything," the blond grumbles. With a rub of his eyes, he adds, "Come in. Put the breakfast on the table, thanks." 

Minho finds that he has to catch his breath because if he thought that the prince was gorgeous from his original glance, he isn't sure how to classify this type of beauty. The boy (around Minho's age, somehow) has an incredible example of bed hair atop his head, a bright shade of blond, tousled and rumpled as the clothes he wore to bed the night previous. There is an indentation from either the sheets or pillows across his left cheek, his eyes are swollen and half-closed, and his shoulders are slumped with the remnants of sleep still lingering. 

Minho, already prepped for his very first day on the job, places the breakfast on the table as directed and begins changing the sheets on the rather large four-poster bed belonging to the prince. 

Prince Newton removes himself from the room to change, barely closing the door to the bathroom as he goes. He calls, "I'm supposed to apologize for my appearance and all that, but honestly, you seem as tired as I am." 

Minho bites back his instinctual conversational tendencies and says, "Yes, Your Highness." 

The prince groans. "It's too early for that. I just want to eat in peace and get a nap in before my father forces me to interact with other members of my family." 

Minho smirks to himself, finding that he could be serving a much more intolerable prince. Daring as he is, he puts his job at stake by making conversation. "Don't like 'em much?"

The prince, still in his bathroom, sighs. "No. I don't. I wish I did."

"Why?"

"Why don't I like them, or why do I wish I did?"

"Both."

"I don't like them because they're uptight and rude. I wish I liked them because then they would like me, and it would all be easy. Terrible. But easy." 

Minho begins stretching the new sheet across the mattress. "How can they not like you?"

"They think I'm a bloody lunatic for caring." A scoff resonates from the other room. "Isn't that what I'm supposed to do?"