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once upon a time
the first time Jin meets the prince's eyes across the ballroom, he writes it off as an accident. there's hundreds of people here, dozens of women swirling in rich gowns and glittering masks, and Jin has done his best to make himself invisible.
of course, he'd borrowed his outfit from Yoongi, which means the rich blue silk is at least as expensive as everyone else's, but-well, he's tried. his mask is black, with barely any decoration; he's pressed into a corner, content to stand with a crystalline flask of something light and sweet and bubbly and just watch. it fizzes against the back of his throat in a way that feels like a secret, as the shining courtiers pass him by and the prince's gaze flicks over to him once. twice.
if his father knew he was here, he'd have Jin scrubbing floors until his hands bled. if any one of the courtiers suspects anything, questions him-it would be worse. Jin tries not to tug at his tight collar, and glances away from the violet sash draped elegantly over the crown prince's chest.
the prince stops looking, turns back to the conversation at hand, and for a moment Jin lets the party sweep him away again. he's danced once, with a slight, barely-noble girl who'd giggled the whole time before being dragged back into a small swarm of her friends. just the one is enough to have Jin's chest feeling light and happy and free, the back of his hand tingling a little where she'd kissed him
he's no longer afraid someone will recognize him and drag him to the stocks or the dungeons or even just back to the kitchens, where he'll get flour and soot all over Yoongi's nice clothing, but there's still the peculiar feeling of being out of place. the music is soothing, not overly loud, and the courtesan's faces under their masks are sweet and delicate, and Jin feels awkward and silly with his rough palms and kitchen boy manners. dancing had been fun, but watching is almost as good, when he feels so clumsy.
as his eyes sweep over the dance floor again, then past that to the small throng of people surrounding the dais, Jin isn't surprised to find the prince missing, another conversation abandoned. the evening is winding down, but the prince has been on and off the dance floor, never with the same woman twice-he does it more for the dance, Jin thinks, than the company.
Jin is scanning the dance floor, struck with a pointless sort of curiosity, when he feels the tap on his shoulder.
"may i have this dance?" someone asks, voice lilting and sweet, and Jin turns, and the champagne curdles into stones of fear heavy in the pit of his stomach.
the prince stands with one gloved hand extended, a small smile lifting the corners of his lips. behind his mask, his eyes are dark and warm, and Jin gapes with his mouth open as a servant-the prince's valet, smirking lightly-gently lifts the glass from his fingers.
the people around them are staring. Jin's mouth is still open slightly, fingers clutching thin air. the prince's smile widens, almost imperceptibly.
