The banquet hall was busy for breakfast. It wasn't this packed normally, and Aladin really wondered why. The extravagant food was still there, yes, but it was not like that has been a new addition. There was nothing new.

"Hello." Aladin looks up from his foods. He raises his eyebrows to see Florante there, his hair wet and his cheeks pink. Fresh from a jog, it seems.

"Yes?" He can't help but blush when Florante slides into the seat next to him. He was still sitting alone in his usual table, and so many people turned to look at them both curiously.

Oh.

That was what's new.

Florante never ate in the Banquet Hall. He said he very much preferred the comfort of the kitchens or the small little dining area in his room.

Everyone found out that the son of Duke Briseo himself would be eating here, and now everyone wanted a glance. Aladin could understand that, but that did not mean he liked it.

"We will always eat together now, sorry." Florante steals a berry from Aladin's plate, but he doesn't try to stop him. "I like trailing you around."

Aladin caught himself smiling. "Why?" he mused.

Florante was grinning right back at him. He pushed Aladin's hair back in the way he did, tucking it behind his ear. He was such a touchy boy. "I want to."

He tilted his head to the right, mimicking Florante's habit. "Why?"

"Must there be a reason for everything?" he groaned playfully. He pinched Aladin's cheek, and now everyone in the banquet hall was looking at them. But Aladin didn't care. What he did care about was two of Florante's hands—one on his cheek and the other on his knee.

By this point, Aladin was worried if he would be caught swooning like a fool.

"It gives meaning to our lives," he chided softly.

"But what is the definition of everything?" Florante teased back. "It is too broad of a topic." He withdrew his hand. But Aladin did not mind so much because he was still looking at him in that way. The look that made him feel special.

"Try me."

"Why does the sun rise?"

"To start a new day."

"What is the definition of a day if there is no sun?"

"Night."

"Why must time exist?"

Aladin thought about that, but only briefly. Because the answer was on top the tip of his tongue. "So we can remember moments like this. Time helps."

Florante rolled his eyes. But he winked when he caught Aladin staring.

Cheeky Golden Boy.

Ugh.

"You avoid the first question," Aladin reminded. "You do not have to pity me. You may sit with your other friends."

"You are my friend."

"Florante."

He smiled. "I do not pity you. I want to sit here."

"Why?"

"Here we go again."

Aladin shoved him gently.

~

Aladin did not trust his capability to write songs. But Florante know accompanied him everywhere he went, and that meant the music room as well. With his lyrical talent and Aladin's thing with melodies, it was a good team.

Being here with him was the most fun he'd ever had. ((an: dan and phil? anyone?))

Aladin smiled while Florante tried to strum the lyre the way he did. "Do not be so rough with it," he said. "It is an instrument, you know."

Florante poured at him. "I cannot seem to get it right."

He reached for his hands. Aladin carefully set his fingers the correct way, easing away tension gradually to achieve the right tunes. But Florante was still so stiff, especially with his arms and his shoulders. Aladin tentatively brushed his fingers up and down his arm to relax him.

Although, he was never really the one engaging the comforting. The touching and the soothing. He wasn't good at that. So this was new. And he mostly felt shy about it.

Really shy. Like he should stop.

But Florante grinned.

His lips were pulled wide, almost showing teeth. The smile reached his eyes.

Aladin felt lightheaded. But the tension shooed away from a Florante's limbs.

"Gently," he squeaked. Florante began to strum again, and the sounds were not harsh to the ears.

Music.

And then Florante was singing something. A song Aladin could not recognize. His voice was beautiful—but because it was him, he made his melodies sound like the most wonderful thing in the entire world. Golden and true and thriving with life.

He sang of nature. Of distant oceans and nearby valleys, of faraway stars and entirely different galaxies. Florante smiled and then he was singing of the gems in the caves and the unknown continents of afar, of a God in Heaven and a love for the unclimbable mountains.

But Aladin did not need any of that.

Florante was enough.

He was enough.

They were enough.

"I love your voice," Aladin complimented softly when he was finished.

Florante scoffed, but it was all so polite. He was so nice, like his heart was pure and light.

People like him still exist.

People like him.

But this one is for me. And I could not be anymore luckier.

"I sound like a crow."

"A nice sounding crow, do not worry."

"You are too kind."

"Same to you."

He smiled. He moved away from the instrument, looking at Aladin with thoughtful green eyes. He could never get enough of staring at him. Such a unique and absolutely different and completely dashing shade of green.

"Can you sing?"

Aladin blinked. "Sing?"

"Yes," Florante said almost sheepishly. "Please?"

Aladin blushed. He cleared his throat. "Er, I am. . . good."

"You lie to me?"

Aladin stuck out his tongue. Florante pinched his cheek, and the affection there was so plainly stated that Aladin could not turn away.

Affection.

"I have never been this close to anyone," Florante murmured. He cupped Aladin's cheek, thumb moving in small little circles. His eyes fluttered close. Savoring. Savoring what he had. What this was. Because it was enough. "I have known you for months. But why does your existence feel like it has completed my lifetime?"

Aladin hummed appreciatively. How could Florante just do this for him? This Golden Boy with the soft hands the light curls that caught the sun. This boy with the rose colored cheeks and the loud laugh. This boy who just. . . was there.

That hum led to a song.

It was a folk song they sang in Persia. And Aladin did not if his voice was good or tragic, but he strummed. He sang. He lowered and deepened his voice to the tune.

Aladin realized it was a song of courtship.

And Florante just kept smiling.

Because he knew, too.

Aladin was blushing madly when he finished. He cleared his throat.

"I did not—I really did—"

Florante did the most unexpected thing.

Aladin stayed still when he leaned in, their noses touching. And they were so close he waited for his lips. It was embarrassing to admit, even to himself. Because they were young and they were both boys and his father already hated him as much as he did but—

This was Florante,

"I know what you mean," Florante said. And then he pulled away.

Aladin gulped. "Yes."

Florante eased back in his chair, his feet touching Aladin's. "We should write a song together."

"Oh?"

"Yes." He looked around for parchment and pen. When he found them, he sat back down. "We should."

"Why?"

"To capture today. So we may sing about today."

Aladin smiled.

~

He wrote songs now, ever since that day. It has been more months. It has been more time. It has been more of their lifetime spent in each other's presence.

Aladin hid them underneath his mattress.

And they were songs about Florante, written without shame.

They were songs written when he was alone. When he was in the comfort of night and before Florante came for his periodic "checkup".

They were songs.

Fine—they were love songs. His favorites were called "Golden Heart", "War of Us", and "Do Not Pity Thee".

Aladin sighed and blew out the candle. It was moments before Florante would come in, and he had to hide this. This . . . thing.

The songs.

The poems.

The infatuation.

The . . . the thing.

~

Aladin could not stop writing. He caught himself describing the things around him. He caught himself deciphering his feelings. He caught himself staring at Florsnte when they were both alone.

It is confusing.

It is confusing to want him.

"Aladiiiin," Florante whined. He was eagle spread on Aladin's bed, whining about things. Certain things.

Aladin had to marvel at how much his body was beginning to change. He turned thirteen a few weeks back, and the awkward stage has been coming for them both. Long limbs. Scratchy voice.

But Florante was maturing nicely. Smoothly.

Aladin? Oh, dear. Not so much,

"Yes?" He looked up from his writing desk.

"Come here."

"I am busy."

"Busy enough for me?"

"We spend every waking moment together." And that made Aladin smile. Because it was true. To the sparring grounds to the woods and to either of their rooms—they were together.

It was enough.

But he wanted more.

But he had to convince himself—this was enough.

"I know."

Quiet.

"What are you writing?" Florante sat up, crossing his legs in front of him. He was so nonchalant in the morning, when both of them just woke up and were fresh from the baths. "May I see?"

Aladin shook his head. He closed his notebook. The pages have been filled with numerous sayings over the year. Lines he thought of. The things Florante said. Lines about Florante. Song ideas. Journal entries.

Everything.

"Why?"

"They are personal."

"You hide them from me?" Florante gasped. His tone was playful, but Aladin heard the curiosity.

Aladin shrugged. "Yes."

"Really?"

"Just this."

"Weird."

"I know."

Florante pouted. It was habit of his, and Aladin has been noticing. Pouting when he did not get what he want. Titling his head if he is in question. Playing with his hands if he was shy.

"Please?" he asked one more time. "One thing. Show me one thing."

Aladin shook his head. "No, Flo." ((an: said as "floh" or "flow". depends on u))

"Flo?"

He shook his head again. One last. "No."

Florante sighed. "Fineee."

"I will show it to you one day."

One day.

Someday.

Maybe?

Never.

~

ahhh, fluff. just my boys being happy. WHAT THEY DESERVE. FLORADIN SHIPPERS ARE SO FEW I AM ANGERED.

goshhh. i CANNOT explain how badly i was shaking when we were discussing florante at laura in class. flo and aladin r perfect for each other. bite me.

leave! a! vote! and! some! feedback!

~ cass xx