Prelude: Welcome Back .
One sees clearly only with the heart.
Regrets exist in this world because people create them. They have hopes and hopes bear these seeds of hurt. And these seeds scatter throughout the transparent hearts of every living being out there, hijack their hearts, feed on their souls. So that one day, people won't have to regret any longer.
When you're standing at the top of the world, and you look back down, you see things beneath you, so small, so insignificant. A flick of your finger, a sigh of breath, a breeze of wind could knock things down because in your palm, you hold absolute power. And this absolute power, you can use it in any way you wish. It is at your mercy.
But when you look at his face, that pretty slope, that droop in his eyes, the tears that linger in the corners of his golden orbs, the heart that threatens to spill and tear out into a million tangled strings of vessels, you can't help but wonder whether you are actually standing at the top of the world. It makes your heart ache, makes your mind burn, makes your heart sting. But you think it is alright so long as he doesn't smile. That sad, painful smile, a wrenching secret he wants to keep from you.
You enter the room, the soft glow of the night moon shining through the glass tinted windows, the curtains blowing softly, unrestrained and free. The lights are not on, and you see a single shadow sitting by the window, looking down at the rose garden.
"I'm back." You breathe out almost inaudibly.
The night is quiet, so he hears you and turns around slowly, the clock ticking away dangerously. You are lucky the night is dark or not you would have seen his face.
That sad touch of smile, the half-lidded eyes, and the murmuring lips that whisper, "Welcome back, your majesty."