Archive of Our Own ^beta

Minho stands at the end of the grand palace hall, his spine straight, his shoulders squared, his face unreadable. The weight of the crown on his head is nothing compared to the weight pressing against his chest.

This is his wedding.

A marriage bound by duty, orchestrated by his prime minister and advisors. A decision he agreed to, knowing it was inevitable. At thirty-two, the king of 0South Korea could no longer evade the whispers of the court. His younger siblings—Princess Chaeyeon, Prince Chaemin, and Princess Chaeryeong—were all married, each with heirs securing the royal lineage. His bloodline was ensured. Minho, the king, was free to marry for alliance, for power, for practicality.

For anything but love.

The grand doors open, and the hall falls into silence.

Hwang Hyunjin enters.

Draped in pristine white and adorned in gold, he moves with grace, but Minho does not miss the tension in his shoulders, the way his fingers remain clenched at his sides. His face is unreadable, but his lips press together ever so slightly—nervous, unwilling, or simply overwhelmed?

Minho knows what the world sees: two powerful men standing side by side, tying together the throne and the most influential family in the country. The Hwangs own nearly half of South Korea’s industrial sector, their wealth rivalling even old monarchy. Some call them the second royals—not bound by blood but by sheer dominance over the nation’s economy.

Hyunjin reaches him at the altar. Their eyes meet.

For a moment, neither of them move.

The priest begins the ceremony, his voice echoing through the hall, but Minho barely hears him. His focus is on Hyunjin—the tremor in his fingers, the way he blinks too quickly, the tight grip he keeps on the ceremonial bouquet.

It’s time to exchange rings.

A small girl, no older than seven, approaches with a velvet box. Minho reaches for the ring first, sliding it onto Hyunjin’s finger. It gleams under the chandeliers—a thick band engraved with the royal emblem, embedded with two diamonds. The weight of it must be suffocating.

Hyunjin takes the other ring, his breath unsteady. His fingers tremble as he slides it onto Minho’s hand. The band is identical, save for the three diamonds that signify his title.

Minho lifts Hyunjin’s hand and lowers his lips to the ring.

A royal tradition, a display of respect and acknowledgment. He intends for it to be quick—a mere brush of lips against metal—but the warmth of Hyunjin’s skin lingers longer than expected.

A small, almost imperceptible gasp escapes Hyunjin’s lips. His grip tightens.

Minho pulls away, his eyes searching Hyunjin’s face. His new husband doesn’t meet his gaze.

Then, unexpectedly, Hyunjin leans forward.

A soft, fleeting peck against Minho’s bottom lip. Barely a touch, yet it sends a murmur through the hall.

Minho stiffens. He wasn’t expecting that.

Hyunjin pulls away just as quickly, his expression unreadable. His hand slips from Minho’s, cool and delicate.

The ceremony ends. Applause erupts. The hall is filled with cheers, cameras flash, but Minho stands frozen in place, the ghost of Hyunjin’s lips still lingering on his skin.

The weight of his crown has never felt heavier.

---

The palace is grander than any fortress, but tonight, Minho feels the coldness of its walls more than ever.

The wedding banquet had been lavish—golden chandeliers illuminating a feast meant for hundreds, a symphony playing in the background, nobles and politicians toasting to the union. Minho had watched as Hyunjin smiled at the guests, accepted congratulations, and played his part to perfection.

But now, in the solitude of their chamber, the façade has crumbled.

The bedroom is enormous, too vast for two people who feel like strangers. Heavy velvet curtains frame the windows, casting long shadows across the walls. A fireplace crackles, but the warmth doesn’t reach them.

Hyunjin stands in front of the vanity, removing his wedding jewelry with precise, methodical movements. He starts with his earrings, then the golden chains around his neck. Each piece is set aside carefully, as if he is shedding the weight of the day.

Minho watches from a distance.

Silence stretches between them. He had expected it, but that doesn’t make it easier.

Finally, Hyunjin speaks, his voice low. “Is this what you wanted?”

Minho exhales, rubbing his temples. “Would it make a difference if I said no?”

A bitter laugh escapes Hyunjin’s lips. “No,” he mutters. “It wouldn’t.”

The way he says it—like a truth too heavy to carry—sinks into Minho’s chest.

Minho wants to tell him that he didn’t ask for this either. That this marriage, though logical in the eyes of the council, had never been a personal desire. But the words feel useless.

Instead, he watches as Hyunjin turns away from the mirror and moves toward the bed.

He doesn’t change into silk sleepwear or undo the intricate braids in his hair. He simply slips under the covers, his back to Minho, his body curled slightly inward—like a barrier, an unspoken do not cross.

Minho doesn’t try to bridge the space between them.

Instead, he steps onto the balcony, staring out over the kingdom he swore to rule.

Below, the city still hums with life. Buildings glow, streets move with people. Somewhere, in a world outside this palace, people are allowed to choose love. To marry not out of obligation, but because their hearts demand it.

Hyunjin had once had that choice.

Minho knows of his past plans. That Hyunjin had been preparing to study abroad, to pursue a master’s degree at a university outside the country. That he had spent years building a future of his own, only for it to be taken away in the name of politics.

Minho closes his eyes briefly, then turns back toward the bed.

Hyunjin’s breathing has evened out. Not deep enough to be asleep, but distant enough to keep Minho away.

He sighs and steps toward his own side of the bed, lying down without making a sound.

The distance between them feels endless.

---

The Next Morning

Sunlight filters through the sheer curtains. The palace grounds are still quiet, the early hours undisturbed.

Minho wakes first.

Hyunjin is still curled up, his breathing slow and steady. In the soft morning light, he looks peaceful—his long lashes resting against his cheeks, his fingers curled slightly into the silk sheets.

Minho carefully gets up, moving to the desk where his phone and morning briefings await. But just as he reaches for his phone, a notification catches his eye.

An email.

The University of Korea.

Minho reads through it quickly. It’s an official invitation—an offer for their master’s program. It is for the royal family. Also a place Hyunjin had once considered but never applied for after the engagement was announced.

A text message follows.

From Minho:

> If you still want to do whatever you had planned for your own future, all you need to do is ask Hyunjin.

Minho stares at the open conversation for a moment, then sets the phone down beside Hyunjin’s.

A choice. A door reopened.

He steps away without waking him, leaving the decision in Hyunjin’s hands.

—

It takes three days for Hyunjin to say anything.

For three days, Minho watches him move through the palace with the same poised grace he always carries—polite smiles at the staff, formal conversations at the council meetings, perfectly measured nods during public appearances.

But not a single word directed at Minho.

Not even when they sit across from each other at meals, the clink of silverware against porcelain the only sound between them.

Not even when they return to their shared bedroom, where Hyunjin disappears into the adjoining lounge, pretending that Minho doesn’t exist.

Then, on the third day, something changes.

Minho walks into the royal study, expecting another day of icy silence, but instead, he finds Hyunjin standing near the grand oak desk—his phone clutched tightly in his hand, knuckles white.

His expression is unreadable, but Minho recognizes the tension in his shoulders, the way his breath comes in controlled, measured inhales.

Something is wrong.

“Hyunjin—”

“You pulled strings, didn’t you, Your highness?”

Minho stills.

Hyunjin’s voice is quiet, but there’s something sharp beneath it, something raw.

Minho steps closer, slowly. “I assume you’re talking about the university offer.”

Hyunjin lifts his phone. “They said my application was personally expedited by the royal administration. That there were discussions between the board and the palace before I even knew about it.”

Minho doesn’t deny it. He had ensured that Hyunjin’s name was brought to their attention, that they reviewed his credentials properly, instead of dismissing him as just a royal consort. It was offer for the royal family after all.

It was never meant to be a secret.

“I only gave them a reason to consider you,” Minho says, voice steady. “You deserved that place before any of this.”

Hyunjin exhales sharply, looking away. His fingers tremble slightly where they grip the phone. “I didn’t ask for that, Your highness.”

“It is Minho for you and You wouldn’t,” Minho murmurs. “You’d rather suffer in silence than accept help.”

Hyunjin flinches as if struck. His gaze snaps back to Minho, fury flashing beneath the surface.

“I don’t need you to fix my life,” he bites out.

Minho’s jaw tightens. “Then maybe you should stop acting like I ruined it.”

Silence.

For a second, Hyunjin’s expression flickers—like the words had hit somewhere deeper, somewhere vulnerable.

Then, just as quickly, his walls slam back into place.

Hyunjin exhales sharply, shoving his phone into his pocket. Without another word, he turns and strides toward the door.

Minho watches him go, something sinking in his chest.

The fight had ended, but the war was far from over.

---

Later That Night

The palace is quiet when Hyunjin finally returns to their room.

Minho is already there, sitting on the edge of the bed, reviewing documents under the dim glow of the bedside lamp.

Hyunjin says nothing as he changes into his sleepwear. The tension from earlier still lingers in the air—unsaid words, unfinished thoughts.

Minho doesn’t look at him when he finally speaks.

“If you don’t want the offer, reject it.” His voice is calm, almost indifferent. “No one is forcing you.”

Hyunjin pauses. The folded silk shirt in his hands trembles slightly.

He doesn’t respond.

Instead, he slips into bed, turning his back to Minho as he had every night before.

But this time, Minho notices something different.

Hyunjin’s phone—lying on the nightstand, screen still illuminated.

The acceptance letter is open.

And Hyunjin hasn’t deleted it.

---

The grand ballroom is adorned in gold and crimson, the air thick with the scent of expensive perfumes and champagne. Nobles bustle about, exchanging whispers and furtive glances, while Minho and Hyunjin remain side by side, their presence commanding the room. But the smile on Hyunjin’s face is strained, forced—a mask he wears to hide the unease that gnaws at him.

Minho notices.

He always notices.

The conversation is slow, tension hovering between them, just enough to make Hyunjin shift uncomfortably. He listens to the nobles surrounding him, nodding occasionally, his fingers tapping restlessly on his glass, but his mind is elsewhere. The suffocating weight of the crown he didn’t ask for, the responsibilities of the role that were thrust upon him—none of it sits well with Hyunjin. He’s just a pawn, isn’t he? A piece in this political chess game.

And it’s suffocating.

Minho, on the other hand, remains cool, composed—his usual mask of royal authority never faltering. He speaks with ease, shaking hands, laughing, but his eyes are always on Hyunjin. He sees everything, every subtle shift in Hyunjin’s demeanor, and it cuts him deeper than he’d care to admit.

It happens before the evening ends. An older nobleman, his eyes sharp with malice and years of experience in the royal court, approaches. He eyes Hyunjin with a look that’s anything but respectful.

“You must be the consort,” the nobleman begins, As if he didn't attend the royal wedding. His voice dripping with condescension. “How quaint. A pretty face to accompany our king, but surely that’s all you’re good for, isn’t it? You don’t truly have a place here.”

The room quiets. The words hang in the air, sharp, biting. Hyunjin’s jaw tightens, his breath catching in his throat.

Minho’s eyes narrow, his gaze cold as ice. His muscles tense in a way that Hyunjin can feel, even from where he stands. He feels the sudden pressure in the room as he steps forward, his voice cutting through the silence like a blade.

“The next time you speak of my husband like that,” Minho’s words are quiet, but they carry a heavy threat, “I will make sure you regret it.”

There’s a pause, the nobleman’s face faltering slightly, before he takes a step back, but not before he shoots Hyunjin a look of disdain.

Minho’s presence fills the room as he glares at the noble, his tone unwavering. “Do not speak of him again in my presence.”

Hyunjin is left speechless, staring at Minho, his heart pounding in his chest. There’s something in Minho’s voice—something almost protective, raw, unguarded. It’s unexpected. But still, something doesn’t sit right in Hyunjin’s chest.

When the nobleman retreats, Minho turns to Hyunjin, his expression unreadable. There’s a brief moment of silence between them, filled only by the low hum of the party around them. Then Hyunjin practically drags Minho to the waiting room adjacent to the ballroom.

Hyunjin blinks, the words he’s been holding back finally breaking through. “Why did you do that?”

Minho’s eyes flicker with a sudden flicker of emotion—something dark, something that Hyunjin can’t quite decipher. He opens his mouth, then closes it again.

“Because you’re my husband,” Minho says softly, but there’s an edge to his voice now.

Hyunjin stares at him, his heart aching. “Is that it? You defend me because I’m your husband?” He takes a step forward, his voice rising with frustration. “Is that all I am to you? Just a title to uphold?”

Minho takes a step back, caught off guard by the question. The air between them crackles, tense and fragile. He shakes his head slightly. “You know it’s not like that.”

“Then what is it?” Hyunjin’s voice cracks slightly, his eyes burning with emotion. “You—You defend me, but we’re strangers, Your highness. You don’t care. This whole thing—it’s just a duty to you, isn’t it?”

The words hang heavy in the air. Hyunjin feels the sting of his own vulnerability, the weight of it pressing down on him.

Minho’s chest tightens. He wants to say something, to explain, but he doesn’t know how. The truth is too messy, too complicated.

For a moment, Hyunjin looks at him, his eyes red-rimmed and full of something like despair. “You don’t care about me. You never did. Am I right , your highness?” His voice trembles, the cracks in his facade finally breaking through.

Minho reaches out before he can turn away, grabbing his wrist, pulling him back gently. “Hyunjin—”

“No,” Hyunjin interrupts, his voice harsh, tears threatening to spill. “Don’t pretend. Don’t lie.”

Minho’s heart shatters at the rawness of it. He pulls Hyunjin into him, his grip tight but gentle. “I’m not lying.” His voice is hoarse now. “I don’t know how to make you see that, but I—”

Hyunjin pulls back, tears glistening in his eyes. “Then prove it. Show me you care, Your highness”

Minho’s breath catches in his throat. There’s so much he wants to say, so much he can’t seem to find the words for.

But all he can do is hold Hyunjin, silently pleading for him to understand, for the distance between them to close—before it’s too late.

---

The silence in the bedroom is almost unbearable. The only sound is the faint rustling of the heavy silk sheets as Minho turns over, trying to find some comfort, but his mind is too heavy. Hyunjin lies on the opposite side of the bed, his body stiff, his breathing even and shallow, like he’s trying to control the space between them with his very posture.

Minho stares at the ceiling, his thoughts swirling. The fight. The words. The hurt. He never imagined it would be like this—living in a palace, bound by duty, but cold in every way that matters. He wants to reach out. He wants to fix it, to somehow pull Hyunjin closer. But he doesn’t know how. He’s used to holding power, to being the one in control. But with Hyunjin… it’s different.

His gaze flickers over to Hyunjin, lying there so still, almost as if he’s not really there. Minho shifts slightly, his heart pounding in his chest. His body aches to bridge the gap between them. He wants to say something—anything—but his mouth feels dry, his words stuck in his throat. The distance between them is suffocating.

And then, just as Minho is about to turn his attention back to the ceiling, he feels it.

A soft pressure on his pinky.

It’s barely a touch, so gentle that Minho almost wonders if he imagined it. But no—there it is again. Hyunjin’s small fingers, reaching across the space between them, tenderly curling around his pinky. It’s not a forceful grip, not a desperate touch, but something so subtle, so fragile, as if Hyunjin is testing the waters, unsure but yearning for connection.

Minho’s breath catches in his chest. He lies completely still, not wanting to disturb the fragile moment. His heart flutters, and for a split second, he almost pulls away, afraid that any movement will make this fleeting connection disappear. But then Hyunjin’s hand tightens ever so slightly, just enough to let him know it’s real.

Minho’s fingers twitch, yearning to reach out, to hold Hyunjin’s hand properly. But he stays still, letting Hyunjin have the control, letting him decide if this touch means anything. It’s an unspoken agreement—an act of vulnerability from both of them.

Slowly, Minho shifts his body so he’s facing Hyunjin, his hand still gently clasped around Hyunjin’s pinky. He doesn’t want to rush anything; he wants to savor the moment, feel it deepen before it slips away. His breath is steady, but his pulse races as he inches closer to Hyunjin’s side of the bed.

He watches Hyunjin’s face in the dim light of the moon. His eyes are closed, his expression unreadable, but Minho can feel the tension in his body, the weight of everything that’s unsaid. There’s a vulnerability in the way Hyunjin’s lips are parted slightly, the way his breath comes out in small, shallow exhales, as if he’s trying to control the emotions that threaten to spill over.

Minho feels a sudden urge to touch him—something soft, something gentle. He slowly reaches out with his other hand, brushing his fingertips along Hyunjin’s exposed forearm. The touch is featherlight, so careful that it feels almost like a prayer. Hyunjin doesn’t pull away, doesn’t flinch. His skin is warm under Minho’s touch, and Minho feels a wave of tenderness wash over him.

Hyunjin’s fingers tighten around his pinky once again, as if silently urging him to continue. Minho leans closer, his thighs pressing against Hyunjin’s, his breath warm against Hyunjin’s soft cheeks . He can’t help himself. He presses a soft kiss to Hyunjin’s forehead, his lips brushing the delicate skin there. Hyunjin’s body stiffens at the contact, but he doesn’t pull away.

The moment hangs in the air, quiet, fragile, like a dream that might fade at any moment. Minho can feel Hyunjin’s pulse quicken under his lips, and for the first time in what feels like forever, they are connected, truly connected, in a way that transcends words.

He pulls back slightly, his eyes searching Hyunjin’s face for any sign of response. Hyunjin’s eyes flutter open, their gazes meeting in the dim light, both of them searching each other for answers that neither of them has. Hyunjin’s lips part slightly, and for a moment, Minho wonders if he’s going to say something, but instead, Hyunjin simply exhales, his body relaxing into the touch.

Minho’s heart pounds as he moves his hand to Hyunjin’s wedding ring, tracing it with his thumb. He kisses the ring gently, his lips lingering on the cool metal for a moment longer than necessary. The weight of the ring on Hyunjin’s finger feels symbolic—of the promises they’ve made, the vows they’ve yet to fully understand.

His hand slides upward, running through Hyunjin’s soft hair, his fingers getting lost in the dark strands. Hyunjin doesn’t pull away, doesn’t resist. He simply lets Minho touch him, lets him offer this quiet affection that neither of them has dared to share in so long.

It’s a soft moment, a tender one, the kind that doesn’t need words to speak volumes.

Hyunjin’s body melts into the bed as the tension begins to drain from his muscles, his grip on Minho’s pinky loosening just slightly, as if giving Minho permission to hold him more. Minho’s chest aches with the rawness of it, the longing that fills the space between them. He feels the weight of his emotions settle into his chest like an anchor, the heavy pull of all the things they’ve kept hidden finally starting to unravel.

For the first time in what feels like forever, Minho feels like he’s exactly where he’s meant to be. He doesn’t know what will happen tomorrow, doesn’t know if they’ll have the strength to face the challenges ahead. But in this moment, with Hyunjin’s hand clasped around his pinky, with his lips against Hyunjin’s skin, Minho knows that maybe, just maybe, they can find their way back to each other.

Hyunjin exhales softly, his voice barely above a whisper, but the words are there, unspoken in the quiet of the room. “I’m sorry for lashing out on you.”

“It’s okay, Hyunjin. You are fine.”

“Please hug me.”

Minho’s heart skips a beat. He doesn’t need to say anything. He doesn’t need to promise anything. All he has to do is be here, right now, in this fragile, tender moment.

And he will.

With his pinky entwined with Hyunjin’s, Minho hugs Hyunjin for the first time.

____

The soft glow of moonlight pours into the corridor of the palace as Minho walks with a purpose, his steps echoing through the otherwise silent hall. His mind is a storm of thoughts—politics, responsibilities, endless meetings—but it's something else that weighs most heavily on his mind tonight. Hyunjin. His partner has been distant for days now, eyes hollow, shoulders slumped, like a man carrying a burden too heavy to bear.

Minho can no longer ignore it. He’s seen the exhaustion etched into Hyunjin’s face, the way his smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes. And tonight, Minho knows something is wrong. He needs to fix it. He has to.

When he enters their shared bedroom, his breath catches. Hyunjin is sitting by the window, staring out at the dark sky, the moonlight catching the soft edges of his face. His posture is rigid, a far cry from the fluid grace Minho is used to seeing. His back is hunched, shoulders tense, like he's trying to hold himself together when everything is slowly falling apart.

Minho’s heart tightens in his chest as he takes a cautious step closer. “Hyunjin,” he calls softly, his voice barely above a whisper, careful not to startle him.

Hyunjin’s eyes flicker, but he doesn’t turn to face him right away. Minho steps closer, his heart aching with the quiet desperation he feels for his partner. When Hyunjin finally looks up, the tears he’s been hiding are so painfully evident. His eyes are red-rimmed, swollen, and there’s an almost invisible tremor in his hands.

“I’m fine,” Hyunjin whispers, his voice fragile like glass, but the lie is too obvious. Minho’s eyes search his face, and it only takes a second to see the truth—the pain that’s been eating away at Hyunjin.

“No, you’re not,” Minho replies gently, his voice full of concern. He moves forward, crouching down in front of Hyunjin, his hand hesitating for a moment before it lands softly on Hyunjin’s knee. “What’s going on, Hyune?”

Hyunjin lets out a long, shaky breath, his lips pressing together in an effort to hold back more tears. His eyes drop to the floor, the weight of everything pushing him deeper into his sadness. “I don’t know… I just don’t know how to handle all of this anymore,” he admits, his voice cracking. “The politics, the civilians, the formal events... it’s all so overwhelming. I feel so small in this world of people who expect so much from me.”

Minho watches him, feeling the familiar ache of helplessness. Hyunjin’s normally steady hands tremble, and Minho knows he’s reached a breaking point. He can’t let him suffer like this. Not alone.

Without a word, Minho pulls him gently to his feet, guiding him by the hand. “We’re leaving,” he says, his tone leaving no room for argument. “Come with me.”

---

Minho drives with practiced ease, the rhythmic hum of the engine filling the silence between them. The city lights blur as they pass through the streets, casting an ethereal glow over the interior of the car. Hyunjin sits beside him, eyes distant, lost in thought. Minho doesn’t press him for conversation; he knows that right now, silence is all Hyunjin needs. But every so often, he catches a glimpse of Hyunjin’s downcast eyes, the quiet sorrow that still lingers beneath the surface.

They drive for what feels like hours, through the winding streets until the palace lights are nothing but a distant memory. The streets grow quieter, the hustle and bustle of the city fading into the background. Minho pulls the car into a secluded underground garage, the soft thud of the tires parking filling the space. Hyunjin blinks, confused but trusting, as Minho steps out and comes around to open his door.

“Where are we?” Hyunjin asks, his voice a mixture of curiosity and uncertainty.

Minho smiles gently, his heart swelling with an emotion he can’t quite name. “A place for us. A place with no cameras, no expectations. Just peace.”

Hyunjin looks at him, searching his face for any hint of a joke, but all he sees is sincerity. Minho doesn’t wait for a response; he simply takes Hyunjin’s hand, leading him up the elevator. Once the elevator opens there is a door that leads to the quiet, hidden penthouse Minho has kept secret from everyone. The space is quiet and empty, with only the faint sounds of the city outside the large windows. The penthouse is simple—minimalist yet refined, with plush couches and soft, warm lighting. It’s a sanctuary from the chaos of their lives.

Minho guides Hyunjin to the living room, urging him to sit on the plush, deep couch. Hyunjin sinks into it with a deep sigh, his body too tired to stay upright. Minho moves quickly to the kitchen, the clink of pots and pans filling the silence. He prepares a simple meal, nothing extravagant, just something familiar and comforting. The scent of warm food fills the air, and soon Minho brings a steaming bowl of soy bean soup with instant rice bowl and kimchi to Hyunjin.

Hyunjin stares at the food for a moment before looking up at Minho. His gaze softens, a small, almost grateful smile tugging at his lips. “You cooked?”

Minho nods, settling down beside him on the couch. “It’s nothing special, just something homemade. You deserve something familiar, something real.”

Hyunjin picks up his spoon and chopsticks slowly, his hands still shaking, but this time it’s a different kind of trembling—one that comes with exhaustion, not pain. He takes a bite, and Minho watches him, noting the way his shoulders seem to relax just a little bit.

As Hyunjin finishes eating, Minho reaches for his hand, offering comfort through the small touch. Hyunjin hesitates but eventually lets Minho’s fingers lace with his. It’s a quiet, nonverbal exchange, but it speaks volumes. Hyunjin looks up, his eyes finally meeting Minho’s in a moment of pure vulnerability.

“I’ve never told you this,” Hyunjin whispers, his voice small, fragile, “but I’m scared.”

Minho’s heart lurches at the words, his grip on Hyunjin’s hand tightening. “Scared of what?” he asks softly, his voice tender.

“Of never being enough. Of not being strong enough for all of this…” Hyunjin’s voice breaks, and for a moment, he looks away, unable to meet Minho’s gaze. “For you. For this life.”

Minho’s heart aches as he watches the fear flicker across Hyunjin’s face. “Hyunjin,” he whispers, his voice steady. “You are more than enough. You’re the only one who’s ever made me feel like I’m not alone in all of this.” He presses gently against Hyunjin on the couch. He placed his empty hand on Hyunjin’s shoulder. “You don’t have to carry everything on your own. Not anymore.”

Hyunjin blinks, the words sinking in. His chest tightens as emotion rises to the surface, but he doesn’t let himself cry. Instead, he leans into Minho’s embrace, resting his head against Minho’s chest, his body finally allowing the tension to melt away. They sit in silence, the soft weight of each other’s presence enough to fill the space between them.

Minho doesn’t say anything more. Words feel unnecessary now. He simply holds Hyunjin as he rests his head on Minho’s chest, the quiet rhythm of their breathing creating a steady comfort.

Hyunjin shifts slightly, and Minho feels a warm, gentle touch on his pinky finger. Hyunjin’s hand rests on his, a quiet but deliberate gesture that makes Minho’s heart race with the quiet intensity of it. He glances down at their hands, his breath catching as Hyunjin’s fingers curl softly around his pinky. The simple touch is a promise—unspoken but understood.

Minho feels the warmth of Hyunjin’s body against his own, and for the first time tonight, he lets out a long, slow breath. It’s like he’s finally breathing in the air that’s meant for him, and with Hyunjin by his side, everything feels a little more bearable.

Minho pulls Hyunjin to lay down on the couch, practically cuddling. Hyunjin curls into him, his body feeling like it’s finally able to rest. Minho, with his arms still around Hyunjin, watches him for a long time, his heart swelling with a tender affection.

But then Hyunjin shifts again, Then he looks down at Hyunjin’s face. Hyunjin’s eyes are closed, but his breath is slow and steady now, finally relaxed.

With a small smile, Minho shifts closer and pulls Hyunjin more into his arms, his fingers tracing the soft curve of Hyunjin’s back as he holds him close. Hyunjin responds by pressing his face against Minho’s chest, his body finally giving in to exhaustion.

“Goodnight,” Minho whispers, his voice barely a breath.

Hyunjin murmurs something unintelligible in response, but Minho doesn’t mind. He holds him tighter, feeling the warmth of Hyunjin’s body against his, and finally allows himself to let go of the tension he’s been holding onto for so long. They fall asleep like that—tangled together in the quiet of the night, the weight of their worlds momentarily lifted.

___

Weeks passed without notice. Now that Hyunjin is closer to him, Minho sleeps better. But tonight he couldn't. The night is still, save for the faint rustling of leaves in the palace gardens below. Minho stands at the balcony, the cool air kissing his skin, his thoughts swirling in a haze. His heart is heavy, but it’s a familiar weight now—a weight he’s come to accept.

Hyunjin had fallen asleep not long ago, his head resting on Minho’s chest, his breathing soft and steady. It’s a small thing, but to Minho, it’s everything. After all that’s happened—after the fights, the distance, the coldness—it feels like they’re finally inching closer to something that could be real, something that could last.

Still, Minho can’t shake the feeling that there’s more he needs to say, something more to bridge the gap between them. He looks out at the moonlit garden, the cool night air washing over him, but his mind is on Hyunjin. He doesn’t want to make the any mistakes
He doesn't want to see tears in Hyunjin’s eyes. He doesn’t want to lose him.

As if on cue, he hears the soft creak of the balcony door behind him. His heart lurches in his chest, and he doesn’t have to turn around to know who it is.

“Minho,” Hyunjin’s voice is low, almost tentative, the usual fire replaced with something softer, something that makes Minho’s chest tighten. Hyunjin is standing just inside the doorframe, his silhouette bathed in the pale light from the hallway. His expression is unreadable, but Minho can sense the vulnerability behind his calm exterior.

Minho’s eyes soften as he turns around. “Hyunjin.”

Hyunjin takes a step forward, then another, his eyes locked onto Minho’s. There’s something different about him now—no longer the angry, resentful person he’d been when they first entered this marriage, but someone who has softened, who has begun to trust. The tension in Minho’s chest tightens and uncoils at the same time.

“Can’t sleep today?” Minho nodded to Hyunjin’s question.

“Then can I… can I talk to you?” Hyunjin asks quietly, his voice almost fragile.

Minho nods, his heart hammering in his chest. “Of course. Come here.”

Without a word, Hyunjin steps closer, slowly but deliberately, his eyes never leaving Minho’s. As he nears, Minho takes a step back, pulling him into the moonlight. Minho’s back against the railing. For a moment, they stand there, just looking at each other, the weight of everything between them so tangible it feels like it could break them apart.

Hyunjin’s hand reaches out, brushing against Minho’s chest, his fingers trembling ever so slightly. “I didn’t know what to expect from this marriage,” Hyunjin begins, his voice quieter now. “I didn’t know what you wanted from me. And I don’t know what I wanted either.” He lets out a soft sigh, his shoulders slumping slightly. “But… I can’t pretend anymore. I can’t ignore what’s between us.”

Minho feels a rush of warmth flood through him. There’s no more distance between them now, no more walls. Just the raw honesty of Hyunjin’s words, the vulnerability in his eyes.

Minho takes a step closer, his hand reaching up to gently cup Hyunjin’s cheek. “Hyunjin,” he says softly, his voice thick with emotion. “I never wanted you to feel like you were alone in this. I never wanted you to think that this marriage was just about duty. I… I was scared too.”

Hyunjin’s eyes flicker with something akin to surprise, but he doesn’t pull away. Instead, he leans into Minho’s touch, his breath coming faster now. “Scared?” he whispers, his voice barely audible.

Minho nods, his thumb brushing over Hyunjin’s cheekbone. “I didn’t know how to be what you needed. I didn’t know how to make this work. But… I’m trying. I’m trying for you, for us.”

A breathless silence stretches between them, the weight of their emotions pressing against the air. Hyunjin’s chest rises and falls as he takes a deep breath, and then, without warning, he steps forward, his lips pressing softly against Minho’s.

It’s not a passionate kiss, not at first. It’s tentative, almost like a question, a fragile promise. Minho’s heart races as he responds, his arms coming around Hyunjin’s waist to pull him closer. The kiss deepens slowly, tentatively, as if they’re both afraid of what it might mean, but neither of them can stop.

Hyunjin’s hands move to Minho’s shoulders, then up to his neck, pulling him even closer, as if trying to erase all the space between them. Minho groans softly into the kiss, his hands sliding into Hyunjin’s hair, fingers curling into the strands. The taste of Hyunjin, the warmth of his lips, fills him with something he’s been longing for, something he can’t name but that feels like home.

When they finally pull away, breathless and tangled, Minho rests his forehead against Hyunjin’s, their chests heaving in sync. For a long moment, neither of them speaks, both lost in the overwhelming surge of emotions that fill the space between them.

Hyunjin’s hand comes up to rest against Minho’s cheek, his thumb brushing over the skin there, a soft, gentle touch. “I don’t want to wait anymore,” he says, his voice low, steady. “Don’t make me wait again.”

Minho smiles softly, his heart swelling in his chest. He leans into Hyunjin’s touch, his hand coming up to cover Hyunjin’s. “I won’t,” he promises. “I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”

They stand there for a moment longer, simply holding each other in the quiet of the night, the moonlight casting a soft glow over them. In that moment, there’s nothing else. No political games. No titles. No royal obligations. Just Minho and Hyunjin, finally breaking through the walls they’ve built, finally finding each other in the midst of everything that’s been so wrong for so long.

Hyunjin leans in again, pressing a soft kiss to Minho’s lips. This time, it’s full of promise—full of everything they’ve been too afraid to say until now.

Minho kisses him back, deeply, passionately, as if he’s finally found the peace he’s been searching for.

____

The city outside remains distant, its hum muffled by the thick windows of the penthouse, but inside, the air is filled with a quiet serenity. The world feels still, almost sacred in its solitude. Minho and Hyunjin sit together on the edge of the bed, the same place they’d been before—but this time, there’s a difference. Tonight, they’re not just two people caught in the whirlwind of royal duties, politics, and the weight of the crown. Tonight, they are simply them—husband and husband. Clothes spilled around the bedroom. Swollen lips, marked skin and aftermath of loving.

Hyunjin shifts beside Minho, his tired eyes meeting Minho’s with a vulnerability that cracks the careful walls he’s built around himself. The look is unguarded, full of soft longing and raw emotion. It’s a look that says everything Hyunjin hasn’t yet found the words to express—everything that has been buried beneath layers of responsibility and expectation. But here, in the safety of their shared space, those walls are beginning to crumble.

Minho feels it—a shift in the air. A quiet intensity, and he knows it’s time. His hand reaches for Hyunjin’s, fingers brushing against the delicate skin of his partner’s hand, and for a moment, they simply hold each other’s gaze. The warmth of Hyunjin’s touch calms Minho’s heart, but it’s more than that—it’s the unspoken promise that whatever happens, they are in this together.

Hyunjin’s thumb softly strokes the back of Minho’s hand, the motion light but meaningful. He doesn’t say anything, but it’s enough. More than enough.

“I’m here,” Minho murmurs, his voice low and steady. “And I’m not going anywhere. You’re not alone in this. We’ve been through too much, Hyunjin. But we don’t have to carry it all by ourselves. Not anymore.”

Hyunjin swallows hard, the weight of Minho’s words settling in his chest. There’s something so gentle in Minho’s voice, something so unwavering, that it makes Hyunjin want to let go of everything he’s been holding in. His breath hitches, and for a moment, he seems lost in thought, as if trying to gather the right words to explain the depth of his fear, his exhaustion, his vulnerability.

“I’ve been scared,” Hyunjin whispers, voice trembling slightly. He looks at Minho, the flicker of doubt in his eyes barely visible, but it’s there—quiet, unspoken. “Scared that… I’m not strong enough to keep up with all of this. Scared of letting you down. Scared that… maybe I’m too much.”

Minho’s heart tightens at the words, but he doesn’t let go of Hyunjin’s hand. Instead, he leans in slowly, tilting his head to meet Hyunjin’s gaze. His thumb brushes over Hyunjin’s cheek, a soft gesture that conveys everything he wants to say without uttering a single word.

“Hyunjin,” Minho says softly, his voice thick with tenderness, “you are the strongest person I know. And you don’t have to carry everything on your own. Not now. Not ever. We’ll do this together. You never have to be alone.”

There’s a long silence between them, the weight of Minho’s words filling the air. Hyunjin’s eyes soften, the vulnerability in them so raw that it almost hurts. A tear slips down his cheek, but it’s not one of sorrow—it’s one of release. Of finally finding solace in the one person who has never faltered in his love.

“You don’t have to be perfect, Hyunjin,” Minho whispers, his voice breaking through the quiet like a soft wave. He leans closer, pressing his forehead against Hyunjin’s, his breath mingling with his. “You’ve always had me. And you always will.”

Hyunjin’s chest tightens as the realization hits him. This love isn’t conditional. It’s not something to earn—it’s something that’s been there all along, quietly waiting for him to accept it.

“I don’t deserve this,” Hyunjin chokes out, his voice wavering as he finally lets his guard down. His hand rises to Minho’s jaw, his fingers trembling as they lightly brush against Minho’s skin. “I don’t deserve you.”

Minho shakes his head, a soft smile curving the corner of his lips as he captures Hyunjin’s hand. “You do. You’ve always deserved it. You’ve always been worth it.”

Hyunjin stares into Minho’s eyes, and for the first time, he feels the weight of all his fears lift. His breath catches in his throat, and he presses his palm to Minho’s cheek. There’s so much he wants to say, so many words left unsaid, but in this moment, he knows there’s no need for them. They’ve already said everything they need to with their eyes, their touch, and the quiet promises whispered between them.

“Minho,” Hyunjin whispers, his voice thick with emotion. He leans in slowly, brushing his lips against Minho’s cheek. “I promise… I’ll fight for us. For you. For this.”

Minho’s heart swells with affection, and before he can respond, Hyunjin closes the distance between them, pressing his lips gently to Minho’s. The kiss is soft, tentative at first, as if they’re both afraid of breaking the fragile moment. But the longer their lips linger, the deeper the connection becomes. There’s no rush, no pressure—just the quiet exchange of love, trust, and promises.

As they pull away, their foreheads rest against each other, breaths heavy but synchronized. Hyunjin’s hand still holds Minho’s pinky, the gesture so simple yet so profound, as if to say, I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.

Minho smiles softly, his eyes full of warmth. “I love you,” he whispers, his voice low but steady.

“I love you, too,” Hyunjin replies, his voice just as soft.

For a long while, they simply stay like that, wrapped in each other’s presence. The world outside seems far away, and in this moment, nothing else matters. Only the two of them, finding peace in the quiet, knowing that they’ve built something real—something they will hold onto no matter what the future brings.

And as the night stretches on, they stay close, the soft comfort of their shared love surrounding them as they fall asleep in each other’s arms, finally free from the weight of the world.

—