The palace was silent, wrapped in the stillness of the night. The torches along the stone pathways flickered weakly, their flames swaying in the cool breeze. Everyone had retreated to their chambers, lost in dreams or deep in sleep.

Everyone except Changbin.

He sat in the palace garden, his arms resting on his knees as he gazed up at the moon. The silver glow bathed everything in a soft, quiet light, making the world feel calmer than it ever did during the day.

His mind was full-of thoughts he didn't want, of emotions he didn't understand. Being a prince, being bound by duty, being trapped in a life that wasn't his own. Tonight, he just wanted to sit here and pretend none of it existed.

He was so lost in thought that he didn't hear footsteps approaching.

"You're awake too?"

Changbin turned slightly, recognizing the voice immediately. Chan.

His personal guard stood a few feet away, arms crossed, his dark eyes scanning the garden before settling on him. His usual sharpness was absent-there was no sarcasm, no teasing remark. Just quiet curiosity.

Changbin turned his gaze back to the moon. "Couldn't sleep."

Chan hummed in understanding, then, without another word, he sat down beside him.

They didn't speak at first. They just sat there, side by side, bathed in moonlight, the night air cool against their skin.

Then, Chan broke the silence. "Why are you looking at the moon so deeply?"

Changbin's fingers curled slightly against his knee. His voice was soft, almost like he was speaking more to himself than to Chan.

"Look at it," he murmured. "It's surrounded by so many stars... but still alone."

Chan turned his head, watching Changbin instead of the sky. The way his features were illuminated in the pale glow, the way his usually guarded expression softened as he admired the moon-it was a rare sight.

And before he could stop himself, Chan spoke, his voice just as soft.

"The moon isn't alone, Changbin," he said, his gaze unwavering. "It has the sky to hold it. Look-how the sky holds it like it's its life."

Changbin's breath hitched slightly. His eyes flickered to Chan, and for a moment, neither of them looked away.

The words hung in the air between them, heavier than they should have been.

Because they weren't just talking about the moon.

They were talking about themselves.

Changbin swallowed, his fingers tightening slightly against the fabric of his clothes. "That's just how it looks. The moon and the sky... they can never truly touch."

Chan's gaze softened. "That doesn't mean they don't belong to each other."

The silence stretched again, but this time, it wasn't empty.

It was full.

Of something unspoken. Of something undeniable.

Changbin exhaled slowly, looking away first, returning his gaze to the sky. He didn't say anything else, and Chan didn't push him to.

Instead, they just sat there, together, under the moonlight.

The moon, the sky, and the quiet understanding that, somehow, they were the same.

The silence between them stretched, but it wasn't uncomfortable. It wasn't the kind of silence that begged to be broken.

It was... understanding.

Changbin didn't know why, but he didn't want to move. He didn't want to leave this moment behind, as if doing so would make it disappear entirely.

Beside him, Chan hadn't moved either.

The night breeze rustled through the trees, carrying the soft scent of blooming flowers. The moon still hung in the sky, glowing against the endless darkness, and Changbin wondered-was it truly alone, or had he just been looking at it the wrong way all this time?

For a long while, neither of them spoke. There was no need.

But then, Chan shifted slightly, resting his arms over his knees.

"I didn't think I'd find you here," he admitted, his voice lower than usual. "I just wanted some air, clear my mind."

Changbin glanced at him. "And yet, you ended up here."

Chan gave him a small, knowing look. "And so did you."

Changbin pressed his lips together. He wasn't wrong.

Maybe he had come here because it was quiet, because the garden was one of the few places in the palace where he didn't feel suffocated.

But maybe, just maybe, he had also come here to be alone in a way that didn't feel lonely.

And somehow, Chan being here didn't feel wrong.

"You don't sleep much, do you?" Chan asked after a moment, his tone casual.

Changbin exhaled. "Not really."

Chan hummed in understanding. "I figured. You always look tired."

Changbin scoffed. "And you always look like you're carrying the weight of the entire kingdom on your shoulders."

Chan let out a quiet chuckle, shaking his head. "Maybe I am."

Changbin glanced at him. "Do you ever think about leaving?"

Chan tilted his head slightly. "Leaving what?"

"This." Changbin gestured vaguely around them. "The kingdom. The responsibilities. Everything."

Chan was silent for a moment. Then, finally, he spoke. "Sometimes."

Changbin wasn't sure why that surprised him. Maybe because Chan always seemed so steady, so unwavering. Like someone who never let himself want things he couldn't have.

"But you never would," Changbin guessed.

Chan gave a small, lopsided smile. "Neither would you."

Changbin frowned. "That's different. I don't have a choice."

Chan's gaze flickered toward him, unreadable. "And you think I do?"

Changbin faltered. He had never thought about it like that.

Chan wasn't here because he wanted to be. He was here because it was what was expected of him, just like Changbin was expected to be the perfect prince.

They were both bound to a life they never chose.

The realization made something tighten in Changbin's chest.

---

For a while, they just sat there. Talking. About small things, big things, things they would have never shared with anyone else.

Chan told him about how he had always been expected to follow in his family's footsteps, how he had never imagined a future that wasn't tied to the kingdom.

Changbin told him about how his father's presence loomed over every decision he made, how sometimes he wished he could just disappear into the southern forests and never come back.

And for once, neither of them had to pretend.

Neither of them had to be a prince, a guard, a son bound by duty.

For the first time, they were just Changbin and Chan.

And it felt... right.

---

"I should head back before someone thinks I've run away," Changbin finally said, though he didn't move.

Chan smirked. "If you ever did, I'd be the one sent to drag you back."

Changbin sighed dramatically. "Of course, you would."

They stood up at the same time. For a second, they were too close. Close enough for Changbin to notice the way the moonlight caught against Chan's face, highlighting the sharp angles of his jaw, the way his eyes softened when they weren't guarded.

For a moment, it felt like something might happen.

But then Chan stepped back. And just like that, the space between them returned.

They walked in silence back to the palace, their footsteps quiet against the stone pathways. It wasn't awkward, but it wasn't normal either.

Something between them had changed tonight. They both felt it.

But neither of them was ready to say it out loud.

Not yet.