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Being the sickly prince he is, Leehan seldom sees the outside. So, this night, he dashes into the snowy street, snowflakes still drifting down the dark wintry sky.
Behind him, with a poised gait, walks the boy who made this little escape possible. "Slow down, your highness." He calls out, "If you were to collapse now it would be troublesome."
"It's alright, Taesan-ah!" the prince yells back, "A little snow won't kill me."
It’s a deserted area, a corner of the kingdom that had once been filled with life— days when Taesan’s father was still alive and they lived in the dwellings there. Once his home, it’s now a place that he brings the prince to, once every month.
Taesan catches up. Huffing, he asks, "Is the outside world that fascinating to you? Enough to risk your health and the scorn of His and Her Majesty?"
Leehan smiles, melancholic—
"Don't you know? Freedom is the sweetest nectar to a bird who has only ever tasted the confinement of a cage."
Perhaps, one could say the same about the amalgamation of emotions that the mere name of Taesan stirs up in his chest. But that's a secret only for him to guard. He will carry it to his grave.
If it ever surfaces, they'll take Taesan away from him. Or worse, they'll ruin Taesan. He’s well aware of the consequences his innocent feelings are capable of bringing unto innocent people.
A tiny snowflake floats into Leehan's palm and sits there.
"And you are that bird?" asks Taesan, voice quiet.
Leehan's fingers close over the snowflake, giving it no room to breathe. "As if," he says. "Princes like me don't even get that choice."
He will remain the caged bird, gazing at the stars through iron bars, tongue tied down for eternity.