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Meguru Bachira leaned against the cold window, his body wrapped in the soft silk sheets from his bedroom chambers.
His room had the perfect view of the training grounds, where he could swoon over the well built man with green hair. He wiped the window with the back of his hand as his breath had fogged it up.
Bachira stared at the man’s arms through the window — which flexed every time he struck the target.
Itoshi Rin’s hair was slicked back from the sweat that rolled down his sharp features.
The pale man stared at the other’s chest, which rose and fell as he breathed.
“Prince Bachira, dinner shall be served in 20 minutes. Don’t stay cooped up in your room again,” the maid told him from his doorway.
He whined softly from being interrupted but let out a small mumble of agreement as the maid closed the door.
Alone once more, Meguru Bachira pressed his forehead lightly against the glass, eyes following Rin across the courtyard below. As the kingdom’s most feared bodyguard, Rin rarely spared attention for anything outside his duties — yet Bachira always found himself searching for even the smallest glance from him.
—------------------------------------
The fading light of dusk painted the training grounds in amber, catching on the sheen of sweat along Rin’s neck. Below, soldiers cleared away practice dummies while servants lit lanterns one by one across the castle walls. Still, Rin remained.
Bachira smiled faintly.
Of course he did.
Rin Itoshi trained like a man trying to outrun death itself.
Bachira’s fingers traced idle patterns against the cold glass. The silk sheets pooled around his waist as he sat by the window seat, utterly unconcerned with the chill creeping through the cracks of the stone walls. His attention never left the swordsman below.
Then, as if sensing it—
Rin looked up.
Directly at him.
Bachira froze.
Even from this distance, those teal eyes felt sharp enough to cut through skin. Rin’s expression barely changed, but the slight pause in his movements betrayed him. He had noticed.
A slow grin spread across Bachira’s lips.
He lifted two fingers in a playful wave.
For a second, Rin simply stared. Then his brows knit together in faint annoyance before he turned away, driving his spear clean through the center of the target with a violent crack.
Bachira laughed softly to himself.
“Cute.”
The word slipped from his mouth before he could stop it.
A knock sounded at his chamber door again.
“Prince Bachira?” the maid called cautiously. “Your father expects you downstairs.”
Right.
Dinner.
Politics. Nobles. Suffocating etiquette.
Bachira’s smile faded a little.
“Tell him I’m coming.”
He rose reluctantly, slipping from the window seat and pulling a loose robe over his bare shoulders. The castle expected grace and obedience from its youngest prince, but Bachira had never been very good at pretending.
Especially not lately.
Not when every thought somehow circled back to Rin.
The bodyguard had arrived at the palace nearly a year ago after ending a border rebellion almost single-handedly. Since then, rumors followed him everywhere — merciless, untouchable, impossible to read.
And yet Bachira noticed the tiny things no one else did.
The way Rin silently handed exhausted servants heavy crates without being asked.
The way he stood closer whenever Bachira wandered the city disguised among commoners.
The way his gaze softened — just barely — whenever Bachira laughed.
It made Bachira’s chest ache.
By the time he entered the grand dining hall, nobles already lined the long table dressed in jewels and silk — a sharp difference to the robe he wore. Conversation hushed briefly as he took his seat.
Across the room, stationed near the towering doors like a shadow carved into the wall, stood Rin.
Their eyes met again.
Bachira rested his chin in his hand and smiled lazily.
Rin looked away first.
That alone felt like victory.
Dinner dragged endlessly. His family debated trade routes while they drowned themselves in wine. Bachira barely touched his food, too busy stealing glances toward the bodyguard.
Eventually, unable to bear it any longer, he slipped away the moment the conversations grew loud enough to hide his exit.
The palace corridors were cool and quiet at night. Bachira wandered aimlessly until he reached the balcony overlooking the gardens below.
Moonlight silvered the hedges.
A familiar voice came from behind him.
“You skipped out again.”
Bachira turned, startled only for a moment before grinning.
Rin stood in the doorway, arms crossed over his dark uniform. Up close, he was even more unfairly beautiful — damp hair falling slightly into tired eyes, chest still rising from training.
“You followed me,” Bachira teased.
“I’m assigned to protect you.”
“Mhm.” Bachira stepped closer. “Only because of that?”
Rin’s jaw tightened.
The silence between them stretched, filled only by the distant sound of fountains below.
Bachira tilted his head. “You know… you always look at me when you think I don’t notice.”
“I don’t.”
“You do.”
Rin exhaled sharply through his nose, already sounding irritated. “You imagine things.”
Bachira laughed quietly. “Then why’d you stop training when I waved at you earlier?”
That finally earned a reaction.
A faint flush crept across Rin’s ears before he looked away.
Bachira’s eyes widened with delight.
“Oh,” he whispered, stepping even closer. “So I was right.”
“Bachira.”
The warning in Rin’s voice lacked its usual sharpness.
They were close enough now for Bachira to feel warmth radiating from him despite the cold night air. He looked up at Rin through lowered lashes, suddenly aware of how fast his own heart was beating.
“You’re unfair, Rin.”
“…What?”
“You stand there looking like that and expect me not to stare?”
For once, Rin had absolutely nothing to say.
Bachira thought he might explode from how adorable that was.
Then slowly — almost cautiously — Rin reached out and brushed his thumb against Bachira’s cheek.
The touch was gentle enough to make Bachira forget how to breathe.
“You stare too much,” Rin murmured.
“But you like it.”
A pause.
“…Maybe.”
Bachira’s grin softened into something quieter, warmer.
Under the moonlight, with the entire kingdom asleep around them, Rin finally leaned down and rested his forehead against Bachira’s.
And for the first time all evening, neither of them looked away.
The world beyond the balcony disappeared.
No nobles.
No expectations.
No kingdom resting on their shoulders.
Just Rin’s steady breathing mingling with Bachira’s in the cool midnight air.
Bachira smiled first, unable to help himself. “You’re really warm.”
“You’re freezing.”
“Well, maybe if a certain bodyguard invited me closer—”
Before he could finish teasing, Rin’s hand slid around his waist and pulled him firmly against his chest.
Bachira let out a surprised laugh.
“There,” Rin muttered, clearly annoyed at himself for indulging him. “Happy now?”
“Very.”
The silk robe bunched beneath Rin’s fingers as Bachira relaxed into him completely. Up close, he could smell sweat, metal, and something distinctly Rin — sharp and clean like rain against stone.
Dangerous.
Comforting.
His favorite thing in the world.
Rin looked down at him with that same unreadable expression he wore around everyone else, but Bachira could see through it now. He saw the exhaustion hidden beneath the sharp edges. The restraint. The constant vigilance.
“You work too hard,” Bachira said softly.
Rin scoffed quietly. “That’s rich coming from someone who spends hours watching me train instead of sleeping.”
Bachira gasped dramatically. “So you knew?”
“You’re terrible at hiding.”
“And you never told me?”
“There wasn’t any reason to.”
A grin tugged at Bachira’s lips again. “Maybe you liked being watched.”
Rin rolled his eyes, though the faint redness returning to his ears betrayed him immediately.
Cute.
So unbelievably cute.
Bachira reached up and brushed a damp strand of dark green hair away from Rin’s forehead. His fingers lingered against warm skin, tracing lightly down his temple.
Rin went still.
The prince’s playful expression softened.
“You know,” Bachira whispered, “everyone in this castle is scared of you.”
“They should be.”
“But I’m not.”
Rin’s gaze flickered.
“I know.”
Something about the quiet certainty in his voice made Bachira’s chest tighten painfully.
Without thinking, he leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss against the corner of Rin’s mouth.
Rin froze completely.
Bachira barely pulled back before Rin caught his wrist.
“…Do that again.”
The low murmur sent heat rushing straight to Bachira’s face.
“Oh?” he teased weakly, suddenly feeling shy for once. “So demanding.”
Rin stared at him for a long second before his hand moved from Bachira’s wrist to cradle the back of his neck.
Then he kissed him properly.
Slow at first, hesitant in a way Bachira never expected from someone like Rin. But the moment Bachira melted into him with a pleased hum, Rin’s restraint cracked.
The kiss deepened.
Rin’s other arm tightened around Bachira’s waist, pulling him impossibly closer as though he’d been holding himself back for months. Bachira smiled against his lips, fingers tangling into the damp hair at the nape of Rin’s neck.
There it is.
That terrifyingly intense devotion Rin tried so hard to bury.
Bachira adored it.
When they finally separated, both slightly breathless, Rin rested his forehead against his again.
“You’re trouble,” Rin muttered.
“And yet you’re kissing me.”
“…Unfortunately.”
Bachira laughed brightly, the sound echoing softly across the gardens below.
For once, Rin didn’t shush him.
Instead, he watched Bachira like he was something precious.
Something worth protecting.
The prince’s heart fluttered wildly under that gaze.
“Stay with me tonight,” Bachira asked quietly.
Rin hesitated.
Not because he didn’t want to.
Because he wanted to too much.
Bachira saw the exact moment his resolve failed.
Rin sighed softly, defeated, and pressed one final kiss to his forehead.
“…Only for a little while.”
Bachira beamed.
Liar.
They both knew Rin wouldn’t leave until morning.