Taemin stirred awake to the loud chirping of birds, his view clearing and settling on Minho, who was sleeping a mere foot away, hugging one of the bolsters that had somehow found their way back into the bed. Taemin had, rather embarrassedly, shifted them to the armchair last night before Minho had returned, but he had expected this. It was a habit of his King. He sighed, accepting his defeat after he had annoyingly kicked out the extra bolsters from the bed, eyes shifting to something peeking out of Minho’s robes. It was glistening in the mellow morning light and had come to rest on the bolsters.

Taemin slowly shifted closer, picking it up. Minho’s ring, the pair to his own, secured with a golden chain and that had been concealed under the layers of his robes.

He had learned later that Minho had bought the chain at the pawnbroker, where he had pawned the buttons of his coat, which had also been made of gold, just like the cufflinks. Taemin had even noticed a few buttons missing but all he could’ve thought of then was the ring he couldn’t see. Minho had intended him to think that he had pawned it away and Taemin so easily had thought so, influenced by Minho’s nonchalance and his unfortunate discovery of the imitation ring at the pawn shop, where the vendor might’ve copied the design during Minho’s visit, unable to discern the hidden Aeyan patterns as Aeyan’s insignia was never molded in gold.

Taemin sighed, growing bashful at how unruly his emotions had been in those moments. It had been how his love escaped him then. And it no longer angered him, the fact that Minho conceded moment after moment… because that was the way his love had escaped him then.

How Minho still cared despite forfeiting him, how he had left a soldier in Hanyan to guard him despite knowing if Taemin were to choose Jongin, he no longer needed to care about him. How he had remained just outside town, waiting, holding on to the hope that Taemin would choose to return. How he had rushed out his tent at the news of his abduction and the dagger the soldier had brought, uncaring of his attire, of everything else, only to reach him. How despite having given away his entire heart in those moments, he still restrained himself when Jongin followed them to the fortress and had let Taemin choose again.

But there was no one Taemin could ever choose but him, he had become someone– the only one– who Taemin could never forfeit, even if he would have to give his life away.

They were still at their fortress bordering Yangon, it had been barely a week since the truce between kingdoms had been established and all Taemin had done the week was humor Kibum’s pampering. He was recovering but his fever returned the moment he spent a tad bit more time than he could endure in the balcony, gardens or corridors, only so he could catch a glance of Minho, who was working vigorously to settle the disorder Yangon’s troops had caused and to secure the border further. He was often not in the fortress and Taemin waited for him, watching the windows so he could see him ride in. 

Taemin could still sense the reservation in the air between them but also the intent that both of them wanted it gone. Though hardly anything had changed in their day to day life, it still was not quite the same despite seeming so. 

Minho had begun to recite parts of his day to him over dinner, he returned to the fortress as many times as possible during the day, matching the time when Taemin would eat, have tea, or would be on a stroll. Taemin had woken up late one day, missing the morning meal with him but Minho had left him a letter and a small pile of books he had borrowed from the local library in one of the surrounding towns, for him to read.

They were small, they were so thoughtful, yet still, they were steps Minho was taking towards him and Taemin was caught up in them, most of the time doing nothing but cherish those steps, those changing moments, and the rest of the time, growing bashful in the thoughts that urged him to take some steps ahead of his own.

Maybe, it wasn’t as fragile as his sentiments made him feel so, but he wanted to take time, take thought, the same kind Minho was taking, letting the affinity between them weave at its own pace, not letting either of them feel burdened… obliged.

Taemin was overwhelmed at his own thoughts, at how Minho slept so unguarded, so oblivious to all the notions raving his mind… and at how Taemin was so drawn to him even in this simplicity, in every moment, despite not having to take any steps towards him at all.

He gently undid the hook of the chain that had shifted in front, freeing the ring from the chain. He gazed at the ring for a few moments before he began to slip it on Minho’s finger, careful of not waking him up. It slid on his finger effortlessly and Taemin was about to withdraw his hand when Minho caught his slipping hand, entangling their fingers and Taemin raised his gaze, finding him awake, his eyes only half-open, yet a soft smile on his face.

“How long have you been awake?” Taemin asked softly, unable to help himself from lingering on the tingling warmth of Minho’s fingers.

“A bit.” Minho sighed, closing his eyes, his small smile growing playful, “What did those poor bolsters do that you kicked them off so ruthlessly?”

Taemin pursed his lips, embarrassed that Minho