His Chains, My Crown || Minsung

The moon lingered longer that night.

Its glow slipped in through the high windows of the palace, casting soft silver over the bruised stones, the cracked walls, the throne that had not been sat upon since the battle ended.

In their room, it kissed the curves of Minho’s back, where he sat, half turned, watching over Jisung like a sentry, silent, unmoving. The blood had long been wiped away. His wounds had closed. But he still hadn’t changed from his battle robes. The black and crimson embroidery shimmered faintly in the light, but they hung on his frame with a new weight. A new solemnity.

Jisung stirred beside him.

It wasn’t pain this time. It was just… waking.

Minho turned immediately, the lines around his eyes easing the moment they landed on Jisung’s face. The younger blinked slowly, dazed with sleep, his hair messy, his neck still bandaged but less pale than before.

“…Minho?”

A sound so soft, it barely stirred the air.

“I’m here.”

The reassurance came like breath, natural, automatic. He reached for Jisung’s hand before the younger even asked, threading their fingers together and bringing it to his lips.

Jisung’s eyes fluttered, tears threatening the corners.

“I didn’t think I’d wake up.” he murmured.

“I wouldn’t have let you go.” Minho said, so quietly it felt like a prayer. “Not then. Not ever.”

They stayed like that for a while, hands twined, silence filled only by the steady beat of the clock tower somewhere deep in the palace.

“You went feral.” Jisung’s voice was teasing, but hoarse, tired.

Minho glanced at him, unimpressed. “He bit you.”

“You tore him apart.”

“He bit you.”

Jisung gave him a wobbly smile. “You looked beautiful.”

Minho blinked. “What?”

“In the fire.” Jisung murmured, eyes flicking to the ceiling like he was watching the memory replay. “When your power exploded. You looked like destruction. And still… all I saw was you.”

Minho didn’t answer. Instead, he leaned forward and pressed a kiss to Jisung’s temple.

“You should be resting.”

“I am.” Jisung whispered. “Just… with you.”

There was a soft knock on the door.

Felix, holding a silver tray with two steaming cups. He stepped in gently, smiling carefully at Jisung. “I brought tea.”

“Felix.” Jisung breathed.

Minho helped him sit up slightly, arranging the pillows. Felix set the tray down beside the bed and sat on the edge, his voice tight with emotion.

“You scared us.”

“I scared me too.” Jisung joked, weakly.

Felix gave a watery laugh, but his hand sought Jisung’s for a moment. Just a touch. Just enough.

“I thought… you showed my brother what love looked like. Don’t you dare die before watching him fall deeper into it.”

Minho scoffed from beside them. “I can still hear you.”

“I meant for you to.” Felix shot back, wiping his eyes.

Jisung reached over, took his tea with shaking hands. Minho guided the cup gently to his lips. A small sip. Warm, floral, calming.

Felix lingered a moment longer, then stood. “I’ll let you rest. But you owe me a dramatic reunion hug later.”

“Count on it.” Jisung whispered, eyes fond.

Felix left, closing the door softly behind him.

And in the quiet that followed, Minho finally laid down beside Jisung, pulling the blankets over them gently.

Their fingers found each other again.

Not out of need.

But out of habit.

Jisung turned his head, meeting Minho’s eyes in the dark. “Will it always be like this?”

Minho didn’t hesitate. “No.”

Jisung raised an eyebrow.

“It’ll be worse.” Minho said dryly.

Jisung snorted, then winced.

Minho softened. He tucked a strand of hair behind Jisung’s ear.

“But if it is… we’ll burn the world together.”

Silence fell again, this time not heavy, but full.

Full of shared breaths.

Full of life.

Jisung’s voice, barely audible:

“I love you, Devil.”

Minho closed his eyes, forehead resting against Jisung’s.

“I know.”

And outside, the moon watched quietly, casting light over two souls who had already survived more than most, and would, together, survive everything still to come.