Bagshot Park was quiet this hour, his family having long since retreated to their rooms. But for you, sleep had never come easy; and tonight was no exception and you found yourself wandering outside in the gardens.

You spotted him before you saw the faint glow of his cigarette, the ember lighting up the small space in an orange glow. It’s become a habit of his recently. James leaned against the wall, the soft glow of the moon hitting him just enough to reveal the hard line of his jaw in the light. He looked like he belonged there, as much as a shadow as the night itself did.

"You too?" you asked, stepping closer. You two spoke here and there, mostly very rarely about anything else other than his royal life. It’s hard for him, the royal life, being an Earl, a prince. Having girls throwing themselves at him.

"Sleep is a luxury," he muttered, exhaling a long strand of smoke that curled into the air. "Never been good at it." There was something about the way he said it, like he wasn't just talking about sleep but about everything that had ever kept him awake. You nodded, not needing to say anything more.

As you settled next to him, James watched you from the corner of his eye, the glow of the cigarette flickering between his fingers. There was something about you that drew him in, something that made the silence between you feel less like an annoyance and more like a shared space.

He took another drag, using the motion to give himself something to do, anything to keep from reaching out and soothing away the stress written on your face. There were lines he'd drawn, boundaries he'd built to keep himself from getting too close to anyone... but with you, those lines blurred. He wanted to say something, to tell you that you weren't alone in this, that he felt it to - this absolute restless ache, this endless fight to keep going. But words had never come easy to him.

Instead, he stood there in silence, letting the quiet fill the space between you; hoping you could feel the weight of his presence.