The air hung heavy with the scent of jasmine and the distant hum of a lute. Azarel, perched atop a crumbling stone wall, watched the sun dip below the horizon, painting the sky in hues of crimson and gold. His gaze, however, was fixed on the sprawling palace grounds below, where a figure moved with effortless grace.

Adamme.

His heart, a captive bird in his chest, fluttered with a longing that bordered on ache. Adamme, the prince, the heir to the throne, the embodiment of everything Azarel desired. He was the sun, warm and radiant, while Azarel was the moon, forever drawn to his light.

Azarel had known Adamme since childhood. Their paths had crossed at the edge of the palace gardens, where Azarel, a commoner, would sneak in to steal a glimpse of the world beyond his humble life. He was drawn to Adamme's kindness, his gentle smile, the way he treated everyone with respect, even those who whispered behind his back.

But Adamme was royalty, a star too distant to ever touch. Azarel, a mere shadow in the prince's world, knew his place. He kept his distance, content to admire from afar, his heart a silent symphony of adoration.

Tonight, however, something felt different. Adamme, usually accompanied by his entourage, was alone, his gaze fixed on the horizon, his expression unreadable. Azarel watched, captivated, as the prince's shoulders slumped, a flicker of sadness crossing his face.

A sudden urge, a desire to comfort the prince, took hold of Azarel. He knew it was foolish, an act of reckless abandon, but he couldn't resist. He climbed down from the wall, his heart pounding in his chest, and approached the prince.

"Your Highness," he said, his voice a mere whisper.

Adamme turned, his eyes widening in surprise. "Azarel?" he said, his voice tinged with disbelief.

"I... I saw you were alone," Azarel stammered, his cheeks burning with shame. "I... I wanted to see if you were alright."

Adamme's gaze softened, a flicker of warmth replacing the sadness in his eyes. "Thank you, Azarel," he said, his voice gentle. "It's just... sometimes, the weight of the world feels heavy."

Azarel, emboldened by the prince's kindness, sat beside him, his heart a whirlwind of emotions. He listened as Adamme spoke of his burdens, the responsibilities that weighed heavily on his young shoulders, the loneliness of his position.

As they talked, the distance between them seemed to shrink, replaced by a shared understanding, a connection that transcended their different worlds. Azarel, for the first time, felt a glimmer of hope, a flicker of possibility. Perhaps, just perhaps, he wasn't just a shadow in Adamme's world. Perhaps, he could be something more.

The moon rose, casting a silvery glow on the palace grounds. Azarel, his heart filled with a newfound courage, looked at Adamme, his gaze lingering on the prince's face.

"I'm here for you, Your Highness," he said, his voice firm, his gaze unwavering. "Always."

Adamme smiled, a genuine, heartfelt smile that lit up his face. "Thank you, Azarel," he said, his voice filled with gratitude.

And in that moment, under the watchful gaze of the moon, a bond was forged, a promise whispered, a story waiting to be told.

This is the first episode of "That Boy," a BL novel exploring the forbidden love between a commoner and a prince. The story will delve into themes of social hierarchy, forbidden love, and the struggles of finding your place in the world. This episode sets the stage for the blossoming relationship between Azarel and Adamme, hinting at the challenges they will face and the sacrifices they will make for their love.

The sun, a fiery orb sinking below the horizon, cast long shadows across the sprawling gardens of the royal palace. Azazel, his heart pounding like a drum in his chest, stood at the edge of the manicured lawns, his gaze fixed on the imposing silhouette of the palace. He had been here before, a mere shadow in the bustling crowds that flocked to the palace gates during the annual Royal Ball. But tonight, he was here for a different reason. Tonight, he was here for Adamme.

The thought of the boy, his prince, his obsession, sent a tremor through him. He had spent the past few weeks, ever since their brief encounter at the ball, replaying the moment in his mind. Adamme, with his silver hair shimmering like moonlight, his eyes the color of a summer sky, and a smile that could melt glaciers. He was everything Azazel had ever dreamed of, a beacon in the darkness of his ordinary life.

He had learned everything he could about Adamme, devouring every scrap of information about the royal family. Adamme was the youngest son of the King, a prince known for his kindness and gentle nature. Azazel, a mere commoner, knew he was a world away from the prince's life. Yet, he couldn't shake the feeling that they were meant to be.

Tonight, he had a plan. He had discovered a hidden entrance to the palace gardens, a secret passage known only to a few. His heart hammered in his chest as he stepped through the overgrown archway, the air thick with the scent of jasmine and the rustle of leaves. He moved with a stealth born of desperation, his eyes scanning the shadows for any sign of danger.

The palace loomed before him, its walls bathed in the soft glow of the moon. He could almost feel Adamme's presence, a phantom whisper in the night. With a deep breath, he pushed open a window leading into a dimly lit hallway.

He found himself in a vast, echoing chamber, the air heavy with the scent of old books and polished wood. The walls were adorned with portraits of past monarchs, their stern faces staring down at him. He crept through the shadows, his heart pounding in his ears, until he reached a door at the end of the hallway. He could hear hushed voices coming from behind it, a symphony of whispers that sent a thrill down his spine.

This was it. This was where Adamme was.

He hesitated for a moment, his hand hovering over the doorknob. He had never felt so alive, so terrified, so consumed by a single desire. He took a deep breath, his hand trembling, and pushed the door open.

The room was bathed in the soft glow of candles, the air thick with the scent of incense and flowers. Adamme sat in a velvet armchair, his head resting in his hand, his silver hair cascading over his shoulders. He was surrounded by several men, their faces etched with concern.

"Adamme?" Azazel whispered, his voice barely audible.

The prince looked up, his eyes widening in surprise. He rose from his chair, his gaze fixed on Azazel, a mixture of confusion and fear in his eyes.

"Who are you?" he asked, his voice a soft melody.

Azazel stepped forward, his heart pounding. He had never been so close to the object of his obsession. "I'm Azazel," he said, his voice trembling. "I've been watching you, Adamme. I know who you are."

The prince's eyes narrowed. "Watching me?" he asked, his voice tinged with suspicion. "Why?"

"Because I love you," Azazel blurted out, the words tumbling over each other. "I've loved you since the moment I saw you at the ball."

The men surrounding Adamme exchanged nervous glances. One of them, a tall, imposing figure with a stern face, stepped forward. "This is the prince's chamber," he said, his voice cold and sharp. "You must leave."

Azazel ignored him, his gaze fixed on Adamme. "Please, Adamme," he pleaded. "Don't send me away. I just want to be with you."

Adamme looked from Azazel to the men, his expression torn between fear and curiosity. "I don't understand," he said, his voice soft. "What do you mean?"

"I mean I love you," Azazel repeated, his voice filled with desperation. "I want to be with you, Adamme. I want to be your everything."

The men surrounding Adamme exchanged worried glances. They knew this was dangerous, a commoner daring to profess his love for the prince. But Adamme, his eyes wide with a strange mixture of fear and fascination, did not seem to be in any hurry to send Azazel away.

"I... I don't know what to say," he stammered, his voice barely audible. "This is all so confusing."

"It doesn't have to be," Azazel said, stepping closer. "Just let me stay with you, Adamme. Let me be your friend, your confidante, your lover."

Adamme's eyes met Azazel's, his gaze filled with a mixture of fear and curiosity. He hesitated for a moment, then took a step back. "I... I need to think about this," he said, his voice trembling.

"Please, Adamme," Azazel pleaded. "Don't send me away."

Adamme looked at the men surrounding him, their faces grim and unyielding. He knew they would never approve of this, of his connection with a commoner. But there was something about Azazel, something in his eyes, in his voice, that drew him in, that made him want to defy the rules, to break free from the confines of his royal life.

"I... I can't make any promises," he said, his voice barely audible. "But I won't send you away tonight."

Azazel's heart soared. He had taken the first step, a small step, but a step nonetheless. He had a chance, a glimmer of hope, that he could be with the boy he loved. He knew the road ahead would be fraught with danger, with challenges, but he was willing to face them all, for Adamme. He would fight for their love, even if it meant defying the entire world.

The whispers of the palace, the hushed voices of the guards, the weight of tradition and duty, all faded into the background as Azazel looked into Adamme's eyes. He saw a flicker of something in the prince's gaze, a spark of something that could change their lives forever. And in that moment, he knew he would do anything, anything at all, to make that spark ignite into a flame.

The sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the palace gardens. Azarel, his heart a tangled mess of emotions, sat alone on a marble bench, the scent of blooming jasmine heavy in the air. He had spent the afternoon wandering the palace grounds, his mind replaying every detail of his encounter with Adamme.

The prince's casual touch, the way his eyes had lingered on Azarel's face, the faintest hint of a smile playing on his lips – all of it had left Azarel breathless, his senses reeling. It was a feeling he had never experienced before, a potent mix of exhilaration and trepidation.

But as the day wore on, a nagging doubt began to creep into his mind. Adamme, the crown prince, the golden boy of the kingdom, why would he even notice someone like Azarel? He was just a commoner, a nobody, a mere shadow in the grand tapestry of the royal court.

Azarel ran a hand through his hair, his fingers tangling in the dark strands. He had always been a dreamer, a boy who found solace in the pages of fantastical stories. He had imagined himself as a knight, a hero, a prince even, but never had he dared to dream of something so impossible, so utterly out of reach.

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of approaching footsteps. He looked up to see Adamme, his face illuminated by the soft glow of the setting sun. The prince was alone, his expression unreadable.

"Azarel," Adamme said, his voice a low murmur. "I was hoping to find you."

Azarel's heart skipped a beat. He stood up, his gaze fixed on the prince's face. "Your Highness," he stammered, his voice barely a whisper.

"Please, call me Adamme," the prince said, a flicker of a smile playing on his lips. "We're not in the palace now."

Azarel felt a warmth spread through his chest. He nodded, his voice still shaky. "Adamme."

The prince took a step closer, his gaze unwavering. "I wanted to thank you for today," he said. "For being so kind, so patient."

Azarel's cheeks flushed. "It was nothing," he mumbled. "I was happy to help."

"I know you were," Adamme said, his voice soft. "And I appreciate it more than you know."

He paused, his eyes searching Azarel's face. "I've been thinking about what you said," he continued. "About the world outside the palace walls."

Azarel's breath caught in his throat. He had never expected Adamme to take his words to heart.

"I've always been sheltered," Adamme said, his voice tinged with melancholy. "I've never known anything but the palace, the rules, the expectations. But you… you've opened my eyes to a different way of life."

He took another step closer, his hand reaching out to touch Azarel's arm. The touch sent a jolt of electricity through Azarel's body.

"I want to see more," Adamme said, his voice barely audible. "I want to experience the world beyond these walls, and I want you to show me."

Azarel stared at the prince, his mind reeling. He had never imagined that his words would have such an impact on Adamme, that they would inspire him to break free from the confines of his royal life.

But a part of him, a small, hesitant voice, whispered a warning. This was too much, too fast. He was just a commoner, a nobody, and Adamme was the prince, the heir to the throne. Their worlds were as different as night and day.

"Adamme," he said, his voice barely a whisper. "I… I don't know if I'm the right person for this."

The prince's smile faltered. "Why not?" he asked, his voice laced with a hint of disappointment.

Azarel hesitated, his eyes darting away from Adamme's gaze. "Because… because I'm not worthy," he mumbled. "I'm just a simple boy. You're… you're a prince."

Adamme's hand tightened on Azarel's arm. "Don't say that," he said, his voice firm. "You're more than just a simple boy. And I'm not just a prince. I'm Adamme, and I want to get to know you, the real you."

He leaned closer, his eyes meeting Azarel's. "Will you let me?"

Azarel stared into Adamme's eyes, his heart pounding in his chest. He could feel the warmth of the prince's hand on his arm, the intensity of his gaze. He knew, with a certainty that defied logic, that he was falling for Adamme, falling hard and fast.

But the shadow of doubt still lingered. He was afraid, afraid of getting hurt, afraid of losing himself in the intoxicating allure of the prince.

He took a deep breath, his voice trembling. "I… I need time to think," he said. "I need to understand what this means."

Adamme nodded, his expression unreadable. "I understand," he said. "Take all the time you need."

He released Azarel's arm and turned to leave, his footsteps echoing in the stillness of the garden. As he walked away, Azarel watched him go, his heart heavy with a mixture of hope and fear. He knew that this was just the beginning, the first chapter in a story that was just unfolding.

But what would the next chapter hold? Would it be a tale of love and happiness, or would it be a tragedy, a story of two souls destined to be forever apart?

This version of the story focuses on the internal conflict Azarel faces as he grapples with his feelings for Adamme and the fear of being unworthy of the prince's affection. It also introduces the potential for a deeper connection between the two characters, with Adamme expressing a desire to break free from his royal confines and experience the world beyond the palace walls. The ending leaves the reader with a sense of anticipation and uncertainty, setting the stage for the next chapter in their story.