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Fernand and Clive were the future of their families' houses. They would carry their names with honor and fight for the kingdom in the name of justice. They would make their elders proud with their feats, Tales of their exploits would travel all across Zofia, and maybe one day, they'd even reach ears up north in Rigel one day.
...But, ugh, couldn't all of that wait for a little while?
The party was beginning to get a bit too loud for Fernand's liking. He was quiet by nature, choosing to keep to himself rather than engage guests in conversation. He found himself lingering around his dear Clive for most of the night. He was friendly when he needed to be, offered smiles when appropriate, all that, but he was itching to be rid of this crowded courtyard.
Nobles had a tendency to talk about anything and everything. All around them, guests gossipped about each others' houses, expressed mild concern about the state of the trading harbor, and bombarded each other with far-too-personal questions. Since when was it anyone's business to spread rumors about whose children were marrying who?
Fernand looked up at Clive's face. His features shone brilliantly in the candlelight, and his smile brightened up the room much more than any flame could. Fernand couldn't be the only one here who noticed.
After what seemed like years, the guest who was berating Clive with endless questions finally left. Fernand stepped in front of his friend before he had time to turn around.
"Are you enjoying yourself?" Fernand asked, eyebrow raising as he kept a careful eye on Clive's face. After being friends for so long, Fernand had learned to detect the slightest changes in Clive's demeanor.
"Goodness, Fernand!" The taller man chuckled at his dear companion's sudden appearance. "Yes, I'm enjoying myself. It's nice to mingle with neighboring nobles every so often."
"Okay, that's what you think I want to hear," Fernand sneered, poking Clive in the chest. "But tell me how you really feel. Are you having fun, Clive? I won't go reciting every word you say here to your father, you know. Unlike some people." That Clair surely was a force to be reckoned with, wherever she may be.
Bingo. Clive's jaw loosened a bit as he let his guard down, and he even allowed his shoulders to slouch a little, a habit that the boys had been beaten out of. "Well, in truth, I would much rather be anywhere else right now. It's a beautiful night, and this party hardly allows us to enjoy it. Gods, I had forgotten how exhausting it is to constantly entertain guests."
"It doesn't help that you're the host's son," Fernand added with a laugh. "I knew you felt out of sorts. You should know better than to try to hide your feelings from me, Clive, I can see right through you every single time."
"Alright then, O Wise Psychic, tell me: what am I thinking of right now?"
"If you're thinking what I'm thinking, then...you want to duck out of this party and go out into the field, correct?"
Clive let out a hearty laugh. "You really do have a knack for that, don't you?"
"Enough. Let's go." With a tug of Clive's arm, Fernand took off for the door leading to the main foyer of the house. Not only did he know Clive's brain like the back of his hand, he knew the layout of the other noble's house, as well.
The walk was relatively quiet. Clive had done most of the talking that night, and Fernand could tell that his friend simply needed a tranquil moment away from the ruckus. The silence remained until the two arrived outside.
All the stars were out to shine that night. There wasn't a cloud in the sky, and the moon shone brilliant white light down on a darkened landscape. It was one of those nights where, even though the sun wasn't out, objects shone strong enough to cast a faint shadow on the ground. By now, the two men were so far away from the party that the only sounds that still carried were the occasional shouts from someone trying to get attention. Other than that, it was a relatively soundless night.
"Unbelievable how just a short walk can take us from one world to the next…" Fernand muttered, kicking the dry grass before sitting down.
Clive hummed in agreement and joined his friend on the ground, where he sighed heavily and crossed his legs under him. The two sat on a hill that overlooked a valley, all of which was part of the many lands owned by Clive's family. Many winters had come and gone where he and Fernand would go sledding down this very hill until their whole bodies were chilled to the bone.
The silence still persisted. The men had moments like this often, where they simply enjoyed the presence of another person nearby. They could sit for hours in comfortable solitude, but with their responsibilities becoming more abundant as of late, these kinds of breaks were becoming few and far apart.
"The night sky is beautiful," Clive said finally, placing his hand on Fernand's knee as the two continued to look at the vast expanse of stars above them. "Clear nights like this are always the most enchanting."
"I agree," Fernand replied, inching a bit closer to Clive until his back brushed against the other man's side. With a comfortable exhale, he craned his neck upwards until his head rested gently against Clive's shoulder.
Clive chuckled as Fernand got situated, and he promptly wrapped his arm around his shorter friend's waist. Clive only had an inch or two on Fernand, but it was still something that he teased him endlessly for, much to Fernand's chagrin.
Fernand and Clive had a history of being touchier than most men their age. They were practically inseparable as it was, it only made sense that they were attached at the hip, quite literally, every now and then. Clive was no stranger to giving Fernand hugs, holding his hand, or putting his hand on the other man in some manner or another. Fernand was no different.
...So this question shouldn't really come as a shock, right?
"Um...Fernand?" Clive asked, careful not to ruin the moment by speaking too loud. "I have a request."
"Hmm?" Fernand perked up and turned his attention to Clive, whom he viewed from below from his position on his shoulder. The sight of Clive below the chin made him snort. "What is it, Clive?"
"Close your eyes."
Fernand was taken aback. With wide eyes, he lifted his head to stare Clive in the eye. "I...pardon?" He stammered, and his cheeks were beginning to burn with color. He was so pale, his face turned red much faster than anyone else that Clive knew. His silver hair didn't help at all, either - it only accentuated how embarrassed he was.
"What?" Clive snickered, reaching up to run a hand through those soft, gorgeous sterling locks. "All I asked was that you close your eyes. You trust me, don't you?"
"That you ask if I trust you gives me every incentive to trust you less," Fernand rolled his eyes and sat up, turning his body to face Clive before folding his legs beneath him. "Very well. I will heed your request - but don't get used to this."
With that, Fernand's eyes fluttered shut, and all at once, he was defenseless. Clive had seen Fernand's ruthlessness in training; how expertly he controls his horse, how he wields a lance as though it was another limb, how he slaughters every training dummy with a vengeance that was never displayed elsewhere. Clive had been caught slacking once or twice simply because of how hypnotizing the refined nobleman was.
But now, alone under the starlight, thighs touching and fingers brushing shyly together, Clive saw Fernand in his pure, vulnerable beauty. Sitting there, still as a frozen lake, Fernand mimicked the likeness of a doll. His face was perfectly symmetrical, aside from the slight, adorable snarl he always bore, and the small scar piercing through his left eyebrow. His cheeks had returned to their standard color, pale porcelain, and his silvery hair shone under the moonlight and swayed with the subtle, warm breath of Mother Mila.
Clive admired Fernand's otherworldly beauty, amazed. Awestruck might've even been a better word to describe how Clive felt. His heart tightened in his chest. His stomach tingled with a swarm of butterflies. The tip of his nose heated up as though kissed by the moon. He cleared his throat and reached out to touch Fernand, placing his hand on that perfect, smooth cheek. When the other man flinched, Clive's heart melted into a puddle.
"Keep your eyes closed," Clive murmured, inching forward onto his knees. He could see Fernand's features twisted with impatience. With a laugh, Clive finally placed a warm, gentle kiss upon his dear partner's pink lips.
If Fernand had flinched upon his cheek getting touched, then his next move was nothing short of a full-on startle. His shoulders came up to his ears, and an involuntary groan fluttered against Clive's lips. His eyes snapped open, and there Clive was: face pressed against his own. It was his turn to close his eyes.
Being so close, it was hard for Fernand to see Clive's expression. Still, he breathed evenly and let out a delighted snicker in response to Fernand's embarrassment. This must have been something that the young man had been waiting to do for a long, long time. And now that he had it, Fernand realized something. Those suppressed feelings for Mathilda, the jealousy that arose in his chest when he saw her with Clive, his Clive, the pounding of his heart in his chest ringing in his ears...it wasn't Mathilda that Fernand had feelings for at all. No, one thing was obvious: all this time, it was Clive who Fernand secretly pined for.
Upon this realization, Fernand blinked until his eyelids drifted back down. His body relaxed, his lips puckered, and he enveloped Clive's strong shoulders in his arms. The hand that snuck around his waist in response was enough to send chills up Fernand's spine.
After a few more blissful moments of lips touching soft lips, Clive finally pulled away, his eyes opening gently to examine the shorter man before him. He smiled warmly and pushed Fernand's lustrous hair out of his eyes, and he kept his hand still so he could gently scratch his friend's scalp.
"I apologize," Clive stammered, glancing off to the side with a nervous half-laugh. "I-I don't know what came over me, I just--"
Fernand hushed him with another peck on the lips. "Oh shut it, Clive," he teased, running his fingers through the short hairs on the back of Clive's head. "Next, you're going to tell me that you love me."
"Again with your psychic powers?" Clive laughed, taking ahold of Fernand's hands and bringing them out in front of him. "That was next on my agenda, yes. I love you, Fernand. I can't believe I neglected these feelings for so long...what a fool I was to keep my desires in the shadows all this time. Every moment I spend with you is a moment spent on top of the world. With you at my side, I can do anything."
Fernand couldn't hide his growing smile. He couldn't cover his mouth while trapped between Clive's hands. Instead, he hung his head and pressed his forehead against his friend's mouth to shut him up.
"I...I love you too, Clive," Fernand admitted, his eyes closing to avoid the crushing confrontation that came with saying these things to Clive's face. "This whole time, I was in love with you. I can hardly believe it...you, of all people, were the one to capture my heart. I didn't know until just now, after...well. You know. So yes, Clive, I love you. I love you with everything I am. I live and fight on to see your smiling face."
With a satisfied hum, Clive kissed Fernand one more time. And there they stayed, basking under the starlight in each other's arms until the moon set below the trees. All life stilled while the two men continued to express their feelings wordlessly. Having something to live for is every nobleman's duty, but the two men quickly realized that night that having someone to live for was far better. Far, far better indeed.