Work Text:
Neuvillette wasn’t someone that most people associated with the sun.
On the contrary, though he tried to keep his true identity hidden from the public, those who knew him best found it easy to draw the connections between a mourning Iudex and the droplets that fell from the sky. Even in his own mind, Neuvillette was forever linked to the soft pitter-patter of rain against windows, the splashing of puddles as pedestrians hurried for cover, and the darkening of skies accompanied by a rumble of thunder.
Wriothesley had never thought of Neuvillette that way, though. When one lives in the darkness and solitude that the Fortress of Meropide is known for, they learn to look for the light even in the most unexpected of places. The Duke just happened to find that light in the Chief Justice.
For so long, Wriothesley had admired the man from afar. Had taken note of hair as white as falling snow glistening as it cascaded down Neuvillette’s back. He had quietly debated whether the blue lining the man’s eyes was makeup or truly the color of his lashes. Elegant royal blue robes had danced in his vision and the tease of a slim waist hidden underneath was a treasure Wriothesley longed to discover. Many times, he had imagined the hand curling elegantly over the handle of a cane was instead holding his own, fingers intertwined together as the Iudex leaned over to murmur something in his ear.
Knowing which vision would stand before him each time he made the trip to the surface made the voyage bearable, despite knowing he’d have to sit through a trial and potentially deal with bringing a new convict down to Meropide. Wriothesley never paid any attention to said trials, instead focusing on Neuvillette and studying each tiny mannerism as if there would be an exam on his way out of the Opera Epiclese.
Over the years, he learned to read the Chief Justice better than anyone. Wriothesley didn’t think it was because he was somehow much more adept at it than anyone else – it was just that he was the first to take the time and care to learn.
“Guilty.”
Neuvillette’s voice boomed through the Opera Epiclese, drawing the dramatic, week-long trial to a close. All eyes turned to the defendant as he hurled obscenities at the Chief Justice and lunged forward as if he could somehow reach him.
Wriothesley, however, kept his gaze trained on Neuvillette. He didn’t miss the way a solitary tear fell down his cheek at the same moment thunder boomed overhead. The Chief Justice summoned his cane, but his hands shook as he grasped it. His steps were a little too measured, too even as he walked away, as though he was taking great care to make clear just how fine and unbothered he was.
Leaving the defendant to his guards, Wriothesley quietly left the ornate courtroom and headed for the building’s exit. Though Furina had often lamented not knowing where the Iudex had gone off to after trials, it was obvious to anyone paying attention that he hadn’t left the premises at all. Without breaking his stride, Wriothesley swiped an umbrella as he headed for the secluded garden he knew Neuvillette liked to visit.
As expected, the light sprinkling of rain that had started along with the court proceedings that day had worsened. Rain fell in a deluge around the warden, and the umbrella was the only thing that kept him from being immediately soaked to the bone. Wriothesley made his way towards the lone figure standing somewhat hidden off to the side of the opera house.
Neuvillette didn’t acknowledge his presence, didn’t even move a muscle to indicate he’d heard Wriothesley approach. He stood tall, with his head tipped back slightly towards the clouds and his cane still grasped tightly in both hands.
“If you need a place to think, I can think of several that are a lot warmer and a lot drier,” Wriothesley called, crossing to stand next to him.
Neuvillette simply hummed in response, not moving. Wriothesley shifted his grip on the umbrella, making sure they were both covered. A long pause stretched between the two men, but it wasn’t uncomfortable.
“I find the rain quite calming. I do apologize, however. It must be quite the inconvenience for you,” Neuvillette eventually offered, lowering his face and opening his eyes to look over at Wriothesley.
“Not at all,” he said honestly. “I enjoy the rain, really. One of the few things I miss from the overworld is hearing it fall on the roof and rustle the leaves in the trees.”
“Indeed?” Neuvillette questioned, blinking at him.
“Indeed,” Wriothesley echoed with a little grin. “So I don’t mind standing here with you as long as you need.”
“I am quite capable of finding my own way back to the Palais Mermonia in my own time,” the Iudex replied, tone bordering on irritation as he turned his face back towards the sky.
“Not as a chaperone,” Wriothesley clarified hurriedly. “As a…friend.”
That silence stretched between them again. For a quick, terrifying moment, Wriothesley worried he had overstepped his bounds and lost the other’s attention entirely. Then, it was Neuvillette’s turn to be the echo.
“A friend,” he murmured. “Forgive me if the term seems foreign.”
Ignoring the self-deprecation in his voice, Wriothesley chuckled. “I’m a little too familiar with what you mean by that.” Seeing crystalline eyes flick over in his direction, he continued on. “Being the Duke is great and all, particularly when it comes to having a direct line to the Palais and a certain Chief Justice.” He bumped his shoulder with Neuvillette’s, basking in the tiny huff it elicited. Was it laughter? Wriothesley couldn’t be sure, but he relished the sound all the same.
“I sense a ‘but’ coming,” the Iudex hedged.
“But,” Wriothesley dragged the word out, tilting his head towards Neuvillette’s before straightening back up. “Ever heard the phrase ‘it’s lonely at the top’?”
“Ah.” Neuvillette nodded. “Not many willing to be friends with the Duke of the Fortress, I take it.”
“Bingo.” Wriothesley bounced slightly on the balls of his feet, careful to keep the umbrella steady above them. “If I may be so bold, I’d assume it’s the same for a certain Chief Justice of the Courts?”
After a moment of quiet, Neuvillette sighed and his shoulders seemed to sag slightly. “Quite,” he assented.
“Well, then. Seeing as we’re both in desperate need of a friend, it seems only right to offer you my services and stand here in the rain with you until you’re ready to go back in.”
“It may be a while.” Neuvillette turned his head slightly to look at him, eyes holding wells of emotions that the warden wasn’t bold enough to name and the Iudex wasn’t brave enough to show.
“That’s fine by me,” Wriothesley said without hesitation, meeting the man’s gaze. Neuvillette shivered, facing forward again.
After a split second to deliberate, Wriothesley smoothly used his free hand to remove his coat from around his shoulders and wrap it around Neuvillette. When he received an alarmed look in return, he simply shrugged.
“Can’t have our Chief Justice catching a cold,” he reasoned. Neuvillette’s lips quirked upwards slightly, but he didn’t say anything else. The two simply stood together, gazing out at the sea beyond the Opera Epiclese and taking a quiet moment in the rain.
When Wriothesley returned to the Fortress that night, the clothes he wore were soaked but his face bore a smile.
The encounter had proven what the Duke already knew in his heart: Neuvillette wasn’t some emotionless counterpart to the Oratrice. He had feelings of his own, but either didn’t have someone to express them to or didn’t know how to do so in the first place. Being able to witness Neuvillette do that in his own, small ways – a quick upturning of lips, a few rapid blinks, a quiet huff – brought warm feelings to Wriothesley’s chest that he didn’t quite understand.
It was in the days following their time in the rain that he made a silent promise to the Chief Justice. A promise to be there for him. To notice him when no one else was paying attention. To listen when he needed to speak, or to stand silently in solidarity. To learn what made him tick, and do what he could to make him happy.
It seemed only fair that the one responsible for holding the nation of Fontaine steady, the one who bore such a tremendous responsibility, should have someone to lean on in return. Wriothesley could be that person – would be that person.
Wriothesley didn’t know it then, but it was a quiet vow of love.
As the days crept closer to the next trial, he found his thoughts turning to Neuvillette more often than not. The Chief Justice had never elaborated on what caused those tears to fall. Wriothelsey had his guesses, of course. They ranged from the sheer exhaustion of presiding over such an intense and lengthy trial to a momentary lapse in the ability to handle yet one more guilty inmate who blamed Neuvillette for their lot in life.
Is anyone checking in on him? Wriothesley wondered as he walked towards the infirmary. He knew Sedene was surely doing her best, but there were limits to what she could do when the person in need of help (and potentially refusing it) was her boss. The Melusines were not unlike Neuvillette’s own personal army, but they would defer to him if he pushed back strongly enough, assuring them that “there is no need to worry, for he is quite well.”
Furina was likely to be wrapped up directing something with her theater troupe, or spending her time learning how to be human again. The President of the Spina di Rosula was a caring woman, but she was in over her head with her own issues in Poisson. Navia hadn’t been seen around the Court for weeks. Neuvillette had sent Clorinde to help her with those very problems, claiming it to be a diplomatic responsibility of the Fontainian government. Wriothesley strongly suspected there were deeper motives there, but refused to pry into the private affairs of one of his closest friends without a damn good reason.
Wriothesley crossed the threshold into the infirmary, giving Sigewinne a roll of his eyes as the Melusine snapped to attention, her paw practically smacking against her face from the force of her mock salute.
“At ease,” he drawled, trailing a hand over the railing as he descended the stairs. Sigewinne giggled, clapping her hands together and running over to him.
“Welcome, Your Grace! What a privilege it is to see your face in my infirmary again! Why, I had almost forgotten what you looked like.” She planted her hands on her hips and arched one eyebrow as Wriothesley sighed.
“Yes, Sigewinne, I do apologize for not visiting within the last–” he checked the non-existent watch on his wrist, “–twelve hours.”
“Someone’s been too busy daydreaming about Monsieur Neuvillette,” she trilled in a sing-song voice, skipping back towards her desk. Wriothesley cringed slightly, shooting a look towards the top of the stairs to make sure no one was around to overhear.
“I don’t daydream, Sigewinne. And even if I did – which I don’t – it wouldn’t be about the Chief Justice.” He followed her to the desk and leaned against the wall before crossing his arms over his chest.”
“Right,” Sigewinne dragged out the word. “Definitely not. You’re just an hour late to our meeting for other, non-Neuvillette-related reasons.” Wriothesley’s eyes widened minutely and his head snapped around to look at the clock on the wall. He realized his mistake a moment too late, when a shit-eating grin spread across the Melusine’s face.
“I’m not late,” he said, his voice definitely not petulant.
“Yes, but the fact that you even had to check shows you thought it was a possibility,” Sigewinne crowed. “You have been daydreaming about the Chief Justice!”
Wriothesley groaned, dragging a hand over his face. “Can we just go over what supplies you need from the overworld? Leave the interrogation for a time where we can do it behind closed doors?” He jerked his chin in the direction of the open doorway, where anyone could enter and overhear them with little to no warning.
“Of course, Your Grace.” Sigewinne skipped over to her supply cabinets, rummaging through them. “It seems we’re in need of more gauze, cough drops, and –oh, yes! I did run out of patience for your bullshit a few days ago! If you could pick up some more–”
“Thanks, Sige. See you.” Wriothesley cut her off, striding for the exit. He rolled his eyes fondly as she erupted into giggles behind him, a small smile of his own coming to his lips.
The Duke had every intention of turning back to his office. The piles of paperwork were never-ending, and it would serve him well to make a dent in them. It would keep him occupied for the rest of the afternoon at least, if not into the night. Instead, he found his footsteps heading for one of the elevators.
Once inside, he waved off a well-intentioned guard rushing to ask if he required backup and allowed the doors to close. As the elevator rose towards the surface, Wriothesley tipped his head back, as though he, too, could gaze up into the rain and find answers the way Neuvillette seemed to.
After their time in the rain, the Chief Justice had seemed settled in a way Wriothesley rarely saw him. He had his suspicions about the true identity of the Iudex, but would never risk crossing Neuvillette’s boundaries or betraying his trust by asking.
In the public eye, Neuvillette carried himself with an impeccable poise and elegance that few could master. He was never anything less than perfectly polite, even in the face of those who were less than kind to him. But there was a stiffness in his frame, something that screamed he didn’t feel comfortable in his own skin. That public persona was a little too perfect, a little too practiced.
That day in the rain, there had been no such tension in Neuvillette. The Iudex had looked truly at peace. Eventually, Wriothesley had gotten the impression bringing the umbrella may have been a mistake, but that Neuvillette would never say such a thing to his face. He’d let it fall to the ground, abandoned, and the soft noise of contentment that came from the man next to him hadn’t gone unnoticed. The truth was quite the opposite, in fact.
Wriothesley had filed that little sound away in his mind; had made a point to memorize the events leading up to it and every mannerism that accompanied it. The way lilac eyes fluttered shut for a brief second, chin tilting upwards just ever so slightly, as if the rain were a lover’s caress that Neuvillette wanted to sink into. The Chief Justice’s frame, ever resolute and formidable, had seemed to soften somewhat.
Throwing that umbrella aside meant he had returned to the Fortress looking something like a drowned wolf, but it had been entirely worth it. Wriothesley would cast it aside a thousand times over if it meant Neuvillette could stand in that moment at peace both in mind and in body.
Wriothesley wasn’t sure if it was the rain itself that elicited that calm or if it was simply the presence of Hydro or something else entirely. He had briefly considered that perhaps it was his own presence that put Neuvillette at ease, but his ego wasn’t so inflated as to take that possibility seriously. Regardless of what it was, he knew it was good for the other. Having a nation depend on you so completely, to run the government, mete out justice, provide the Pneumousia that powered, well, everything…that kind of responsibility took a toll. It didn’t matter if the one in question was fifty years old or five hundred.
If Wriothesley was a betting man, and the steadily growing pile of credit coupons in his office proved that he was, he would bet that Neuvillette needed another moment like that.
He would bet that Neuvillette hadn’t taken one, and no one dared to push him as far as Wriothesley did when it came to trying to get him to take care of himself.
The elevator came to a grinding halt, snapping the warden out of his reverie. The sounds of the door unlocking and sliding out of the way startled a few nearby civilians enjoying the sunny day. Wriothesley ignored their stares and whispers, striding purposefully towards the Opera Epiclese. He’d check the gardens just in case Neuvillette happened to be out there, taking a moment for himself. With this many people around, though, Wriothesley figured it was unlikely.
His assumptions were proven correct when he didn’t catch a glimpse of the Iudex, and a quick chat with a nearby Garde confirmed the man should be at the Palais at this time. Wriothesley reached out and grasped the man’s forearm, ignoring the gasp the action elicited and taking a look at his watch.
Just after noon. Perfect.
Wriothesley dropped the man’s arm and gave him a nod before setting off again. Rather than heading directly to the Palais, he decided to make a few quick stops. Sigewinne did need her gauze, cough drops, and patience, after all. A quick stop at Damoville Purveyor would ensure he had her supplies for the return trip to the Fortress.
After that, he would stop at the Hotel Debord and pick up some Consomme. It was entirely likely Neuvillette had neglected to eat lunch – again – and Wriothesley wasn’t opposed to making sure he was properly taken care of. He’d even get a few slices of one of their garlic baguettes so the Chief Justice wasn’t eating alone. It would hardly be a relaxing experience to eat your lunch while your friend just sat there and waited, Wriothesley figured.
When his errands were done, he finally made his way towards the Palais. It was edging on one in the afternoon at that point, but it wasn’t as though Neuvillette wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon. Though Wriothesley desperately wanted to work on his workaholic tendencies, at least he knew where the other was at least ninety percent of the time.
His hands full with shopping bags, Wriothesley gently nudged the door to the Palais open with his foot and pushed his way inside.
“Duke Wriothesley!” A nearby member of the Marechaussee Phantom ran over, paws outstretched. “Please allow me to take one of your bags.”
“No need,” Wriothesley said, continuing into the building. “If you could just let me into Monsieur Neuvillette’s office, that would be perfect.”
“Lucky for you, Sedene is on her lunch break,” the Melusine said with a laugh as she skipped ahead of him.
His friendly arguments with Neuvillette’s assistant were legendary within the Palais. One time, after thirty minutes of arguing over when Neuvillette would be taking lunch, Wriothesley had decided to just have his own in the hall. He’d taken a croissant out of his bag, “accidentally” gotten crumbs all over the floor, and darted into the Iudex’s office when Sedene went to fetch a broom.
“This day just keeps getting better and better,” Wriothesley shot her a smile and thanked her as she held the door open to Neuvillette’s office. He turned away from her and towards the desk at the far end of the room.
He should have known the sight would take his breath away, but he was still unprepared as air left him in one quick whoosh.
Neuvillette was seated at his desk, a pen held loosely in his right hand as his left leafed through a stack of papers. It was evident he had been at it for a while – some of his hair had come loose from its usual ponytail, a sure sign he’d been running his hands through it in exhaustion, frustration, or both. Reading glasses were perched on the bridge of his nose, giving him a look that was somehow both scholarly and sweet. His blue robes had been carefully laid over the back of his chair at some point, leaving him in a white dress shirt and black slacks. The shirt was buttoned up all the way, and Wriothesley’s fingers itched to reach out to undo the top clasp, to expose the pale skin he knew was hiding underneath.
The door closing behind them announced his arrival, and Neuvillette looked up from his paperwork. A few stray strands of hair promptly fell into his eyes, and oh how Wriothesley wanted to reach out and tuck them back behind a delicately pointed ear.
“Your Grace,” he greeted. He was clearly surprised, but there was no mistaking the warmth in his tone. “There are no trials today, nor do I have any meetings. I was not expecting to see you.”
Wriothesley shot him what he hoped was a winning grin. He couldn’t be sure, given how his heart was threatening to jackhammer its way out of his chest. He could hardly focus on anything beyond those brilliant lavender eyes, but somehow he forced his feet to carry him up to the desk.
“I know. The trial a few days ago seemed to really drain both of us, so I figured I’d come to see how you were doing.”
They both knew Wriothesley had not been nearly as affected, but the warden was determined to give Neuvillette that shield. He didn’t want to start this interaction by basically calling him emotional or something equally insulting.
“An entirely unnecessary trip, I assure you.” Neuvillette put down his papers and lifted his hand to remove his reading glasses.
“Not true,” Wriothesley shot back. “But if it makes you feel any better, Sige needed some supplies for the infirmary anyway.” He raised the shopping bag in his left hand as an indication. Neuvillette’s lips quirked up a bit at the mention of the nurse.
“How is Sigewinne?”
“I’ll tell you all about it while we eat,” Wriothesley answered smoothly, carefully lifting the bag in his right hand. Neuvillette raised an eyebrow at him, and in that moment the Duke was struck by how much Sigewinne’s mannerisms resembled his.
“Was lunch one of the supplies Sigewinne required?” Neuvillette asked flatly, but not unkindly.
“Nope,” Wriothesley said, popping the ‘p’. “Just figured we could both use a break from work.”
“And what have you brought for us to consume during this break?” Neuvillette asked as he cleared some papers away to make space on the desk.
“Y’know, Neuv, you can just ask what we’re having for lunch,” Wriothesley laughed a little as he set Sigewinne’s supplies down and started pulling takeout containers out of the bag.
“Is that not what I just asked?” Neuvillette responded, and when the warden risked a glance at him, there was the tiniest of smiles playing upon his lips.
Wriothesley felt like his breath had been punched out of him at the sight. It was the first time he’d seen something like this from Neuvillette. It felt almost like the other was letting him in on a secret no one else knew. Like it was something just for the two of them in this moment, sharing smiles over takeout in the Palais.
“I suppose so,” Wriothesley answered, and his voice was breathier than he meant it to be. He forced himself to look away, back down to the food. “Okay, I know Consomme is your favorite, so that one’s yours.” He handed the Iudex a container of the soup, relishing in the way that small smile remained on his face as he took it.
“You did not have to do this, Your Grace.”
“Wriothesley.”
Neuvillette looked up at him then. A beat passed before he nodded.
“Wriothesley,” he murmured in assent.
Refusing to give his lungs time to fail on him again, Wriothesley pushed ahead. “I know I didn’t have to, but I wanted to.”
“I would have been perfectly happy with a sandwich or something that requires less effort to procure.”
“Liar.” Wriothesley grinned at him as he sat down in the chair on the other side of the desk, delighting in the faint dusting of pink that colored Neuvillette’s cheeks.
“I have been called many things during my extended lifespan,” the man mused dryly as he opened his container of soup. “However, I do believe this is the first time someone has dared to call me a liar to my face.”
“I can do it again if you think that’ll help you deal with the shock,” Wriothesley deadpanned before taking a bite of his baguette slice.
“Yes, it would be quite shocking that the Duke of the Fortress of Meropide is making yet another unnecessary effort at my expense.”
This was the most relaxed Neuvillette had been in conversation with Wriothesley in…probably ever. Usually the Duke was treated to a few dry comments, or a witty remark that was made so quickly it was easily missed. This time, Neuvillette was leaning into the banter, being sarcastic with him, and Wriothesley liked it. He liked it a lot.
“That’s what friends are for,” Wriothesley offered after he swallowed. Neuvillette simply looked at him then, a spoonful of soup frozen halfway between the container and his lips.
“Is it? What friends are for?” There was vulnerability in the man’s tone and in the way his gaze flicked away towards the window before landing somewhere just past Wriothesley’s ear.
“Yeah, Neuv.” Wriothesley’s voice was soft and gentle but not condescending. “That’s what friends do.”
The two of them looked at each other for another moment before Neuvillette turned his gaze to his soup.
“Thank you for the clarification. I asked for a specific reason, you see.”
“Yeah? What’s that?” Wriothesley took another bite of his baguette, leaning back in his chair and crossing one leg over his knee. Neuvillette hesitated slightly, gaze flicking between the warden and his soup before apparently deciding to continue on.
“I do consider Miss Clorinde to be a…friend. The same could be said for Miss Navia. Yet, neither of them have acted as you do. Neither of them have followed me out of the Opera Epiclese to stand in the rain, nor have they ever brought me lunch.” Neuvillette cleared his throat and the pink on his cheeks deepened ever so slightly. “You must forgive me, Wriothesley, for I suppose I had started to think that perhaps this relationship between the two of us was something different.”
Wriothesley stared at him in shock, baguette completely forgotten.
Sure, he was a betting man, but he never would have wagered Neuvillette would be the first to address whatever was going on between the two of them.
And what was it between them, anyway? Neuvillette was right, and he hadn’t even mentioned half of the little idiosyncrasies they shared.
Neuvillette’s glances in his direction during trials, so different from his usual one-minded focus on whatever task was at hand.
Meaningful looks exchanged during Furina’s tenure as Archon, when both were exasperated, exhausted, or some mix of both and needed that silent support.
When had Wriothesley started adding little reminders to take a break and stretch to the bottom of his official reports from the Fortress?
And when had Neuvillette started signing his replies as simply “Neuvillette,” no mention of title from the most formal man in all of Fontaine?
“Wriothesley?” Neuvillette’s concerned voice broke through Wriothesley’s thoughts. His lips were now curved downwards slightly and his brow was furrowed. “If I have said something to offend you, I truly do apologize.”
“No!” Wriothesley’s voice was louder than he meant for it to be, and both men flinched. “No,” he repeated, quieter this time. “You didn’t offend me. I was just thinking.”
“I believe the phrase is, ‘mora for your thoughts’?” Neuvillette asked. His brow was slowly unfurrowing and he looked genuinely interested in hearing what Wriothesley had to say.
“Let me get them organized first,” Wriothesley tried for a joke, but there was no humor there.
He knew what they were now, and it wasn’t friends.
Fuck.
He loved Neuvillette. Loved him in a way that went beyond a deep friendship and straight into romantic territory. That silent pledge he had made all those days ago after their time in the rain – that hadn’t been the promise of a friend invested in another friend’s wellbeing. It sounded like the vow of a man who was falling in love.
Wriothesley ran a hand through his hair, shooting to his feet and taking a few steps away from the desk.
Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.
Of course he had to come to this realization now, in Neuvillette’s office, with Neuvillette looking at him in that concerned way. There was no easy escape route here, he knew that, but he started to run through his options.
First, he could make a flimsy excuse and leave, but Neuvillette would see right through it and make incorrect assumptions. He could try to explain how they were just best buds, the bestest of friends ever, but he would probably end up sounding sarcastic or resentful, which would also lead to those assumptions. The third option was to leave without saying anything at all, but he may as well light the entire Palais on fire behind him with how thoroughly he will have burned that bridge.
“Wriothesley?” Neuvillette called his name and rose from his desk. He took a few steps towards the Duke, whose gaze dropped to the slim waist he had spent weeks thinking about but never catching a glimpse of.
Fuck. Okay, apparently there was a secret fourth option, which was to grab Neuvillette by that very waist, tangle his hands in beautiful, snowy hair and kiss him like there would be no tomorrow.
No, that could not happen under any circumstances. Not if he wanted Neuvillette to ever speak to him again.
“We’re not friends,” Wriothesley ended up blurting out, which was the worst option he could have picked. He wanted to snatch the words back, but they were already out there and there was nothing he could do.
Neuvillette’s face could not be described as anything short of devastated. His lips parted slightly and his eyes widened the tiniest bit as something akin to tears pooled in them. It was the most emotion Wriothesley had ever seen him show at once, and then it was gone in the blink of an eye. The impassive mask of the Chief Justice slid over his features smoothly, as though it had never been gone in the first place.
“Ah. Forgive my misunderstanding, Your Grace.” Neuvillette turned to go back to his desk, taking one step at the same time that thunder boomed overhead.
“No, wait!” Wriothesley reached out and gripped Neuvillette’s wrist, grip gentle but firm. “That’s not–that’s not what I meant.”
“Do elaborate, then.” Neuvillette’s tone was cold, and he yanked his wrist in an attempt to free it from that tight grip. Wriothelsey refused to let go, tugging Neuvillette back until they were mere inches apart. Their breaths mingled together in shared space, and Wriothesley had to fight back the urge to forego any explanation and just kiss the Chief Justice until he went weak in the knees.
“What I feel for you, Neuvillette–” Wriothesley shook his head, a dry laugh escaping him. “Fuck, this is not how I would have wanted to tell you this. But since I picked the worst thing in the history of Fontaine to say to you, here goes.” He took a deep breath, steeling himself for the inevitable rejection. “What I feel for you goes beyond being friends. My affections for you are deeper and…more romantic than that.”
Neuvillette just looked at him for a few moments. “Do you mean to say you love me?” he asked. His tone was indiscernible, that emotionless mask still perfectly placed upon his features.
Wriothesley swallowed hard and lifted a shoulder up slightly. “I mean, maybe?” He slid his fingers down from Neuvillette’s wrist to clasp the other’s hand. As he rubbed a thumb over pale skin, he mustered up the courage to continue.
“You know my past, Neuv. You know what happened with those people that were supposed to be my parents. I never really got to experience love the way most kids do. Never had an example of loving, doting parents who adored each other and me. I never learned what to do when you have a crush on someone because by the time that would have been a problem I was already serving my sentence in Meropide.” He took a shaky breath. “And now, with what I feel for you? Yeah, it could be love, but I don't know what that feels like. So it’s hard to say for certain.”
Neuvillette hummed contemplatively. After a moment, he reached out with his free hand and clasped Wriothesley’s. The warden’s breath caught in his throat, and he hardly dared to move lest he spook the beautiful man in front of him.
“It seems we would be well-suited for each other, then,” Neuvillette admitted after a few more beats of silence. “I do not remember if I was ever loved in such a way. I have never felt for someone the way I feel for you. I suspected these affections were not those of a mere friend, but I have never had the opportunity to explore them. Not until...” He trailed off and took a deep breath. “Until you,” he finished decisively.
Wriothesley and Neuvillette looked at each other for a moment, just taking each other in and considering all that had been said. It almost felt like if he looked hard enough, Wriothesley could find the answers to all these emotions stirring inside his chest within the depths of Neuvillette’s crystalline eyes.
“Are you saying you want to figure this out, then? With me?” Wriothesley asked, daring to let a bit of hope bleed into his voice.
“Yes.” There was no hesitation, no room for anything but certainty in Neuvillette’s answer. Wriothesley could no longer help himself and he tugged the other into his chest before slipping an arm around his waist. He leaned in slowly, giving Neuvillette plenty of time to tell him to stop or just push him away, but neither happened.
Their lips pressed together gently, the two men almost hesitant at first. Neuvillette couldn’t remember the last time he’d kissed someone, and Wriothesley was still half certain one wrong move would cause the whole thing to come crashing down around them.
Their second kiss was more certain, lips moving firmly against each other. Wriothesley’s tongue traced along Neuvillette’s bottom lip, and in response, Neuvillette’s hands came up to grab at the open collar of Wriothesley’s shirt. The Duke finally worked up the courage to card one hand into snowy strands of hair, letting out a tiny groan at how soft they were. Neuvillette was soft everywhere, and Wriothesley was quickly becoming addicted.
The two eventually broke apart, still wrapped in each other’s embrace and chests heaving. They hadn’t taken things very far, but the newness of the situation and the unfamiliarity of the emotions rising inside them stole their breath.
“We’ll figure this out then,” Wriothesley said breathlessly, letting go of Neuvillette’s hair to gesture between the two of them. “Together.”
“I would not have it any other way.” Neuvillette smiled up at him then, a wide one that stretched across his entire face. Wriothesley couldn’t help the matching one that broke out across his features.
“I think that’s the first time you’ve really smiled at me,” he remarked, reaching up to trace a finger over Neuvillette’s lips reverently.
“The first of many, I hope?” Neuvillette probably meant it as a statement, but there was an uncertain lilt to his voice that made it sound more like a question. Wriothesley’s grin just widened.
“Count on it.”