Work Text:
hamlet and horatio have been wandering the local cemetery for around an hour now. after the incident with the grave digger, horatio wants nothing more than to fold hamlet safely in his arms. the cold danish air nips at his nose and ears and does nothing to soothe the ceaseless beating of his heart.
at this exact moment, almost as if hamlet can read horatio’s mind, hamlet stops pacing and turns to horatio, extending a single hand to rest on his shoulder. a furrow of hamlet’s brow and a scrunch of his nose seem to ask what’s wrong. horatio only responds with a smile that blossoms slowly on his wind-burnt face.
he loves hamlet. that much is true. horatio wonders if hamlet is all he will ever know.
despite the smile on hamlet’s face and the twinkle in his blue eyes, horatio feels like something is askew. like the minute hamlet laid hands upon that skull things would never be the same again.