Archive of Our Own

The blazing sun bathed the beach in its radiant glow, making everything golden and warm. A faint sea breeze ran its fingers through the hair of the waves before they crashed against the shore in a spray of white foam. The air was clean and smelled faintly of salt. Even with his eyes closed, Will could picture the brilliant blue of the clear sky stretching for miles and miles above him. He could feel the lap of water against his head and shoulders. He knew he should be concerned–especially with his legs buried–but he couldn’t bring himself to do anything but marvel at the moment. A slow, easy warmth filled his exhausted limbs. He’d been running around all morning, he deserved a break. The sand was warm, nearly to an uncomfortable degree by his feet, but it was cool where it met the sea. Time seemed to stretch and warp, pulling like taffy, and Will would give anything to let this moment go on forever.

It was one of those rare days where everything seemed to fall into place. Excitement at the idea of the trip had overrun any stress about trying to arrange it. Everyone was too busy soaking in the sun and the sea to bicker. There was music, junk food, and more than a little alcohol available for them to consume. Rivalries seemed to melt away, softening into friendly banter and some healthy competition. Will couldn’t remember the last time he’d laughed so much. His sides still ached faintly from watching Monty and Lenore squabble over the music only to realize they had disturbingly similar tastes. The crash of the waves echoed his heartbeat, slow and rhythmic in a way which nearly lulled him to sleep. They had been so lucky to snag this section of the beach, separated by a small rocky outcropping from the main stretch of sand. It was quiet and beautiful. Vaguely, Will wondered if he’d ever seen anything as beautiful as this. He felt like he could be swallowed whole by the sea and the sand, that they’d cradle him and keep him safe. For a moment he could forget and just breathe.

Suddenly, a voice pierced his musings. It was slow, soft, and warm as molasses.

“William?” The sun reduced the man in front of him to nothing but a silhouette as Will’s eyes blearily blinked open. Still, he could’ve recognized the voice anywhere. He had a good memory, after all. Slowly, his eyes adjusted and he took in Prospero’s concerned expression. His eyebrows tended to pinch together when he was worried (which was often) and it left a little crease between them. However, he watched his friend’s concern melt away as he took in the dopey smile on Will’s face. He let out a small huff of laughter, low and understated, and gave an exaggerated sigh.

“Are you planning on staying down there forever?” Prospero hummed, raising an eyebrow at him. His delivery was flat, and anyone that didn’t know him would have assumed he was completely serious. Will, however, was his friend and noted the faint amusement which lingered at the edge of his words.

“Maybe,” Will chirped, indulging in the carefree attitude which had settled over them that afternoon.

“Mm. Well, I’ll let the others know,” Prospero responded curtly, though he made no move to leave.

Hesitantly, Will struggled to sit up and shrug off his makeshift sand burial. With a huff, Prospero extended a gloved hand towards Will, who took it gratefully. His grip was firm, and even as Will stumbled slightly as he adjusted to standing once more, Prospero was steady beside him. If Will held on to his hand a second longer than necessary, no one had to know.

“I must say I’m honored,” Will quipped, trying to summon a confidence that didn’t belong to him.

“Hm?” Prospero hummed, sliding his hands into the pockets of his linen pants. The single curl which lay out of place across his forehead fluttered slightly in the breeze. It fell a bit into Prospero’s eyes as he tilted his chin up while his eyes remained locked on William. Will, for his part, swallowed the lump that had suddenly appeared in his throat.

“W-well, you came all the way out here just to check on me.” His voice trembled slightly as he responded. Why was he so nervous? Will watched as Prospero paused, blinking down at him, before shrugging and turning on his heel.

“It’s not too long a walk.” Again, Prospero’s delivery was flat. If it weren’t for the time they’d spent together as part of the same social circle, Will would've assumed he'd offended the man. He was fairly certain he hadn’t. Still, Will would’ve been lying if he said it didn’t make his stomach flip a little. However the thought wasn’t enough to stop him from following Prospero up the small hill where their camp was now perched (they must have moved it while Will was laying in the sand).

“Um, y-your book must be pretty good, huh?” Will stammered. Doubt was beginning to creep up his spine–what if he really had offended him?

“Well, I suppose you’re right. It is a pretty good book. However…” Suddenly, Prospero paused, turning around to face Will. The angle of the hill and the suddenness of Prospero’s stop forced Will to stumble back slightly to avoid running into him. Just as quickly as he had turned, Prospero’s hand shot out to stop Will from falling. Prospero continued, “something more important came up.”

“Which was?” The words tore themselves from Will’s chest. He wasn’t sure if it was due to being startled or due to the proximity that he was breathless. When was the last time he was so close to someone?

“Keeping you from drowning,” Prospero stepped back slightly and turned once again towards their makeshift base of operations. “Would’ve ruined the atmosphere, don’t you think?”

It should’ve stung.
Was it meant to sting?
Will laughed and followed Prospero the rest of the way up the hill.

Their camp was cobbled together from whatever they could find. There were a couple of mismatched umbrellas, a few blankets and beach towels, two coolers (one for each group), their CD player, and some camping chairs that had seen better days. The shade served as a welcome break from the relentless heat of the sun. Carefully, Prospero settled back into his spot, and picked up his book once more. It struck Will suddenly, the uncertainty of what to do next. Bringing a hand to shield his eyes from the sun–though it probably wasn’t really helping as he was under an umbrella–he scanned the beach for his friends. Eventually he found them, clustered together at the other end of the beach. It looked like they had found something of interest. A cave maybe? There were some caves in the cliffs nearby. Or maybe it was something that had washed ashore: a boat or a message in a bottle. Whatever it was, it looked like they were having fun poking around and messing with it. He knew that he should probably join them. However, as he thought of making his way over to them, an odd exhaustion washed over him. He loved his friends and he’d even been having fun hanging out with Lenore’s group. But he had to admit, the idea of resting for a bit was appealing.

He’d join them soon. He just needed to get a drink first.

It was easy enough to decide what to drink. There weren’t that many options for him, after all. That was the downside of not drinking alcohol–everyone else seemed to drink it and they usually forgot that you didn’t. But it was alright, they had packed plenty of bottled water (and even a few bottles of juice). After retrieving his prize from the cooler Monty had brought, Will moved on to the harder question: where to sit. Quickly, he glanced back at Prospero, whose full attention was directed at his book. He looked so put-together, almost comically so. With his open, button-down shirt, slacks, and gloves. The book certainly contributed to the look. As did the way his eyes narrowed slightly as he took in what it was saying, the slight tilt in his wrist as he gripped his drink (a mojito maybe?), and the way his curls–mussed from their perfect style by the wind–framed his face. Again, Will felt an odd flip in his stomach and glanced away.

Prospero wouldn’t mind if he sat next to him, right?

If he did, he didn’t say a word. He merely glanced up at Will, his gaze piercing in a way that sent a shiver down his spine, and continued to read. For a couple moments, they sat in silence. While at first the quiet weighed heavy on Will’s mind, as he stared out over the sea, he found himself settling into it. It was nice. Oddly so.

“I think you’d like it,” Prospero murmured, breaking their easy silence.

“Hm?” Will dragged his attention from the horizon to the man sitting next to him. Though he had never really left his awareness. “You think so?”

“Yes.” Prospero spoke hesitantly and with an earnestness Will wasn’t sure he’d ever heard from the man. “The characters are quite interesting, they almost feel like people that you know. And the plot isn’t half bad, either.”

“Well, maybe I can borrow it once you’re done?” Will could feel a grin spreading across his face, as a giddy buzz kicked up in his chest. Even now, after knowing these people for a while, the thought that he had friends–real friends–sometimes felt like a dream.

“William?” Suddenly, Prospero’s tone shifted. He removed a small torn piece of paper from his pocket, placing it in his book and closing it quickly.

“W-what?” Will stammered, confused. Gently, Prospero took his chin into his hand, and gracefully ignored the small punched noise that escaped from between Will’s lips. His eyes were locked onto Will’s face as he carefully tilted Will’s head to the side.

“When was the last time you applied sunblock?” The reproach in Prospero’s tone did little to cover the worry underneath it.

“I, uh… can’t remember? When we got here maybe?” Will blinked rapidly, and tried to calm his rapidly beating heart. His cheeks, which were already a little warm, now felt as if they were glowing. Prospero let out a drawn out sigh and muttered something under his breath. He shifted, reaching towards a small bag he had brought with him. After a moment, he turned back to Will with a small tube of sunscreen. Will paused, looking at Prospero as he held out his hand expectantly. There was a stubbornness in his gaze and the familiar pinch of his brow that made affection settle warmly in the space behind Will’s ribs. Gently, Will took the sunscreen from him, letting a giggle slip through his teeth.

It almost seemed silly, the idea that some people had that Prospero didn’t care. That he was detached and unaffected by it all. Sure, he could be quiet, but Will was quiet too.

Awkwardly, Will began applying the sunscreen to his arms and legs, not quite sure what to say next. He could feel the weight of Prospero’s attention lingering on him. It sent a shiver down his spine despite the heat. It was oddly thrilling, the idea that Prospero had not only noticed such an inconsequential thing, but that he reminded him. That he cared enough to remind Will. If Monty had been there, he probably would have told Prospero off for bossing Will around, but Will didn’t mind. It was sort of nice to be looked after. He knew it was such a small thing, but it brought a boyish smile to his face.

Occasionally, he would glance back at Prospero. Despite opening his book once more, Prospero hadn’t fully torn his eyes away. Will wondered why and curiosity joined the odd mixture of emotions in his chest. His mind was fevered, turning each possibility around and tossing them aside just as quickly as they appeared. Will found himself focusing more on Prospero than applying the sunscreen. Finally, his mind still thoroughly locked on the man sat only a foot or two away from him. Will’s breath caught in his chest as Prospero shifted, no longer just looking at him, but reaching for him. His hand settled on Will’s shoulder. Though his grip was firm–clearly he had aimed to get Will’s attention–it wasn’t painful or even uncomfortable.

“Will?” There was a new edge to Prospero’s voice and it sent Will’s previous thoughts scattering like marbles.

“Huh?!” Will squeaked, not sure whether he should be concerned or confused. He watched as Prospero’s expression morphed from quiet uncertainty, exasperation, and finally determination.

“Here, let me help.” Prospero sighed, his eyes locked onto Will’s face. It took a second for Will to register what Prospero was saying–what he was offering. But when it finally clicked, it was as if all the air was punched from his chest.

“I- Yeah, sure… t-thank you,” Will cringed internally at the way his words came out strangled and stumbling.

He must be making a fool of himself.

Prospero simply nodded. With one hand still on Will’s shoulder, he reached forward to take the sunscreen using his other hand. Each touch, small and deliberate, made Will’s head buzz. It took everything in him to stop himself from leaning into the man settling only an inch or two behind him. He was keenly aware of every inch of his exposed skin, even as he tried repeating to himself that it wasn’t a big deal. A small shaky inhale from behind him caught his attention, as he glanced over his shoulder to see what had happened. Prospero had finally removed his hand and had moved to begin the process. Yet he had frozen, one thumb tucked into the cuff of his glove. His eyes were wide and his expression was conflicted. Suddenly, as if a wave had swept over Will, the odd nervousness that had settled over him was replaced with gentle concern.

“Prospero? Are you alright?” Will tried to keep his voice level and light. Being overly emotional would probably only make it worse, he reasoned.

“Ah– Of course, I’m perfectly fine,” Prospero muttered coolly, his eyes flickering up to Will’s once more. Yet he remained frozen in place, indecision still clear in his expression.

“... You don’t have to do this, y'know? It’s not really a big deal–” Will’s words were cut off by Prospero’s sudden reply.

“I want to.” It was practically hissed and seemed to take his friend by surprise. Prospero’s eyes widened even further, before he glanced away. Hesitantly, he continued, “Friends look after one another, do they not?”

The desire to turn to Prospero, to take his hands in his own and soothe away the faint tremors he saw ignited in Will’s chest. He wanted to know what had caused such fear in a brave man. Instead, he simply nodded, and returned to staring out over the beach. Only a minute later, he felt the warm brush of skin against his own as Prospero once more settled a hand on his shoulder.

Will tried to sit still and ignore the breathless feeling that was gripping his chest. The interaction only lasted a moment. He knew it truly wasn’t anything special. But Monty had said he was ‘so desperate for affection, he’d probably cry if the cashier told him to have a nice day’. Shame twined with the warmth under his skin. Prospero was thorough and careful, his touch gentle in a way Monty’s never was. Quickly, Will grabbed the water bottle he’d been drinking from, hoping it might distract him. For a second it did, yet even as he chugged what water was left in the bottle, his mind continued to fixate on his friend. He could picture the scene clearly and it brought an odd heat to his cheeks. The methodical care with which Prospero completed such a simple, mundane task. The focus with which he would be looking at Will. The way the thin fabric of his shirt would shift as his arms moved. The way the faint sun, which peeked under the umbrella, would shine in his hair. As quickly as the thoughts popped up, Will pushed them down. The heat must have been getting to him… Or perhaps it was that he couldn’t remember how long it had been since someone had demonstrated such care and affection towards him. Either way, it was wrong to have thoughts like that. To feel like that about a friend, even just for a moment. Especially when that friend had made it clear he had no desire for romance. Besides! He probably didn’t even like men–not that that mattered, because Will shouldn’t have had those thoughts in the first place.

“There. That should do.” There was an inkling of pride in Prospero’s voice. A warmth that made Will’s heart squeeze. Slowly, he turned to face his friend.

“Thank you,” Will murmured, not quite sure what else to say.

“You don’t need to repeat yourself. Besides, it’s better to prevent the problem now, rather than deal with it later, is it not?” Prospero raised an eyebrow at him, adopting a lighthearted playfulness that was rare for the man. His expression soon shifted as he returned his attention to his hands. Will’s gaze followed. Prospero flexed his fingers, which were coated in the oily residue of the sunscreen. His hands fluttered ever so slightly, as if he was unsure where to put them. Will flicked his eyes up to Prospero’s face, which had settled in a grimace. Scrambling to his feet, Will rushed over to the cooler, throwing the lid open. The sudden movement had startled Prospero, who was now staring at Will as if he were a madman.

“William?” Prospero said, concern slipping into his voice. “Are you alright?”

Finally, Will found what he was looking for: an unopened bottle of water. Somewhat sheepishly, he returned to Prospero’s side.

“Sorry, just–here, let me take care of that,” Will stammered, his heart hammering away in his chest. Prospero blinked at him, confusion still evident on his face. A second passed, then another, as the two men stared at each other. Slowly, with his piercing amber eyes locked onto Will’s face, Prospero extended his hands to him. It made Will realize, as he carefully washed the remaining sunscreen away, that he wasn’t sure he’d seen Prospero without his gloves before. It felt almost sacred, being trusted to do so, and the odd intimacy did nothing to calm his racing mind. Prospero’s hands were well taken care of. Probably smart for a doctor. He needed to use his hands plenty at work and it was only logical to take good care of them. Will tried to ignore the feeling of Prospero’s skin against his, though his mind betrayed him, as it called up memories of how his hands had felt on his shoulders.

God, he was pathetic… and maybe a little desperate. But then again, when wasn’t he?

Prospero remained silent as Will worked. His eyes fluttered between his face, the ground, and the horizon. As soon as Will finished, he retracted his hands, brushing them against the linen of his pants to dry them. Carefully, he slipped his gloves on once more and settled back into his previous position. It was like watching him slip into a suit of armor piece by piece. Will wondered, vaguely, if he had done something wrong. That was until Prospero spoke up once more.

“I think you’d quite like the protagonist.” Prospero stated matter-of-factly.

“Hm?” The breeze ruffled Will’s hair and he felt a bit of the tension–though it was not necessarily bad–drift away. He brought his knees to his chest, resting his chin on them as he looked at Prospero out of the corner of his eye.

“Of the book. He reminds me a bit of you.” Prospero smiled faintly and Will swore he shot him a small, playful look.

“Ah, well... Must be a bit of a boring protagonist then, huh?” Will huffed, trying to infuse a bit of humor into his tone, even as he glanced away.

“I don’t think so,” Prospero hummed, not removing his eyes from the book. Will felt himself flush. He tried to come up with some sort of witty response, but couldn’t think of one. He wasn’t really the type, after all. Not like Duke, or Lenore, or hell, even Prospero. Instead, he sat for a moment, staring out at the sea.

“I never get tired of it, y’know.” Will’s voice was unbearably soft, even to his own ears.

“Of what?” Prospero’s voice reminded him a bit of the sand. It was sturdy yet shifting, gritty at times and soft at others, and achingly warm in the sun.

“The sea.” The waves crashed against the shore, locked in a dance they’d been doing for millennia.

“It is rather beautiful… and peaceful too.” A loud shriek ripped through the air and laughter echoed down the beach from their assembled friends. Prospero amended, with a chuckle, “most of the time.”

“Honestly, I think we could run off, steal a boat, disappear out to sea, and they still wouldn’t notice. They’re so… caught up in whatever chaos they make.” Though the words were intended to be a joke, there was a harsh realness to them as they slipped past Will’s lips. Prospero didn’t respond right away, though he tucked his makeshift bookmark into his book once more.

“And do you want to?” Prospero whispered, leaning over to him conspiratorially.

“Want to do what?” Will wasn’t quite sure where this had come from. He was a bit caught off guard by his friend’s tone.

“Disappear for a bit. I, for one, could use more substantial food.” Prospero stood slowly, grunting slightly as he got to his feet–he had spent most of his day sitting. Brushing the sand from his clothes, he extended an arm for Will, like a gentleman helping a lady out of a carriage. After a moment of consideration, Will took it.

“...I gotta admit, I, uh, didn’t expect this from you,” Will murmured as they began to pick their way down the hill.

“Well, I’m full of surprises. At least for today… Besides, I am curious to know how long it will take for them to notice. Call it… an experiment, hm?” It seemed as if the beach had lifted years off Prospero’s shoulders and the scheming glance he shot Will was oddly charming. It was a side of him Will had never seen before. It certainly made more sense now, why exactly Prospero got along so well with Annabel Lee.

The walk back to the boardwalk was easy, if hot. The closer they got to it, the louder the hum of conversation buzzed in their ears. Will felt an odd pang as they left the small paradise they had carved out for themselves on the beach. The weight of the world settled once more over his shoulders like an oversized coat. However, it seemed a little easier to bear with Prospero by his side. Their conversation was slow and meandering, drifting between topics with an ease Will rarely felt. The more they talked, the more Will began to notice little details. The scent of faded cologne and sunscreen. The way Prospero would pause when searching for a word. The way his nose crinkled slightly when discussing something he thought was unpleasant. Each small piece of information seemed to bring the man beside him into sharper focus. Despite the fact that they were technically friends, Prospero had always seemed so far away–untouchable. But while he ranted about something insignificant, his arm linked with William’s. With the soft heat of Prospero’s body undeniably present beside him, Will felt as if he were truly seeing the other man for the first time. Prospero Caruso was a stubborn, caring, playful, tired, unbearably strong, and altogether fascinating man. Will’s curiosity had been detached, but now it wrapped itself tightly around his heart, an unbearable urge to know more that made his teeth ache. It burned within him. Steady, warm, and only a little consuming. Will wondered if Prospero noticed how he shifted a little closer, allowed himself to stare a little longer, or anything to get just a bit more of him.

The shame followed a step behind. It always did.

There was quite a contrast between the noisy, colorful chaos of the boardwalk and the relative serenity of their little hide-out. However, Will would be lying if he said it didn’t excite him. It struck a childish place within him. It allowed nostalgia, sickly sweet, to bubble up through the cracks. It colored everything rosy, even the mundanity of searching for somewhere to eat. The pair pushed their way through the bumbling crowd. It was hard to maneuver arm-in-arm, especially as they pushed against the flow of the crowd. While they attempted to do so, soon Prospero shifted away from Will’s side. Disappointment gripped Will briefly at the loss of his friend’s presence, yet it eased as Prospero instead filed in behind him. Will felt his breath catch in his chest as Prospero’s hand slipped from his elbow, down his forearm, and hovered at his wrist. He wasn’t quite holding his hand, but it was close enough to make Will painfully aware of the light touch of Prospero’s hand. Will could picture it clearly; the soft fabric of Prospero’s gloves against his palm, the feeling of their fingers twining together, the solid reassuring weight of the other grounding in the pulse of the crowd.

Get it together, Wilson. Prospero had made it quite clear how he felt about affection like that. He was only trying to stop Will from getting lost–it would be quite a pain to find him. He blended in quite easily after all. But all Will could focus on were stupid, childish daydreams.

“Uh, do you have any ideas for what to eat?” Will shouted, trying to be heard over the din of the crowd.

“Honestly, I figured I’d think of something along the way, but… I did not.” Prospero sighed, as he leaned his head down towards Will’s ear with hopes that he could hear him better. Despite himself, Will shivered. “What about you? Any ideas, William?”

“Oh! W-well, I was just planning on, uh, getting a pretzel. I used to get them all the time at the fair,” Will stammered

“The fair?” Prospero’s voice was low, almost private, and for a moment it felt as if it were only the two of them in the whole world. Will’s mind went blank as he felt the brush of Prospero’s thumb against the inside of his wrist. Even separated by a layer of fabric, Will could feel the steady warmth of his hand. After a moment, trying desperately to reign in his thoughts, Will responded.

“County fair. It was a pretty big deal in my hometown.”

“Really?” Prospero asked, voice bright with genuine intrigue. The full force of his attention had settled on Will and he wasn’t sure whether he wanted to preen or shy away from it.

“Yeah, my older brother, Wyatt, used to work there some summers. He’d give us free tickets to the rides and games, though only for the ones that usually had some spare. So we ended up eating a lot of fair food. The pretzels were always my favorite. Honestly, they might be one of the few foods I won’t get tired of. W-what about you? Do you, uh, have something like that?” Will scanned the booths that lined each side of the boardwalk, though it was hard to get a good look at what was available through the crowd.

“...I do. Cannolis. I get one every time I go to the cafe.” Faintly, Will heard Prospero swallow and felt him pull away slightly. Glancing back over his shoulder, he caught the faint flush that had settled over Prospero’s cheeks. “They remind me of home, I suppose.”

There was a tremendous fondness in Prospero’s tone as he spoke of his home. Yet a faint melancholy too, like a shadow beneath the ice. It tugged at an ache deep inside Will’s chest and gentle understanding took the words from his mouth.

What was there to say?

Prospero had never spoken to Will about his home, not in detail, but Will knew a thing or two about how complicated it could be. How the love and ache mixed inside you, ate you from the inside out. How you could love your home, give it all your heart, and yet it would spit at your feet. Will wondered if Prospero had been just as desperate to escape as he had. Or if it had been like hacking off a gangrenous limb–painful, but necessary.

Homesickness…What a fitting term.

Instead of speaking, Will stopped, letting the crowd flow around them. As soon as he stopped, Prospero did as well. As Will turned, he could see the conflict in Prospero’s face. His eyes usually reminded Will of amber–hard, sharp, timeless, perhaps a bit brittle. But they had softened, instead, to something like caramel. They were both so young, yet Prospero carried a weight on his shoulders, an exhaustion that clung to him even then. It made Will want to take him into his arms and hold him until it all went away. Until the weight lessened, and both of them could be free of the ache that followed them, no matter where they went. Will wondered just how similar they were and how much Prospero had bottled up inside. He was always taking care of others, but who was looking after him?

Would he let Will look after him?

“Have you ever had a pretzel? Not a fancy one, a proper one. One from places like this.” Will hoped the small bit of humor he managed to toss out covered the sincerity, raw and sweet, that coated his tongue. Will swallowed it down bit by bit, yet the taste lingered. He waited with bated breath, watching as Prospero tilted his head ever so slightly. His eyes wide and… hungry. Prospero was looking at Will as if he were a well-crafted puzzle: curious, beautiful, and fascinating in equal measure. Then, his handsome face broke into a small smile.

“I’m not sure I have, perhaps I’ll have to try some… Though I admit, I’ve been craving something sweet for a while.” Prospero’s hand trembled slightly, where it curled around Will’s wrist. Will wished he would reach down and entwine their fingers, finally letting Will hold him like he wanted to hold him. But he didn’t and Will didn’t push.

The air between them hummed with an energy, odd and unnamable, as pleasant as it was nerve-wracking. It was soft, unbearably so. Will found his mind stuck on it, even as their typical conversation resumed. Even as he found a small pretzel stand, and took out his wallet to pay for his food, all he could think about was the familiarity blossoming between them. It was different than when he talked to Ada or Annabel. It was certainly different from how he felt about Montresor. His feelings for Monty burned. They glowed, bright and vivacious, yet they scorched him as well. He was equally likely to make Will feel alive as he was to make him cry. It was intoxicating, like dancing with the devil or playing Russian roulette. Some days it was good. But others hollowed him out and broke him down. Reduced him to nothing but ash without apology. Montresor would destroy Will someday, they both knew that. It was Will’s fault if he let himself burn. Yet Will couldn't help but stare at the blaze, at him. He marveled at the flames’ beauty and power. But when he reached out and tried to take a bite–just a fraction of Monty’s warmth and light–for himself, he was burned. Again and again, he was burned.

With Prospero, however, the heat was manageable. It crept slowly. While Will’s mind spun and sputtered, the feeling itself was comfortable. Natural. It ached, but it wasn't painful. It didn’t burn, but it melted him all the same. Slow and steady, gentle in a way Montresor could never be. He could hold it in his hands and clutch it closer without being destroyed–at least not right away.
Prospero was not a perfect man, but Will didn’t want him to be. He just wanted someone to look at him. And Prospero did. He treated him as more than just a sidekick or a puppet. He was not a beloved pet or a funny doll. No, he was a man. A person. Occasionally a fool perhaps, but Will knew Prospero meant it when he asked what Will wanted. He meant it when he got drunk one night and pulled Will aside, telling him he deserved better. It was different, but… nice. So unbelievably nice. It filled a hollow place in Will’s chest he wasn’t aware was there–

“William?” Prospero had squeezed his wrist, pulling him from his thoughts. The bored-looking server was holding out the small bag containing his pretzel. He raised an eyebrow as Will frantically snatched it. Will’s cheeks burned as he took the receipt as well, trying (and failing) to calculate the proper tip in his head. After scrabbling to do what should have been a simple task, he found his attention drifting to his new friend once more. Prospero’s gaze was locked on something, yet Will couldn’t quite tell what. There was a shine to his eye that Will had rarely seen. His curiosity burned brightly once more.

“What’cha lookin’ at? Find something you’d like?” Will finally found what Prospero was staring at. It was a small stall, with a colorful canopy and a faded, hand-painted sign proudly proclaiming ‘Lucia’s Gelato & Ice Cream’. There was a small line in front of it, mainly comprised of parents and their excited children. There were a few filled tables as well. Will glanced up at Prospero. They met eyes briefly and he watched with amusement as Prospero simply blinked at him.

“Ah–yes. If you wouldn’t mind waiting, that is?” Prospero spoke hesitantly, as if he were unsure of what he was saying or afraid Will would deny him.

“‘Course not!” Will chirped, already beginning to walk towards the stand as Prospero followed close behind. An odd bubbly feeling was building in Will’s chest and he felt lighter than he had in a long time. Carefully, they shouldered their way through the crowd and took their place at the end of the line. After a moment of silence, Will spoke up once more. “Y’know, when we first met, I’m not sure I would’ve believed you had a bit of a sweet tooth.”

“And why is that?” Prospero’s voice was smooth and composed, yet there was a hint of playfulness in his tone. It held no trace of hesitancy from only a few minutes earlier.

“I don’t know… you just seemed so serious, as if you didn’t have time for things like that.” Will brought a hand to the back of his neck, feeling a blush creep onto his cheeks as he admitted his assumption.

“Hm. That seems to be a common impression,” Prospero huffed, though with no real annoyance. Will felt as the hand that had settled on his wrist trail up his arm. It settled on his bicep and Prospero gently pulled him forwards. The line had moved. If Will was being honest, he hadn’t noticed. However, even after stepping forwards, Prospero did not let go of his arm. Instead he leaned down, an eyebrow raised as he murmured a question in Will’s ear. “If I may ask, what made you change your mind?”

“I– um! You told me,” Will blurted out, his mind spinning from the proximity. His response seemed to catch Prospero off guard, as he stared silently at Will for a second. Then he began to laugh, not quietly or politely, but fully and boisterously. The sound was beautiful. Will couldn’t help but marvel at it as he began to break out in laughter as well. It wasn’t funny, not really, but neither cared. Neither did they care about the curious looks shot their way.

The rest of the wait passed quickly, blurring together in Will’s mind as the entirety of his attention was directed at Prospero and what he had to say. Finally, they came to stop in front of the stall. Will watched his friend take in the options and nearly burst into laughter again at the sight of Prospero’s careful consideration of each. The woman operating the stall–Lucia, perhaps–waited patiently, with a warm smile on her face and an odd sparkle to her eye. Eventually, after hemming and hawing a moment, Prospero settled on the espresso gelato and the pair moved to the register. A warm syrupy feeling had settled over Will. He waited for the business to be done, his pretzel slowly growing cold in his hand.

“Here’s your receipt,” the woman’s smile widened as Prospero took the receipt from her, “and will you be needing two spoons?”

“Hmm?” Prospero hummed, tucking the change away in his wallet.

“No, ma’am.” Will piped up, glancing up at Prospero as he did. The seller’s head whipped in his direction. Though instead of indignance, her expression was one of amusement.

“Very well!” Her voice reminded Will of birdsong, melodic and full of mischief at times. “Enjoy, you two. And have fun on your date!”

Panic crashed over William like a storm-tossed wave breaking on the shore. It swept away the quiet contentment that had wound itself around him and had made the world go soft for a moment. He felt as Prospero stiffened besides him. His small, genuine smile disappeared, replaced by something that was a half-smile and half-grimace. The hand that had lingered on his arm dropped away, leaving Will feeling cold and strangely adrift. He had grown used to its comforting weight and the reminder of his friend’s steady presence. Even then, Will knew he was smiling, as the final pleasantries tripped out of his mouth. Even though his mind felt as if it had been plunged into the ocean, crushed in the icy depths below.

Quickly, the two stepped away from Lucia’s stand, meandering towards a section of the boardwalk a little way off. The silence hung thick in the air and Will was half-sure he would choke on it. He burned with the desire to say something, to say anything to make it right, but he wasn’t sure of what to say. Prospero’s expression was carefully neutral, distant in a way that indicated he was uncomfortable. Will was sure he looked much the same. His mind spun. Even as they moved to stand by the railing, with a beautiful view of the sea sprawling out before them, all he could bring himself to focus on was one question; how?

How had she known? What gave it away? Was there something about the way Will acted that made it obvious? What was it that had made it abundantly clear that something was wrong with him? Poor Prospero, being dragged into this…

Will’s heart thudded in his chest. As he opened his mouth, he felt the shame rise within him like bile, threatening to spill out. It tasted ugly on his tongue. Carefully, he swallowed it down, letting it sit in his chest–eating away at him day-by-day.

Prospero was what really mattered. He deserved an apology, not an excuse or someone to comfort. He could only hope their friendship wasn’t ruined beyond repair.

“I-I’m sorry. If I hadn’t–” Will let his eyes wander back to Prospero, hoping to convey just how deeply sorry he was. He found Prospero was already looking at him. His eyes were tired… and concerned. Will didn’t know what to do with that.

“William.” Prospero’s voice was stern, but gentle. His eyebrows were furrowed. Through the gentle calm of his facade, Will could see a storm of emotions. “You don’t need to apologize.”

“But I am sorry! If I hadn’t been so… affectionate… then maybe she wouldn’t have gotten the wrong idea about you. A-about us.” Will couldn’t look at Prospero as the words poured out, a deluge that he couldn’t stop. Beside him, Prospero stood in silence, as still and carefully composed as a statue. After a moment, he let out a small, exasperated sigh.

“Fine. If you insist on apologizing, then I forgive you,” Prospero whispered. His words were smooth, warm, and confident–assured in a way Will could only hope to be. Yet as he glanced down at Prospero’s hands, he noted the way they clutched the small bowl of gelato. Prospero held it as if it were an anchor, as if he would be swept away if he let go. His amber eyes were fixed on a distant point on the horizon. He did not look at Will as he shared his quiet assurance. Prospero was nervous. Not uncomfortable in the way he was moments before, but awkward. Affection bloomed in Will’s chest, wild and warm.

“Okay.” Will grinned up at Prospero and stepped closer. Not quite close enough to touch, but enough to feel the heat radiating off of his body. A sea breeze was beginning to blow in. As the sun drifted closer to the horizon, the temperature dropped slightly.

Finally, Will took a bite of his pretzel, relishing in the familiar taste and texture. For a moment, none of it mattered. He was a kid again, standing in the sun with the taste of home on his tongue. There was one key difference. Now, he had a friend. Prospero continued to stare out at the sea, tracing the horizon and the dance of the waves with his eyes. Carefully, he brought a spoonful of his now-melting gelato to his mouth, anticipation evident on his face. Then, after taking a bite, his expression morphed into disappointment. Mild disappointment, but disappointment nonetheless.

“Somethin’ wrong?” Will fought to keep his amusement contained as Prospero’s head whipped towards him. He appeared almost startled, like he hadn’t expected Will to notice.

“No. It’s… fine. Very–hm–American.” Prospero huffed.

“Were you expecting something different?” Will leaned forward, letting his elbows rest on the railing.

“I suppose I shouldn’t have,” Prospero sighed, bringing one hand to smooth back his wind-mussed curls. “What about you? Is that pretzel everything you’d hoped it’d be?”

“Pretty much! Just the right amount of bad to be good,” Will chuckled. “You still wanna try some?”

Prospero’s eyes narrowed. After a moment of consideration, he nodded, “might as well.”

Excitement bubbled in Will’s chest at the thought of sharing a piece of his home with Prospero. Sure he wouldn't be able to see the fair lights or picture the Kansas sun against his skin. But he’d get a taste of it. Will couldn’t deny the nervousness that came with it as well–what if he didn’t like it? What if he thought Will was stupid for liking it? Still, Prospero was looking at him expectantly, his eyebrows tilted upwards in a curious expression.

At first, Will moved to break off a piece from the same part he’d been eating, then paused. Instead, he took the remaining wrapper off of the pretzel, wincing as loose salt spilled onto the wood of the boardwalk. He broke a piece from the opposite side and offered it to his friend. Gingerly, Prospero took it from him. Will waited with baited breath–which struck him as a bit silly a moment after–while he watched his friend take a bite. Prospero’s eyes narrowed in consideration, his eyebrows furrowed, and he let out a small hum. His expression was serious, as if he were judging at one of those cooking competitions, rather than trying a piece of a somewhat-cold pretzel.

“It’s…alright.” Prospero did take another bite, somewhat undermining his hesitance.

“I mean, it is cold. And it's not quite the same as back home…” Will murmured.

“Perhaps one day, I’ll have to try the real thing then, hm?” Prospero’s tone was teasing, but not insincere. He meant it. Will let his eyes snap towards his friend, taking in the warm smile on Prospero’s face.

“Yeah! S-sure, I’d love to–yeah.” Will squeaked, his words bumbling and a bit too excited. Prospero wanted to try a pretzel from his hometown, just because Will had told him they were special to him. The idea alone sent a giddy shock through Will. He watched Prospero’s smile widen slightly. His chest tightened as a quiet chuckle escaped the taller man.

After a moment of companionable silence, Prospero’s expression shifted into one of curiosity. “You don’t talk much about your hometown, do you?” Will blinked up at him, somewhat taken off guard by the question.

“Um, there’s not much to talk about. It’s pretty quiet. Besides… it’s not like we talk a lot.” Will’s voice trailed off to a whisper by the end, as if he was unsure whether or not he wanted Prospero to hear it. Prospero opened his mouth, seemingly to form some kind of rebuttal, before he paused.

“I suppose not…” He glanced down at Will, his face pinched. While his mouth fluttered open, no more words came out. He simply stared, his amber eyes shining with something soft and aching, then turned back towards the sea. “It’s a beautiful night.”

“Yeah, it is.” Will let the silence settle over them. It was peaceful. Even with the hustle and bustle of the thinning crowd behind them, it was as if it was all far away. For just a moment, they were in their own world and Will could breathe. The weight of all those masks, the expectations and desires left unfulfilled, lifted briefly and he could just be. It was rare he found such peace–he was not a peaceful soul. But with the ocean singing in the distance and Prospero at his side, it felt closer than it did with anyone else. He loved his friends. He loved his family. But none of them understood this part of him; the quiet hunger that took a hold of him and begged him to breathe it all in. To stand back and watch the world go by. It was lonely sometimes, watching from afar. But now, he didn’t watch alone.

Still reveling in the silence, the ease of existing with someone who understood the desire to just be, the pair finished their food.

It was funny. The entire reason they’d come out here was for food. But it seemed so unimportant now. He would forget about the pretzel, but not the quiet joy sparking in his chest. The all-encompassing warmth.

Prospero was a remarkable man. As Will finished his food, he found his eyes drawn to him. Even leaning against a weathered wooden railing, eating mediocre gelato under the setting sun, Prospero looked elegant. The proud curve of his handsome nose, the line of his jaw, the slope of his brow. All of it was beautiful. His navy shirt fluttered against his tan skin and Will felt his cheeks heat up as he looked at what the fabric revealed. It wasn’t even that much. But for a man like Prospero, it felt nearly scandalous. He was put-together, regal, and gloriously human. In the past, when Will had admired him, he had felt like Pygmalion: in love with a being both incredibly beautiful and achingly impersonal in that beauty. Now, Prospero was alive beside him, and Will felt his entire body flood with a familiar heat. The anticipation of any touch or spare glance buzzed under his skin. His heart pounded in his chest. There was only so much a person could admire in a statue, a work of art. But the care, admiration, and affection one could have for a friend ran far deeper. Will drowned in those depths, longing with his entire being to be closer, to know more about him, to be there for the good days and bad days. Prospero was beautiful, elegant, and put-together. But he was also so much more. A single flake of salt rested on the corner of his mouth, imperfect and oh-so-human. Will’s chest twisted with the force of his desire. He could picture so easily reaching up to wipe it away. He could picture how Prospero would still under his hand, his eyes wide, and wondered if he would understand the affection and admiration attempting to claw its way free of Will’s chest.

Would he allow Will to kiss him, right where that imperfection made its mark? Not quite a traditional kiss, but Will didn’t need it to be. Not as long as he understood that Will cared. That Will wanted to get to know him. Discover all the ways that they were different and all the ways that they were alike.

Just as before, the shame followed quickly behind. It choked him as if his heart had risen to his throat. Will tore his eyes away, apologies weighing down his tongue. Tears pricked in the corners of his eyes as he tried to shove down the want that had gripped him. To make it small and to hide it away in the pit of his chest. It was a vicious cycle–never being able to change but always wanting to. William always wanted.

As he prepared to stammer out an apology, or perhaps make a break for the sea in order to escape his misery, Will’s eyes caught on his wrist. He wore a couple bracelets, mainly to match with Monty. But one in particular caught his eye. It was faded and made of thread, the type of bracelet you’d make at summer camp or when there was nothing better to do. Ada had gifted it to him last year, when she’d found out about… who he was. It was subtle and it took months before Will could wear it in public. He still wasn’t quite sure how he felt about the gift. But as he ran a thumb along its edge, he remembered what Prospero had said:

‘William, you don’t need to apologize.’

Will took one deep breath and then another. When he finally found the courage to look back at Prospero, he found his friend already looking at him. There was a curiosity in Prospero’s eyes, similar to what he’d seen when Prospero was reading his novel. Like he wanted to know more. To figure Will out. Like Will was a book he didn’t want to put down. Will’s cheeks flushed hotter, even as a breeze whipped off the sea and made him shiver.

“Are you cold, William?” Prospero said worriedly and brought a hand to his shoulder.

“A little?” Will tried to laugh it off. Though he was beginning to realize that, without the sun, the air was rapidly cooling. “I-it’s fine. I’ll just have to suck it up ‘till we get back.” He tried to smile up at Prospero, to assure him it would be fine, but was simply met with an unimpressed stare.

“Did you leave a jacket in the car?” Prospero had shifted towards him slightly as he spoke and Will could feel his gloved hand run along his shoulder. It came to rest upon his shoulder blade and Will’s back straightened somewhat automatically.

“I…didn’t bring one,” Will admitted.

“Hm,” Prospero turned to glance over his shoulder, scanning the boardwalk for something. “Well, we’ll need to get you a coat then.” Prospero said it as if it weren’t even a question. As if Will being uncomfortable–even only for an evening–was unacceptable. Will felt a grin creep onto his face, even as he continued to speak.

“Oh, no, it’s alright. I wouldn’t want to impose.” Will turned towards Prospero fully and brought a hand to his wrist.

“You’re the one driving. It’s not much of an imposition. I–” Prospero paused. He continued after a moment, though he avoided Will’s gaze, “I don’t need you getting sick.”

Reluctantly, Will nodded, thinking back to earlier when Prospero had applied his sunscreen. It still felt odd, to be cared for. It was awkward, it didn’t seem to fit. But he had to admit, it was nice.

It was easier to navigate the crowd than it had been earlier, given how many people had left as the sun began to set. But Will still found himself relying on the fact that Prospero knew where he was going. The pair walked side by side, stopping only once to throw their trash away, before continuing onwards. Prospero walked like a man on a mission, his hand resting in the spot between Will’s shoulder blades. Will couldn’t help the flare of affection in his chest or the way his cheeks continued to burn. For a moment, Will considered looping his arm around his friend’s waist. Though he thought better of it.

Making their way back in the direction of their friends, they finally stopped in front of a little gift shop. Unlike some stalls, this building was clearly meant to last. It was small with chipped paint and a familiar gift-shop smell. The glass doors that led inside were open, though it served as a welcome shelter from the persistent breeze. Each shelf and rack were bathed in the soft, amber light of the old-fashioned light fixtures overhead. The walls were decorated with nets, shells, anchors, and slightly cliché ocean-themed signs. Glancing around, Will noted that there was only one other customer in the store, and they were rifling through a rack of t-shirts. Faint music could be heard, further contributing to the comforting atmosphere of the small shop. Will glanced up at Prospero–utterly out of place in his elegant clothes and quiet dignity–who tilted his head towards a rack in the corner holding the store’s coats and sweaters.

The fabric of the sweaters were soft under Will’s hands as he began to look through them. Soon his anxiety about causing trouble for his friend gave way to a childish excitement. There was no way around it. The sweaters were certainly gift-shop merchandise, but they seemed of good enough quality to Will’s non-discerning eyes. They came in a variety of colors and patterns. Ranging from dark blue to bright tye-dye, each was boldly emblazoned with the name or logo of the boardwalk. With each sweater Will assessed, he looked over to Prospero, who had taken to looking through them right alongside him. Will watched his reaction to each one, noting his quiet interest at some and bitten-back bewilderment at others. Finally, after a couple minutes of searching, Will’s eyes caught on one particular sweater. It was almost salmon pink, with an image of the boardwalk and the name of the beach right below it. It was bright, far more colorful than his usual muted clothes, and it was certainly tacky. But it had an odd charm to it. It was something he never would have worn if he didn’t find it here. Even so, it might end up as merely a pajama top. But he couldn’t deny that he wanted it. It was silly, attention-grabbing, and unlike anything he owned. But he wanted it.

“Is that the one you want?” Prospero’s voice startled Will slightly and he found himself clutching the garment tighter. Will almost expected Prospero, upon seeing it in all its touristy glory, to have dismissed it. Yet his tone was hesitant and showed no sign of mockery.

“Uh, yeah…” Will shrugged. “I-I think it’s fun.”

Prospero glanced down at it, made a small noise of consideration, and looked back up to Will. He tilted his head and smiled, “It is. Not quite to my taste, but… it is.” Will felt his own grin widen from a nervous smile to something more genuine. It almost made him want to buy more perfectly ugly things, just to see that reaction again. He wanted to see more, to break open that dignified facade and discover every odd detail and hidden passion he could.

Did Prospero have any clothes like this? Did he know that the sweater wasn’t just fun? That it was a little piece of that night he could keep forever?

Paying for the sweater was easy and quick–given the lack of line–though Will did his best to not look at the price tag. Gift shop items tended to be overpriced and he wasn’t in the mood for another crisis. Stepping out into the cold night air was a bit of a shock. Will was grateful Prospero had insisted on buying him the gift. Quickly, he slipped the sweater on over his head and marveled at its warmth. When Will glanced up at Prospero, he caught him looking down at him. Prospero’s expression was unsure, yet soft.

“We should probably get back to the others, huh?” Will chuckled and fiddled slightly with the hem of his sweater.

“Most likely, yes,” Prospero responded with a quiet amused huff. “I should see if anyone’s in need of dire medical attention. The campfire should be starting soon, if it hasn’t already.”

The sky had faded to a soft indigo, the horizon still glowed with leftover light, and the first stars began to shine in the sky. The beach was nearly empty and even the crash of the waves against the shore seemed softer than before. Melancholy twisted in Will’s chest at the thought that they would have to leave it all behind soon. However, a newfound warmth had also taken root at his core. Giddy excitement bubbled within him at the thought that he’d made a friend. A true friend. He couldn’t predict what would happen tomorrow or if anything would truly change. But he hoped it would. Will and Prospero walked together, side by side, and shared the fading moment in companionable silence. Will could feel Prospero’s presence at his shoulder and let it anchor him in the moment. His friend’s steady warmth–his determination, strength and care–amazed him. While he could no longer pretend that Prospero was some beautiful statue, he found his appreciation deepening further. Prospero was human. He was flawed, odd, and at times could be a bit of an asshole. But that suited Will just fine. When he was with Prospero, he felt as if he could be human too. Gently, without looking, he reached out and found Prospero’s hand. Prospero’s gloves were cool, but not cold, warmed by his skin underneath. Will could feel his hand flex slightly at his touch before relaxing. His breath catching in his chest, Will slowly slipped his hand into Prospero’s. He felt something within him melt as Prospero fully interlocked their fingers. He nearly cried at the feeling of a thumb brushing against his skin. Neither man said a word.

The first thing they heard were the shouts, followed by laughter as they rounded the corner to emerge back at their hideaway. The campfire had indeed been set up and their friends had gathered around it. It stood like a beacon in the growing darkness and sparks scattered like stars against the night sky. Music still played and it seemed that the volume of their celebration was making up for its relative tameness in all other measures. Will spotted Annabel, perched at the top of a dune near the fire, and shot her a small wave with his unoccupied hand. If she waved back, he did not see it. The cacophony of voices swelled as Berenice finished some seemingly raucous story. Will grinned at the thought that maybe tensions between the two groups were finally easing. That maybe they could all be friends. As he went to step forwards, to join them in the light of the fire, he felt a soft tug at his hand.

Prospero had stopped. There between the glow of the campfire and darkness behind them, he looked absolutely radiant. Will turned to face him fully and watched Prospero’s eyes flutter over him before flicking upwards to the group. His voice was quiet when he spoke.

“We should do this again sometime.”

“Yeah. We should.” Will murmured and squeezed his friend’s hand. It seemed impossibly beautiful, the sight of their hands woven together.

Will wasn’t unfamiliar with the weight of the world. He knew that tomorrow, he would have to wake up and deal with it all over again. The masks, the pretending, and hunger embedded in his soul. But standing there, watching the dance of light upon Prospero’s face, there was only one thought that came to him; maybe everything would be okay.