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Summary
‘If I make a mistake,’ Pecco says, his eyes observing the way Marco’s hands rest against the glossy black surface of the grand piano. Such pale skin. Are his hands as cold as they are white? ‘Will you laugh at me?’
‘No. It would be impolite.’
‘So it’s not about sparing my feelings?’
Marco chuckles lightly. Pecco likes that he can make him laugh so easily. He has a nice laugh, warm and bright.
[aka a fic where Prince Pecco, known for being ill-tempered and spoiled, falls in love with one of the pretty palace knights, Marco, and becomes quite the fool around him. They both know an affair between them is doomed, but in the midst of lake encounters and respites under sycamore trees, something unavoidable grows between them.]