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Finding himself with a bit of free time on his hands and little to do, Hoscut decided to try and sort through some of his old things. He seemed to have boxes which he always ended up taking with him 'just in case' he needed anything inside, but never actually ended up opening. At this point, he barely remembered what was even in them, and so, with the afternoon free, he thought he'd have a little sort out.
The box he pulled out wasn't particularly large, a wide and flat wooden box that was clearly very old - he really did need to go through his things more often, but it was always far more convenient to bring whatever he took on his last voyage so he knew he had everything he needed. Not that he allowed things to become disorganised, as he took great care to keep his cabin neat, but at a certain point, he knew that he must have things he didn't need and ought to get rid of.
It took a moment after opening the lid for Hoscut to realise what he was looking at. Surely not... wasn't that an old cravat from when he was a midshipman? Just how long had this gone unopened for? Gently feeling the fabric between his fingers, Hoscut's gaze moved over to the other side of the box, where a collection of old books lay squashed together. Letting go of the cravat, he picked one up at random and was immediately hit by a wave of memories as he opened the cover. These were his old diaries - very, very old diaries. He'd thought he'd lost them long ago, but in fact he'd been bringing them around with him wherever he went.
For a moment he paused, then he settled himself down properly on the floor of his cabin. It wasn't as though he was busy. Why not reminisce on his younger days a little?
It didn't take long for a common theme to emerge from his old writings - Robert Witterel's name was mentioned far more than any other. They worked closely together of course, both being midshipmen on the same vessel, but there had been two others alongside them and neither were brought up quite so much. Hoscut couldn't help but chuckle at the obliviousness of his teenage self. How had it taken him so long to realise how enamoured he was?
If he was being completely honest with himself - which was far easier now with the benefit of time and distance from the affair - it had started on the day they met, the day they'd boarded their old ship together. There had always been something about him. An air of confidence. His handsome face, his glowing smile. It was difficult not to be taken in by him. He'd mellowed out over the years, but he had been quite the charming young man, eager and boisterous. Even back then, everyone seemed to be able to tell he'd make a fine captain one day - it went without saying that he'd climb that ladder with ease.
Hoscut had been in the midshipmen's cabin, sorting out his belongings, the first of the four of them to board and thus he had not met any of the others yet. The captain was new, and as a result there had been many changes among the officers - as far as he was aware, none of the other midshipmen knew each other either, and that put his mind at ease a little. Some sailors did not take kindly to having to accept new people into their circles, and so there was often friction. Fortunately there was no risk of that here.
The door opened behind him, and Hoscut stood at once, turning to see a man about his age with dark hair tied behind his head in a neat ponytail, looking very smart in his crisp, neat uniform. Greeting Hoscut with a smile, he held out his hand for him to shake.
"Robert Witterel. It's a pleasure to meet you."
"I'm William Hoscut," he said, returning the handshake, "Pleased to meet you, too."
It was not love at first sight - no, Hoscut had seen it since and he knew that was not what this was. But that smile... its earnestness lit a spark in Hoscut's chest that would over the coming months be fanned into a brilliant flame.
"I don't suppose you've met the other two?" Witterel asked.
"I haven't, no. I take it you haven't either?"
"I have not - but at the very least, you seem like an agreeable fellow." He looked at the way Hoscut had arranged his dunnage. "At any rate, you can usually judge the care with which a man will treat a ship by the way he treats his own things, and you are certainly more organised than at least half the midshipmen I have met."
"Thank you," Hoscut said, "Truth be told, I tend to overpack, but that just means I've got to make the most of the space I've got."
"Well, it looks to me like you've done a good job of it," Witterel said, claiming the hanging cot next to Hoscut's as his own.
They chatted while Witterel got himself situated, taking what little time to themselves they could before things got under way - there would be very little leisure time if any once they started readying to set sail. The start to a voyage was always hectic. Soon enough, they met the other midshipmen, and Hoscut was relieved to find that they all got along well. It was always a horrid thing to be stuck in such close quarters with someone you detested, and it was a fate that he was more than happy to avoid.
As the days passed, Hoscut found himself growing more and more attached to Witterel, completely and utterly drawn in by his charisma. While he and the other three midshipmen spent a significant amount of time as a group, Hoscut certainly felt closest to Witterel, though he didn't think the feeling was mutual. Everyone felt close to Witterel - that was just how he was. He had a way of talking to people that made one feel as though there was nothing in the world more important than them. There were times when Hoscut would watch him interact with the other midshipmen, the way he bantered with them, how they made him laugh, and it made him quite certain that Witterel held more fondness for them than him. Did it make him jealous? Perhaps a little. Perhaps more. But Hoscut accepted it as the way things were all the same. Even if at times it made his insides writhe with envy.
It was on a surprisingly quiet night, when the other two midshipmen had already turned in that Hoscut began to realise the true depths of his affection for Witterel. They sat on their beds, Witterel reading a book and Hoscut writing in his diary across from him, a single candle flickering on the wall between them, providing just enough light for them to see what they were doing. Witterel's eyes flicked up to Hoscut, then back to his book. Then back to Hoscut. Silence always bored him in those days - he always seemed to be looking for someone to chat with, and so he quietly shifted himself closer to Hoscut.
"What is it that you're writing about?" He whispered, careful not to wake the others.
"Oh, um," Hoscut said, hastily shutting the diary, "Just... keeping a record of how things are going on the ship. Reflecting on the day, I suppose. Makes it easier when it comes to writing home - I can just pick out the interesting bits."
That was the original reason for the diary, yes, but as of late Hoscut had taken to using it as a place to work through the tangles in his head that he couldn't share with anyone. He knew that his jealousy over Witterel was silly, ridiculous even, but he had to get the energy out somewhere, and he knew he would be teased relentlessly if he actually tried talking about it.
"You write home quite often, don't you?" Witterel said, leaning closer, "Not like those two." He tilted his head towards the sleeping midshipmen. "They need to be reminded half the time."
"Yes, well," Hoscut scratched the back of his neck, "My sister loves to read my letters. Always wants to know everything that's happening - it's all very exciting to her."
Hoscut could not understand what on earth was wrong with him. Why did he feel so... shy? He had never been so before. Perhaps he was a little more subdued than his peers, but shy? And then there was the flush of his cheeks, the way his heart beat faster as he watched Witterel slowly drag his fingers along the edge of his cot. Did he have a fever? Was he ill?
"Younger sister I take it?" Witterel asked.
"Aye, though only by a couple of years."
"I have always thought it a special thing, to have siblings that you're close to," Witterel said, an uncharacteristic quietness descending over him, "I have none myself, and I often find myself getting a little envious of those that do."
"Oh, well it isn't all smiles, I can tell you that," Hoscut said with a laugh, "Abigail was a wee menace when she were a youngster, I can tell you that. A very headstrong girl that I'm certain will grow into a very headstrong young lady. But still, I don't know what I'd do without her."
"It sounds like she is very dear to you."
There was a lull in the conversation, then Witterel cleared his throat. "Would you mind if I sat a little closer?" He asked, gesturing to Hoscut's cot.
"If you like," Hoscut replied, a little surprised, but in no way opposed to the idea.
Quietly and gently, making a great effort not to swing the cots too much, Witterel climbed across and sat next to Hoscut, their shoulders nearly touching from how close they were. Witterel pulled his knees to his chest, then sighed.
"You know, my mind always seems to be going a mile a minute - there are always things that need thinking about, always things to do. But I find it all goes quiet when I talk to you. You relax me."
"Is that so?" Hoscut said, his face getting hot once more.
"It is. I don't know why, but you never fail to make me feel grounded." Witterel turned to him and smiled so softly, his eyes glinting in the muted candlelight with an expression entirely unfamiliar to Hoscut, but it was far from unpleasant - in fact, something about it made his stomach feel warm, made his brain spark with joy. The tenderness in Witterel's gaze cascaded over him, enveloping him in a gentle embrace, and suddenly the entire world fell away and it was just the two of them and the joy surging through his veins and-
Hoscut's stomach dropped.
At last, it clicked into place. The truth he'd been denying, the obvious truth right in front of his face that he'd been trying not to see. At last, he could ignore it no longer, and the moment his brain made the realisation, there was no going back. The glass had shattered, and it could not be undone.
He was in love with Witterel.
It was obvious now he knew it- of course he was in love with him! What other reason could there be for his bashfulness? His jealousy? Yet denial was a powerful thing. It wasn't as though Witterel was the first man Hoscut had fancied - far from it - but he knew it wasn't right. That it was... improper. He'd come to terms with the fact that sometimes his affections would betray him and attach themselves to a boy, but he had managed thus far to keep these emotional entanglements separate from his work. Often, it was men he met in ports, men he would see no more than a few times and then never again. It was easy not to get attached, not to fall too hard. But he'd realised far, far too late with Witterel. The damage was done, and the man was embedded much too deep in Hoscut's heart to be removed. And he was going to have to keep working with him. Sleeping across from him. Knowing how he felt. There was no avoiding him, no keeping his distance while he let his feelings die down. It was going to be torture.
"William?" Witterel asked, jolting Hoscut out of his daze. "Is everything alright? You've gone rather pale."
"Hm? Aye, yes, I'm perfectly fine." He was not fine. Not in the slightest. In fact, he didn't think he'd ever been so nervous.
"Are you certain? It wasn't something I said, was it? I didn't mean anything by it, I just- My apologies if I caused you any discomfort." He shifted away from Hoscut a little. Wracked as he was by the sudden influx of anxiety, Hoscut failed to notice that Witterel's cheeks had gone quite the shade of pink.
There were lots of things that Hoscut didn't notice about Witterel. Like the fact that when he saw Hoscut nearby, he would start to talk louder, make his jokes louder, in the hopes of catching his attention and making him laugh. Or the fact that when Witterel tried to show off how much he knew, it wasn't the officers he was trying to impress.
It wasn't just his own feelings he was oblivious to.
Awareness of his attraction to Witterel meant one thing and one thing only for Hoscut - torture. Complete and utter torture. Day in and day out, he had to sit with him, eat with him, talk to him, all while knowing that despite how desperately his heart yearned for him, how his stomach twisted into knots at just seeing a glimpse of his face, Hoscut knew that Witterel was a man he could never have. Every now and then, Witterel's hand would accidentally brush his, their arms would bump together at the table and his entire face would flush as he stuttered out an apology - it was a miracle that nobody had said anything to him about it. With some of the looks the other midshipmen gave him at times, he was certain they could tell that he was sweet on Witterel, but at least they were polite enough to keep it to themselves. Other men he'd worked with would not be. On other ships he'd worked Hoscut had no doubt there would have been relentless teasing, and enough whispers to have reached Witterel's ears. Fortunately, he didn't seem to have noticed - Hoscut could only hope things stayed that way.
Another evening where they were in their cabin together. The other two were on deck, part of the watch for the night, leaving Witterel and Hoscut with the room to themselves. Ever since that night, Hoscut had felt incredibly awkward when they were alone. Trying at all costs to avoid talking to Witterel, Hoscut sat at the desk and wrote furiously in his diary - though it was impossible to divert his attention from the man, and the words he wrote ended up almost entirely being his frustrations with the emotional cage he was trapped in. Every now and then he would glance over at Witterel, who was sat on one of their spare stools, drumming his fingers on his knee with an expression on his face that suggested he was locked in some internal debate. But Hoscut kept writing - that is, until Witterel appeared over his shoulder
"Writing about anything interesting this evening?" He asked, leaning over Hoscut slightly to try and get a glimpse at his writing. Face turning red, Hoscut slammed it shut in an instant, then turned around.
"No, no, not particularly," he said quickly.
"Ah. Alright then. Apologies, I just... nevermind." Witterel's usual charm seemed to have entirely evaporated, leaving nothing but an awkward facsimile, a shell of his usual self.
"Is something the matter?" Hoscut asked, worry stabbing through his gut like ice. As much as he had been trying to keep his distance from Witterel, he still wanted to be his friend, still wanted to have a good relationship with him - he was just afraid, afraid of himself.
Witterel was quiet for a moment, hesitating. Then he spoke.
"Well... I suppose. It is simply that I... I fear I have somehow come to offend you without intending to. You've been withdrawing from me as of late, and for the life of me I cannot figure out why. Each time I reach out and try to mend things you push me away, and when I try to ask the other midshipmen if they know anything they just give each other these knowing looks and say that it's nothing and I just feel like everyone else is in on some secret and I thought that you trusted me enough to share things with me but now I don't know anymore and I just- I don't know what I need to do to get things back to how they were." As he had been speaking, Witterel had got more and more agitated, his gestures becoming frenzied as he spoke faster and faster, until all the tension snapped like a rubber band. He looked at Hoscut with desperation. "If you would only tell me what is wrong I would be more than happy to apologise. I want to make things right with you."
Hoscut froze. He had become so terrified of any intimacy with Witterel, even platonic intimacy, and he hadn't realised the impact that withdrawing that would have. He hadn't realised Witterel cared for him so much.
"No, no, it's nothing you've done at all," Hoscut said after a brief, stunned pause.
"But you have been acting strangely as of late," Witterel said before Hoscut could get another word in, "Have you been having some other trouble? I'd be more than happy to help if you would just tell me. You are a very dear friend, after all."
Hoscut searched his mind for the words he needed, frantically trying to find a foothold in this conversation, but all he could do was stutter. Witterel stared at him, his face falling more with every half-formed word that spilled out of Hoscut's mouth, until he sighed, took a step back, and rubbed his face with his hands.
"You... know, don't you?" He said, his voice quiet and meek, a tone Hoscut had not heard from him before or since.
"Know what?" Hoscut said, confused.
"I don’t mean to be forceful, you were only trying to be polite I'm sure. You are well within your rights to keep your distance if that is what you wish," Witterel continued, as if he hadn't heard him, "If you'd like I can ask one of the others to switch beds with me so you can have a little more space. I'm sure that would be more comfortable for you."
"Why would you need to do that? I have no problem with sleeping next to you."
"It's alright, really, you don't need to pretend. I'll be out of your way as much as I can." Though he was doing his best to keep it together, Witterel was clearly crestfallen, an abnormal sadness leaking through the cracks in his image.
"Robert," said Hoscut, standing up, "I truly haven't a clue what you're on about." He was too confused to even be upset.
"What, do you want to make me say it?" Witterel said, a sudden flash of anger coming across his face, "Have I not humiliated myself enough? I thought you were better than that..."
"I- I really don't-"
"You clearly already know I'm in love with you and don't feel the same, so why torment me further?"
The words hit Hoscut like a ton of bricks, and he found himself feeling lightheaded and dizzy. Witterel? In love with him? Surely he can't have heard right. He scrambled for an eloquent response but all he managed to do was stare in dumbfounded silence as Witterel's expression shifted from one of fury to one of a man who had severely miscalculated and in doing so made a grave mistake.
"I... I didn't mean- That is to say... ah..." Witterel tried to backtrack, but it was already too late. His face had gone entirely crimson.
"You.. in love... with me?" Hoscut said in utter disbelief.
"I shouldn't have said anything, I can go," Witterel said, turning towards the door.
"Wait, wait, wait." Hoscut rushed forward and grabbed Witterel's arm, forcing him to look at him.
Witterel sighed. "It is kind of you to try and comfort me, but I'd rather be on my own. Just... Please don't tell anyone." Genuine fear contorted his features. The expression looked wrong on his face. It didn't suit him.
"That's not what I'm doing," Hoscut said, tightening his grip. If he let Witterel walk out that door, the chance to have this conversation would slip away entirely. Who knew when they'd next be alone together? "I... Well, the reason that I've been rather distant lately is that..." The words grated against his throat. He wanted to say them, and yet even knowing that Witterel felt the same as him did not diminish the fear. Because that was only half of the problem. He could still be killed - they both could. And yet... and yet they'd gone too far for the feelings to stay trapped within him.
"I love you, too."
Witterel froze. The room was silent.
"Do you mean that? Or are you just trying to mock me?" He wanted to believe it more than anything, but just could not bring himself to. Couldn't let himself hope.
"Course I mean it! I'd hope you don't really think so little of me,"
"Apologies, I meant no offence," Witterel said quickly, "But you really do mean it?"
Hoscut had never been particularly forward in terms of romance - in fact, he had almost no real experience to speak of. But with Witterel's typically suave demeanor having melted away, he was left with little choice. Desperate times.
Grabbing Witterel's shirt, Hoscut pulled him close and kissed him.
It was not the best kiss. Both of them were nervous, and with the dim light Hoscut did not quite align their faces properly - their noses bumped, their mouths did not quite connect at first. But it mattered little to Hoscut - he'd dreamt of kissing Witterel for months. He never thought he'd actually have the chance.
"That convincing enough?" He asked as he pulled away, his heart beating faster than it ever had.
"Yes. Very much so." For a few moments, Witterel looked a little dazed, still processing everything that had happened. But then he collected himself, that bold smile he wore so often returning to his face. "William... have you ever kissed anyone before?"
"Well- no, I cannae say that I have. Was it so obvious?" He scratched the back of his neck awkwardly.
Witterel chuckled. "No need to be embarrassed," he said, "Seems to me that you just need some practice is all."
Leaning close again, his fingers glided under Hoscut's jaw, pausing as he reached his chin, then he slowly and deliberately brought their faces together, pressing a soft kiss to Hoscut's lips.
It started gentle and tender, but as their emotions heightened, the desires they'd locked within tentatively left their cages and acclimatised to their freedom, the pair grew more confident, more passionate, and before he even had a chance to think about what he was doing, Hoscut was pushing Witterel backwards and pinning him to the door. Something akin to a whine escaped Witterel's lips as his back hit the wood, and he averted his gaze, staring at the floor.
"What was that for?" Hoscut asked.
"Nothing."
"Really? Didn't seem like nothing."
"Stop with your teasing," Witterel huffed, and Hoscut chucked, then kissed him once more, his hands slipping down the door as the strength in his body began to dissipate, as if leeched away by the kiss. Every part of him felt like lead, his mind fuzzy, and yet he would not, could not stop. It was only when he was forced to break away for air that he pulled back. The two of them stood there, staring deep into each other's eyes, the only sound their breathing.
"I, uh, I think I need to sit down," Hoscut said, stepping away, his legs trembling - he hadn't realised just how much that kiss had affected him, hadn't expected it in the slightest.
Stumbling, he made his way to his bed and hoisted himself up onto it, digging his nails into his knees in the hopes that the sensation would drag his soul back down into his body.
"Everything alright?" Witterel asked, sitting next to him, his brows furrowed with concern.
"Yes, yes of course. Just needed a moment, is all." Hoscut closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "Apologies, I didn't mean to get quite so carried away," he said.
"It's perfectly alright," Witterel said, grinning, "I- well. I'm sure you could tell that I enjoyed it."
"Oh I certainly could," Hocsut replied with a smile.
There was a pause, and then Witterel gently put his hand over Hoscut's, making slow, soothing circles with his thumb as Hoscut's heart gradually slowed and the exhilaration subsided.
"Alright," he said after a while, straightening up, "All back to normal, I think."
"I'm glad to hear," Witterel said, squeezing his hand. "I take it you liked that, then?"
"Very much so," Hoscut replied, smiling shyly.
"Then would I be correct to assume that... this is something you'd like to continue?"
Even for a man as confident as Witterel, even after that kiss, when it came to things like this with another man, well... it didn't hurt to be certain.
"I would indeed," Hoscut said, placing his other hand over Witterel's.
And so continue they did. Even with the lack of privacy offered on board a ship, desperate men would find ways, no matter what it took. Quiet, cramped corners, empty cabins, a quiet cargo hold - all were perfect for clandestine meetings, for lovers to meet away from prying eyes. Whether or not the rest of the crew and the officers did not know about Hoscut and Witterel, or whether they just turned a blind eye, the two did not know, but it mattered little.
Things should have got easier once they got promotions. Becoming master's mates and getting their own cabins would allow them far more secrecy than they had as midshipmen. It was a frequent topic of their late night chats, when the other midshipmen were asleep, or on deck - how they just needed to get through this and then it would all get easier. It should have been easier.
Yet things didn't quite pan out that way.
It was small things, at first. The stress of the new position clearly weighing on Witterel, his temper getting shorter as the months passed. And perhaps Hoscut did not take his worries as seriously as he should have - enough time had passed now that he could admit that to himself. As midshipmen, their romantic encounters were as frequent as they were able to afford, yet they became less and less in the time after their promotions. Part of that was the additional responsibilities to be sure, but not entirely. There was an unspoken tension growing between them that neither wanted to address, for fear of what they'd built toppling like a house of cards.
But eventually, the bubble had to burst.
One evening, Hoscut entered Witterel's cabin to find him sitting on his bed, his palms pressed together as if in prayer, with the tips of his fingers pressed against his mouth.
"Everything alright?" Hoscut asked as he quietly shut the door behind him. Witterel sighed, bringing his hands down to his knees and staring at the floor.
"Robert?" A sense of foreboding descended over Hoscut. There were many things that could have been troubling Witterel, and yet before the man said a word, he already knew what was coming.
Standing up, Witterel looked Hoscut in the eyes, opened his mouth as if to speak, then turned away. He couldn't say the words when he could see how worried Hoscut was about him.
"I... I can't do this anymore, William."
It was like floodgates opening, something that had been held back inside spilling out at last.
Hoscut's stomach dropped, the entire world seeming to crumble beneath him. The ship was loud - it was always loud - and yet all Hoscut could hear was a ringing in his ears and Witterel's words echoing in his mind, repeating over and over. He wanted to say something, anything in response, but his jaw would not cooperate. He was trapped in his own mind, like he was watching a play, like this wasn't happening to him.
"I'm sorry," Witterel said, taking a step towards Hoscut as if to comfort him, before holding back. That was no longer his place. No longer appropriate. "It's just... every day all I can think of is what will happen if we're found out. What they'll do to us. Exposure has become an inevitability in my mind - not 'if' but 'when.' Paranoia gnaws at my thoughts, I feel that my every action is being watched and judged, like I am trapped in some sort of panopticon, and I... I can withstand it no longer."
Though they were only a few feet apart, neither of them moving, Hoscut felt the gulf between them growing, widening.
"If that is how you feel," Hoscut said with resignation, his head drooping. There was no point in fighting it. If this relationship truly was hurting Witterel as much as he said, then why would he? Even if he felt like his heart had been ripped out of his chest, he loved Witterel enough that he would always prefer to be the one to suffer.
Hoscut wanted to say something else, anything else. But what was there to say? Dragging this conversation out any further was only going to hurt them both more, and so he excused himself, then went back to his own cabin and collapsed onto his bed. The weight of it began to truly hit him then, and the tears came before he could even have a coherent thought, soaking his pillow as he sobbed and sobbed. How long he was like that he had no idea, but he knew that he only had so long before someone would want him for something, and so he had to pull himself together, lest someone ask about his swollen eyes, or God forbid, catch him crying - the last thing he wanted was to incite any rumours.
So he pretended. Acted as though all was fine, threw himself into his work so he wouldn't have time to feel anything, at least until the pain wasn't so fresh. To say that Witterel's timing was inopportune would be an understatement - their voyage had hardly even begun, and they still had months before they would next stop off at a port. Day in and day out they had to work together as if nothing had happened, when just looking at Witterel's face sent a wave of emotions crashing over Hoscut - melancholy, longing, grief, love. Hiding it bordered on impossible, perhaps was impossible. Some of their colleagues seemed to take notice of the tensions between them, but thankfully did not say anything - as long as the work was unaffected, any personal disagreements tended to be left alone.
Though it took some time, with the proximity they were in, reconciliation was effectively forced upon Hoscut and Witterel. Skill was certainly important on a ship, but being able to work together well was often even more so, and since neither was resentful, their friendship was easily built again - slowly, very slowly, but without difficulty. It was awkward at first, of course, but what other choice did they have? Staying as they were would only cause them both trouble, and they knew better.
The more time that passed, the more the wounds faded, and they settled into a comfortable friendship, never quite as close as they had been once, but with a deep intimacy between them all the same - an intimacy that perhaps would not have been possible without their little romance. They continued to sail together, would attend events together, until a few years later Hoscut at last had a chance to introduce Witterel to his sister.
The moment Witterel set eyes on her, something in his face shifted - a slight flush of the cheeks, his eyes following her with undivided attention, utterly enraptured. This. This was love at first sight. There was no doubt about it.
They chatted for a while, but as soon as he got the chance, Hoscut extricated himself from the conversation, leaving Abigail and Witterel a chance to talk alone. When he came back a little while later, it was as if the pair of them hadn't even noticed he was gone, like they were immersed in their own little world and had forgotten their surroundings entirely.
Later that evening, Hoscut and Witterel went out for a walk together.
"You seem to like my sister, then," Hoscut said.
"Yes, she seems to be a very lovely young woman," he said, smiling slightly as he thought back to the conversation he'd had with her, "She-" He saw the look on Hoscut's face and stopped in his tracks. "What? What is that expression for?"
"Oh, nothing, nothing. Continue."
"It certainly is not nothing," Witterel said, but Hoscut only looked at him knowingly. "It isn't- I don't-" he started, and Hoscut laughed.
"I know it's been quite some time, but you don't think I've forgotten what you look like when you're in love, do you? I'd know it anywhere."
Witterel sighed with resignation. "Alright, alright. Perhaps. It doesn't... cause you any discomfort, I hope?"
"Of course not. It's been years, and we were both so different back then. And I never told her, if that eases your mind at all - though whether or not that means she didn't know I cannae say."
"I see. Thank you," Witterel said, his shoulders relaxing. He never would have acted without Hoscut's blessing, and so he was glad indeed to have it.
It did not take long for Witterel to win Abigail over - they slotted together perfectly, and she brought out parts of him that Hoscut hadn't seen in years, parts that he'd thought were long dead and buried. Eventually the wedding came, and he could not have been happier for the both of them - it was a weight off his shoulders to know that his sister was marrying a good man.
But still... sometimes when he reminisced over it all as he did now, over the couple of years he and Witterel had been in love with each other, over how things had ended... he did wonder if things could have turned out differently. If they'd met elsewhere, if the world was different, less cruel. He tried not to think about it - there was no point in dwelling over what-ifs. Many things could have been different, but they weren't. Yet as he closed the last of his old journals and put it away... he wondered.