Some stories always have a bitter ending.
What are you waiting for?
“Nanna oh, nanna oh, il mio bambino a chi lo do?” Luca was singing softly as the wind caught their hair. Venice was a complicated city, particularly when one wanted to get away from the stench of the city, and feel the warmth of the sun in an unhindered manner. But the pair had snuck away from their party, the festive buzz making the whole city drunk with excitement as the bumbled about drunkenly. “Lo darò al suo angiolino, che lo tenga in sul mattino, lo darò alla befana che lo tenga una settimana.”
“Why are you singing that?” William asked, looking away from the bright scene below. The roof top was pleasant, and warm. Andrea and Nico were discussing the Lady Bianca, whom Andrea was desperately, madly in love with. Xento and Theo were just listening absently; occasionally tossing pebbles off the side of the build at the people below.
”Why not?” Luca purred, moving to stand ever so close to William. If the other’s noticed, they said little. Luca had always seemed to cling to Will in some form or another. They had become fast friends from the moment they had met, the present.
Gawain, for his part, cared little for the Venetian Lord. Or rather, Gawain didn’t like that Luca stole Percy’s undivided attentions. But that was bound to happen when the boy had the run of the day, free to take his Italian studies and then roam. Stubbornness kept Will returning to the same people again and again. Stubbornness and something...more.
“Luca!” Andrea called out; startling William and Luca out of their silence and forcing both of them too look at their four, standing friends. “We are going to the square. Theo is bored, and says there is a Mime there, do you want to come?”
“No,” Luca shook his head, a hand reaching back to catch William’s arm before the English boy could say anything. “Will and I will stay a bit longer. The parade will start soon, we want to watch from here.”
Xento looked as if he were about to protest something, but Nico shook his head and pointed toward the steps from the roof top, back into the lavish building. It seemed to take forever, but the four filed out and disappeared, leaving Luca and William alone.
Will turned to watch street below again, vaguely aware of Luca’s movements. The way the young lord’s hand slipped down his arm, fingers curling around delicate hands. He tensed a little when an arm reached about him, lips pressing against the soft, warm nape of his neck.
“Will…” Luca purred, holding him closer than any man had held him before. “Will, what are you waiting for each night? What does he give you that I cannot?”
Staring wordlessly, the dark haired boy frowned. Was there an answer to that question? Was there one that Luca could even begin to comprehend? Gawain. That was what William anxiously waited for each night, but perhaps not for the reasons Luca could begin to imagine.
“Talk to me, Will. Tell me…please.” Luca’s voice was begging as the arm squeezed tighter, possessively. “I wait for you, I always wait for you…”
“Why?”
“Because, mon amour. I cannot breathe without you…”
Closing his eyes, William’s head fell forward, a hand moving to squeeze around Luca’s arm as he started to turn. Not trying to escape his would be lover’s grasp, but rather trying so hard to look at that precious face.
Luca’s fair hair was flow lightly about his face, dancing in the soft spring wind as Will traced the delicate curve of the young lord’s lips, tracing a well known path to the gentle brown as that stared back with relentless pleading.
“Luca…”
“Just…just tell me, Will. What is it he has that I don’t?”
“Nothing,” his voice was pitched high, a pleading desire to not press the conversation on. “Luca, I cannot…He is my master…”
“No! No! You are not some servant! And even if you were? I could buy your freedom. I could take you with me, show you anything he could! Just tell me, why? Why him?” Luca shook him, pushing his thin back painfully against the walled ledge. The rocks beneath his feet gave him no traction as he slipped a little, flesh scrapping against the stone behind him. “Tell me!”
“Stop it!” Pushing back against Luca, Will strained against the grip that held him tightly, desperate for space between the two as his heart thundered in his chest. “Stop!”
“No!” Luca screamed, forcing William back with an audible thud as the two both came to a silence. Their breathing was ragged, edged with the tension of youth craving something more. Something carnal and unholy, but despite the sin of it, wanting it in an unceasing fashion.
“He’ll kill us…” Will whispered softly, eyes closing in surrender. Gently a hand moved, hesitantly brushing over Luca’s face, the barest of stumble pricking at his fingers.
“No, Will. No, he won’t. I won’t let….” Luca promised, clinging to the smaller Englishman as if life itself hung upon the very breath William was taking. “You deserve so much more…”
Will didn’t quite share that faith. Luca did not have the pleasure of knowing Gawain as he did. There was no mercy in the dead man’s heart. Only selfish greed…
“I love, Will. I love you, I won’t let anyone take you away. Not my father, not your Master. No one.”
Such empty promises, but Will still clung to them. Clung to it all…
Please…, he begged God silently. Do not take him without me…
Will didn’t know if life could exist if God did…
===
William Percy Hastings
OC
word count: 946
“Nanna oh, nanna oh, il mio bambino a chi lo do?” Luca was singing softly as the wind caught their hair. Venice was a complicated city, particularly when one wanted to get away from the stench of the city, and feel the warmth of the sun in an unhindered manner. But the pair had snuck away from their party, the festive buzz making the whole city drunk with excitement as the bumbled about drunkenly. “Lo darò al suo angiolino, che lo tenga in sul mattino, lo darò alla befana che lo tenga una settimana.”
“Why are you singing that?” William asked, looking away from the bright scene below. The roof top was pleasant, and warm. Andrea and Nico were discussing the Lady Bianca, whom Andrea was desperately, madly in love with. Xento and Theo were just listening absently; occasionally tossing pebbles off the side of the build at the people below.
”Why not?” Luca purred, moving to stand ever so close to William. If the other’s noticed, they said little. Luca had always seemed to cling to Will in some form or another. They had become fast friends from the moment they had met, the present.
Gawain, for his part, cared little for the Venetian Lord. Or rather, Gawain didn’t like that Luca stole Percy’s undivided attentions. But that was bound to happen when the boy had the run of the day, free to take his Italian studies and then roam. Stubbornness kept Will returning to the same people again and again. Stubbornness and something...more.
“Luca!” Andrea called out; startling William and Luca out of their silence and forcing both of them too look at their four, standing friends. “We are going to the square. Theo is bored, and says there is a Mime there, do you want to come?”
“No,” Luca shook his head, a hand reaching back to catch William’s arm before the English boy could say anything. “Will and I will stay a bit longer. The parade will start soon, we want to watch from here.”
Xento looked as if he were about to protest something, but Nico shook his head and pointed toward the steps from the roof top, back into the lavish building. It seemed to take forever, but the four filed out and disappeared, leaving Luca and William alone.
Will turned to watch street below again, vaguely aware of Luca’s movements. The way the young lord’s hand slipped down his arm, fingers curling around delicate hands. He tensed a little when an arm reached about him, lips pressing against the soft, warm nape of his neck.
“Will…” Luca purred, holding him closer than any man had held him before. “Will, what are you waiting for each night? What does he give you that I cannot?”
Staring wordlessly, the dark haired boy frowned. Was there an answer to that question? Was there one that Luca could even begin to comprehend? Gawain. That was what William anxiously waited for each night, but perhaps not for the reasons Luca could begin to imagine.
“Talk to me, Will. Tell me…please.” Luca’s voice was begging as the arm squeezed tighter, possessively. “I wait for you, I always wait for you…”
“Why?”
“Because, mon amour. I cannot breathe without you…”
Closing his eyes, William’s head fell forward, a hand moving to squeeze around Luca’s arm as he started to turn. Not trying to escape his would be lover’s grasp, but rather trying so hard to look at that precious face.
Luca’s fair hair was flow lightly about his face, dancing in the soft spring wind as Will traced the delicate curve of the young lord’s lips, tracing a well known path to the gentle brown as that stared back with relentless pleading.
“Luca…”
“Just…just tell me, Will. What is it he has that I don’t?”
“Nothing,” his voice was pitched high, a pleading desire to not press the conversation on. “Luca, I cannot…He is my master…”
“No! No! You are not some servant! And even if you were? I could buy your freedom. I could take you with me, show you anything he could! Just tell me, why? Why him?” Luca shook him, pushing his thin back painfully against the walled ledge. The rocks beneath his feet gave him no traction as he slipped a little, flesh scrapping against the stone behind him. “Tell me!”
“Stop it!” Pushing back against Luca, Will strained against the grip that held him tightly, desperate for space between the two as his heart thundered in his chest. “Stop!”
“No!” Luca screamed, forcing William back with an audible thud as the two both came to a silence. Their breathing was ragged, edged with the tension of youth craving something more. Something carnal and unholy, but despite the sin of it, wanting it in an unceasing fashion.
“He’ll kill us…” Will whispered softly, eyes closing in surrender. Gently a hand moved, hesitantly brushing over Luca’s face, the barest of stumble pricking at his fingers.
“No, Will. No, he won’t. I won’t let….” Luca promised, clinging to the smaller Englishman as if life itself hung upon the very breath William was taking. “You deserve so much more…”
Will didn’t quite share that faith. Luca did not have the pleasure of knowing Gawain as he did. There was no mercy in the dead man’s heart. Only selfish greed…
“I love, Will. I love you, I won’t let anyone take you away. Not my father, not your Master. No one.”
Such empty promises, but Will still clung to them. Clung to it all…
Please…, he begged God silently. Do not take him without me…
Will didn’t know if life could exist if God did…
===
William Percy Hastings
OC
word count: 946