Shakespeare one shots

Misunderstandings and mild panic

(No song for this one, sorry.)

An author on Ao3 put this so well that I just had to show you guys.

"I've read every comment like a million times and it makes me super happy that people are enjoying my silly writing about a 400 year old play, thank you so much!! <3"

That's basically how it goes.

I think this will be good? On-a-whim writing at 5:33 AM because I woke up at 1:00 for no reason. I've been reading Wittenberg AU Hamlet x Horatio shit and I've noticed a pattern...

Ros and Guil are one of three things: not there, a terrible bother, or the only other characters present, perhaps aside from Ophelia, who tends to be indefinitely trapped at Elsinore.

Am I the only one who sees this?

I should just write before I talk myself out of it in favor of a power nap.

♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤

~ Horatio's PoV ~

I had been standing in front of this door for what felt like a year, now, but upon briefly grounding myself in reality I remembered it had been forty-five seconds.

Nevertheless, deciding whether or not to knock was nerve-wracking. I raised and lowered my fist in a lovely cycle of indecision.

Finally, the powers that be decided to end my suffering by sending Rosencrantz out of his dorm to greet me.

"H-Horatio? What are you doing here?" He stuttered after recovering from the shock of almost barreling me over.

"Ratio's here?" Called a voice that could only have been Guildenstern's from inside.

"Ros, Guil, I... um, I fucked up and I needed to rant so I guess I came here?"

I really hate it when my mouth goes on autopilot. I didn't want to tell them what I came here to tell them!

"Sure thing," Ros said, still mildly baffled.

I plopped down on their couch with about as much grace as a drugged snorlax. Guil rolled his wheely office chair up behind me, and Ros perched on the cushion by my side.

"You never talk to us unless Hamlet's also talking to us," Ros deadpanned.

"Yes, that's why I came to you-"

He cut me off. "But I suppose he can't be everywhere when you need him."

"Yes he can," I grumbled.

"That's impossible," he said. "You can't seriously think Hamlet's omnipotent. Or perfect. But..." he paused for a dramatic sigh, "alas, you seem unable to see his flaws for what they are."

"I know he's not perfect," I defended.

"You literally told me yesterday that you can't find a single flaw in him," Guil added.

A heavy silence settled over the three of us as I realized yes, godammit, those words did come out of my mouth with consent from my brain. I relented.

"Fine! He's so perfect and he acts like I'm equally perfect and it fucking scares me!"

They went silent again. I sighed heavily, realizing that the cat was out of the bag (had it even been in the bag in the first place?) and I'd have to continue that statement.

"Guys, he's actually flawless. He- I can't..." I firmly bit back another lovesick sigh and switched gears. "The other day, night, we were walking outside and he was looking up at the stars. He had this soft smile and he looked so happy, and he was getting lost in the sky and it was all I could do not to just melt right there, and then-"