George's POV
The next morning George didn't have to wake up, he'd been up the whole night reading.
Tears were streaming down his face as he read the last line of the beautifully written play.
'For never was a story of more woe. Than this of Juliet and her Romeo.'
George stared at the line, rereading it. He had never read a book this... this tragic. The book gently closed between George's hands and he looked upon the cover with new eyes.
He stroked the worn cover gently, wondering if Clay had given him this book for a reason. George wondered if Clay had cried over the same lines and turned the pages as delicately as George had. George had never felt so many emotions running through him, sadness at the fate of the two lovers, anger at their ignorance, and bitterness at the irony.
He wiped at his swollen eyes and set the book on his nightstand. George definitely didn't want to leave his room, not looking and feeling the way he was.
He got up and stretched, his eyes snagging on parchment that had been slipped under his door. George picked up the paper and opened the envelope, gingerly gripping the fancy letter. Inside was an invitation.
George traced his fingers over the dried ink, beautiful in its flowing calligraphy. The letter was formally inviting him to a ball scheduled that evening. It was a masquerade and the letter directed George to visit the castle's tailor and seamstress to get fitted and pick out an outfit.
The time of the ball was set for midnight and the royals were expected to line up outside the ballroom before they were announced and had to walk in.
George sighed and set the letter in his nightstand. He changed into fresh clothes and washed his face. His eyes were red, but George could dismiss it as lack of sleep. In reality, George had never felt more awake. He had slept almost the entirety of the previous day and, although he was up all night reading, he didn't feel the need to sleep. With tonight's event, George had no doubt that he would be tired with all the excitement.
George left his room. He got fitted and sized by the tailor and was instructed to see the seamstress, who had already made outfits for the royals. George just needed to pick a color and style.
He entered the room and was greeted by a woman. She led him to the assortment of clothes, taking pride in her work. Every piece of clothing was elegant and made for royalty, but George knew what he wanted when he saw it.
The seamstress squealed in delight when he tried it on, looking at himself in the mirror. He could barely recognize himself in his clothes and mask. George grinned at the mirror, the excitement in his stomach growing.
Maybe tonight will be fun.
~
George stood nervously next to the other royals, fidgeting with his sleeve as he waited to be announced.
"George!" Maia exclaimed, "You look amazing! That's a great color on you."
George grinned and replied, "Hello Maia! You look as stunning as ever!"
Maia swirled in her long, magenta gown. Her mask was shaped in the form of a bird, creating a flamingo look. She certainly looked beautiful and George could tell that she felt like it.
He looked down at himself. He had chosen a dark purple suit, so dark it was almost black. His boots were ebony in color and he wore a mask similar in shade, which covered only the top part of his face. His mask didn't represent an animal like some of the royals, it was just plain and black, nothing special. It wasn't meant to draw attention, instead it was supposed to bring out George's pale skin and dark eyes, showing off George's jawline and mouth. When George had looked in the mirror, he had barely recognized himself.
The castle healer had given him a cold pack for his eyes which reduced their swelling, so George wasn't worrying about that. Not that he was anyways, because George didn't have to worry about what he looked like... right?
"And from the Kingdom of Protanburg, Prince George!" Wilbur shouted.
George's head snapped up and he flushed, surprised at the announcement. Wilbur gestured for George to come forward and George did. His eyes widened at the amount of people on the ballroom floor as he started walking down the stairs, hoping that he wouldn't trip.
George scanned the ballroom for someone in particular as the next royal was announced. His eyes met familiar ones and he almost stumbled in his step.
Clay was talking with Fundy, but once he saw George, his jaw stopped moving. His eyes didn't leave George's as he muttered something to the orange haired prince and handed him his drink, walking towards George and ignoring the prince's complaints.
Clay was in an emerald colored suit with a white mask. His mask was simple and undecorated, like George's, and brought out his facial features.
George slowly stepped off the last step of the staircase. Clay was instantly in front of him, his green eyes bright, but not teasing, they were earnest and hopeful.
Clay bowed and took George's hand, pressing a kiss to it before George could get a word in otherwise. His fingers burned under Clay's lips and he felt his face heat.
Clay murmured, "Dance with me?"
George hesitated, not looking away from Clay's enchanting eyes. His chin dipped in a nod before he could stop himself. Clay smiled, taking George's breath away. The prince pulled George closer, placing a hand under George's arm and directing George to put his own hand on his shoulder. George placed his one hand on Clay's shoulder and his other in Clay's hand. He swallowed as he felt his nerves light up wherever George felt Clay's touch.
Clay pulled him onto the dance floor and into the sea of dancing people. George found that he had no words, his breath caught in his throat. His eyes never left Clay's as the two waltzed back and forth. George was grateful for his dancing lessons. His heart never stopped racing and he wondered if Clay's was the same.
Clay's lips parted as his gaze dropped to George's lips. George flushed and his hand involuntarily tightened on Clay's shoulder, causing Clay to meet his eyes. Clay smiled softly as he stared deeply into George's eyes.
Even though they had barely said a word, their actions had spoken louder. George could feel multiple angry stares on the back of his head when Clay didn't let go after the song ended. George went to step back, but Clay tightened his grip gently in a question.
"Will you stay for another song?" the prince asked, his eyes hopeful.
George swallowed and looked at the other royals, "Clay... I-I think you should dance with the others as well, I'm not the only prince here, remember?"
"But I want to dance with you."
George looked back to Clay and his chest squeezed. "I'm sorry, but I can't."
He stepped out of Clay's arms, not meeting resistance this time. George gave Clay a weak grin and nodded in encouragement for the prince to dance. Clay's face fell as Fundy stepped between the two, dragging him onto the dance floor.
George knew that if he accepted Clay's offer, he wouldn't be able to refuse the next. Clay's touch was addicting and George wanted more, but he knew he couldn't have more.
George let out a long exhale and left the ballroom floor. He felt Clay's eyes burn into the back of his head as he walked back up the steps in which he came. George wasn't going to leave yet, that would be rude, instead he went to one of the many balconies.
He rested his elbows on the rail, feeling the salty ocean air hit his face, clearing his scattered thoughts. George looked at his empty hands, which were once touching Clay. George took a deep breath and closed his eyes, calming his racing heart.
His fingers closed around nothing, still tingling from before. George stretched his fingers and let them still on the railing. He didn't know how long he stood there, but it wasn't unbearably long.
Someone eventually joined him on the balcony, standing next to him. George opened his eyes and glanced over to find Clay looking at him.
George chuckled, his voice raw from his thoughts, "Did you give everyone a turn?"
Clay scoffed, muttering a 'yeah' and taking his mask off. George remembered that his was still on, but he made no move to take it off, instead staring at the sky in front of them.
"I read the book," George whispered, still not meeting Clay's stare.
"Oh yeah?" Clay asked quietly, "Did you like it?"
"Yeah," George said, his voice barely audible, "why did it have to end like that?"
"I don't know. Really shows you how messed up humanity is."
George nodded slowly, his eyes searching the stars for something that wasn't there. The only sound was the quiet thrum of the music from the ballroom floor from below and a faint ringing of the harbor bells. Clay was still watching George, waiting for George's head to turn, but George ignored the stare.
"Can you look at me?" Clay asked quietly.
George forced his head to turn, his eyes meeting Clay's. They said nothing, just stood staring into each other's eyes. George saw the prince hold his breath as he brought his hands to George's face. George didn't know why, but he didn't make a move to back away.
When George didn't move, Clay lifted his hands to untie George's mask. The mask fell away and Clay's mouth parted. His hands slid down the back of George's head and rested on the nape of George's neck.
George inhaled sharply, not moving. His heart started back up again, racing in excitement and terror. His eyes widened as Clay brought his face to George, pressing their foreheads together. George froze, unsure of what to do. He looked between Clay's eyes rapidly, not knowing what he wanted.
"Oh god," Clay breathed, his warm breath reaching George's lips, "I want to kiss you so bad George."
George couldn't move, his breath locking in his chest. He was frozen in fear, in fear of what could happen.
"But I won't," Clay murmured, "not... not yet."
Clay pulled George's head to his chest, embracing him. George relaxed, his shoulders dropping in relief. He let himself soften into Clay's touch, feeling Clay's heart thud just as fast as his. George wrapped his arms around Clay, melting into the embrace.
He closed his eyes, feeling Clay's chin rest atop his head. They said nothing else, just standing in each others' presence. And the two stood like that for an unidentifiable amount of time. Clay didn't seem bothered at all to be missing out on the dance.
After a long while, Clay stepped away and George's hands were reluctantly stuffed into his pockets. They stared into each others' eyes, Clay's eyes full of longing and George's full of confusion at his own thoughts.
Clay swallowed and looked away, breaking their eye contact. He mumbled, "I-I should go."
"Yeah, I should too," George whispered.
But neither made a move to leave. Clay looked back to George, his eyes bright with a new idea.
"Meet me in town tomorrow. Midnight," he said, "I want to show you something."
George tilted his head and asked, "Where in town?"
Clay shrugged and turned to leave, calling over his shoulder and putting his mask back on, "I'll find you."
George's eyebrows furrowed in confusion. Why does he want to meet up? George's mind looked for a reason, but he found none. He turned back to the stars and touched a hand to his forehead, recalling how close Clay was just a moment ago.
He smiled softly, deciding he liked this feeling in him. Being that close to someone, like he just was with Clay, always scared him.
But for once, in this moment, part of him wasn't scared.
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a/n - sorry if there are grammatical errors, it's way past midnight and I can't think straight :/
good bye, ily <3