Page 17 of A Gaze So Longing (The Fall of Livenza #1)
This time, the goal was to rid their hands of cards as quickly as possible.
This time, Leonardo did not address the rules.
This time, Leonardo did not comment on Favian’s behavior.
He couldn’t shake the feeling that Leonardo was actively sidestepping any subject that could potentially rile up either of them, determined to avoid a discussion, or worse, a repeat of their last visit.
After a few uneventful rounds, Leonardo’s head perked up when a loud couple entered The Moonlit Sunflower. Two young men, probably a little younger than them and clearly inebriated, pushed past the patrons to the bar and ordered new drinks while their fingers played around each other’s hair.
A pang in Favian’s chest made him look away, but Leonardo’s eyes were fixed on the newcomers.
Desperate to know what the prince was thinking, Favian racked his head, trying to think of a way to ask without arousing suspicion, but came up short.
He missed the easy conversation Leonardo was able to fall into with everyone else, and he missed the way other people could coax out the prince’s jokes, his laugh.
Favian, on the other hand, could only seem to wait until Leonardo spoke first.
The prince’s eventual words, however, were not what Favian had expected.
“They look so happy,” was all he said.
Favian perked his head, now curiously examining Leonardo’s face. The prince’s eyebrows were raised, yet his eyes remained tight, cheeks slightly flushed.
Jealousy , Favian realized.
Favian watched Leonardo as Leonardo watched two young men kissing in the public life of the tavern.
After a minute or so, the couple moved to a table not too far from them, sitting down among other patrons who greeted them excitedly, jovially, several laughs echoing around the room.
A slight shift in Leonardo’s expression—sorrow, now.
By the time the prince turned his attention back to the game at hand, Favian was staring at the drink-stained surface of the counter, still unable to find words, appropriate words, any words.
“I’ve missed this,” Leonardo said.
“This?”
Somberly, the prince replied, “Having fun. Sitting with people, enjoying a drink and a conversation. Having friends.”
Is that what we are now?
Instead, Favian asked, “You are having fun?”
A quirk in the prince’s lips, then, as he morphed back into his usual self. “You have no idea.” Scanning his cards, Leonardo raised an eyebrow. “I don’t remember whose turn it is.”
“Yours,” Favian whispered, attention firm on his cards.
“This time, I’ll win! Just you wait!”
He didn’t.
It didn’t matter.
Despite his utter inability to succeed at a game of cards, Leonardo kept playing, kept smiling, kept asking for another round, another drink, another challenge.
And deep down, Favian had to admit to himself that a part of him truly enjoyed their time, too.
Avoiding the formalities that were a staple of their relationship was easier when the palace seemed far, far away. Despite all the reservations the logical part of himself held against the informal conversation they eased into here, he wanted more of this.
He would have to be particularly careful in the future not to let this side of him get the upper hand.
It wasn’t until their ride back that the tension returned.
Leonardo was changing back into his royal attire, half-hidden between the trees, when a rustling sound from deep within the forest drew their attention.
Despite his conviction to keep his eyes as far as possible from the semi-clothed prince, Favian turned.
The noise quickly revealed itself to be one animal chasing another, perhaps a fox and a rabbit. Favian sighed in relief.
He did not, however, resume his position quickly enough. Realizing they weren’t in any danger, Leonardo shifted to face Favian, giving him a reassuring smile.
This time, their eyes met in the moonlight.
Leonardo’s chest was bare, still heaving slightly with the surprise of the disruption.
For the first time, Favian noticed that the prince’s freckles continued down his shoulders, his arms, the scar on his forearm interrupting the pattern.
Favian’s gaze was wandering, and he couldn’t seem to do a damn thing about it.
Warm bronze skin, tight muscle over a frame more slender than he remembered, a few more scars, a particular round one underneath the prince’s collarbone, yet none as egregious as the one on the prince’s forearm.
Favian kept looking.
Leonardo let him.
Air as thick as the blanket Favian’s mother had knit for him one particularly cold winter.
Tension as tenacious as the fox’s hunt.
There was something in the look on Leonardo’s face, something like curiosity, like patience. He let Favian explore his body with his eyes only, making no move to either stop him or press for more.
The prince’s long curls were tousled from pulling the tunic over his head, individual strands sticking out in random directions.
He was feminine, somehow, in the way the hair fell over his shoulders.
There were curls on his lower belly, too, beneath his navel, disappearing into his waistband, Favian’s waistband.
Favian was hungry.
Another rustling noise in the greenery returned them to reality. Favian’s head swirled back almost on its own accord, his eyes falling closed.
When he opened them again, Leonardo was seated on Azure, back in his own clothes, bag slung over his shoulder.
Their journey home passed without another word.
That night, Favian sought out the washroom, locked the door, and touched himself until he spilled white on hands aching to touch freckled bronze skin.
It was only a fantasy.
A fantasy he wanted to indulge in, sink into.
Drown in.