Blue Blood ~ Young Royals

Discussion

The moment the cell door unlocks, he's in my arms. The feeling is intoxicating, having his body against mine, his curls brushing my temple, his face nuzzled in my neck. It feels like way too long since I last held him.

I hold him tighter, my hand on his waist, never wanting to let go. He stiffens slightly in my hold, a small gasp escaping his lips. I drop my hands and pull my face back a little, searching his eyes.

He forces a small smile. "It's ok, just the bruises."

My heart is ripping apart again, my eyes burning. "Simon..." I whisper softly. It hurts so much, the brutal images filling my mind. I hug him again, but softer to keep from hurting him again, burying my face in his neck to hide the tears that I can't stop anymore.

We just stay in each other's arms, trying to put all our love and longing from the past week into the embrace. I press deeper into his shoulder, wishing the fabric of his hoodie will soak up my tears and when I resurface no one will see how much his pain is breaking me.

Someone clears their throat, it's unclear who does, and I see it as our sign to let each other go. Simon looks at me when we break apart, and for a moment I can see how far he broke. I want to kiss him and take it all away, make him be okay again. But within seconds the look has left his eyes, hiding the pain again.

I step away from him reluctantly, clinging to his hand in mine, and we stand side by side in front of the open cell door. The guard is looking positively disgusted, sneering at both of us. How would he react if I pulled Simon against me again and kissed him?

He clears his throat and gives his head a little shake, his disgusted expression turning to one of slight discomfort and nervousness. "So, uhm, we'll discuss the... situation... uh, in-"

My mother cuts him off, her voice clearly displaying the power she has over the cop. "How about your staff room? That seems comfortable."

He blinks a few times, looking slightly surprised, but he nods. "Yes, alright, follow me then."

He leads us away from the cell and through the building, Simon seeming to calm down more the further we get from the small space that kept him imprisoned. The woman at the front desk frowns. "David, what are you-"

So he's called David. This man who hurt Simon. I memorize the name as something bitter and hate-filled.

He cuts her off mid sentence, snapping me out of my thoughts. "The Queen said to... Yeah." He scurries away through a door which says STAFF ONLY, and we follow him. It's a little kitchen sort of room, and he's scrambling to make coffee for himself. My parents sit down at the small, cluttered table, and I hesitate for a moment before pulling Simon down with me to sit as well. I scrape the chair a small way across the floor to sit closer to Simon until our thighs are pressed together, our fingers lacing together under the table again.

David sits down with his coffee, not offering anyone else a drink and launching straight into more confused stammering. "So, uh, what do we, um..."

My mother sighs and looks from me to Simon. "Before either of you say anything, just because Simon is currently out of his cell does not mean he's free. I'm just giving you both a chance to explain what you need to say, since you're so determined to not cooperate until I listen." She keeps her gaze on me at her last few words, clearly frustrated by how I've been acting.

I exchange a look with Simon, trying to decide how we'll say this, and who will talk first. He gives my hand a reassuring squeeze and nods slightly, urging me to explain. I take a deep breath, suddenly feeling like there's an intense amount of pressure on me. It's stupid how now that I finally have the chance to speak, I don't know how I should.

"Um... It was an accident. He didn't mean to hurt me." I say before realizing this is exactly what Simon has already said. I'm afraid that telling them he's drank my blood more often will only make the situation worse. I decide to just keep talking before I overthink everything. "He... He wanted to drink from me... And... I wanted the same... He didn't attack me, I let him. And it was fine, but... He didn't really realize when I was getting weak, and... He accidentally took too much and I fainted."

I stay silent for a moment, just nervously watching everyone's reactions. My father looks incredibly confused, David is staring at his coffee with a disgusted expression, and my mother seems slightly shocked. I want to keep talking, to reassure her it was just an accident, but Simon starts talking before I can. He seems to have the exact same thoughts as me.

"I didn't want to hurt him, and of course I would've stopped if I realized he couldn't take it anymore. I'm not going to do this again, to anyone. Now I know the danger I put Wille in, and I don't want that to happen again."

He's so genuine even my father raises his head, looking a lot less mortified than before. It could almost be a hallucination because it's so subtle, but the corner of my mother's mouth twitches ever so slightly, giving Simon such a small smile you could barely register it. My heart lightens, a wave of relief washing over me. She's warming up to Simon, treating him more like a person and less like a monster. He has a chance to be free, to be normal.

That dickhead David still looks angry and disgusted, but I don't care about what he thinks. We won't have to deal with him once Simon is properly set free.

My mother still seems to be processing the information, then gives a small nod. "Thank you, Simon. I think I'll need time to decide what would be best. And of course, I won't be the only one making this decision. Until a proper decision has been made, I think it's best Simon stays in the cell."

My heart sinks. At the same time, Simon tenses up beside me. "No, please, he's not dangerous. Just let him go home." I plead, desperate to set Simon free from this pain. It's a risky move, trying to protest when she's just starting to see Simon in a better light. But I won't let Simon get hurt again.

She sighs, clearly getting tired from my persistent protests. "Wilhelm, please."

I think of that dickhead David kicking Simon, and I imagine myself kicking him back just as hard until he's too afraid to go anywhere near either of us. An idea, a quite revolutionary idea, forms in my head, and I sit up a little straighter in my newfound confidence. "If you want to lock Simon up again, you'll have to keep me imprisoned with him as well."

Note: Ok well today I just had this mood and the writing was going great and I'm posting 2 parts instead of 1 because tomorrow I can't write. So hope you enjoy.