The Blue Danube [OLD]

- 𝔣𝔬𝔯𝔱𝔶 𝔱𝔴𝔬. ﾐ

╲⠀╲⠀╲ ╲

⠀⠀╲⠀╲⠀☆⠀ ╲⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

⠀☆⠀╲⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ★

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june 1859

The soft cotton of his shirt brushed his skin as he slipped it on, doing up the buttons with tired fingers as he sat down on the bed below. The wooden floorboarding was cold under his bare feet, and he scooted back on the mattress to lift his feet off of it; it groaned under the movement, and John quickly turned to see if he had woken up yet. Seeing Paul's tousled head of dark hair poking out from under the blankets - that had been pulled up to his chin - still unmoving, the prince let out a sigh of relief. As he finished buttoning up his shirt, he pulled on his suspenders and tie before swiftly putting on his vest. He didn't really bother to do it all up perfectly, leaving the vest undone and tie loose around his neck before he pulled on his socks and slipped his feet into his shoes.

Once he knew his feet would not be harmed by the cold floors of Ringo's spare bedroom, he let them sink back onto the wood and lift him off the bed. As he stood, he held up a hand to his aching head, the remnants of last night's drunken endeavours remaining within a hangover and bruised hips. Creeping along the floor as softly as he could, the boy made his way from his own side of the bed to Paul's, sitting down by his lover's sleeping figure and gazing down at him tenderly.

The younger snored away, face half-buried in the pillow; the blankets had indeed been pulled up past his chin, only allowing his face from the nose-up to be visible. His dark lashes rested on his freckled cheeks flawlessly, as always, and John couldn't resist letting a sigh escape from his lips, reaching out with a tentative hand to ghost the boy's cheek, feeling stray hairs tickle his fingertips. He looked the most innocent when he was sleeping, John noted. All his mental barriers and facades he put up while conscious stripped away, leaving just the most raw version of the boy he loved so dearly.

Not an hour goes by that he doesn't think of Paul. He couldn't imagine a life without him now, wondering how he even got through eighteen years of his life without seeing his face gazing up at him; his deep, rich voice with its scouse twangs echoing through his mind and his affectionate laughter making him melt into a puddle of love every single time. It had been only months since they got together, but it felt like so much had happened since then, and they grew closer with each passing second spent together. And to think Paul despised him so strongly at first sight, and now they could barely spend more than a few days apart.

He wished he could just sink back under the covers, embrace the insistent yearnings of sleep and wrap his arms around Paul's warm, smooth skin and bury his head in his shoulder, wreathed in the scent of vanilla smoke laced with sweat.
But, he had to get back to the manor before Mimi - or any of the servants - noticed his absence, since he was supposed to be still locked up in his room as punishment for running off and being with his lower class friends too often.
He had no idea how much longer it would go on; he hoped it would end in the next week or so. John didn't know how much more he could take of it, only able to sneak away once every few weeks without being caught. The entirety of the staff were watching his every move, and he could no longer sneak out as often as he usually did. He had been able to get away only twice during the entire time he had been locked up. He didn't know what would happen to him if he was caught.